The pigs back away a bit and before Attalas is able to skewer one of them you hear the swineherder calling
Wait! Hey you...you...ogre... he says slowly, his voice already dying. Panic and terror are visible in the man's face and he's frozen on the spot, surrounded by his loyal pigs.
Sorry, friend, the big guy is not an enemy. Please forgive him, he is was just hungry and I must admit you keep you pigs in such good shape they look like they must taste like meat given to us by the gods themselfs, also I would prefer it a bit more on the roasted side. Please good sir, accept this as a token of our gratitude and apology.
Kosti speaks fast, presenting a broad smile, grabbing the man lightly at his shoulder, trying to prevent him from thinking to much and seeing even more. He also places five shields in his palm, which should take care of the shock.
Diplomacy:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
not too good, but perhaps the shock, the money and the lack of desire to think about that ogre will do´...
"Me and friends we took a trip
faster than aboard a ship
Heard them piggies snort and squeal
Thought they'd be a tasty meal
Seemed dear Kosti brought some bacon
Now it turns out only fakin
NONONO was what we'z told
Yet still he pays that guy his gold!?"
Patience, big warrior. I will keep my promise! Let us get to our destination first. I am sure my friend will want to talk to you right away. The bacon will taste much better when the work is done, won't it?
And yet there surely won't be a big feast if my friend has to mourn the loss of his fiancee. So we should not lose more time before going to work, for the feast would see much more food and drink than just a fare of bacon.
Mmmm, I like bacon. Bacon and a glass of dragon's blood. I remember that while growing up. Gold blood tastes best. Black tends to be too bitter. And green is terrible, whatever you do, never drink the blood of a green dragon, yuck.
Jez begins to hum a happy tune about food:
Hit them hard and make them squeal;
My those pigs make a real fine meal;
Spit them, skewer them, roast them good;
Make the bacon taste as it should.
Well, if he does not hear about this group in his hideout-town, he is dead, drunk or kidnapped himself...
I guess there is a tavern here that the Raven feels safe enough to visit from time to time (or sends his men), so I will head there. It seems the brave band of gluttons has forgotten that they ate not half an hour ago anyway...
I don't know if they have any spit piglet prepared yet, but bread and butter and pie from the first plums, early apples and berrys soaked in cider for a whole year should make for a good dessert
"Where we supposed to be then? Not another tavern I hope, don't liek the taverns, noisy and full of humans who keep buggin their eyes out. They never seen an Ogre?" Attalas puts his sword away.
Although the last of the falling leaves litter the ground, the people of Azurestone are in high spirits. Like leaf-laden dust devils, they flit about the village in their gay autumnal attire in celebration of the annual harvest festival. The market square bustles with activity: farmers have brought their in their aboundant crops to trade with merchants, who display the latest fashions and fads from the cities of the south. Particularly popular are songs about the swashbuckling bandit who steals from the high and mighty and spends his wealth freely among the common folk - the Red Raven. The villagers do not fear the coming season: the centerpiece of the festival is the Vernal Key, an artifact that has shielded Azurestone from the cold of winter for centuries.
All that you learn while walking through the village, and while the villagers appear a bit frightened by you at first, their joyful mood soon regains the upper hand. The only real tavern is the Deerstalkers Lodge. A large wooden building situated at the market square.
Jez grins at Attalas: Don't worry my friend. These people will like you and Mobo. And if they don't I will politely explain to them the err of their ways.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Having no real idea of what the people think of the group, Jez gets a big smile on her face and chats with the locals complementing them on their fashion sense and their hard work to bring in such a bountiful harvest.
Ragnvald frowns at the centerpiece of the village. "I'm caught between seeing them as cowards or mere fools. The winter makes us strong it culls away the weak and leaves room for the new life of spring." Ragnvald gives a small smile to the memories of warm company by warmer fires in thick furs hunted by his own hands. "New life that the warmth of the fire helps bring."
Maybe, Ragnvald, they are brave enough to take the risk of cautious trust instead of taking the cowards way of uncalled hate?
This land has seen so much blood since they split from Cheliax that trusting an Ogre or a Goblin hardly seems more foolish than trusting their fellow men.
Yet, instead of living their lives in fear and distrust, they are brave enough to risk trust for its rewards as well as its dangers!
Ragnvald shrugs. "Than they are fools. It makes no difference to the winter. Whether by the whims of the gods or the hands of evil men there will come a day when winter will collect it's due."
Mobo looks around at the burning colors of autumn attire, grins, and follows happily along. He sticks his tongue out at the mention of winter but otherwise dances around Attalas' legs while the party walks.
As you walk over to Deerstalker Lodge, you notice that not only humans inhabit Azurestone, there is a considerably minority of dwarves - about every fifth face is bearded - seems to live here. Judging from their stands, they mostly work and trade with the dark blue azures which are found and mined in the region.
The Deerstalker's Lodge has a large and cozy looking taproom with furs and taxidermised deer heads on all walls. Some scattered trappers occupy about half of the tables and a barkeep and a serving wench are getting orders ready. All talks - even though most were already spoken in hushed voices - die as you enter. The crackling fire in the fireplace is the only thing audible for a moment.
As Kosti has been to the tavern before and knows most of the regulars, he puts on a confident smile and leads the fellowship to an empty table, making sure everybody knows they are with him. All his flaws aside, Kosti is a pretty charming fellow to be around and most of the people here won't have a reason not to think good of him.
Charisma:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
Sadly, the strange humour of his 'guests' have shaken his confidence a bit and his anxiousness to meet the Raven or at least one of the friends he has made among his gang is showing more obviously then it should.
How good it is to be back. Don't let it be so awfully quiet, though. Barkeep (If Kosti knows him by name he will call him by name) put some pinchers of your good brew on the tables, would you?
"Hey, Magicman Concertina, we forgot about this stuff a bad man was trying to kill us with, reckon you can work out what it's all about?"
Attalas pulls a bunch of things out of his large pack, you notice he's carrying half the world in that pack, even an anvil and smithing tools.
"We dun forgot to whack up splits of stuff before"
3 blue potions
1 yellow potion
magic spear
2 antitoxin
220 gp
MWk Longsword
unholy symbol of Ghlaunder
"Well we know what some of that stuff is, we have two drinks to make you stop spewing up when a spider bites ya, or if you eat Mobos cookin', we have a good sword, and some golds, and this symbol, reckon I might make it an earring because it looks heaps tough. Whats these other drinks and this big pig stabber for though?"
And wouldn't this be a great time to remember what spells I memorized today? I will roll 3 times (d8) to see if identify is among them (5) - nope, no luck (one slot has mage armor) 1d8 ⇒ 61d8 ⇒ 71d8 ⇒ 1
The barkeep (Ärotaumi), nods and brings you a large tray full with pinchers filled with golden ale.
Kosti he nods and puts the tray on the table I see you found some new friends? Festival tourists? he gives you an ironic wink and waits for Kosti's reply.
Items:
Blue Potions: Cure moderate wounds
Spear: unknown
yellow potion: unknown
Can you imagine the road bears tales like this, Ärotaumi? Such strange travellers, fearsome and yet ready for a good laugh and a hearty meal in a tavern? I just had to hear more of their tale, and what better time then our festival?
Kosti takes a look around seeing the still less then happy faces of the other guests.
It seems there are some here jealously looking at that tray. Would you mind to place a pitcher of ale on each of their tables so we might drink together? Sorry, I meant pitcher, not pincher - who wants a drunken dog in a tavern?
Once Ärotaumi is busy again, Kosti turns to the fellows again.
Those blue potions, they make your wound close and may even mend a broken limb. The yellow liquid I can't fathom what it can do, neither the weapon, but I am tired from the journey - tomorrow, with a fresh mind, I might be able to find out more.
Ragnvald frowns. "The last festival we attended the ogre hacked the mayor apart and I nailed the body to a tree in the town square. "After we had already slaughtered a good portion of it and left the bloodied heads on pikes by the village gate." Ragnvald then drinks his ale.
"I suppose I can test the spear. There are many of its like in my homeland just as useful for killing men as it does boars."
Ragnvald can't spellcraft but he can stabify and I think the others would prefer there own weapons unless there are objections?
Mobo Bang-Dead
