The Guildhouse (Pre Game Eyc-C)

[Lex Samreeth]

Garrak Tearandrend

"Ah, Doctor Roussau! A pleasure to finally meet face to face."

 

Garrak becomes impressively effusive upon recognizing one of the Guild's leading faces in the world, as well as one of its preeminent scholars. He once again gets up and goes over to her, gently shaking her hand with his massive paw. His face, which normally has a look of at least mild irritation, is now beyond simply genial - he looks downright happy.

 

"Garrak Tearandrend, leader of the Oopardwei pack. I've written to you on a few occasions about possibly providing my firstborn son, Chavith, with a letter of recommendation to the Academy? His thirst for scholarly literature has been a strain on my pockets to sate, and he's halfway through your compilation on the symbolism of Elven ballads from the Third Age. At the rate he is learning, I think making a sizeable donation would be more cost-effective than continuing to homeschool him."

 

That's assuming the Academy would even consider admitting a gnoll, much less one from a group that openly identifies itself as a cult. Still, Chavith having a formal education would be an inroad to having the pack establish a land for themselves.

 

"Also, on your discussion of blinding a beholder, I might have an answer. But the procedure would be risky. You see, while typically I use my implant exclusively on myself..." He indicates the shining deep crystal that protrudes from his forehead. "I've also found that I can use it to temporarily apply a small variety of debilitating effects to creatures that I strike. And one of those is the capability of disabling the senses of my foe. Thus, it is entirely feasible that if I were able to land a blow upon a beholder, I could render it blind for a time." He pauses to once again swirl his wine. "However, I am quite aware of some significant flaws. Namely, my magic can only be transferred to another through physical contact, which would require me to close distance with the beholder. And the fact that, since it is a magical effect, I would have to be able to avoid the gaze of its central eye on the approach. Still, I could easily conceive of the possibility of somehow imbuing this negative enhancement into an object that could be utilized from a position of concealment."

 

Garrak briefly mutters a few words, and his crystal implant flares, before creating a small illusion to visualize his thoughts.

 

"My first thoughts go to the flashbangs that you are known for using to disorient your quarry, but I was thinking, maybe something with more range might be of use? Perhaps ammunition on some manner of siege engine for a preparatory strike. Or, we could resort to the classic reliable longbow arrow." His demonstrative illusion depicts an archer using a hill as cover and landing an arrow on a beholder while other figures - one notably resembling himself - draw the focus of the central eye and a majority of the eyestalks. "If worst comes to worst, I suppose I could collaborate with Bonaparte on an idea for tactically implementing a blinding strike. His blustering aside, he does have an apt mind for maneuvers."

 

 

 

Edited July 6, 2022 by Lex Samreeth (see edit history)

[CraziFuzzy]

Thrack Golasson

The big man, now adjusted down to human proportions, steps (relatively) softly towards the ladies, eyeing the platters laid out on the table, his mouth watering in anticipation for whatever delights Madame Rousseau has in store for them.

"Maybe, magic and trickery aren't the answer to every problem.  Sometimes, the direct method is more - effective," he grins crooked, "right Monique?"

 

Addressing more to the group than just the pair, "Sounds like they've got all these eye powers, blasting all around - but they're still flesh - they can still be smashed."

 

[RedDingo]

   Yaronvael the Steel Wolf   

---

"Flashbang tipped bolts," said the Ragnavolk interrupting, the giant man. He held out a sievr bolt with aforementioned beaks he had readied on the way to the chapterhouse. "I used these once to disorient a troop of morlocks."

 

Since they decided to invade his head with telepathy, Yaronvael had left his table to involve himself in the conversation. "Tanglefoot rounds and tiespring bolt will slow them down and limit their mobility. They will also aid in subduing the native Cyclops populace...assuming that freeing them is a priority for us...esteemed...hunters."

 

If that actually was a priority. Thrack seemed less the type to differentiate dominated foes from actively malicious ones and Nemeia seemed too apathetic to concern themself with it.

 

 

 

---

 

[Rudra]

 

When Monique arrive Sonja is already 3/4 in the floor, the scholar have barely the time to say her piece before the ghost fully disappear, without a sound, Rousseau is probably used to it.

But lack of reply doesnt mean lack of attention, Sonja is still there, somewhere and the first to notice it is the man who dared speak ill of the book giver, anyone adding quality material to the archives automatically get a better treatment, our Banshee wouldnt have much to protect...and read... if people like Monique didnt add new texts.

 

The more perceptive may notice a shadow, briefly moving in an unnatural way, for a shadow, it caress the back of the fancy-pants man , who shiver and lose the grip of his cup, spilling the content. 

After that, nothing happen for several seconds, no sight of the ghost.

 

Later, when a group is being forming around the scholar, discussing ideas and tactics, Sonja approach, unseen but heard, oh yes, Garrak, Thrack, Yaronvael, Nemeia and Monique herself can hear a quiet but perceptible laughter from...seem the tavern itself.

"you all will dieeeee" a whisper,  Sonja speaking with very low voice, barely audible by the five of them.

Slowly a light form on the the table used by the 5 adventurers, an illusion that doesnt even try hard to fool their eyes, it evolve and take the shape of a beholder, the size of a basketball, the illusionary creature look toward them, opening it's mouth while lightnings appear behind it's image.

A diversion!

While all of this is happening, Sonja descend from the ceiling, right on top of the tallest among them( currently garrak?) upside down, silent as always, with an arm outstretched and a closed hand with only the index finger pointing out, until it make contact with the gnoll's head. Nothing happen , expect the gnoll having a ghost finder inside his head, by this point Sonja has been spotted.

She whisper, again.

"Ground dwellers, what makes you think their lair is made for your kind?  that they will fight you on your terms? you'll be climbing, leaping or using magic to travel in what probably resemble an ant nest with a lot of vertical mine shaft against a foe who doesnt even know how -walking- feel" the illusionary beholder float in place while Sonja withdraw back into the ceiling, only to reappear from Yaronvael own shadow, this time standing upright and at her usual floating height, a few inches above ground.

The illusion change and now it look like a caricature of Garrak, flying superman-like down a well, only for a beholder to look at him, the caricature fall and fall and fall, until it splat on the illusionary ground, the splatter details are a bit macabre.

"They know the territory, they outsmart you, they expect you, they had time to prepare... " she keep talking with low voice.

"And" she say, shifting her attention on Thrack, her voice raise to a normal tone and become cold, analytical "their skin is as hard as steel, but maybe it wont make a difference for someone with your powerful body" The illusion end and Sonja just float there, outside the archives she feel like a fish out of water, social interaction with so many living creatures make the ghost nervous .

 

While Monique know what she know because she's a brilliant mind, Sonja knowledge come from time, centuries spent reading books day and night. 

 

 

 

Edited July 6, 2022 by Rudra (see edit history)

[dalamb]

Monique Rousseau

While the others talked, Monique took a few spoonsful of her crème brulé. Surrounded by the best of the Guild’s hunters, each knowledgeable in their own specialty, it was easy for Monique to fall into “graduate seminar leader” mode. Her job was to draw out each one’s contribution and encourage the group to support each other’s thoughts, rather than try to dominate the room herself. It had been a long time since she had succumbed to the feeling of superiority from usually being the “smartest person in the room;” she now found it much more satisfying to be a facilitator than a lecturer. Almost two decades of academia had made it abundantly clear there was always something a teacher could learn from a student. She patiently waited for everyone who had joined her and Nemeia to speak.   “All right, everyone, if we’re going to talk tactics together, I’d encourage everyone to follow the basic ground rules of brainstorming: everybody gets a chance to speak, nobody dismisses anyone else’ ideas, we keep track of everything said, and before you say anything negative say something positive – and by that I mean think about the idea, don’t make up a false compliment. Agreed?” She looks around for at least one head to nod; she wasn’t so foolish as to think everyone would agree. “All right; let me illustrate what we’d do back in Vesant. First,” she nods at Nemeia. “I didn’t catch your name; I don’t mean to make you broadcast it, I’m just apologizing for any offence I might give for not addressing you with suitable courtesy. I can see you know quite a bit about Creation – more than me, in fact. I know the theory, but little of the practice; I only dabble, and the cage you suggest is beyond my powers. All that means, though, is that we might want to encourage the Guild to select a specialist. But, and bear with my ignorance, wouldn’t that be a two-way barrier? We could imprison the thing for a while, and that would certainly help us escape, but could we permanently defeat it? I’d love to hear suggestions.”   To Garrak, she says “Ah, Mister Tearandrend, I am so sorry you never received my reply to your first letter; I never received the others. I will have to look into the machinations of the University’s mail room. I suspect someone who knows your reputation – and your race – decided not to let us correspond. Is Chavith in town? If there is time, I would be delighted to interview him formally, and make my recommendation directly to the Chancellor. As to your suggestion, I do think blinding is the key; I speculate that the creature must see to aim its eye stalks, and haven’t seen any evidence that it has other senses that give it a way to target without sight. But absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence. I hope to learn more by studying the Guild’s archives; the ones back home are a little light on useful tactical information. And, yes, I can fire a Sun Flare from a distance. But it’s best to have multiple approaches; if the Guild selects both of us, it is likely at least one of us could succeed.” She nods to Yaronvael, saying “And your suggestions are good ones, too; we need several ways to attack it."   She turns to the now-human-sized man, saying, “Thrack! It has been a while; I hope you are well. And, yes, even if blinded, the beholder could still make many of our magical attacks ineffective. Even if it can’t select targets for its many eye stalks, it can still defeat any magic that happens to be coming from the direction it happens to be facing. So I suspect in the end it will come down to smashing. Besides,” and here she sighs, “we can’t be sure blinding is going to work. I’d hate to see you turned to dust. And there could be three of them at once. Or more.”   Her summary is interrupted by the banshee’s warnings. She waits patiently, suppressing any signs of annoyance, nibbling at her dessert. When Sonya pauses, she says, “I take your point, Sonja; we can’t be overconfident. But, forgive me, old friend; we need to be well aware of the dangers we’re facing, but the people of the Duchy need us to eliminate the threat, and I hope we can calm our fears into an appropriate level of caution.”   She looks around at the group, and says, “Now, who else has a thought to share?”

[CRook]

A metallic fingertip rises and falls, tapping on the table once, twice, as the figure nods. It seems they might well concede the point, until they begin to broadcast once more.

 

"Nemeia suits me for now. You are right, if you assume that the restrictive casing will endure the disintegration any better than any of us. If not, what it gives, is an opportunity to maneuver with magic intact by obstructing the eye." they explain in response, through the same telepathic broadcast. "If I were trying to use the casing as a weapon, I would need to further augment it with acidic creation, which if coating the inside, would make it a slow and ineffective way, if the things are even harmed by such. Likewise, I could do an internal creation plasma production and try to keep up with attempts to blast through the casing by repairing the casing. All of which to say I don't believe that such is a certainty." they continue for a moment, canting their head. 

 

"Or I could try to turn it into stone and let the stronger among us shatter it and skip all of the..."  they trail off while rolling their metallic hand, the material moving as muscle and sinew might, seamlessly integrated into the flesh of their forearm. "...production." Another brief, satisfied little look at the pun.

 

"Plans and first contact, as they say."  as they shrug a one shouldered shrug, before continuing. "Our resident expert on all things being dead and books is right, though. We are unlikely to get the chance to maneuver and they have spent longer doing what we are doing now, than we will get to. Mass earth-moving would be helpful, or an enhancement animate structure effect at the least to turn any caveways against them and others, but now we are getting into the realm of the hyper-specific and niche."

[RedDingo]

   Yaronvael the Steel Wolf   

---

"I assumed none of us here would be alive right now if enemy territory was that much of a gamebreaker," Yaron said. Delving into a cave filled with deadly traps was the first hunt he ever undertook. Then he pointedly added at the annoying banshee. "Present company excluded, of course."

 

He normally was not so talkative but the spectre's taunting rubbed him the wrong way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

[relekorlagunis]

Astrophel

The door to the kitchen opens and an unassuming human steps through, carrying a large steaming pot. He sets the pot down at the end of the bar and gestures to Darrin, who brings over a large stack of bowls and begins serving anyone who wants the soup.  It is a complex and hearty broth, its steam carrying the earthy smell of mushrooms, the crisp aroma of fresh apples, and a hint of sage.

Some of you know this one as Astrophel, ostensibly a mere human.  He is known in the guild as a diplomat and orator, or when that fails, a fearsome fighter.  They say he was born blind, and he keeps his eyes covered, but he moves and reacts to others as if he could see them clearly.  Thin strands of magic wrap around his head in intricate diagrams, and his hands appear to be discolored, with sharp nails and ashen-tinted skin.

 

"Ah, so the Guildmaster has truly called everyone for this event, if even Sonja has been summoned," he says, smiling as he carries over two bowls of soup, handing one over to anyone who will accept and sitting with his own bowl.  He bows politely to the assembled group  "I am Astrophel.  I must say, it's a pleasure to meet you all.  The Guild has grown so much I haven't been able to keep up with even the elite members, much less the rank and file."  The perceptive among you notice that no matter where you are in relation to Astrophel, his words are clear and comforting, as if he cuts through all the chatter and noise of the bar.

---

Astrophel The Blind HP 375 / 375 Speed 30ft / fly 30ft Init +5

AC 51 Fort 44 Ref 31 Will 34

Morningstar +5 +35/+30/25 (1d8+20, 16-20/x2)
Lich's Grasp +20/+15/+10 (1d6, x2)

Str 10 (0) Dex 20 (5) Con 40 (15) Wis 20 (5) Int 10 (0) Cha 40 (15) 

 

[Warlawk]

Alexzander Volkov

As if summoned by the delivery of a savory soup Alekz meandered into the Guildhouse. He let the words of the others flow over him as he filled a bowl and found an empty seat. Like so many other senior operatives he has found ways to rise beyond such simple needs as food, but nothing can replace the satisfaction of a lovingly crafted meal.

 

Alekz tossed a salute to Astrophel with his spoon and cleared his throat adding to the conversation in his comically thick accentTake a stereotypical media russian accent and crank it up to 11!. "I am agreeing that the plans, they cannot survive contact with the enemy. The planning herself however" He waggled his spoon in the air to accentuate the point he was making "Ah the planning, she will be very important for she will give us the inspiration and the ideas we will need to stay alive when this whole thing, it goes very sideways very quickly, yes?"

 

The compact man frowned as his spoon scraped the now empty bowl and rose to refill said bowl to nearly overflowing as he continued "I am believing that it will be important for the team to have multiple ways to stop, isolate and shut down these beasties, yes? Since they can just be giving us a dirty look and wiping away all of our shiny magical protections we need ways to be sure that they cannot be effectively using their shooty eye beams, yes? Many ways I am thinking, so that if a single operative is neutralized there is redundancy to protect the team, yes? Yes." Alekz paused, a considering look on his face as he reviewed his words. Deeming them sufficient he retook his seat and leaned in to loudly slurp at the soup threatening to overflow the rim of his bowl then nodded his appreciation to Astrophel.

 

[Lex Samreeth]

Garrak Tearandrend

"I might have magic, but I also have other ways of debilitating my opponents."

 

Garrak holds up his right hand, palm inward, showing off the odd glove that he wears on that hand, with four pockets over the proximal phalanges - the first finger bones.

 

"My gifts in alchemy might not come close to the near-miraculous tonics and explosives you might be able to concoct, Doctor. But I do have a knack for duplicating some of the nastier poisons and venoms that the world has to offer. As I tell my disciples, when the goal of combat is survival, whether for yourself or those near to you, honor is a needless restriction. If grinding a dose of purple worm venom into their veins is what it takes, I'm ready to deal with the consequences."

 

Smirking, Garrak picks up a dish of the "creme brulee" and carefully looks it over.

 

"Hmm. Creme brulee...that means scorched cream, doesn't it? So I would presume the appropriate utensil would be..." He reaches over and grabs a spoon, lightly tapping the carmelized crust.

 

"And yes, Chavith is in town, as are most of my disciples. One of my wives is due to give birth, and even though things tend to go more smoothly for gnolls after their first birth, the process is still riskier for both mother and child than it is for humans and other such races. I'm not letting her give birth without some experienced healers on hand. We're camped in the spot usually taken by trading caravans. Chavith is quite easy to pick out. He's definitely my son - he's already a head taller than the next tallest gnoll, and he styles his mane in tied-back, braided locks, like mine. He also insists on dressing in more human fashions."

 

Bringing a spoon loaded with the creamy dessert to his mouth, his eyes widen, and appreciative grunts emerge from his throat.

 

"Mmm...MMM! This...this is wonderful! You're going to have to share the recipe with my second wife, Zaphira. She has quite the sweet tooth."

 

 

 

 

 

Edited July 7, 2022 by Lex Samreeth (see edit history)

[CRook]

"Ah, the two kinds of creation I have not mastered, after all this time." Nemeia chimes in, on the topics of children and crème brulés. "At least, not the hard way, like that." they continue after a moment. "Easier to do it with a discrete application of power, a little clay and dirt, a twist to the essence of existence, and now you have a body, a little pooling of power and investiture of those things that we seem to cherish - the capacity to reason, the notion of a soul, breath, warmth, and there you have it. Though, I imagine that misses all those... intangibles, like joy, and pleasure, fulfillment, pride..." they trail off while rolling their metallic hand once more, a gesture that they seem fond of. As they do, the firm muscles of their forearm become apparent, the corded nature of the muscle apparently their own, rather than a trick of the metal hand, though it certainly continues to the point of the transmutation "...though it does also miss out on the messes. All the messes. So many messes. It must be like having recruits coming into your workshop and asking for magical items they know nothing about, cannot afford, and would likely hurt themselves with if you gave it to them. Except you can't fling hammers at children when they start crying. Apparently, anyways."  they punctuate the thought, as well as the telepathic broadcast with an eloquent shrug.

 

"I trust that all of you who have commitments, loved ones, families, other obligations I've not mentioned, have addressed them before reporting in?"  they ask, turning an eye towards the assembled. "We are all professionals, it wouldn't do to take our eyes off the prize - our enemies certainly won't and they have more between them than we're likely to."

[Rudra]

 

Sonja look away when Monique call her old friend, the banshee may like her but -friend- isnt a word she would use, Sonja try hard to not make friends, because they die.

Would you befriend someone who barely live one year? lifespan wise the livings to Sonja are like rats to an human, you can like one of them but you cant build a long term friendship because before you realize it they have died of old age.

To make things worse the job of monster hunter is a dangerous one so few die of old age.

And Monique...is a middle aged rat, Sonja doesnt want to suffer so no, they are not friends.

 

To Yaronvael "Indeed Numenerad" confusing his tribe" but of everyone here you should be the one paying the most attention to my warnings, last time your people didnt listen and..." she stop, appear confused, mistaking Yaronvael for someone else.

 

Numenerads (obscure history)

Made up ancient civilization whose settlements were near what today is called the Grand Crater 

 

Her attention shift on the table, all the food people have bought have turned it into a king's feast, her eyes focus on a glass of wive and she stare at it for a long time, up to minutes if no one disturb her or drink it "i dont remember it's taste" she whisper, with an hint of sadness.

 

 

 

Edited July 7, 2022 by Rudra (see edit history)

[Eviltedzies]

Bonaparte T. Rasque - "Le Commandant"

At the introduction of the two headed warrior's names Bonaparte gave a courteous nod to both heads in turn. Their follow up question regarding the mentioning of Bonaparte's name seemed only to elicit an excited gleam in the man's reptilian eyes. "Roh'Gau your analytical perceptions are more astute than the common folk I see. Yes indeed my name is often held in reverence on many less experienced tongues. Some feel as though speaking it aloud might be a dishonor to them so great is my name, but such humble honorings are really quite unnecessary. I am already aware of the weight my name carries and begrudge no man or woman for choosing to refrain from casually speaking it aloud." Despite his heavy focus on his own ego, Bonaparte did not seem to miss Roh'Gau's mention of their home island's proximity to the Isle of Oculus. "Oh? Your home is within trading distance to our next mission's destination? That would make it a wonderful spot to setup a resupply camp if events necessitate. Plus I am certain if there are others even half as strong as you both there we could likely use good men and woman for the frontlines."

In all his talk with Roh'Gau, it seemed Bonaparte had completely forgotten about Garrak which worked out well for by the time Bonaparte's attention turned away from Roh'Gah it appeared Garrak had found himself a new dialogue partner. Indeed, several members appeared to have gathered around a section of the bar where several platters of an enticingly smelling confection was being served. Glancing back to the two headed warrior, Bonaparte beckoned him to follow. "Come, let us see what that enchanting smell is coming from...." 

Leaving his now empty mug behind Bonaparte slid off his stood and, with a brief pause to ensure his attire was still in perfect appearance, made his way towards the gathered group. As he did, the man's keen ears picked up multiple topics of dialogue but the two that seemed most prominent were the discussions of anti-beholder tactics along with the praises of the confectionary treats being served. "Preparation and planning are cornerstones to any good battle strategy, but there is one more aspect to battle equally as important... the ability to adapt to unforeseen changes." Sweeping his gaze, Bonaparte bid each of his fellow guild members a toothy smile and a nod before helping himself to one of the cups of toasted cream. Holding it just below his nose for a moment, Bonaparte savored the smell though he refrained from immediately wolfing down the impeccably baked treat. "A little known fact about beholderkin is that the magical effects produced from their eyes are not always the same for each beholder. You may plan on protecting yourself against a Disintegrate effect only to find yourself on the receiving end of a Stone to Lava transmutation beneath your feet." As if to accentuate his point, Bonaparte lightly broke the crust of his Crème brûlée with his spoon. "Thus is it paramount that all hunter's be able to adjust their tactics accordingly on a moments notice. Something I just so happen to specialize in."

Peacocking aside, Bonaparte appeared ready to continue on his self advertise before he placed a spoonful of desert within his maw. Immediately the reptilian man's eyes went wide and an unrestrained growl of satisfaction echoed from his throat. "Oh my word! This is fantastic!" With only a moderate sense of self restraint, Bonaparte took two more spoonfuls of his dessert as he savored every second. Only after he realized he was making a scene did the man appear to compose himself once more. Eying the red haired woman who had produced the treats, Bonaparte gave the woman a respectable acknowledgement. "Do I have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Professor Monique Rousseau? If your scouting skills are as perfected as your baking I've no doubt those beholderkin will be in for trouble!" The ale from earlier still flowed through Bonaparte's system but not enough to damage the man's attention to appearances. If anything, it merely made him MORE talkative. "Bonaparte T. Rasque, Le Commandant extraordinaire at your service."
 

[RedDingo]

   Yaronvael the Steel Wolf   

---

"I am always ready to die, Entity. That's what it means to be one of the Ragnavolkr," Yaronvael said to Nemeia using the term he had named them during one of their disagreements. The Lodge was instructed to return his remains to his enclave in the event that he could not be revived by their magics...or to inform them of his previous whereabouts for Reclamation if his remains could not be found.

 

He had long since given up trying to correct the the banshee when she had called him Numenerad. When he had asked her about what the term meant, she simply led him to a book whose title loosely translated to "Ghosts of the Grand Crater", it was book on a pre-Impact civilization whose ruins could be found near Volnadyne. The information itself was largely conjectural with scant evidence and conclusions based on speculation and secondhand sources. Even the term "Numenerad" came from the ancient text of an adjacent kingdom that barely survived the Great Impact only to fall a century later. The book suggested that his people were descended from this tribe but he found that unlikely as Volnadyne was founded a millennium after the aforementioned disaster. Sonja seemed to put stock in it though as she constantly confused him for them. When it came to Archives, her recollection was unparalleled. However, it seemed that undeath did no favors for conventional memory and situational awareness. Her previous warnings to his people could refer to the Impact, the Ruin, or a large ditch in the road ahead of a caravan.

 

He said nothing more, however, and continued to observe in silence. The irony these immortals who transcended the need for food indulge themselves while he, who still required such things, abstained was not lost on him. He wondered if cooking deserts would smooth things over with Selko the way it had endeared Monique to the hobgobblin...probably not. For now he should be content that Bonaparte's attentions were diverted elsewhere.

---

 

[Steel Warrior]

Roh'Gau

Painted Barbarian

 

Roh'Gau finds something about Bonaparte intriguing and makes sure to follow along. He offers no current advice and simply listens in on the conversation at hand. It is true that there is a port for the trade of animals and various beasts, but merchants will also have a wide selection of goods that they indeed can part with. Roh'Gau agrees with Professor. No idea should be dismissed as it broadens ones chances against a foe with unknown tactics.

"The Primordial Islands is indeed a good place to restock, it's about 5 days travel from Oculus, I fear if the beholders can control the Cyclopians, it will not be far out of reason that they can slowly move to control the surrounding islands." he says. "We must assume that the Cyclopians will also be adversaries we must face in order to get to the root of the problem, unless we have a powerful method to break the enchantment early on.