Shadow War campaign In-Game: Chapter 5- Carrigan Manor

[Navarre]

The Shadow War

Chapter 5
Carrigan Manor

“Welcome to my home. I apologize for keeping you waiting and the unseemly intrigue."

"I am Sir Peter Carrigan. ... I need your help.”

The gentleman before is just that, a gentleman. He carries himself with a quiet dignity and a strength that belies his slightly stooped and crippled form.

His dark green jacket with fine silver stitching at the wide lapels and cuff. It is accented with a silver handkerchief in his left breast pocket, monogrammed with the initials "PC" in green.

He too wears a strip of cloth around his neck. It is similar in design to that worn by Harold Arcadie and Gerald Mackey but is made from the finest green silk over a silver shirt. This cloth has a pin on it showing three silver birds, seemingly doves, taking flight.

He wears riding trousers and brown leather boots. The boots are old but well cared for. They have been polished to a perfect shine. A careful examination reveals some wear around these boots, seemingly from spurs.

He moves into the dim lamp light of the room, carefully favoring his right knee as he grips the head of his lion's head cane. His face is warm and handsome, despite the years on it. But his eyes are an enigma, nearly impossible to read.

Faerun, you scrutinize this man carefully, hoping to get discover the source of the powerful magic you believe to be in effect. Your arcane ability to detect dweomers does perceive a magical aura on this man. Yet, surprisingly, it is only a faint magical aura of divination.

He walks to a large wingback chair upholstered in fine leather. He stands at it, clearly intending to sit.

But he smiles at all of you and extends his hand toward the long sectional couch that faces the chair. He does not sit but, with refined manners, waits for his guests to do so first.

"Please, I assure you I mean you no harm. If you would be so kind as to have a seat we shall discuss what I believe to be our mutual futures."

[sab39]

{Sense motive, sense motive, for the love of God sense motive! (1d20+8=18)}

[sab39]

"If you don't mind, I'd prefer to pace restlessly."

Unnerved and confused, I don't stray too far from the doorway in case I need to flee, and as always keep my staff at the ready. But I listen attentively to whatever this man has to say.

[Navarre]

T'Ning, you take a few hesitant steps from the couch toward the door but never take your eyes off of this man. What sort of man, if that is what he is, would be in this illusionary building and arrange for such clandestine meetings? Something is not right.

You ignore the surroundings and focus your attention solely on discerning the truthfulness and intent of this man. You are set to tune out the nauseating and permeating ticks of the clock, but you suddenly realize both the sound and sensation are gone.

Carrigan does not seem to notice your attention. Yet you sense no ill will from him toward you or your friends. But you certainly believes he knows much he has yet to disclose.

He only continues to smile, waiting for you all to sit. He hears your reply and sees you wander a bit toward the door.

"I understand this is quite unsettling. But we should conduct ourselves as gentlemen, hmm?"

"And you should feel no need to attend to your weapon so readily. Perhaps you would start such social graces by telling me your name?"

[sab39]

"Sir, I am certainly willing to hear what you have to say. But if you truly wish us no harm, you will not begrude me my hesitancy and caution, after bringing us in the most suspicious possible manner to a place which, as best I can tell, does not even exist in the sense I'm normally used to using the word. I am T'Ning, of the Lone Pine. I would say 'at your service', but... not yet. Despite my doubts about the way we have been brought here, I will listen with an open mind to whatever you have to tell us. It seems unquestionable that, simply by entering your 'house', we have put ourselves almost entirely at your mercy. Please, do me the favor of allowing me to retain some small pretense of having a smidgen of control over my own destiny. You will find I'm more favorably disposed to people who don't try to make me follow rules."

I offer a small smile.

[Navarre]

"I respect your sense of caution and use of common sense. In fact, it is no small part of why I have asked you here."

"But you are a guest here, not a prisoner. You came of your own volition and may leave the same way, if you choose."

"If you do not believe me, you need only open the front door and you shall find your egress no difficult matter. The effect that cloaks my home no longer affects you."

"I have extended such a trust to you, perhaps out of desperation. But it is trust nonetheless."

"Still, stand if you provides the sense of control you need. I have come to the opinion that such beliefs of external control are far more delusional than anything you have experienced by way of this manor."

"I shall continue then."

[sab39]

"I have no such belief, ackshully, but thank you for allowing me the dignity of pretense. Do continue."

[Navarre]

The man sits, seemingly tired.

"As I said, I am Sir Peter Carrigan. Once of a Noble House in Albemarle Green, I have lived here with my family and servants for the last fifteen years."

"It has not been my intention to ever set foot out of this home again but...my family has paid a terrible price for their love and loyalty to me."

"I see now the harm I have done to them as they have wasted away with me in my self-imposed exile. I...we...have lost much that is dear to us."

"But now, I am physically threatened by the very forces that compelled me to take my grievous path in the first place. My enemies are close to finding me."

"They are here, in West Wellington. For the first time in fifteen years, they have found their way nearly to my doorstep, and...as I said...I need your help."

[Gaumer]

Bedlor sits:

"Oi, sure'n ye be a powerful one ta be able ta hide yer home wit' string magics. Ye ain't bin found in 15 years. What make ye be thinkin' ye can be founded now? And who be the ones that be lookin' fer ye? Sure'n some man hidin' from 'is trouble sooner er later 'as them find 'im, eh? And tell me or yer name, sir: Carrigan be the name of the mountain pass I be callin' me home. And me seen the notice in the inn 'bouts a...a funeral, sir...sure'n this be no coincidence o' chance?"

[Navarre]

Peter Carrigan takes a long moment of silence as he looks you over. You sense no disdain or lack of respect in his expression. In fact, quite the opposite.

"Those are a great many question, sir. But I suppose I have given you reason to produce most all of them, in one way or another."

"You call me 'powerful'. I do not know how you define 'Power'. Perhaps you see it as fame...glory...the ability to exert your will onto the world to shape it to your whim."

"If these are your definitions of power then you would be either impressed or aghast to know how powerful I once was. I have been, in my time, recognized in a way I hope you never obtain."

"You are astute to connect my surname to your home. Would you believe then that your own lands, your most sacred holdings, have been named in honor of my family?"

[Gaumer]

"I be standin' in house pirty as the sunrise yet lookin' unglier than sin, sir. Nothin' be surprisin' me no more, I tell ye. Sure'n this be an ancient ancestor o' ye for the Pass bin named for some time."

[Web.Metz]

{I was busy with emergency programming}
"Sir, I was curious to why I could see through the effect on your house while all my friends only saw the glamor.

Knowledge Arcana 1d20+7=21

[Navarre]

Sir Carrigan replies to Bedlor with great conviction.

"The very fact that you phrase such a question suggests you believe in the possibility that I may be an ancient soul, perhaps somehow bound to this world?"

"No, sir, I was born not even a half century ago in The Green. Like you, I sought adventure. My path led me to the Pass, named over 1500 years ago in honor of a great knight of my family. Named before The Ascension by my ancestor, perhaps the greatest knight who ever lived."

"There are truths to this world that would surprise you, my friend, no matter how resolute you believe your soul. But it is not those truths that have compelled me to bring you here."

"You asked me about my enemies. How they have suddenly found me."

"They have found me because they have never stopped looking. They believe I have something they want and they will go to any lengths to get it."

"Something has happened recently. ... My ... My son, Wesley, left this house. In so doing he opened the possibility that my location could be traced back here."

"Based on the events in only the last few days, I conclude that is the fact of it. My wife and adoptive daughter still live here, as do three of my servants. I must see them safe. I cannot let my family come to harm. Surely you understand the importance of family, Mister... ....?"

He pauses, waiting for your name.

[Navarre]

Faerun, your skill allows you to determine that the spell in effect on Sir Carrigan is nothing more than a simple Discern Lies spell. Beyond that, you sense no enchantment on yourself, him, or others save for your own Detect Magic.

You state your question to him just as he has asked your dwarven friend for his name. Sir Carrigan's head raises in surprise and his calm eyes widen.

"I'm sorry? You say the Manor Ward was seen through by your eyes?"

Impossible.

[Gaumer]

"Enghart, sir. Bedlor Enghart. What happened to ye son, Wesley, sir? We be hearin' grave news o' 'im in the tavern. Sure'n yer callin' o' us be linked to 'im, eh?"

"Oi, sir, ye bin kind ta us and I bid ye no ill-will o' any kinda sort, but me friend 'ere not be likened to be a liar and me, as 'is friend, take harm when someone be sayin' otherwise. If the gnome be sayin' he saw thru yer magic, best ye be a listenin'. 'Specially since ye be hidin' from ones who may be seein' thru it as well."