Chapter 1: A Peaceable Kingdom

[Lara]

To the companion seated nearest her, Pellorien quietly says, "It's possible that this mage disguised himself to follow us in here. Give me a few moments to look around, please."

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Detect Magic, specifically focusing on anything away from the group that would seem to be illusion or glamer.

[Jeff]

Pellorien withdraws from her seat to better survey the room with her spell. None seem to look her way when she speaks the arcane words, as they are lost in the murmur of the crowd.

Pellorien certainly senses the presence of magic with the range of her spell, a cone 60 ft. long which she sweeps from side to side. A few moments' concentration and she learns a little more: there are several auras present, though none are stronger than faint.

Mostly the auras come from simpler magic objects: the two everbright lanterns that hang from the ceiling, the fine silk clothing of an older woman sitting at a table alone, a ring on the finger of the halfling barkeep. Pellorien can sense three auras radiating from objects on the elf minstrel's person, but none within her sight to further assess.

The everbright lanterns radiate faint evocation, the older woman's clothing radiates the faintest illusion (glamerweave, she suspects), and the aura of the ring on the halfling's finger she cannot determine.

The rogue says, "River Street, third warehouse, cityside, near the western piers. Now let me go."

Streko recognizes that location: where he met up with the red-haired young man and his sister not long ago.
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Pellorien's Spellcraft checks = 28, 18, 10.

[Joe]

Streko furrows his brows. Recognition dawns, but he keeps his face a mask. For now.

"My friends. I think it IS time to allow this man his leave. Sooner, for all our sakes."

Streko turns away and goes to the bar. He motions for the halfling barkeep to come over.

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Streko will drop a galifar onto the bar in front of him, thank the barkeep for the delicious ale, and ask him, halfling to halfling, if he knows a way out of the bar that might make it difficult for a mage to follow them. If the barkeep can't come up with a way, Streko will inquire as to a quick way out the back, perhaps, away from prying eyes that might have set up shop for him and his friends out front.

[Darren]

"You're going to carry a message back to your employers," Kalarian says in a tone that suggests he expects to be obeyed. "You are going to tell them that we have their book, and that we will not be intimidated. Tell them that if they want it, they can contact us to set up a meeting. We'll tell them where and when. If they continue to send thugs after us, we will continue to send them back in pieces. Besides, I'm sure they don't want this book getting to the authorities, now, do they? Do you understand the message you are to deliver?"

[Jeremy]

Goran sits, pondering the rogue's words, especially the issue of the book's being a sort of homing beacon to them. He shakes himself out of his thoughts and gazes at the rogue once more.

"You're wiser than most, my friend. But the halfling's right, I'm not sure what your best choice of action is, all options look dark for you. But then, you might want to remember that we spared your life when could have just as easily slit your throat and not left alive another person who knows us by sight."

Goran inhales and sighs again, obviously making a decision with himself.

"Of course once we let you go I presume we'll never see you again and, to be frank, in your shoes I'd get the hells out of Fairhaven as quickly as possible. But I have an offer for you instead: Your master will probably slay you rather than reward you for your failure, which was not your fault since you were not given a chance to fight against such odds. This...business you are involved in far more fell than you know. Even if you'd succeeded tonight, I would still guess your reward would have been death."

Goran leans across the table, looking the rogue in the eyes but speaking in an honest (diplomacy check) and even tone.

"Work for us, or at least keep us informed of anything else you discover about these events. You will be paid for your efforts, and you will be helping out better people than your boss, of that I can assure you. The decision is yours, and you don't have to answer now. I'm sure you'll be able to find us again if you choose."

He motions to Tamyra and the others that he is finished, if everyone else is, and to let the rogue go. Leaning over his chair, he tries to flag down the waitress for a little more hot water for his teapot.

[Darren]

Kalarian rolls his eyes at Goran's improvisation and diversion from the original plan.

[Jeff]

The rogue nods at Streko's words. "Yes, let me go."

At Kal's words, he shakes his head. "You're telling me I'm as good as dead, and then you say you want me to stay in this city and work for you? Which is it, Reacher?"

When Streko slaps a galifar on the bar (requiring him to scale one of the stools first), the halfling barkeep raises both eyebrows. "Much obliged, clansman," he says with a wink. There's a definite Talentan accent there; faded, but still there.

"A way out back? Well, yes. Not for customers, though....but seeing as you're such a good customer, I might be able to make an exception. We have an alley for trash, and there's a stairwell that leads to the residences above."

The gray-coated shifter at the bar lifts his head from his hairy arm. "Makin'n essscape, little man? Danger....isafoot, is it?" His lips peel back in an inebriated grin—large shifter fangs are evident.

"Don't go trustin' elves or rusty-haired huuuman boys." His head falls back to his arm.
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This is not a hard rule, but certainly in this case having made a fairly successful Intimidate roll, Diplomacy won't work. Both skills effectively accomplish the same thing (make the subject more cooperative) but through different means. Diplomacy, in fact, would probably neutralize the former.

Joe, everything in your pink text could have been in white. It's okay for that. The pink is intended to be out-of-game speak, mechanical or rules in nature.

[Lara]

"The minstrel has some things on him that might be of interest, but I don't notice anyone hiding under an illusion. At least not in here," Pellorien reports.

"I don't like sitting this long. I think we should move again. And let this one do whatever he wants. He doesn't have an easy choice to make, but at least he's alive to act," she says, indicating the rogue.

[Joe]

Streko hand over another galifar to his clansman. "You assistance is greatly appreciated in this matter. Many thanks and may Olladra bless you with continued good fortune!" Here I am assuming Streko has received the blessing and assistance of the barkeep in using the back escape route.

He turns to the shifter and smiles. "Im inclined to agree with you wholeheartedly, my friend, especially concerning the rusty-haired humans, one of which may be responsible for injuring my sister. One way or another, I WILL find out. May the Host smile upon you." Streko hops back down and returns to the group.

If the Rogue has left already, he will begin informing them of a back exit into an alley for escape, as well as stairs leading up to residences above.

"I suggest we make haste, before reinforcements of the rogue and mage appear and make escape impossible. Some of us are still in fairly bad shape and we need a safe place to go for healing."

If the Rogue hasn't left, Streko will remain quiet until he is gone before informing the group of what he has learned.

"It wouldn't hurt our reputation with the establishment of this tavern if we provide a minor pittance to the barkeep for all of his good drink and hospitality, and especially for providing us with an avenue of escape that won't be noticed unless we linger. That, however, is merely a suggestion, not a course of action."

[Jeff]

"Im inclined to agree with you wholeheartedly, my friend, especially concerning the rusty-haired humans, one of which may be responsible for injuring my sister."

"Hhhalfling on the rail...no friend of the rusty hhhuman..." the shifter slurs as Streko walks away from him.

The rogue is still at the table.

[Josh]

Having had enough, Grafth stands, grabs the rogue by his shirt collar and lifts him out of his seat. "Get out of here, now. And I promise you," he says, a snarl on his face, "if I see your face again, you won't have it much longer after that."

The shifter pushes the rogue away, and sits back down, watching him intently until he leaves.

Once he is gone, he intones quietly to those at the table. "It's likely not wise to stay here much longer... and I'm fairly certain the inn is not our safest refuge this night."

[Jeff]

The rogue nods his head at Grafth's words, then stumbles away, obviously still in a great deal of pain. He makes his way toward, the door, but he drops heavily into a chair near the door, as much out of his body's refusal to keep moving as out of uncertainty as precisely where to go.

Taymra looks to Streko. "Through the back—yes? My place isn't large, but I can accomodate you all tonight while we decide what to do." She turns to Grafth. "You said you were headed to Passage next. If you're willing to trust the rail a second time—I know, I know, but believe me, it'll be well guarded and I can probably get you tickets—the station isn't far from here."

She looks toward the bar. "What of the shifter? I haven't been able to get much from him, as I said. But he's a witness. Should we bring him?"

At her words, Tangat turns and looks up at her. He woofs and wags his tail.

Over at the stage, the elf minstrel dives into a rousing song, surprisingly loud and fast-paced for a lute. The music fills the room, drawing many eyes to him.

[Josh]

"Definitely, we bring the other shifter- if anything, he'd likely want to continue his travels to Passage, and perhaps he'll warm up to us... though I can't say that I've really warmed up to us yet," He says, looking around at the absurd group scattered around the tavern.

[Joe]

"I suggest we leave immediately. I am sure this tracker mage already knows we are here and not moving. Let's go!"

Streko makes for the back door and escape into the alley.

[Ed]

At the Orien woman's words Oss leaves off his observation of the minstrel and says, "Yes, I need to get to Passage as soon as possible. It's urgent that I get there."

[Darren]

Looking at the young serving girl, Kalarian seems to not relish the idea of leaving just yet. As he speaks, his head turns slowly away from her, his eyes lingering as long as possible. "Yes, I suppose if you all insist on leaving, then I will leave with you. I think our prospects are better here than in Passage, and I don't see what advantage that will gain for us, but I will not object, either." Turning again to look at the girl, Kalarian says, "If you will excuse me for a moment."

He gets up from the table and goes to the girl. "Sweet darling, I'm afraid I must leave now. I intend to return, though, as visions of you will be in my mind during the entirety of my travels." He grabs her around the waist and draws her in as he kisses her. When he stops to look at her, a thought seems to occur to him. "Might I have the pleasure of your name, so I will better be able to find you when I return?" He smiles at her broadly.

Having acquired what he came for (assuming he hasn't been slapped), Kalarian returns to his companions. "Now, we may leave."

[Jeremy]

darren said:

Kalarian rolls his eyes at Goran's improvisation and diversion from the original plan.

What original plan? Seriously...everyone's throwing out ideas but I didn't hear any kind of single "plan" until Tamyra's suggestion AFTER this exchange. And all I was trying to do was get some info out the rogue, re: his allegiances and what he might know about the scope of this business. There are few better ways to get information than to dangle money in front of someone.

But a plan? I remember something about bringing our enemies to some kind of face-off, but then I've heard nothing about that since it was mentioned, except that now the "plan" seems to be completely different.

[Jeff]

The serving girl is taken aback by Kal's aggression. More shocked than disturbed, though. Flushing red, looking embarrassed, she turns her eyes down. "M...Maraley, m...my lord."

Over by the others getting up from the booth, Taymra rolls her eyes. "Oh, gods..." She looks to Pellorien. "Pellorien, will he be a problem? Or is he this way only with complete strangers?"

She looks to Goran and Streko, both of whom have been very involved in the plans so far. "I suggest we exit one at a time, rather than in a large group. Streko, you leave first, and I will follow—since I can lead us to my apartment. Sound agreeable?"

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Let's try to keep out-of-character discussions here.

[Jeremy]

Goran speaks in a whisper, literally right in Tamyra's ear.

"You might as well let me leave last this time. Maybe I can elude prying eyes and get behind any pursuit our group might earn. If you could give me detailed directions where we're going, then I can get way back from the group and I might learn something valuable. I'll meet you at your place a few minutes later."

---

Jeff, I assume if Tamyra gives me good directions I can find her place without too much trouble?

[Josh]

Grafth agrees with Goran, and will leave after three others, to be in the middle of the group, also to check for followers or other intrusions.

"Let us be on our guard, all of us. Thus far we have been tracked both magically and by physical methods- I'm sure it will continue this way.

As Grafth leaves, he passes by the minstrel, to see if he can pick up any identifying scent, possibly for later use.

[Joe]

Streko smiles at Taymra, nods and exits.

Once outside, he will do his best to hide in the shadows. He will perch himself in a dark corner and watch the alley from both directions to ensure they don't have a stalker. Then, he will follow Taymra to her place.

[Jeff]

Taymra nods at Goran. "All right. I don't know this entrance to the tenements above. But once you go in, make your way to the eight floor. There are ten. My apartment number is 114. If we were going up any other way, I could tell you the precise route. But we're winging it. Don't wait more than five or ten minutes down here."

As Grafth walks past the stage, he sniffs the air. The smokiness of the room intrudes on his senses, and the only other thing he can glean is the slight hint of some sort of sweet cologne. Slight enough not to offend, but tantalizing enough to intrigue. To Grafth, it's just a masking odor.

She makes her way to the bar, and knocks on the bar to get the shifter's attention, saying something to him you can't hear. The shifter rouses, stumbles awkwardly to his feet, and turns to join the ground. His steps are unsteady. His longcoat hands open, and you can't see any obvious weapons or gear. He doesn't even carry a pack. If here weren't fairly clean, he'd look homeless. Like many shifters, he goes barefoot, the nails of his toes sharp.

"Lead on, friensss," he says, expelling a breat of ale. When he catches Grafth's eyes, he grins big. Grafth suspects he is of a longtooth strain. He holds out a hairy, extended hand. "Dhaz."

The halfling barkeep vaults over the bar and leads Streko and his party to the door that leads to a kitchen. Once past the door, he steers Streko to another door, where a stairwell leads up. "Take your friends that way, but please lock the door behind you."

[Ed]

Oss casually nods at the plan and waves goodbye to his companions. "Yes, it was nice to meet you all," he says too loudly before stepping away a few paces and pretending to pay attention to something else.
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Oss will file out after Grafth.

[Lara]

Wherever Pellorien fits in the rollcall is fine.

[Darren]

As Kalarian passes the halfling bartender, he gives a low and respectful bow. Then, handing him a galifar, he says, "No one is to know we've gone this way." Giving him a meaningful look, and then a smile, Kalarian moves towards the door, giving a nod to the rogue as he passes him. He then follows Taymra out the door.

[Jeff]

The barkeep looks at Kal as the latter sets down his gold piece. The halfling's face is unreadable.

Streko leads, with Taymra, Oss, Grafth, Dhaz (the shifter), Pellorien, and Kal and Tangat following in that order. Goran lingers in the tavern.

A narrow, seldom-used spiral stairwell winds upward one story to a landing and a heavy door. Beyond that, a corridor leads in two directions. Taymra looks down both. "Haven't quite been here before," she says.

Once everyone is in the hallway, Dhaz turns back into the stairwell as if he forgot something. "Just'a moment..."

In the Tavern

Goran lingers in the tavern. The elf performer meets his eye for a moment, smiles, then finishes his song. He sets down his lute and withdraws something from his bag. Lifting both hands again, he sets small black balls spinning into the air. They begin to glow...and some among the crowd turn to watch.

[Lara]

As the shifter tries to move past her back to the stairwell, Pellorien holds out a hand (gesturing "stop," not foolishly attempting to grapple him) and says, "Wait up, friend. You're heading the wrong direction. This way..."

[Jeremy]

Goran does nothing to change his countenance, returning the performer's polite smile, but he does stand up and casually move so that the bar is between him and the stage*.

He snatches the nearest empty mug and holds it up to grab the barkeeps attention, which, once done, he wags a finger at the halfling to call him over, as if ordering another pint. If the barkeep comes over, Goran will tell him he is worried that something is about to happen, re: the performer, and that he should prepare himself if it does. he makes it clear that he, Goran, is not planning on anything, he just has a bad feeling of portent.

---

Jeff, is a Spot Check appropriate here, on the performer? I thought perhaps Sense Motive might be better.

* Assuming this is architecturally possible.

[Josh]

Grafth puts his hand firmly though not agressively on Dhaz's shoulder as Pellorien speaks. "That's right, stay with us." The shifter's other hand rests firmly on the pick, crossing his body, as if to guard against any sudden move the seemingly-drunken shifter might make. The look in his eye is one of apathetic, controlled strength. His stance is that of a doorman at a rowdy tavern.

Without turning, he calls to Taymra, "Keep us moving, woman- your guess is as good as ours as to which way to go."

[Ed]

"Go, go," Oss says, glancing back over his shoulder.

At the new shifter's words, Oss stiffens and drops to the back of the line, trying to make his lean frame spread wide across the path of the shifter as if to block his progress away from them.