CoT: Bastards of Erebus - The Gathering

[Duniagdra]

Even before Aroden’s death, the Council of Thieves had been an open secret in Westcrown. The city’s first (and most successful) thieves’ guild, the Council of Thieves was comprised of members from influential and often noble families in Westcrown. Subtle and content to rest upon the work of past generations, these rich and affluent criminals grew wealthier off of all manner of smuggling, gambling, prostitution, and more nefarious but increasingly white collar crimes. Yet now, insurrection boils within the Council’s inner ranks, and if left to bloom, the resulting coup could engulf all of Westcrown.

Cheliax was in years of turmoil since the death of their god, Aroden, most of all, the capital city, Westcrown. As a result, the church of Aroden soon fell and the country fell into civil war with fierce diabolists. Westcrown's further decent came with the rise of Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, which seized control of Cheliax after thirty long years of civil war. As a result, Westcrown lost its status as capital to Egorian, thus losing much of its prestige and affluence. As a result, the city soon began to die, devoid of those who made their living off the wealthy.
While still a vibrant and important port, the splendor typifying the city faded fast. Today, Westcrown is but a shadow of its former self, now a playground to the vultures come to pick the last bit of flesh from its barely living carcass.
The six of you each have your own reasons for not being happy with life in Westcrown. Whatever they maybe, you mostly keep it all to yourself except for the occasional trusted "talks" with others. Individually, each of you are approached by a woman.

Janiven.png

Her leather armor accentuates her figure masterfully, revealing only hints of her experience in battle with a couple of scars.
a confident and sultry tone, she says: “I have reason to believe you may be interested in what I may have to offer. I've been looking for people. People as yourself, your skills, your frustration to how things are here. I have a proposal that i think may interest you.”
Her words are more or less the same to each of you, revealing things she knows about you, things that others have vanished for, but something intrigues you, maybe her hips, or perhaps her bust, or simply that fact that she knows you and you can't have people knowing you this way. She invites you to meet her at a tavern. Vizio’s Tavern, for an early dinner.
With a city as large as Westcrown, it's no wonder none of you know the place. You discretely ask around based on her description of where to find it and soon arrive. One by one you each take a seat in the tavern at various tables. The tavern is empty. Once all of you are there, she then summons you all to one common table where you each take a seat, unsure who the other is and she issues out plates of stew and bread with an ale.
a soft, but calm tome, she says: “Thank you for coming.”
There's idle chitchat as if she's waiting, expecting another, but once the stew and ale is gone, she glances once more to the door and slides her plate away. With still a few hours to go before sundown, Janiven locks the front door and shutters the windows, then takes a deep breath and thanks the PCs for attending the meeting. She again assures them that they’ll be done in less than an hour, with plenty of time left over for everyone to get home before sunset.
a passionate, confident tone, Janiven says: “Again, thank you for agreeing to meet with me here. I have chosen each of you for a singular reason—everyone here, myself included, has suffered, whether we realize it or not. I have lived in Westcrown my whole life, and although I love this city, I must admit, as must you, that despite our peace and prosperity, we continue to suffer. Fear should not be an expected part of life, and yet each night brings fear to our doorsteps. Yes, Westcrown has been safe from war and famine for nearly seventy years, and yes, our businesses has prospered—but this safety and prosperity has been bought in the coinage of fear and prayers to Hell. Other lands live free from tyranny. Other cities do not fear the night. Other governments do not cede the streets to monsters of the infernal shadows. Westcrown was once such a place, and she wants to be such a place again. Westcrown is not only her buildings and canals and docks and history—she is also her people. Westcrown is our friends and neighbors, our mothers and fathers, our siblings and cousins, our sons and daughters! With but a small group of supporters and dedicated brothers and sisters, we can earn the trust and admiration of those people. A Westcrown free of these shadowy beasts that stalk our streets is one step closer to a Westcrown free of the devil that is the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune!”
You each know full and well that every word she spoke is treason, but you each also know, full well, the fear she refers to. Those mysterious beasts that prowl the darkness on the edges of light, in the shadows, lurking, waiting for anything to get in reach. The stories are far too common of people gone missing who were out still past sunset. The sounds of things moving, the feeling of dread, as they pass outside the window, too afraid to look.

OUT-OF-CHARACTER:    Feel free to react as best you feel your character should, based to the situation. Be sure to describe your character before acting your character.

[The Hunter]

Karadlon, ever with a stern and unfriendly look set about his face, listens quietly taking in all that she has to say and then glances about to each of those gathered about the table to get a feel of how each reacts to the woman's treasonous speech.

With a low voice, akin to a growl, “I'm in...”

[shai-hulud]

Harman is a robed humanoid with the hood of his robe concealing the top of his head, but exposing his face. He has dark features, which upon close inspection include black eyes, a feature of those who are infernal-born. Once the discourse has concluded, Harman reveals his horns, as if this act alone indicates his answer. He seems confident for a tiefling. Most of his kind meet with discrimination and contempt, yet he seems quite at home among the group. His eyes never leave Janiven's. “Do you have a mate?” The question is blunt, asked partially out of his own sexual desire and partially to secure the extent to which knowledge of his involvement might travel. After all, pillow talk among mates frequently includes secrets. He would want to meet her mate, should she have one.

[kabkal]

Olomorn, an ugly (alright super ugly, and a bit smelly) 1/2 orc, has arms that are extremely large and powerful. With a bit of drool hanging off his mouth is obviously concentrating to understand all that is going on. But then looking into his eyes, you realize he is understanding more then he is letting on. In a soft spoken (not at all what you expected to hear out of this brute) voice he says “Kill the slavers.”

He the slumps in his chair and waits quietly.

[marine7312000]

Keider leans back in his chair and pulls out his pipe, stuffing it full of tobacco and lighting it before he says in a smooth voice.“I don't like the ways things have been going any more than anyone else but it seems a little dangerous to be talking about in front of strangers. Just the same, I'll take my chances with this group and screw the Thrunes!”

[The Hunter]

With his long black hair and fair pale skin looks every part what you would expect of an elf. But it's his eyes, his facial expression, and his demeanor that take away anything fair that normally graces those of his race. Karadlon Daladar's vibrant storm gray eyes hold a barely contained fury hidden somewhere deep within his little frame which seemed to grow throughout Janiven's speech. As the other's begin to one by one speak up after he declared his willingness to join in he looks back to Janiven, “How strong were your numbers before we joined?”

[Duniagdra]

Karadlon, ever with a stern and unfriendly look set about his face, listens quietly taking in all that she has to say and then glances about to each of those gathered about the table to get a feel of how each reacts to the woman's treasonous speech.

With a low voice, akin to a growl, “I'm in...”

Jan give a nod.

Harman is a robed humanoid with the hood of his robe concealing the top of his head, but exposing his face. He has dark features, which upon close inspection include black eyes, a feature of those who are infernal-born. Once the discourse has concluded, Harman reveals his horns, as if this act alone indicates his answer. He seems confident for a tiefling. Most of his kind meet with discrimination and contempt, yet he seems quite at home among the group. His eyes never leave Janiven's. “Do you have a mate?” The question is blunt, asked partially out of his own sexual desire and partially to secure the extent to which knowledge of his involvement might travel. After all, pillow talk among mates frequently includes secrets. He would want to meet her mate, should she have one.

When Harman makes the inquiry, Jan laughs in a short, sudden burst at Harman, as if saying, Like you think you have a chance.

Olomorn, an ugly (alright super ugly, and a bit smelly) 1/2 orc, has arms that are extremely large and powerful. With a bit of drool hanging off his mouth is obviously concentrating to understand all that is going on. But then looking into his eyes, you realize he is understanding more then he is letting on. In a soft spoken (not at all what you expected to hear out of this brute) voice he says “Kill the slavers.”

He the slumps in his chair and waits quietly.

Jan acknowledges Olo with a cautious nod.

Keider leans back in his chair and pulls out his pipe, stuffing it full of tobacco and lighting it before he says in a smooth voice.“I don't like the ways things have been going any more than anyone else but it seems a little dangerous to be talking about in front of strangers. Just the same, I'll take my chances with this group and screw the Thrunes!”

“Strangers yes. But we're all of like mind and desire change. This is why each of you are here now. I know enough about the lot of you to know I've chosen well.”

With his long black hair and fair pale skin looks every part what you would expect of an elf. But it's his eyes, his facial expression, and his demeanor that take away anything fair that normally graces those of his race. Karadlon Daladar's vibrant storm gray eyes hold a barely contained fury hidden somewhere deep within his little frame which seemed to grow throughout Janiven's speech. As the other's begin to one by one speak up after he declared his willingness to join in he looks back to Janiven, “How strong were your numbers before we joined?”

“We're still recruiting. We've only just formed really so our numbers are not too great.”
“I've chosen each of you because you have special skills that the others do not possess.”

[shai-hulud]

Harman, used to rejection, says, “What I lack in looks and personality, I more than make up for with a good heart.” He smiles at his taunter, unconcerned with how she treated him. “But, I am concerned about the 'special abilities' for which we have been chosen. I am an amazing alchemist, but I don't know what I might contribute. Corvus and I are pretty smart, sure, but I'm worried that you plan to use us as your patsies, should you be discovered. Blame it on the tiefling. Sure, it's all his fault.” A raven peaks its head out from the tiefling's robes, looks around, says, “Hi there!” then gets shy and pops back into the robes.

[Duniagdra]

“No one's in this to pass blame on anyone. There are no patsies. You'll just have to take my word on that. You've been picked do to a commonly shared opinion on the state of things here. You don't have to be here if you don't wish to.”

A sudden excited pounding at the front door disrupts the meeting. Janiven goes to a shuttered window. Immediately adopting a defensive posture, Janiven peers through the window at whoever’s knocking, then swiftly moves to the door, unlocks it, and opens it. In stumbles an out-of-breath and frightened-looking teenager.

“Morosino! What is it!”

“They’ve got Arael!” he calls out, then immediately doubles over in a fit of coughing brought on by his long run.
Janiven’s face grows grim as she comforts Morosino and asks him to explain himself; in a moment the lad recovers enough to spurt out, “The dottari nabbed Arael, and the Hellknights of the Rack are trying to get custody of him! There’s a bunch of Hellknights on their way here now! I only just made it in here; they’ve already surrounded us!”

At that point, the sound of clanking armor advancing on the tavern becomes apparent.

Glancing out the window reveals a large group of heavily armed and armored Hellknights advancing down the street, yet Janiven remains calm.
“I'm sorry for involving you in this mess.” As she says this the door shakes from the heavy hammering of a fist to it.
“ Come out now and surrender at once! ” the voice on the other side booms out.
“Please, follow me.” Janiven signals Morosino behind the tavern's decrepit bar and signals all of you to follow her. You see her lean down and hear the creak of something being opened and see her struggle slightly with whatever it is.

[The Hunter]

Karadlon snarls and rises to his feet, catching the back of the chair and whirling it around before him and rushes the door, jamming it underneath the door handle. Then turns about and dashes towards the bar.

[shai-hulud]

Incredibly nervous, Harman follows the beautiful woman.

[kabkal]

Olo, making sure his weapon is ready for battle follows always making sure no one is going to attack without Olo getting a chance to bash a skull.

[marine7312000]

Keider jumps up from his chair, his pipe still clenched between his teeth and dashes behind the bar. You hear a surprised yelp as his chair tips over, and a large mangy dog stands up from beside the chair. Its surprising that no one noticed the dog. Keider shouts “Cmon Mutt! Time to leave!”

[Duniagdra]

When you gather at the bar, Janiven points to the open trap door.

“This leads to the sewers. From there we can get away and they won't know your identities.”

Morosino is the first to descend into the sewers. Jan is waiting for the rest of you to do the same. Any who linger get the following response, “Try as you may to talk your way out of it, the Order of the Rack is known for its understanding and good treatment of suspects.”

[Twiglet]

“By Iomedae I shall not wait for these heathens.” and down the hole I go.

[marine7312000]

Keider grimaces at Janiven's words and says “Oh joy the sewers. Well Mutt, looks like you're getting another bath.” With that he climbs through the trap door quickly followed by his dog.

[kabkal]

Olo hops down to the sewers, obviously the stench does not bother Olo.

[shai-hulud]

Harman is not one to linger, but his upbringing did not involve romps in the sewers. He is from a rich family, and even though he was not a favored child, his standards of etiquette are quite habitual. He looks at the sewers, furrows his brow, looks to the door, murmurs incoherently as panic begins to set in, and finally, he climbs down the trap door. “Just hold your breath, Corvus. We'll be through this soon.”

[The Hunter]

With a final glance to the door, Karadlon starts to make his way down with a grimace on his face at the prospect of the sewers. The narrow fuzzy face of a weasel pokes from underneath Karadlon's clothing before he pokes it's head back under, “Believe me, Dalan, you don't want to be out for this.” Turning back and back up to Janiven, “And what of you? Will be joining us on our joyful stroll through the park or no?”

[Duniagdra]

OUT-OF-CHARACTER:    By my count, we're just missing action from one player. Tomorrow will have us in the sewer, whether this player posts or not. This time, if no post from gondolin1/Run, we'll just assume he follows, but if not post before my next, he'll be considered lost in the sewers.

[gondolin1]

OUT-OF-CHARACTER:    lSorry about that. I kept looking for updates in the wrong thread. My bad. Run can scout ahead like the good little ranger that he is to make sure no one tries to hit us by surprise.

[Duniagdra]

OUT-OF-CHARACTER:    Starting new thread for sewers. Would have done so yesterday, but I needed sewer tiles as I didn't like what the CoT Mod provided.

[Duniagdra]

OUT-OF-CHARACTER:    New thread starts from here.