Prologue: The Sinner’s Eye

[SunDuck]

Drench

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STR: 12 (+1) | DEX: 16 (+3) | CON: 16 (+3) | INT: 10 (+0) | WIS: 14 (+2) | CHA: 8 (-1)

AC: 15 | HP: 29/29 | Initiative: +3  | Passive Perception: 12 | Passive Investigation: 10 | Passive Insight: 16

Darkvision: 60' ft. | Relentless Endurance: 1/1

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Dinner and a show.

The Raven Lord and Lady of Autumn were engaged in a pissing contest - dueling with soft words and cutting glances. While it was difficult for him to catch the full meaning of their careful phrases, the subtle emotions exchanged seemed clear to him.

Though the others addressed the Raven Lord as 'Lord Stuart', Drench felt no need to address him as such in his thoughts. The boy wanted reverence. His words flowed with an undercurrent of greed - speaking of land and wealth. He could have answered simply but chose not to. Drench did not doubt that the Raven Lord was exceptional in his own craft, whatever that may be, but he would not bow to flaunting familial achievements. If what the mage had said was true, there would be time for the Raven Lord to prove himself as an individual instead of only holding titles.

The Lady of Autumn's words were more polite. They rang of humility, though Drench could not discern if they were genuine. Until proven otherwise, he would remain skeptical. His skepticism strengthened as she spoke of being her father's sole child and heir - venturing out on her own for freedom.

She speaks of inheritance as though it is a curse. Why?

Drench's bias amused him. Had he not just mentally scolded the Raven Lord for waving his own inheritance like a banner? Pondering this, he reached for his pipe, holding it out in front of him and grunting in the mage's general direction. With a small nod and maintained eye contact, Drench awaited his employer's permission to smoke.

[ariel]

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Dalin Ghillison

AC: 14 | HP: 46/46 | Rages: 3/3  | Passive Perception: 12 

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The dwarf nodded to Alban when he responded to her question. "From near the feet of the Dwarf Spine Mountains as well? Maybe we're related?" She winked, grinned broadly and then turned to address the table before. 

 

Immediately, Dalin fell into having a staring contest with what looked like the duck galatine she'd mentioned to Cordelia just a few minutes before. Magic. It... he... is still pulling stuff from our heads. I have so many questions. Will it taste the same? Is it nourishing? Am I gonna have to tuck into rations later? Good thing I brought some nice stuff.

 

The dwarf shrugged inwardly and helped herself to a small portion. She then gestured to the plate and whispered a few words in Cordelia's direction in dwarvishIt's the duck galatine... usually an appetizer, but I guess it was in my thoughts.. The plate contained a perfectly cooked savoury roll, decorated with mandarin slices and carrots and containing duck and pork meat that had been blended with truffles and pistachios. 

 

Dalin then closed her eyes and thought deeply about the most perfect steak she'd ever had. It'd been cooked sous-vide, grilled to perfection and had a magnificent drizzle of peppercorn sauce. With hope, she crossed her fingers, opened her eyes and looked around.

 

However, in that moment, Jozelle had announced her occupation. Dalin's eyes narrowed, trying to digest more than the table in front of her. Murder?

 

Dalin let the conversation flow for a bit, trying to let her thoughts catch up to her emotions. After a few beats, it felt like she had to say something, to acknowledge the revelation. "So... Jozelle, how much does it pay? I mean... does it depend on the target or is there a standard rate? Not, ah... that I'm considering it, just curious?" The dwarf took a delicate bite of the duck on her plate, perhaps... so she didn't have to say anything else for the moment.

[Whitleyrr]

With a practiced flourish, Alastair moved two fingers in a small double circle directed towards Drench.

By all means. Drench heard the words in his mind as clearly as if they’d been spoken aloud. The boy puffed on his pipe in appreciation twice, mayhap thrice before he realized he had not lit it. 

As Dalin sampled her bite, she tasted the spicy peppercorn and rich beef of her filet; duck was now the furtherest thing from her mind. This steak was delectable, and every bit as memorable as the one she had privately recalled.

Alastair pulled apart a flaky white fish, crusted in almonds, with his fork and took a delicate bite. They are very well suited to one another, he thought.  

[PureChance]

Alban Lord Stuart - Human Shadow Sorcerer 

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AC: 14  | HP: 27/27 | Initiative: +4 | Passive Perception: 11 (Darkvision 120ft) | HD: 3/3 | Inspiration 1/1 

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As Jozelle leans in towards him, the shoulder of his robes flickers, blue on blue, almost to fast for the eye to catch. His eyebrows raise at the assassins sudden transformation, though it is difficult to tell whether in shock or admiration at her acting skills. Either way, it seems to serve its purpose in relaxing the young Lord somewhat, and he rejoins conversation with the delightful Cordelia across the table.

 

"Lionel Nightshade, " he muses, slender finger tapping his chin "I certainly recognise the name. Yes, the renegotiation of the Eldwood lumbar deal. A formidable officer in Glammer's workings I must say - good to have on your own side. As, clearly, are you Cordelia."

OOC

 

 

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Stat Block

Imperial (variant) Human Sorcerer 3

Languages Common, Elven

Background Noble Background Feature Position of PrivilegeThanks to your noble birth, people are inclined to think the best of you. You are welcome in high society, and people assume you have the right to be wherever you are. The common folk make every effort to accommodate you and avoid your displeasure, and other people of high birth treat you as a member of the same social sphere. You can secure an audience with a local noble if you need to.

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 StrSave +0
Athletics +0 11 DexSave +4
Acrobatics +4 | Sleight of Hand +4 | Stealth +6* 18 ConSave +5*
No skills associated. 16 IntSave +1
Arcana +3* | History +3* | Investigation +1 | Nature +1 | Religion +1 12 WisSave +1
Animal Handling +1 | Insight +1 | Medicine +1 | Perception +1 | Survival +1 12 ChaSave +6*
Deception +6* | Intimidation +4 | Performance +4 | Persuasion +6* 19

Proficiency Bonus +2 Saving Throws Con, Cha

Speed 30

Tools Calligrapher's Tools

Spell Attack Bonus +6 | Spell Save DC 14 | Spell Slots L1 4/4 ; L2 2/2

Sorcery PointsSubtle Spell - 1 point
Extended Spell - 1 point 3/3

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Actions

• Dagger +6 to hit for [1d4+4] piercing damage | Light, Finesse, Thrown 20/60
• Light Crossbow +6 to hit for [1d8+4] piercing damage | Loading, Two-handed, 80/320
• Mind Sliver DC14 INT Sv for [1d6] psychic damage | V, one creature, 60ft | -1d4 next saving throw
• Frostbite DC14 CON Sv for [1d6] cold damage | VS, one creature, 60ft | disadvantage next weapon attack roll

Bonus Actions

Reactions

• ShieldAn invisible barrier of magical force appears and protects you. Until the start of your next turn, you have a +5 bonus to AC, including against the triggering attack, and you take no damage from magic missile. [Hit by an attack / targeted by Magic Missile]

 

Edited May 21, 2023 by PureChance (see edit history)

[Peacemonger]

Jozelle - Human (Rogue/Monk)

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AC: 16 | HP: 26/26 | Initiative: +8 | Passive Perception: 13

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With her piece said, as much revealed as she thinks is necessary, Jozelle relaxes more into the meal. She looks up curiously when Dalin inquires about her price.

"Freelance work is... a new venture. The idea to work for gold, for reward, for favor is... both liberating and confining at the same time. I'm not sure if I like it yet, but I'm willing to give a taste and see if my palette finds it pleasing."

In her own way, Jozelle admits that her work has not been paid, at least not in a traditional sense. Perhaps it brings up more questions than answers, but Jozelle feels satisfied with the explanation. As dinner goes on, she's content to watch and observe, to get to know the others on a more personal level. Still, it's hard to shake the feeling there's more to her glances and stares.

She seems to like everyone well enough, perhaps with Alistair as the exception, whom there is a sense of mistrust for. It's difficult to trust someone with so much power. For Jozelle, it's less a feeling that power corrupts, and more a naturalistic view that a mouse should not trust an owl, a pheasant should rightfully be wary of the hawk. 

 

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Mechanics Main Hand: - (Rapier at hip) Off Hand: - Action: - Bonus Action: - Move: - Manipulate: - HD: 3/3d8

 

 

[Whitleyrr]

“May your blade, Jozelle, find no cause to quench its thirst on this errand.” Alastair interrupted. “But, in the course of these, erm, revelations, perhaps you all will be able to begin to see a master’s hand at work. I know not—well, not all—that lies ahead of you, and to that end, how did that expression go? Plans will be useless, but the planning, essential. Yes, or something like that. And so I have planned for every exigency whether it may require guile or cunning, brawn, piety or puissance.” The mage smoothed his robes and pushed back from the table. He stood, stiffly, and walked to a small shelf behind him. When he returned, he bore a rolled up parchment and, clearing a space on the table, unfurled it. As the companions leaned ink they saw it was a map. He explained to them where on the map they were, and then pointed out the village of Hethton, a three-days walk from here.

“Somewhere in that village or its vicinity rests the Sinner’s Eye. You know what it looks like now, black stone bound in gold, last seen with a good chain forming a necklace. You know what it can do. Bring it back here, and keep them safe.” Alastair took a bite of a golden apple, the juice dripping just a little bit down his beard. In the candlelight, something about that moisture was unsettling. But each companion, in turn, shrugged off their worries, and thought of money or power, restoration or reconciliation. They ate their fill, shared more stories, and took their rest. Alastair sat up late, though. He read in several tomes before gazing out into the night sky and drifting off.

Dawn crested the horizon, a reddish gray, burdened with clouds. As they each found their way to the table again, they realized, as if an inevitability, that Alastair was gone. They were on their own, to rise and write their names in the sky, or to fall and be claimed by the dust and mud.