Bellerophon's Tower of Death Preparation

Bellerophon was in deep thoughts as the hulking tiefling was wandering the streets of Babel. A three stage plan and high danger. No allies for the first two phases, just his own wit and strength. “Frustrating”, he thought. “I hope the others will do well to stay out of trouble.”

It was quite clear to him that the effort would succeed or fail based on this part. Preparation. “I have my own wards, of course…” he mumbled, as a he lifted a screeching cat off a tree on which it was stuck. “And I’m pretty quick on my feet, reasonably resistant… Swarming might be dangerous, if anything gets a hold of me, that’s bad. I need to be slippery - some grease should do the trick? - and stealth- STEALTH OH NO!” The last words spoken aloud, he looked around the alleyway, the people of Babel staring at the strange, scary giant. “Sorry, lost in thoughts” he exclaimed, before hurrying on. “I’ve got my paints, some ashes and dirt from the ghostlands should make for decent camouflage. I’ll definitely need some magical enhancements though. Will have to research some spells and find a brewer that can prepare them… One or two uses of Muffle Sound. 2 Potions of Blend with Surroundings, wait out a patrol maybe. Pass without Trace for sure. Elixir of Hiding, two of them should be enough. Wait, how long will I be in the ghostlands to get to the tower? Shit, I’ll have to clear that up. Might need even more potions.” At the end of his mental checklist, Bellerophon took a moment to recenter himself. His musings had led him through the various back streets of babel, through shadowy bends between the stocky housings and usually avoided dark alleys. “Time to figure out who might be selling these… rather suspicious tinctures. You know what, why not ask the organizers. Surely they’ll understand my thinking, and will be happy to earn some coin while helping me prepare for this. Bel, you’re a genius.” Several nearby citizens would later that day at their tavern table speak of the strange devil’s bellowing laughter as Bellerophon turned and started making his way to the organizers.

On the way, Bellerophon decided to break up a small fight between a fishmonger and a dissatisfied customer. With one of each held high in the air, the aura of violence made him wonder. “Seems like at the end there, there will be no more sneaking. Just a short, brutal assault followed by a hasty retreat. More my style. I should be most useful there, protecting my team. I should get some scrolls, additional wards to layer on myself and in extension my comrades.” He checked his bandoleer, many of his alchemical tinctures stashed inside. “And some curative potions should help. Anti-Paralysis. Negate Fear. Something for mind control. Maybe haste for the retreat?” He noticed that most of the yelling around him had changed in tone – and direction. Looking left and right, the fishmonger and citizen now both yelling at Bellerophon in a mixture of anger and fear, he gently put them down again “Oh, pardon me. I was lost in thoughts. You’ve finished yelling at each other then? Very good! Have a wonderful day!” And with a toothy grin that left each onlooker shaken, Bellerophon took his leave. “Some food would make sense. The place seems completely dead, will be hard to scavenge. Dried meat and veggies should suffice – drink won’t be a problem, I’ve got enough of a supply of that” He grinned, downing a small vial of mead. “Yeah, this will do.” As he entered the preparation grounds and started asking around for a hedgewizard or similar potion brewer, he decided. “5000 Gold Pieces for the effort. That should help a lot in getting everyone else adequately kitted out. Get some decent wards made. Yes, 5000 it is.”