Upkeep. I was going to get straight to homeward, too, but it's late and I have tomorrow
The Old Beldame’s Hut; H4
The crone grinned (or sneered, it was hard to be sure) at Kyrie. “Well, it sounds like your ma’s are smart people, then. You do well to listen to them.”
Zeran added his commentary, recalling the machinations of Grigori, the bard from Fort Drelev.
“I don’t know about any of that business. When it comes to the game of politics and land grabbin’, pretty soon you find just about everybody fancies him or herself a king of this-or-that and is happy to stick a knife in you to get it, with or without all kinds of otherworldly forces scheming about. All the same, mightwise could be.”
Elga yawned. She rose from her chair and rubbed the stiffness from her knees. “All right, that’s enough. Time for bed, then. Get out, please. You’re welcome to camp by the house, just don’t go spooking my scarecrow.” The Beldame flicked her hand at the door, which opened of its own accord. She turned to her bed without further ceremony, but stopped short.
“Right. One more thing.” She turned to where Giles was only too happily moving for the door. “You,” she announced. “I wanted to take a closer look at that magic robe you’re wearing.
Giles froze in the doorway, a wave of fear washing over him as he gripped the hilt of his sword more firmly now. His legs screamed at him to run out the door and onto the wagon and ride through the night as far away from here as he could, but his mind, or perhaps his pride told him to stay to turn and face the withered old crone with a confident face and to bury his fear for his own sake. With a reluctant and begrudging sigh, Giles removed the cloak, turned and slowly walked toward the krone and at a good length with his off hand presented it to her.
"Here you are"
He paused for a moment before pulling it back slightly from her reach and tightening the grip on his swords hilt once more.
I can't even find where the robe first activated anymore. I think I missed it.
The Old Beldame’s Hut; H4
The Beldame’s bony fingers closed on empty space. Her mouth twisted with mild annoyance. “It ain’t nothing worth the drama,” she said, jutting her chin in the direction of Giles’ sword hilt. “I happen to be something of an experienced thaumaturge. I noticed something on your robe that didn’t seem like it had any right being there.”
Elga held out her hand again, this time palm up. “If you let me see the robe, I might be able to tell you if somebody wove a curse into the fabric when they enchanted it.”
(assuming Giles recognises the biting insects as potentially related to this ‘curse’ and hands over the robe)
The crone accepted the black robe with one hand, then with the other she pointed two fingers at her eyes and muttered an incantation. She held the robe up at arm’s length, pinching here and there with her bony fingers.
“Hmm… yes… that would be what the necromancy is for…” She hunched in to peer at the robe closely, hardly an inch from her face. “Hrmm… I see… there you are you little devil.”
Elga looked up from the robe sharply. “Yup. This robe is cursed.” She handed the robe back to Giles. “It looks like the whole thing is magically infested with insect-forms that come out to bite and sting whenever you need to concentrate. Figure either somebody intentionally laid this curse on your robe, or else whoever made it done buggered it up spectacularly.”
“Fortunately, you don’t have to worry about it killing you, and remarkably it looks like the original enchantment intended still functions as normal. If you bought it recently, like as not the merchant is already long gone. What you do with it is none of my business, but you're probably best off getting what use you can out of the thing, then burning it, ‘less you know someone you don’t particularly like. An in-law, perhaps."
Posted on 2016-09-03 at 04:47:21.
Edited on 2016-09-04 at 15:12:56 by Sibelius Eos Owm
Apostasy means 'defection or revolt' usually associated with renouncing one's religion
19-20 Calistril 4702.
After departing the hut of the swamp witch, the party continued to map the lakeshore on their way back north. The following day they crossed the Skunk River back into Volga.
Viridian City; G5
Capital of Volga.
The wagon cut fresh tracks through the recently snow-dusted streets. The returning barons had one stop before retiring to the old fort. They had nearly forgotten about the red-stained waterskin that they’d shoved beneath the driver’s seat to avoid having to look at, but now it was time make a delivery.
The eccentric alchemist’s shop was on the way back to the fort. Though it was later in the day, she was still bustling about. She was pleased finally to be able to test her theory—whether troll blood made a good catalyst to bind the magical energy in potions.
The party laid out their order for the potions (the half-elf assured them that they ‘probably wouldn’t even taste the blood at all’ in the final draught) and made an additional request to buy out her stock of fire oil. The alchemist estimated that she would be able to deliver the full crop up to Fort Viridian in one week’s time.
No sooner had the party returned their horses to the stable and settled into their fort than a familiar scaled face appeared at their door.
“I wish one of these days I could be waiting for you with good news when you got back.” Spymaster Sootscale’s eyes held a grim humour as he stepped into the room. “Allow me to catch you up on what has transpired this time.”
“In the last few weeks it has become apparent to us that the city of Viridian has become host to a secret mystery cult dedicated to the goddess Gyronna*. The elk-priest assures us these rumours are very troubling. With Baron Frodrick and his squire in Olegton on business as of last week, it has been left to myself, the priest, and the general.”
“At present we are not prepared to combat this threat ourselves. My network is already stretched thin chasing rumours, and it is only thanks to the agent Frodrick left in charge of the investigation that we know these rumours have any foundation in the first place.”
The ash-scaled kobold walked to the door as he spoke. He knocked three times. The door opened and a tall, broad man in his late thirties, wearing a chain shirt and cloak stepped in from the cold. The crooked-nosed, sour-faced guardsman was bound with solid muscle, wearing a placid expression somewhere between thoughtful and dour.
“This is Clay, one of Frodrick’s guards. I have brought him so that he can work with you directly in this matter. His efforts thus far have proved invaluable in the short time since we have become aware of this problem.”
Cat: Uninjured, Has a Room of Her Own, Less Grumpy
*Gyronna – Knowledge (religion) also called the ‘Hag Queen’ and ‘Sacred Heretic’, Gyronna is an unpopular deity who embodies hatred, heresy, and despair. Her unholy symbol is a bloodshot eye and she is worshipped primarily by hags (the monster species), heretics, and predominantly female castoffs from society and outcasts from other faiths. Her clergy is notorious for turning communities against each other and fostering hatred and apostasy.
Posted on 2016-09-28 at 20:55:40.
Edited on 2016-09-28 at 20:56:00 by Sibelius Eos Owm
Zeran sighed after the kobold delivered the news. His shoulder slumped and his hat went crooked as he rubbed at his forehead. "Why is it every time we leave some other shmuck decides to try and crop up and start something." He muttered a few curses under his breath before giving the guardsman and kobold a nod. His eyes glanced back towards the party. "Any suggestions? Because to be honest I'm going to scream if you all suggest we find and put these cultists on trial." It sounded like a joke but something in the man's eyes said he was serious.
His attention turned back to the guard and he nodded his head. "Welcome aboard. I'm Zeran, resident shoot man." He thumbed over his shoulder to the rest of the party. "They are a courteous bunch and can introduce themselves. Let me know when we start discussing courses of action. For now." Without any hesitation Zeran went to the nearest wall and started to very gently headbutt muttering 'why' under his breath repeatedly.
Giles yawned removing his friendly cursed cloak giving it a shake and a brush off while listening to sootscale deliver his report and introduction and sighed as he watched Zeran wander over and being to beat his head
"Really I'm really in no way surprised giving the information we gained from our last guest this is really nothing more than a step up from his attempts to derail this empire, but with no solid leads we cant really go on a witch hunt either we only know where one of those is after all and for the moment she seems.... friendly. This is troubling all the same and we should attempt to nip it in the bud. Sootscale Id like a full report on all the rumors floating about these days as well as an account of any new citizens to the town since we dealt with Grigori as soon as possible a copy for here and you may send one to my office"
With that Giles re-dawned the cloak and made his way toward the door pausing briefly by Clay
" I'm sure you'll have much to tell us after we all get some a bit of sleep and rest as well"
Giles waved his hand to the rest of the party and took his leave
You pay Tribute
-4 heds of Kow
-4 heds of Pig
-10 hands of GOLD
FOR EECH TROL BURN!!!
…Or TROLS CRUSH 8 Littel Mans for Every TROL
Littel Mans submit to TRU KONG of BELT and STAY OFF SKOGTROL LANDS!
KONG of BELT
QUEEN of GREEN.
The crude message was apparently written in blood on a dirty, untreated sheet of elk hide as big as a cot. According to the messenger who brought it to the capital that morning, the note was found by Falchos, the satyr, near the edge of the barony, wrapped around a boar-hunter’s spear. The spear stood like a standard, sticking straight up out of the corpse of the unlucky hunter.
Jhod rubbed his balding forehead, absorbing the contents of the message. Kesten regarded the note with a sour expression. “I wonder if the Stag Lord ever had to deal with this kind of bullocks?” he mused out loud.
“I doubt it,” said Tanya from her chair across the room. She chewed on a bowl of almonds at the recommendation of her midwife, Niska, as spring drew nearer. “I don’t know what it was like down here before he died, but the way things were at Kressle’s camp, it was mostly just us, a few kobolds, the odd fairy, and your standard wild creatures. We were mostly small enough to escape notice of anything bigger or meaner.”
“At least the trolls are out there, not already inside the city.” Jhod added with a sigh. “This cult business has me second guessing every face I see come to temple services.”
(Just wanted to get this extra bit of information out there. I consider that troll note to be a true work of art. Bask on my works, ye humble travellers. Maybe after this we can get started figuring out what we’re doing about this cult business. It’s getting late now.)
Posted on 2016-10-06 at 04:50:54.
Edited on 2016-10-06 at 04:55:10 by Sibelius Eos Owm
Zeran sat at the table sneaking a couple of almonds for himself as he looked at the large [very amazing work of art] crappy note the trolls had left them. "They can write? I'm, impressed." He says shaking his head a bit. "See this is what bothers me. Living out here on my own yeah I never had to deal with creatures like these. But they can read- maybe -write at the very least!" He laughed a bit as he munched one of his two almonds between his teeth. "If they weren't so bloody aggressive we could have probably been...okay?....neighbors."
Shrugging his shoulders a bit he looked at the rest of the party. "We did TRY to say hello and the two we killed just outright tried to slap us." Looking back at the note he cocks an eyebrow slightly and sighs. "So now we not only have a bloody cult to root out. But apparently a troll queen, queen of green...Heh I like that..anyways. Queen of green to deal with." Looking back to the occupants of the room he thinks for a moment. "Maybe...we should pay them this time? Just to buy us some time so they don't go slaughtering townsfolk or other people, then after we deal with this cult we can go...maybe root THEM out? Hell I don't know, but I know we can't divide our manpower or leave while this cult is in the area."
Second almond now the former river pirate snaps his fingers for a second. "Speaking of cults! I have a plan! On that doesn't involve inquisition." Swallowing his final snack he smiles a bit. "Disguise. We're obviously to well known to get into the cult, but what if we disguised ourselves or someone we trust or could convince, get some inside information on the cult." He holds his hands up to stop any argument for the moment. "Now, I know it's risky and might not work. But consider it as an option, we can't just go strong arming everyone. It'll play right into the cult's hands I'm sure." His hands go down and he looks at Jhod now.
"Jhod, don't get frazzled. Please. You're a beacon to the good people of this town who follow you. If you start to show signs of paranoia and suspicion it'll only make things worse." Zeran's face grows serious for a moment. "Even if you have to fake it. Keep up a strong front and show these cultists that you won't waver and believe that everyone here is a good person and belongs. Give them NO ground to exert any more influence then they already have. You'll be as integral to our efforts in this way as we will be trying to find the roots and dig them out."
Zeran flashed Kyrie a small 'did I say that right?' look after he finished, even going so far as to take the older make's hands and give them a reassuring squeeze. "Besides. If you learn anything from people seeking temple services, you showing strength could sway them off this cult's path, and maybe provide us with some leverage we need. All it takes, is one member to turn back to the good to give us information we could use."
Settling back into his chair Zeran regarded the note again with a mixture of amazement, and disgust. He went to grab an almond, only to realize he had none left from his pilfering, simply shrugging and taking a drink of his water.
Giles stumbled into the meeting looking even more tired and then he had left the night prior. Taking his seat that the table and staring blankly at the trolls message and then listening to Zeran talk (about being a second almond?).
"It's tempting just to just pay them off to buy us some time while we deal with this cult gubbins that said we do and we may be seen as weak... on the other hand were doing it in the best interest of the town... maybe use it to try and open negotiations with the trolls... not that they will be much for negotiating since we killed two of them already"
Giles sighed and rubbed his eyes muttering under his breath that it's too early for this s***
"Oh speaking of out little cultist problem my little ravens have set me on a lead that I'll be following up on once were done here possibly nothing but giving the circumstances we can't risk leaving any stone left unturned"
Zeran and Giles mused aloud about the possibility of paying the trolls to buy some time while they were busy dealing with rooting out the cult.
General Kesten grunted. “Hrm. I don’t like it. Trolls are nothing but savage monsters. They don’t think like normal folk—they don’t care that we killed two o’ theirs except that it gives ‘em an excuse. Paying this weregild of theirs won’t stop them from killing anybody who stumbles across them, and the only message it shows them is that we’ll give in to their demands.”
“That would be a risky plan, but it might just work to help us catch all of the cult, rather than try to hunt them all down one by one,” Jhod commented. “But let’s not put the cart before the horse. Before we can do anything, we have to find them.”
Posted on 2016-10-08 at 00:39:07.
Edited on 2016-10-08 at 00:39:23 by Sibelius Eos Owm
Giles pulled his cloak tight against the late winter chill as he turned down the familiar streets to his typical evening residence. Viridian’s first and most successful brothel had ruffled some feathers of the more conservative-minded, but the bawdy house had never lacked for business in the fledgling capital.
He doffed his hat as he approached the brothel. The door girl recognised him immediately and called out to him. “Giles! Welcome back!”
Giles bowed, kissing the back of her hand. “Thank-you,” he said, rising. “Is Lizzie about? I need to speak with her.”
The escort led him to the common room. “Mistress Lape is out right now—she should be back in an hour.”
The common room was quieter than Giles would have expected for the season—normally the chill saw many driven to seek warmth and comfort. Nevertheless, these conditions suited his purposes. A few idle girls occupied one corner of the room, lounging in wait for customers. The door girl called to one of them. “It’s your turn to stand out there,” she said.
She caught sight of Giles and waved him over. “Look who’s back in town!”
Giles spent some time chatting with the escorts—some disregarded the rumours of cultists as pure gossip, but others were quick to share what little they knew or had heard from clients. Word on the street was frustratingly basic—that a mystery cult of Gyronna had taken root, and that her followers were practicing dark, blasphemous rites in the night while upstanding townsfolk lay asleep in their beds. Those who had come from the River Kingdoms reiterated Zeran’s story of Heibarr, a town in Pitax, where the Sacred Heretic’s cultists were blamed for turning public discontent over river taxes into an open revolt that tore the town apart. Others added their stories of Gyronnans swapping newborns for deformed, human-like monsters and nurturing hatred in those around them.
Later when Giles got his chance to speak with the madam, she told him how the whole month had been slightly slower than usual—especially for Calistril, named after the goddess of lust—since the rumours began, though not enough to seriously hurt business. After all, their line of work was always in demand. Nevertheless, everybody knew that Gyronna’s cultists were fallen and destitute women, so regardless whether any of her seamstresses actually fit the profile, the stereotype remained.
Inside her office, Lizzie set her whip on the table with a sigh. “All right, so level with me. If a baron is down here poking about for information about the latest rumour mill chatter, there’s got to be something going on. Is there any truth to these rumours?”
“It is our duty as your leaders to investigate any and all concerns the citizens may have, no matter how farfetched, and if they turn out to be true, to deal with them to ensure the safety of our people. That’s all. Given the severe implications of such a cult, if the rumours are true, that’s all the more reason for us to take care of it sooner than later wouldn’t you agree, Lizzie?”
“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
Giles allowed himself a rare smile. “You know me too well.”
“I’ve seen my share of politics. Anyway, the reason I ask is because I may have something for you. It could just as well be nothing, but as you say, ‘if the rumours are true’ it could mean a lead. One of my girls got into a bit of a dispute with one of my boys recently. That itself isn’t uncommon, sometimes my staff can be a bit territorial, but things escalated when she attacked him. Normally she’s not like that, but besides giving her a timeout for a while to cool her head, I didn’t put much thought into it. In light of these cultist rumours, though, I have to wonder if it might not be worth looking into—delicately. My goddess stands for vengeance, but the wise do not allow unchecked malice to be their own undoing.”
Giles arranged to meet the escort the next day during off-hours, when they would be less likely to be observed should sensitive matters be aired overly loudly that might scare off customers or bring harm to the brothel’s reputation. Finally, he retired for the night to pray to his lord.
Viridian City; G5
Capital of Volga
After the meeting regarding the trolls’ demands, the party split into two groups. Giles returned to the brothel, accompanied by Miguel on the insistence that nobody go investigate too deep without backup, should the trail lead them to a trap. The remaining three drew up a list of names based on Clay’s knowledge of the town and of people most likely to be swayed to the cult’s teachings.
Mistress Lape showed the barons to the girl’s room. Giles had Miguel wait outside in the even that he needed to pull a ‘good baron/bad baron’ out of his hat. He soon realized he needn’t have gone to the trouble.
Estela sat on the bed in her room. She was one of the newer faces in the brothel, so Giles didn’t recognise her right away, but she knew who he was. Her eyes darted from the madam to the baron in doe-like alarm. “H-have I done something wrong, m’lord?”
The three arrived at the residence of the first woman on Clay’s list. According to what the guard knew of her, she lived with her family and worked as a laundress. She regularly got into heated arguments with her neighbours that sometimes devolved into empty threats, but coupled with her fondness for the drink resulted in the occasional night in the drunk tank.
Before they left, Jhod had cautioned them to take care—they didn’t need to add to the rumours that the barons were interrogating random, possibly innocent women in town, with no substantial evidence to back them. Even worse, they didn’t need to give these women further reason to resent their society and possibly fall in with the evil eye.
(In a moment of inspiration I modeled both of these women after people I know/knew in real life. The details are totally different, but the personality is the same. If need be, parts of these interrogations can play out on Discord/Skype, and I can help jog your memory what you’re looking for again.)
Posted on 2016-11-29 at 00:35:20.
Edited on 2016-11-29 at 00:35:55 by Sibelius Eos Owm
Jhod Kavken burst into the fort’s front hall. He gasped for breath, face was red with cold and exertion. There was panic in his eyes.
“Tanya’s gone,” he said.
It took a moment to get full sentences out of the middle-aged man, but the party learned that he had left Tanya with her midwife, Niska, to fetch something for her fever, and when he got back the both of them were missing.
Hardly a moment later, silent as a shadow, Sootscale stepped in the door Jhod had left open. “I hope this isn’t a bad time, my lords. The mark was last seen headed toward the edge of town. My agent is moving as we speak. I advise you get ready quickly.”
Jhod stared at Sootscale, horrified. He turned to the party. “It—no. It can’t be a coincidence. You—you don’t think… My wife?”
(Since it's been more than a year since I last posted, I thought it would only be fitting to have a small in-game timeskip to keep things moving. If you want to flesh out how exactly you guys came about tracking down a suspected cultist, by all means we can nail it down a bit, but I wanted to re-open with a bang.)
(It is evening, just before dusk. The sky is mostly grey and a light snow is falling.)
BONUS: For a mash of notes from Giles' questioning scene and some new material cooked up on the spot for the other team, see below:
Viridian City; G5
Capital of Volga.
(Giles + Miguel)
Giles sat across from the girl. "My dear even if you have done something wrong as far as it goes its nothing illegal as of yet, so you have little to worry about. Tell me what you know of these rumors of this cult floating around.”
“Cult? I don't understand, what does this have to do with a cult? If I haven't done anything wrong, why are you here?” It didn’t take an inquisitor to see the girl was not hiding anything. She earnestly had no idea what was going on.
“Well, aside from the fact that I basically live here, Liz... erm, the Madam has said you got into a fight with one of her boys the other night, is this so? What was all that about?”
Estela eyes widened. “I didn't mean to hit him!” she blurted. “Well, I guess I kind of did. I was just so angry with him. That smug asshole is always talking about how much money he charges for each trick, then he turns around and steals one of my clients! It's not fair!” There was a flash of genuine pique, but she sunk back into her bed in defeat.
“Moll always says people like that are going to get what's coming to them in the end. When I saw him the other day, I just couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face.”
Here was something, perhaps. “And who might Moll be, then?”
She shrugged. "Moll's just—somebody I know. Kind of took me under her wing. She used to be one of Mistress Lape's long ago, I heard. What’s any of this got to do with her?” Giles saw something click in her head. “Oh, no, sure Moll talk bit about getting back at people for all they’ve done to her, but it’s just talk. That’s just how she is. She’s actually kind of nice once you get to know her.”
“Never fear, my dear. It is simply a baron’s duty to understand his people and their drives. You can rest assured that you are not in trouble, though do try to avoid such… overt retribution in the future.”
Giles put his hat back on and stepped out of the room. Miguel’s eyes shot up, relieved. He rose from one of the common room cushions to meet Giles, awkwardly extracting himself from the idle affections of a few of the brothel’s unoccupied staff. “So, did you find anything?”
“Only one way to find out.”
“You can lie to your husband and you can lie to your priest, but you can’t lie to your laundress,” said the laundress from Clay’s list.
It had taken a bit of patience, but once they firmly established that they weren’t here about a noise complaint from her neighbours or to ask for money, she grew more talkative. While she was highly opinionated on virtually all matters, not much of it was of any use to the investigation until she began to rant on moral hypocrisy (as she called it).
“Only thing I can’t stand,” she said, adding another thing to the list, “is when people go around looking down at people around them, but they ain’t better than anyone else, like that Coleson woman up the street. Takes her two seconds to make anything about her and how patiently she suffers while her husband is away. But I told, you, you can’t lie to your laundress, and that woman’s cloak always comes back with fresh dirt on it, smelling like a barn. Who does she think she’s kidding with her pious homebody act, anyway?”
Posted on 2018-01-01 at 04:19:00.
Edited on 2018-01-01 at 04:23:28 by Sibelius Eos Owm
Kyrie shook her head, the motion giving a few cascading metallic clinks with her armour, as she looked between Jhod and Sootscale, "This is not like Tanya. And if the midwife has left as well, I'd think it was to take care of Tanya. If we treat a guest or a patient, we don't leave them if they need us," She reasoned, "No reason to leave, so something made her leave. And if she needs protection, I am not going to stop until I get between her and whatever she needs protection from," She nodded in resolution, clapping her armoured gauntlets together.
It did nothing to slow the band of adventurer-barons. They followed the signs left by Sootscale’s agent to the edge of Viridian, then beyond it into open country. Though the humans could only just see by the half-light of the grey dusk, they made no light to give away their approach, trusting in Sootscale’s guidance.
The trail led to a lone barn not ten minutes outside of town. Together the Greenbelt Party met Sootscale’s agent—Adela herself—behind one of the ubiquitous stone kames that dotted the hills.
“The target entered that barn about half an hour ago. At least three other women have followed, and I don’t know how many more before I got here. Nobody has come out since.”
Kyrie fixed her eyes on the door to the barn. No sense wasting time. She glanced back to the others, their weapons were drawn and ready for a fight.
Without further ado the four descended on the barn, snow crunching under the heels of their boots. She paused only for a moment to throw open the barn door.
Inside the barn was dark and empty.
She stepped into the barn. Miguel threw up some spell-lights to get a better look. A skiff of snow tracked in the door, but the hardpacked dirt didn’t reveal any trace of the Gyronnan cultists.
The party swept through the barn, wary of any surprises. At the far end of the barn, Kyrie spotted something. She met Miguel’s eyes. He saw it too. The ring of a trap door, concealed by dirt and straw, set into the floor.
(You now have a moment to prepare any buffs or abilities you want to activate before you go storming into the cellar. Technically, you can have cast anything you want to back at the rock, but I found an arbitrary cut-point here so I took it so I don’t end up staying up to 4am posting again.)
Posted on 2018-02-07 at 03:18:15.
Edited on 2018-02-07 at 03:18:49 by Sibelius Eos Owm
At the ready, Miguel threw open the trap door. Rather than take the ladder into the cellar, Kyrie simply dropped down into the dark pit. She landed with a clatter of metal plates, dropping hard to one knee to absorb the fall (-6sub Kyrie).
Acrobatics: 5-6 = -1, Failed.
It took her a second for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Standing across the cellar stood no less than half a dozen women wearing black, tattered smocks, each holding a dagger and looking at her.
“Attack!” The order came from a dark figure in the back, who radiated with multicoloured energy. “Sacred Heretic, bless us with your rage!”
The women in front surged at Kyrie, surrounding her quite suddenly. Three of them lashed out with savage cries, thrusting their daggers from the darkness at the paladin, but none found their way through her armour.
(I rule that there is enough illumination coming from above that all 5 cultists in melee range of Kyrie are not concealed by dim illumination. I'll hit you up with an initiative order once I remember to roll it)
Posted on 2018-02-09 at 15:19:28.
Edited on 2018-02-09 at 15:35:03 by Sibelius Eos Owm