Daggers in the Dark

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Daggers in the Dark

Player DM: Xenarchy


Garrin - Human - Rogue/Wizard 4

Craft - War golem - Artificer/Fighter 5

Valadhiel - Dawn elf - Ranger/Wizard 6


3 Shadow Elf Rogues 3 - CR 2 ea.

1 Shadow Elf Cleric 3 - CR 2

The Scene Begins

It's a lightly clouded night in Alexandria, and for whatever reason, this small number of adventurous sorts find themselves in the dark and dingy Southwestern end of the city. The manalamps illuminate the street with a measure of light, enough to see by and some windows bestow light as well, where lamps are lit inside. Still, at this time of night there are still plenty of shadows about.

Garrin staggers out of the nearest tavern. Really. HE's a little tispy and laughing. And then? He bursts into song. Because bursting into song is what people who are tipsy really do.

As usual, Craft is wandering. This time, he stops by one of the manalamps, taking a good look at it's construction, taking tools in and out of his blacksmith's apron to examine it, glancing over as Garrin staggers out of the tavern he is standing in front of and begins to sing.

Valadhiel adjusts her cloak a bit, moving through the streets at a determined pace. What she's looking for, precisely, is impossible to say. A faint hooting from overhead comes from her owl, who circles above the elven wizard. She pauses as she spies out Garrin, blinking a bit in some measure of surprise.


Garrin just walked right into Craft, actually. He's on his way that-a-way and he blinks his eyes up at him. "Oh. It's a big war golem. Hi!"

Craft looks down at the inebriated figure. "Hello," he remarks. "Are you... unwell?" he wonders, turning away from his work as the highly uncoordinated figure draws his attention.

Valadhiel snorts very softly, "He appears to be more than a little drunk, actually." She shakes her head, head glancing back and forth as she murmurs, "Seems to be the right part of town for it."

"*A litle*," replies Garrin, laughing. He turns towards the elf, then, and adds, "It is! This is the best part of town to get really, really drunk! Faiza is probably going to glower at me sternly later."

"He has been drunk?" Craft wonders, looking at the rather solid Garrin, wondering what could possibly be drinkable. "Are you refering to the fluid that escapes from wounds?" He pauses for a moment. "Blood?" Another pause. "Are there Vampires nearby?" Hey, he's been learning!

Valadhiel ahs, "No, he's suffering from drinking too much alcohol." She takes a half-step back from Garrin, just in case he gets a little nauseated. These /are/ relatively new boots, after all.

"'Allo, sir!" A young boy in scraggly clothes and a charming wee cap wanders up to the group and looks at each of them. He looks at a scrap of paper in his hand and then addresses Garrin. "Mister Goodmountain? Some feller told me to give you this." The boy offers the note.

"Mnwhat?" says Garrin. He looks down at the boy. Pauses. Then reaches for the paper. "Okay. What's this, then?" He hands the boy a copper coin as well.

"He has been poisoned?" Craft asks, and looks towards the boy, then at the note, not musing on it's nature out loud.

Valadhiel chuckles a little, "No, well... in a technical sense, but it was willingly self-inflicted." She smiles wryly, then pauses, looking curiously at the reception of the note.

To Garrin only: 'The note is written in an elegant hand: "Mr. Goodmountain, it is urgent that we meet immediately. There have been threats made against your family. Signed, a concerned party." An address nearby is included.'

"Thankya, sir!" The boy catches the coin and scarpers.

"..threats! Threats against my.. Hey! Where are you going?!" He yells after the scampering kid. "Who gave you this?!"

"Bad enough that you eat dead things, now you are eating poisons," Craft remarks, shaking his head lightly, the manalamp glinting off his well polished faceplate.

Valadhiel arches a brow, "Well, it beats eating /live/ things." She turns to Garrin, "What is it?"

The boy has run off with the shiny coin in hand and doesn't care to answer.

"They say their are threats against my family! Hey! You two!" He points at Craft and Valadhiel. "Come with me!"

ANd with that, Garrin turns to head in that direction. Or at least what he thinks that direction is.

"Live things do not decay," Craft makes a remark, and watches Garrin storm off. He looks towards Valadhiel, and starts to follow, face unreadable as always.

Valadhiel shrugs and unslings her bow, whistling up to the sky as she follows along. Her eyes flicker back and forth, "What manner of threats, Garrin? Are they being held somewhere?"

"This way!" Garrin is leading the way, now, expecting them to follow becasue, well, that's what they're supposed to do. "They didn't say! No one threatens my family!" He's still a bit tipsy, but he's suddenly much mroe alert.

The address leads down some stairs in an alley, to a basement door. All the lights are off. Without aid, the only way you can see the door at all is from the glint of metal of its handle and hinges, and the faint starlight that seeps in between close rooftops.

"This is the place," says Garrin, sliding to a halt. "Hello!" He yells. Then he runs to the door and bangs on it a few times. He's summoning a spell of light, to boot!

GAME: Garrin casts Light.

Craft doesn't comment, simply following in silence, his hand lowering to the hammer at his side, checking it's presence, feeling it's weight. As Garrin begins to summon up an etheral light, he pulls the hand from his apron, empty, and continues after the man. "This strikes me as somewhat unwise," he remarks, his metallic voice low.

Valadhiel pauses, and quietly murmurs a faint spell under her breath, her eyes flashing a moment with a glow of silver, before her normal eye color returns. She absently dusts her hands, murmuring something about talc under her breath.

GAME: Valadhiel casts see invisibility.

Bang bang bang. Garrin finishes knocking on the door. Loudly.

Then he tries to open it after he finishes casting a brief light spell on a copper coin he's fished out of his pocket. "HELLO!"

Craft watches Garrin's attempts with the door, his own body perched somewhat awkwardly on the stairs, not particularly trusting the things, one hand on his hammer, another on the wall.

Valadhiel arches a brow, "I wouldn't suppose we'd be so lucky as to have the door actually be open, would we?"

Soon, the door clicks and opens. There's an older but seasoned and worldly woman, human by the looks of her. Within the room there's only darkness besides the light spilling from Garrin and the solitary candle on a table at the end of the room. "Come in," she says. "I'll show you the letter we intercepted." The woman gestures at the table.

"Okay," says Garrin, firmly, and he hurries right inside, apparently expecting the otehrs to follow him. He's being BOLD.

GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+11: (1)+11: 12
GAME: Valadhiel rolls sense motive: (6)+2: 8
GAME: Garrin rolls Sense Motive: (12)+5: 17
GAME: Craft rolls sense motive: (5)+3: 8

Craft's magicite eyes silently take everything in and, slowly, he follows after Garrin, not taking his hand from his hammer, his head turning this way and that, alert and aware as the drunk man is not.

Valadhiel arches a brow, staying near the back, keeping a hand on her bow, the elvish runes glowing faintly in the dim light.

To Garrin only: 'Something's not right here, niggling at your mind as you enter the room. There's something fishy about the woman, but it's hard to put your finger on. Something about her voice doesn't sit right with her appearance.'

GAME: Garrin rolls linguistics: (1)+9: 10

Something about this all appears to be bothering Garrin. He stops. He looks rather confused. "Okay." But his bearing and manner are hard to miss. When you're drunk, you're not really all that good at deception. And he isn't, at the moment.

GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+11: (19)+11: 30
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+11: (13)+11: 24
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+11: (13)+11: 24
GAME: Valadhiel rolls Perception: (15)+11: 26

To Valadhiel only: 'Garrin's light does not fully encompass this basement, but at the edge of the light your keen elven eyes detect two hidden figures, on opposite sides from you.'

Valadhiel murmurs quietly to Craft, "There's two figures hidden in the shadows, one on each side." She arches a brow, not nocking an arrow yet, but her grip shifts slightly on the bow, as she chants quietly, a shimmering field surrounding her for a brief moment before it fades.

GAME: Valadhiel casts shield.


"How disappointing." Her voice is changed, no longer disguised and allowing a distinctly shadow elven accent to flow. "I had hoped we could take you hostage without unsightly scratches, but this will have to suffice. Never mind. We can sell your tin man's skin for scrap and your lovely friend-" She utters a very horrible racial slur in the elven tongue, "-will be a delightful addition to my master's collection." Her illusion fades to reveal the prideful smirk of a shadow elf. She touches a clasp around her neck and a volume of blackness billows out from her, cutting a large circle out of Garrin's spell of light. He is included in that shadow, leaving only dim illumination near him.

Movement skirts around the edge of the light, staying within pure darkness and letting only brief glints of oiled metal show. There are three of them.

GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+5: (9)+5: 14
GAME: Craft rolls reflex: (19)+2: 21
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+5: (10)+5: 15
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+7: (14)+7: 21

The figures dart in from the shadows. One slings a small bag at Craft, splattering him with sticky strands of goo. The stuff hardens quickly, impeding his movement but he is quick enough to keep his feet from being glued to the floor. The other two dash in from both sides, flanking Valadhiel and striking at her with curved daggers. Their blades glance off the magical shield despite their surprise attack. They are shadow elves, all of them.

GAME: Garrin rolls will: (17)+4: 21

The obvious leader slips back into absolute darkness, hissing between her teeth. She begins to incant a spell, rising tones invoking words of fright and shadow. Several unholy names of Taara are spoken, all imploring the queen of darkness to trap Garrin in bonds of magic. Nothing happens, the spell bouncing off the man's resolute will.

GAME: Garrin rolls 1d20+5: (9)+5: 14
GAME: Garrin rolls 1d100: (83): 83

"...whoa. Did it get dark in here?"

Garrin then realizes someone is trying to seize control of his mind. It took him some time to catch up to what's going on. And then? He sends a blast of light in the direction of the shadow elf's eyes. "Hey! Will ya look at THAT? Have som SUNSHINE."

GAME: Craft rolls melee-2: (7)+7+-2: 12

"You can try," Craft remarks, his voice like metal dragged across stone as he pulls his hammer from his waist, moving to the elf that threw the goo at him, taking a swing. The adhesive gums up his joints, however, throwing off his swing and leaving the adamantine head of the hammer simply soaring through the air.

GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+5: (4)+5: 9
GAME: Valadhiel casts scorching ray.
GAME: Valadhiel rolls 1d20+8: (10)+8: 18
GAME: Valadhiel rolls 1d100: (28): 28
GAME: Valadhiel rolls 4d6: (13): 13

Valadhiel backs up a bit, scowling, "Shadow elves. Garrin, my complements on the quality of your enemies." She ignores the wild swing of the rogue on her, then gestures and chants a quick word of command, fire incinerating the rogue elf as the wizard continues, "Really, they are like mushrooms, living in darkness and feeding on offal." The badly burned shadow elf IS still upright, barely.

GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+7: (4)+7: 11
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+7: (19)+7: 26
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d4+1+2d6: (4)+1+(8): 13
GAME: Xenarchy damaged Craft for 13 points. 28 remaining.

It's all turning to chaos. One shadow elf screams and runs, half stumbling, out of the meagre light into the darkness beyond again. There's the sound of desperate rummaging with something and a clink of glass. The other near Valadhiel thinks being near such a fiery person is bad for his health and goes to join his friend by Craft. His dagger fails to find a gap in the war golem's armour. The other, however, strikes under a plate into the mechanisms within.

"Aaaah! Blessed Taara, my eyes!" The shadow elf priestess stumbles backward, vanishing into darkness. "You cursed filth! You are worth a lot of money intact, but I will gladly give it all up for the pleasure of peeling off your skin!"

"..oh yeah? Well... well, you're a JERK," yells Garrin back at Lysbeth loudly. "And I'm going to turn you over to someone who'll be very glad to see you!"

GAME: Garrin rolls 2d4+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Garrin casts Magic Missile.

And then Garrin begins to (somewhat slurredly) intone the words of magic. Somehow, he still manages to blast the only enemy in sight with a pair of magical energy bolts.

GAME: Craft rolls melee-2: (13)+7+-2: 18
GAME: Craft rolls 1d100: (58): 58
GAME: Craft rolls 1d8+4: (7)+4: 11

Craft's reaction to the dagger slipped between his metal plates is a dramatic one, but perhaps not what the elf was expecting. He spins, gripping the hammer tightly in both hands, and bounces the head of the thing off of his skull, watching the assailant crumble to the floor before turning magicite eyes back on his other sparring partner.

GAME: Valadhiel rolls 1d20+8: (1)+8: 9

Valadhiel suddenly nocks an arrow as she shouts, "The burned one is about to drink something!" She lets loose the shot, but it sadly goes wide in the darkness, the elf apparently able to see things that the others cannot.

GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+3: (7)+3: 10
GAME: Craft rolls melee-2: (3)+7+-2: 8
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+7: (6)+7: 13

The elf dealing with Craft doesn't look so confident about the smashing going on and calls out a command to the one cowering off in the corner. "I'll tackle her! You get her when she's down!" He ducks under Craft's swing and charges Valadhiel, stumbling at the end and doing little more than bumping into her back. The one with the potion seems to think this is a good idea and charges, but slows as he sees she is still standing. His thrust with the dagger is more a feeble gesture than an attack. The look on his face is not a happy one.

GAME: Craft rolls fort: (16)+6: 22
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Garrin rolls fort: (19)+3: 22
GAME: Valadhiel rolls Fort: (9)+4: 13
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d8: (1): 1
GAME: Xenarchy damaged Garrin for 1 points. 30 remaining.
GAME: Xenarchy damaged Craft for 1 points. 27 remaining.
GAME: Xenarchy damaged Valadhiel for 1 points. 32 remaining.

Lysbeth is still hidden by darkness, and calls on all the hate and horror she can muster from the depths of Taara's beshadowed domain. Cacophonious screams of torment flood the room, ringing in ears and stinging... not that badly. A few members of the party hold thier wits about themselves during this bombardment, but not Valadhiel. One of the rogues squints and rubs his ears, muttering complaints.

GAME: Garrin rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3
GAME: Garrin casts Mirror Image.

Garrin intones a spell. Suddenly, there are even more Garrins! Horror of horrors! He's heading for the sounds of Lysbeth, though, and he yells to her, "You can give up right now and I won't hurt you! Much! Give up! OH THERE YOU ARE!" He points a finger at her. "I want 'em alive! Mostly alive, anyways!" He hiccups.

GAME: Craft rolls melee: (11)+7: 18
GAME: Craft rolls 1d100: (34): 34
GAME: Craft rolls 1d8+4: (2)+4: 6

Having finally worked the last of the goop off, Craft brings his hammer around in a powerful, double armed swing, catching the only of the elves he can see squarely in the shoulder, magicite eyes flashing in he dim as he feels, more than sees, the hammer connect.

Valadhiel shakes her head, blinking as she wasn't expecting the sudden screeching noise. She winces, trying to shake off the effects of the burst.

GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+7: (4)+7: 11
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+7: (2)+7: 9

Bolstered in confidence, even if suffering wounds, the two remaining rogues thrust their daggers into the stunned elf's... deflective magic. Spang! Their daggers are deflected. They look worried again. This is not going well at all.

"No! You'll not win so easily!" Lysbeth spits and draws on dark invocations again. Tortuous images flood into Garrin's mind, showing him dread visions of Taara's realm and glimpses of the void beyond.

GAME: Garrin rolls will: (7)+4: 11
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d4: (4): 4


Garrin promptly turns and tries to run back the way he came. This is not good! "YAIIE." His liquor! It's been STOLEN. At least his parents aren't dead.
GAME: Craft casts light.

Craft shifts his hammer to one hand, grabbing something from his apron, a cool, light-blue magicite glow filling the space around him as he holds his artifice torch with one hand, his adamantine hammer in the other. He moves to isolate the rogues between himself and Val. "Perhaps we should take this fight outside," he remarks, hoping the mana lamps will work in their favor.

GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+5: (12)+5: 17
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+5: (14)+5: 19
GAME: Valadhiel casts magic missile.
GAME: Valadhiel rolls 2d4+2: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Valadhiel rolls 1d4+1: (1)+1: 2

Valadhiel glances over at Craft, and actually backs out of melee, "Yes, that might not be a bad idea." She smirks at the ineffectual strikes of the shadow elf lackeys, then shouts at the cleric, "Care to step outside, or should we just finish you in here?"

As Val finishes saying that, she says a simple word of arcane power. Three darts fly from her fingers, two slaying the rogue that she fried before, the other staggering the other that was attacking her.

Not sticking around to see the end of this, the last stabbity rogue standing deftly evades any final attacks and bolts for the door, disappearing out into the night. Lisbeth is alone in here, somewhere in the darkness.

There is a sound of a click and a creak from over in the corner.

And Garrin is STILL running away. Fast.

He's also yelling something about spiders.

Combat Ends

Garrin is still running!

And running, actuially. Eventually, this will wear off. And he'll stop. And look very cross.

Craft turns at the click, and, the rod held out ahead of him as if it might fire, he explores the basement, finding the trapdoor and the long, dark tunnel. "Chasing her would likely be unwise. Not without more reliable light sources."

Valadhiel nods, "Indeed. The wench would be at home in the darkness. Let's make sure Garrin didn't flee into another ambush." She hrms, "Should alert the city guard about this passage. Who knows how far it goes?" With that, she moves over to the two dead shadow elves, checking them for any insignia or other items that might signify an employer.