Juror's Guilt

[Throndir]

[info]Aetius only.[/info]

You finally reached the city of Aldalom. It was a fairly large city on the south-western coast of the Korinthia Kingdom. It wasn't as large as Ternadan, where your guild makes its base, but it also served as perhaps the third or fourth largest city in the country. This was where you parents had supposedly ended up living after they sent you to train with the Order of the Light Eagle. At the very least, it was what the letter you held on to now claimed. You had little correspondence, if any, with your parents after all.

In your hands was that very letter that passed on to you by messenger bird, addressed to you directly by name.

It read:

To Aetius Synacus, once an elite soldier of the Light Eagle, and member of the prestigious Guild of Galas'nor, and firstborn of Varius Synacus.

My name is Killian Paltreth, a friend of your late father Varius. It is with great sorrow that I report that your parents have passed. I myself haven't been to Aldalom in a few months, which is why this news may be late. The city had already attempted to seize property, however, I was notified in time and made haste as soon as possible to stop the unwarranted proceedings. The city council require your presence, and you are requested to be in attendance to settle Varius' will and estate.

I will meet you at the town hall of Aldalom, on the 15th day of Traches, right before high noon.

-Killian Paltreth

You had been worried that you wouldn't make it in time for the meeting. But it was still sometime in the morning, and if you had to guess was right before noon. There were two guards posted at the entrance to the city underneath a large gate. They looked haggard, and as you approached them, you realized that they both seemed weary.

[Throndir]

Aetius:

I choose to wander around the city for a good hour. I look at general citizens, try to look to see how safe things generally are attempt to locate city hall look for locations I could run to in the event of an ambush, generally do security sweeps.

(Roll Knowledge (local), 1d20+3
19

[Throndir]

Although a large city, you knew of the rumours that abounded about the place.

Aldalon is an old city and no stranger to murder. Throughout its history, countless men, women, and children have met horrible ends in its darkened alleys, shaded tenements, and abandoned buildings. They choke on their own blood until their bodies surrender up their souls, but they never leave. Aldalon's dead linger. They dance in shadows at the edge of lantern-light. They peer between the cracks of creaking floorboards. Their phantom breath sends shivers down the spines of the living. No home in Absalom is without its haunts, ghosts, and whispers. The sounds of a weeping child from the attic in the dead of night, the moans of a tortured maid issuing from the basement of a crumbling manor, and the croaking rasp of a strangled man just beyond a bedroom window - all are heard for a moment amid a night's storm and then swallowed up by thunder or silence. Some dismiss them as fancy or imagination, but we know better. The dead lurk all around us, in air and shadow, between the walls and right at your back. They watch while you sleep, and wait, moaning in the dark, united in their tireless hatred of the living.

At least... that's what the rumours say. You haven't yet stepped into this city before, though your parents somehow chose this place, among all others, to settle in. As you wander around the city, both getting directions to the town hall, and getting an idea of how 'safe' the city is. You realize that almost everyone in this forsaken city seemed to have an aura of dread around them. They moved slow, as if depressed, and you can almost feel the somberness and the dismal aura the citizens cast off.

"Aetius?" The man asked as you walked in. "Aetius Synacus?"

[Throndir]

Aetius:

I greet him with a hearty hello. "Why it does my heart well to see a friendly face in times like these and I greet you. However I pray you give me pardon as it feels like a lifetime since I have seen this place and my mind is racing, piecing together memories of old. I pray sir, what is your name?"

[Throndir]

Ah alright, so I assume Aldalon is now Aetius' home town where he grew up in as a kid before he was sent to training? In that case, I'll need to put more information in the description I had first give you above. I'll do that in my response below instead.

"Killian Paltreth at your service." He continued his smile - out of place compared with everyone else he had met in the city. He began to bow low, and after that stepped forward.

"My boy, I was afraid you didn't receive the letter, or worse yet, chose not to show up. Varius was proud you were serving as a soldier, though he never did show it much." He lowered his eyes. "You've heard the news, but they died a few months ago. I'm sorry you never had a chance to see them since. I only just recently arrived myself, so I haven't gotten the details from the magistrate yet. Though from what they've been telling me it was some sort of accident." He sipped into his flask.

"They were to meet us here, but they haven't yet appeared. Come sit my boy, tell me about your trip. The city still the same as you remember?"

From what you last remembered, the city had changed a lot. The people used to be a lot more jolly. Beldrin's Bluff, the section in town that looked over the edge of the city towards the ocean had since collapsed. From what some rumours you heard during your trip to find the Town Hall, you were told that an earthquake had brought down sections of the district down into the sea. Most people had abandoned Beldrin's Bluff, and for the most part, that section of town was deserted.

Once he had sat down, he proceeded to grab a tray filled with all sorts of food, and bring it closer to the both of you on the table.

"They left this here for us presumably. Though I chose not to partake of this delicious-looking meal until you had arrived of course." He picked up something that looked like a fried piece of chicken, examining it carefully with a discerning eye, but eventually popped it into his mouth.

"Mmm. Not as good as my chicken! But it's sweet, and crunchy too." He smiled even further as he proffered the other piece still on the tray. "Take some, what do you think?"

[Throndir]

Aetius:

I quickly consider the old man's mannerisms and smell the chicken to insure it isn't poisoned. Something is triggering my perception that all is not as it seems. I continue to talk as I observe everything around me as well as to not give off the impression of stalling.( What should I roll?)
"Ahh I thank you for the letter. The walk here was nice. Twas nice and pleasant weather, and along the way I met many fine folks who told me stories of their lives and merriment. Yes the town really has changed it seems... drury. I hope you don't mind my father, if I may ask, how did you get to know him?"

[Throndir]

As you consider Killian, you did not get any hunches about the person. He seems to be trustworthy, and you don't get a feeling that something odd is going on about him.

[Throndir]

Aetius:

I let him continue speaking and eat a piece of chicken.

[Throndir]

"Your father was a fellow juror." Killian explained, as he continued eating the chicken. "We knew each other for many years. Though I never did get a chance to meet you, Aetius. It might have been shortly after you were sent away in fact. We were both going through some hard times, financially specifically. He had told me that was part of the reason he had sent you away as well. Then one day the city was looking for some jurors, of course I snatched the job as soon as I heard, and brought your father in as well. It paid us well. And well-"

It was at this moment that Killian frowned. He scrunched up his eyebrows as he looked at the piece of chicken he ate. His eye grew alarmed, and he looked towards you, reaching his hand out for your shoulder.

But he never did make it, for soon enough his legs gave way, and he found himself falling, and losing consciousness fast.

As you began to reach out, you too felt a strange weakness in your legs, as your eyelids became heavier and heavier.

[info]I'll allow you one turn's worth of actions before you get knocked out, otherwise let me know if I should continue on to next scene[/info]

[Throndir]

Aetius:

I yell out loudly into the town for anyone to hear my plee in the most firm and strong battle cry I can muster. " I am Aetius Synacus! The last surviving member of The order of The Golden Eagle. I have come to learn of my family name and the life that I cast aside to fight for what was right and defeat The Red Legion! I am now beset by a poison and request the aid of a champion to save me from the evils cast upon me! Do not forget me. Do not let my journey end here!" Then I smash my shield down hard and send out a strong glow from the eagle crest on the front of my tower shield.

[Throndir]

You called out as your voice reverberated throughout the building. If there was someone here, they would hear. But your consciousness was fading fast, and you knew that it would be long until the fast-acting poison would overtake your senses. You felt your legs buckle under your weight, but before you lost complete consciousness, you heard some sort of shuffling, as if other people were coming in. You also heard some swearing, half a moment later.

(Roll another Fortitude)

------------

You clenched your fists as hard as you can, straining it and trying to feel the pain from the action, if only to continue to hold out longer. You continued hearing what sounded to be a weapon being drawn out, someone near you, you think, though at this point, you were already on the floor of the town hall, your consciousness fading fast.

(Roll another fortitude)

------------

You felt a kick, as a sudden sharp pain hit your side. You managed to stay conscious still, as your body fought against the poison, and your mind doing its best to keep alert and awake for as long as you possibly can. At that moment you heard a voice.

"Halt! What is the meaning of this?"

(Roll another fortitude)

------------

But it was that moment, that your body finally caved in against the relentless poison. You could hear or sense no more, and eventually you saw nothing but darkness with your mind shutting down as if going into a forced slumber.

You know not how long you were out. But in your mind's eye you begin tee a building; a courthouse. A leaning monument to the district's pain, this four-story courthouse is a crumbling marvel of cracked plaster and chipped marble. Once a testament to justice wrought in shining white stone, the courthouse is now a crushed dream, its wretched exterior corrupted by a bloated evil festering within. Rainwater from a recent downpour mixed with mulch oozes from ruptures in the rock like pus bubbling from a wound. The structure of the eastern wing of the upper floor buckled long ago, and now the bell tower tilts perilously, appearing as though it might careen to the ground below at any moment. Two massive pillars frame the heavy oak doors of the court. The pillars' surfaces run with cracks and fissures like so many burst veins. The doors sag in their archway like the drooping eyes of a madman. The surrounding structures long ago fell in upon themselves in supplication to the creaking courthouse. A salt wind blows up the precipice and rakes across the tangled weeds of Beldrin's Bluff. The whole building groans as the wind blows, its tortured lamentation fading to a rasping hiss as the wind ebbs. This croaking murmur never completely fades away. The sun sets in the west, the last slivers of twilight painting the courthouse blood red as darkness creeps closer.

As if time was warping, the vision suddenly changes. The courtroom is suddenly filled with people. The courtroom buzzes with nervous anticipation. Dozens of eyes, from the crowd behind you and the jurors' box across the aisle, focus on you. The expressions range from contempt to pity, but there is no forgiveness in their faces. The magistrate slams down his gavel repeatedly and snarls for silence. The murmur of the crowd relents as the stocky magistrate draws up to his full height, smoothing a silver beard with one hand as he sets down his gavel and focuses on you with shining green eyes.

"Jarbin Mord. For the brutal and savage slaying of your own wife and six-year-old boy, it is the verdict of this jury, with which I concur wholeheartedly, that you shall hang by your neck until dead. May the gods take mercy on your blackened soul."

The vision warps again.

A clack of wood on wood is followed by a whip crack of rope drawing taut. The crunch of vertebrae echoes off the walls. A man's booted feet twitch freakishly as his last breath rasps from his ruined throat in a choking death rattle. You suddenly realize the man is you, and you look down in horror at your own twitching legs. The crowd jeers with delight and laughs as you rasp your last.

Slowly, the vision fades away as you return to consciousness, but the sight that greets you is almost as disturbing. The dying gray light of sunset peeks through slits in the boarded windows, barely illuminating a yawning courtroom replete with pews and a towering bench covered in cobwebs. A shadowed mural on the domed ceiling above depicts Valtean, goddess of virtue, in her shining plate mail of gilded sunlight, locked in mortal combat with Galtan, Feralia, and Derull, holding the trifecta of evil at bay with her shining sword. You find yourself in a jurors' box, and you are not alone. In the other chairs, figures stir in the darkness, each emerging from troubling dreams into a new nightmare.

The courtroom you now sat in was very much like the one you had seen in your vision. Rows of dusty benches, several askew or knocked over, are lined behind a waist-high partition separating spectators from trials. A dusty wooden jurors' box, rickety from generations of termites and time's cruel fangs, stands against the south wall. A high bench covered in muslin rests against the east wall. Two thick tables once stood facing the bench, now one has been smashed to kindling. An evidence table rests against the south wall.

The figures in the darkness continue to stir, some of them gasping from their troubling nightmares.

[Throndir]

Aetius:

I feel slowly for my equipment to make sure nothing was stolen from me. I also attempt to get a better sense of my surroundings. I want to know if there are people around me which are awake, find the old man, and see if others were drugged around me.

[Throndir]

You went through your bag, as well as making a quick check of your gear. Thankfully you had everything, from the armor and weapons you carried, all the way to the basic survival gear you kept in your bag. At the very least, whoever poisoned you and moved you to this abandoned and decrepit courtroom, did not take anything.

You began taking a look at your surroundings. You sat on one of two rows of benches. To either side of you were other individuals as well. There was a male half orc, a male gnome wearing a jester's hat, a female human dressed in fine clothing with a noticeable fire-opal amulet, Killian Paltreth from earlier, though this time he sported what looked to be a gashing wound on his cheek, an imposing hobgoblin who looked to be heavily armed with a chain-like weapon, a male human with a stern and square-faced jaw who was too fully armored and armed, a comely female halfling who was soft on the eyes, and lastly a dwarf who blinked a couple of times trying to gather his senses. Altogether there were 9 of you in the room. Just like you, they too seemed groggy, though they all started to gather their senses about them.

It didn't take long for the hobgoblin in the group reach for his weapon, a beautifully crafted and long spiked chain, and brandish it.

"What in the-" The hobgoblin grunted as he held his weapon in front of him defensively. He had a rasping voice, almost feral, but normal for one of his kind. He immediately drew his eyes towards both you and the armored human, knowing full well that you and he were the most armed.

"I better be getting some answers." The hobgoblin stated. "Knocking me out means trouble." He let his threat hang in the air as he waited for someone to answer.

You see what looked to be an axe sitting on top of a table at the south-eastern corner of the room. On the eastern side of the room were the two podiums of the courtroom. To the north was a door. To the west looked to be a set of double doors as well as rows of benches. There was a set of prison bars separating where the audience watched to where the judge, jury, and the accused were placed.

[Throndir]

Aetius:

(I want to roll to see if I feel confident that everyone here was drugged or also victims of kidnap.)
"You there. I was drugged and woke up here after a terrible nightmare in this place. It makes me feel at ease to have my weapons at my side and potential allies at my side to find our way out of this mess. Tell me. What is your name? What do you last remember before waking up here?"

[Throndir]

"You're asking me the questions human?" The hobgoblin replied sharply and quickly. You notice him narrow his eyes as the hobgoblin began looking over the other people in the room. There was a hint of recognition in his eyes as he looked on at the others sitting on the bench. The others had already begun to stir, and it was the armored human who had been sitting down, reply next.

"Put the weapon away fool! Can you see that we're all in the same situation?" The armored man's voice was stern and stoic. But the hobgoblin didn't budge, and only sneered at him.

The others around you in the room seemed to be shaken, and more than a couple were still trying to get their bearings. The hobgoblin seemed genuinely afraid, and how he acted was reminiscent of a cornered rat. The armored human who had spoken had an air of superiority, and you see him put a hand on the hilt of his blade.

It was at this point that the older dwarf spoke up.

"Calm down ye lads!" The dwarf said, trying to raise his voice among the commotion. "It ain't gonna do us any good to pull out our weapons. Ya better take up the words of 'em humans."

The hobgoblin spat in response, but he did begin to put away his weapon. He turned towards you directly, as your eyes locked.

"Malgrim Hurkes." The hobgoblin finally said. "Grindle Street Shades. That familiar?"

(You can roll knowledge (local), 1d20+3, to see if you recognize the hobgoblin's name or 'Grindle Street Shades'.)