GM Silbeg's "Murder on the Throaty Mermaid" (Inactive)

Game Master Silbeg

"And who do they think they are?" Lort seems to grow suddenly angry for no apparent reason, "Azlant was a human settlement. Every hundred years is a clear, pompous f**king insult to the lifespan of the species who would seek to recover the secrets of their lost heritage.

"And, pray tell," a splash of spittle falls to the floor as Lort continues his tirade, "What was Lord High-And-Mighty Seph-fra-whatever's determination this time? Let me guess, 'you must wait'?"

Surely someone steps in by now to end Lort's rage fueled and ultimately embarrassing loss of control... if not, let me know and I'll keep pounding at it.

Cyrus steps in front of Lort, getting a little spittle on his ear. "Whoa whoa my large friend... I think you are preaching to the choir here with our venture captain. Unless I missed something, we are all on the same side, trying to convince the elves to open that up to us. Our job is to make sure the ambassador gets there to deliver that important message, as he is likely the only one the elves will listen to who is arguing our side." He smiles at Sheila, hoping to diffuse her potential rising anger, and looking for confirmation that he is, indeed, correct. "Surely you can see the passion with which we plan to carry out our mission?" Cyrus suddenly realizes that he may have laid his emphasis on the word passion a little too thick.

Cyrus flashes another charming smile at the Venture Captain, "And You are quite right Madame, we are not military escorts, we are way more effective than that. Forgive me for not being more clear..."

Dont you dare wink again you overconfident.... hopeless

"Hopefully with this passion and skill, I will be able to show you that I'm more than capable, and ready to spring into action."

Did you say I? You said I!!!

I mean we... us, the society, I mean.

I suck at flirting

Cyrus perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

Nope: Cyrus doesn't note the wedding ring on her finger.

Stepping in front of both Cyrus and Lort, Miro stands at the head of the line, for the moment. "What my tongue-tied companion means is that you can count on us, Venture Captain. We have a good track record for a reason, and are skilled equally in bashing heads and applying the softer skills to a mission. We will see the ambassador through."

Sheila Heidmarch nods at Cyrus's flurry of words, and doesn't actually react to the flirting.

"So, if there are no questions, you are expected to report to Captain Veane aboard the Throaty Mermaid," she rolls her eyes at the name, " and be at your best. I don't expect anything to happen on this mission, so let's do our best to impress the Ambassador. I don't know if he's decided anything yet, but thuggery on your part could definitely cause him to change his mind. Let's change his mind into a positive direction."

You have the day/evening to spend shopping or whatever in the City of Monuments.

"So he did say 'you must wait'!" Lort paces triumphantly around the room, "I knew it! Well, with one hundred years to before he comes again, he might as well take his time with the decision, right? I wonder how many generations will die without seeing those lands while he ponders whether or not to allow the rightful inheritors access?"

Lort stops pacing and seems to deflate somewhat, "I do see how this is our best shot at exploring those ruins, but I say that if he says 'no', we just go in anyway. Enough is enough." Lort lets out a long sign, "Mission at hand first. We'll cross the 'no' bridge if and when it comes to that."

Lort is pretty happy with his current gear. If possible, he'll spend the evening scouting out The Throaty Mermaid. He'll look for any secret compartments and passageways he can find, taking 20 if possible. Rolling if not. Anyone care to join in?

Just want to point out that since we mentioned we weren't starting until later this week, Amaranti and Ibid have not posted. I know Ibid is still traveling. I don't want to cheat them out of their opportunities to participate in the questions, as well as Ibid in particular with his Journal... I also have made my purchase (enchanting my mw chain shirt to +1) and should be all set. I will join in with Lort in searching the ship. Since we are not in combat, there shouldn't be any reason why we can't take 20, considering the apparently lengthy amount of time we have before we set sail again.

I don't see any reason o not scout things out. Taking 20, as well. Or better yet, assisting to make Lort and Cyrus better.

For a couple of reasons, I am going to have to say you are not allowed on The Throaty Mermaid yet. Let's just say that Captain Veane doesn't let you on, unrestricted.

Layout of The Throaty Mermaid:

Just to make our job easy, the map is from the lowest hold on top, to the top decks on the bottom.

1) Aft Deck: Ulamon, the ship's navigator is often found here.

2) Main Deck: First Mate Marzack Mallick is often found here, supervising the crew.

3) Foredeck: Anera is often found staring out over the waters, here, twiddling with her black-handled knife, and her osprey perched nearby.

4) Captain's Cabin: The relatively nicely furnished captain’s cabin is where Captain Veane can be found when not on deck giving orders. Azuretta is also often found here, lazing on his bed, reading an illustrated chapbook.

5) Forward Cabin: Makeshift bedding lies strewn amid the barrels, casks, and crates that fill the room. This is the PC's cabin.

6) Main hold: In addition to the cargo of a number of strange
pipes that were brought on board at Magnimar but seem to belong to a larger system of plumbing, mining ventilation or other technical purpose, this area serves as the galley for the Throaty Mermaid. Shira Acidaxe (the ships cook( can be found in the galley at almost any time of day.

7) Crew's Cabin: Killik, the ship's medic, is often found here, napping.

8) First Mate's Cabin: This has been taken over by Sephriel. Outside of the door is where Thanzeril keeps guard.

9) Cargo Hold (unknown - you haven't been let down there).

10) Forward Hold (unknown, you haven't been let down there).

You are able to get a cursory look over the ship, but in any of the areas other than the decks and your own cabin, you don't get to look in too much detail. You will be watched by a Marzack Mallick (First Mate) the whole time.

Also, you should take a look at the Dramatis personæ document. Though I am still working on it, this will be an introduction to all the characters. Once we get going, I will open it up for you all to edit the document, so you can add notes on each of the people.

Just want to point out that since we mentioned we weren't starting until later this week, Amaranti and Ibid have not posted.

Duly Noted: I will not start the actual adventure until at least Friday. Amaranti and Ibid will have some time to post before we start... just getting all of the set up done.

No secret passages were noticed in the areas you were allowed to loiter around.

**EDIT** Just noticed that this mission is everyone except Finarin. I'm happy to keep it in the spoilers, but it's perhaps best to just do in the open... up to you, GM Silbeg!

Your mission has not been delivered yet, so you don't have it. You'll have to wait for your cleverness!

In reality, all of the stuff is really supposed to be happening at sea (but not on the At Sea -- GACK!). There is quite a bit of hand-waving about stuff until the actual start of the Act. So, if'n you don't mind, hold off for a bit.

You'll be receiving your missions at the appropriate time. :D

No troubles. Any ideas of what we can do to keep the gameplay thread alive until Friday? Head to the discussion thread perhaps?

I have an idea... but I have to head out for my bowling league. Will be posting something around 21:00CDT

"So he did say 'you must wait'!" Lort paces triumphantly around the room, "I knew it! Well, with one hundred years to before he comes again, he might as well take his time with the decision, right? I wonder how many generations will die without seeing those lands while he ponders whether or not to allow the rightful inheritors access?"

A look of sadness creases Finarin's face. He quickly breaks eye contact with Lort. "Venture Captain, since I was born before my friends ... great great grandparents were born, it is difficult for them to understand time ... as a elf does. Sadly I will be around long after Lort has swung his last sword swipe. My friends, this makes me ... uncomfortable ... but know that I will tell your grandchildren and your grandchildren's grandchildren stories of your ... valor." Finarin produces his silken rag, but this time it was not used to clean a chair.

Nice to be able to use my application back story, Lort

... and it is difficult for you to understand time as we do, you condescending, long eared ponce. You'll tell my grandchildren nothing if some time before that last sword swipe I swipe you with it!

Lort forces a smile and nods deferentially as Finarin attempts to cover for him.

Love that you're using your backstory from that recruitment thread ages ago... but which part exactly? And sorry about the thoughts above, Lort is a little hot headed at times.

As opposed to adding yet another set of eyes to the search, Miro instead strikes up a conversation with Marzack Mallick, attempting to occupy him while his friends practice their 'find stuff' skill with discretion.

"Marzack, or would you prefer First Mate, this really is a fine vessel you have here. Hey, isn't a vessel something that holds a liquid? Kind of a strange name for something meant to never hold liquid, am I right? And where does the term First Mate come from? The First I understand, but mate? Kind of makes you think you've been missing out, eh?" Miro laughs amiably, looking to see what kind of impression he is making.

"What do you guys do for entertainment on the ship? Do you have any entertainers on board, because I think I've got that area covered, if there's a need. Or even a want." The halfling winks at the man, constantly moving from side to side if the Mate attempts to break eye contact to look after his friends.

Marzack tries to keep a straight face, but the continual banter of Miro causes him to first show annoyance, and then mirth. "Well, little one, entertainment is somewhat lacking on board a ship, especially when you are sailing for weeks at a time. We on the Throaty Mermaid have at least one distraction... Azuretta. The captain has made her... available... as needed. All can... have there morale raised, if they need it.

"Maybe Anera would like some... entertainment by you, but... you seem a little small."

Marzack chuckles a little, as does Ulamon, the pilot, who overhears the conversation. This crew seems to run a little towards the crude side, but not that out of the ordinary for pirates and scoundrels.

Ulamon looks the group of you over. "Happy with what you see? This crew may now look like much, but we know our business. Of course," he chuckles, "any crew with a pilot who can control the winds would be at an advantage wouldn't they!"

"Ohhhhhh, what is she available for? How does she raise morale?" Miro was not one of those stupid sheltered adults who didn't understand the ways of the world, he knew exactly what the man was talking about. His small size made people think of him as a child, though, and he was keen to seize upon that, as children were the best dupes in the business.

"Anera, you mean the girl on the foredeck? She sure does seem nice. I think I would love to entertain her. Maybe this evening, do you think?" Miro widens his bright green eyes, looking for that child-like innocence to send these men into gales of laughter. Anything that kept their eyes off his friends.

Miro looks at Ulamon slyly. "Some say my friend Lort here can control the winds, as well. But only after a nice helping of beans! Best to stay upwind of the fellow, as well, as he'll be filling your sails with more than air, I assure you." The little man laughs melodically, trying to keep the mood light.

"And a Besmaran priest as our heal don't hurt, neither, Ulamon," the first mate says as he slaps the druid on the back.

He turns back to the Pathfinders. "So, you about done yet? We ain't got nothing more for you to look at, leastwise 'til Captain Veane vouchsafes for you all. It be his ship, so his word is law, and he ain't gave you no permission to be on his ship. Not yet, least. So, why don't you all head to the wharf, and drown yer sorrow in a glass of rotgut, or whatever you can afford.

"I hear the Bent Nail ain't to bad a place, if'n you were interested. Their food ain't none of that noo-voh kwee-sine. That's Galtan for fancified eats. What they got is brown, hot, and there be plenty of it. Should be just your kind of place."

A little crossing the streams, but we'll make up for it here. Was I typing that long?

Responding, finally, to the halfling's quip, Marzack says to him, "Best you stay away from our Anera. She's been a might to quick with her knife as of late. That's why she's stayin' on board t'night. Before you get any bright ideas, either, stay outta Shira Acidaxe's way. Our cook ain't never taken a likin' to anyone, and I can't believe you'd be the first." He pauses a moment, and then continues, "But if'n yer gonna take a try, I reckon there might be a few hear that'd be wantin' to place wagers!"

"I never could turn down a challenge of that nature. I'll be pleased to make Shira's acquaintance once we board. As for Anera, she might be quick with her knife, but I got quite a sharp tongue, and I know how to use it!" Deciding to drop the charade and get on board the crude ship, Miro grins at the Mate before turning to head to the Bent Nail.

"My thanks for the heads up on protocol and a place to wait things out. You are truly a gentleman!"

Loved that whole conversation! I take it Lort and Cyrus weren't able to find any more than the GM has already described and that we don't have the faction mission yet to even try to steal that pipe (you said they didn't need to be secret, so figured Finarin could at least read!)

At the Bent Nail, Lort follows Miro in to the dank tavern a few minutes behind. He locates the halfling bard across the musty taproom, regards the sludgy beer coming out of the taps, thinks better of it and simply grabs a glass from the counter instead. He cleans it as he sits down next to Miro.

"Well done, friend! I could hardly keep my sides from bursting as I overheard your conversation," Lort rummages through his tunic for his holy symbol as he talks, "I bet you'll think twice before offering yourself up as entertainment to seamen again! Hoo boy, they genuinely considered it. Don't worry, I had my hand on my sword, ready to leap in if they tried anything."

Lort can barely suppress a smirk at his last double entendre. He decides to concentrate on his empty and mostly clean glass instead. Quietly, Lort offers a magical prayer to Kurgess.

"כຈົ້эņэ ₩ņэຈົ້" (create water)

He drinks heavily, not realizing how thirsty he was, before turning back to Miro.

"So, what's next?" he asks, "Do you know any games like the one Cyrus and I played back in Absalom? Shall we play that one?"

"Anything for the mission, my good man. They seem a decent sort, if a bit rowdy. Maybe you get Cyrus to visit Azuretta once we board. He seems to need an outlet for his...enthusiasm." Miro takes a deep pull of the dark draft, trying not to think about the cleanliness of the mug.

Then he laughs, shaking his head. "I learned from Cyrus' mistake, Lort. How about a game of darts, maybe?"

Cyrus wanders into the bent nail and sees Miro and Lort at the bar, and then ambles aimlessly towards them. He approaches just as Miro offers a game of darts.

"I can see why sailors never have any money. Nothing to do but sit and wait, and I am tempted to spend what I have, though there isn't anything I can find that I need..."

Cyrus opens his mouth to order a drink and notices Lort's mug of water, and the decided lack of hygiene in the run down bar, and changes his mind. Not worth it here... I suppose I am getting a little spoiled with the taproom at the Grand Lodge in Absalom...

"Ohhh, darts? Maybe a 3-way wager is in order..."

aaaaaand the other reason sailor's have no money...

"Done. Let's make it a gold each, winner takes all. Best three throws wins?"

I say we make it 2 range increments and AC 10, effectively AC 14. Hurled weapon, best average rolls after discarding anything below 14 (counts as 0) wins?

Lort throw 1: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Lort throw 2: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Lort throw 3: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13

Lort lines up confidently in front of the pock-infested dart board, and hurls away. While no throw is so bad as to bury the dart in the crumbling timbers of the wall, neither does a single throw make it into the colored portion to score a point.

"Must have been all that water," mutters Lort despondently, "I hear this game goes better when you're just a little bit drunk."

"Gentlemen, could this be the dingiest establishment we have ever consumed libation at?" Finarin produces his silken rag, looks at the chair, looks back at the rag.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he strides over to the dart game.

"So did you find anything out about the ... Mermaid?" He says, deliberately leaving out the throaty part.

Whispering arcane words, he imbues his darts with arcane energy so they fly straighter.

Finarin throw 1: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 4 + 1 = 8

Finarin throw 2: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 4 + 1 = 21

Finarin throw 3: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 4 + 1 = 22

Cyrus can barely contain his chuckle watching Finarin with his rag. He picks up the darts and checks their balance, and corrects a crooked flight before lining up to the board.

dart 1: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

dart 2: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

dart 3: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

-Posted with Wayfinder

A grizzled looking bar wench wanders by, sees the group of you, and in a gravelly voice asks, "What'll you have?" She looks to be about fifty, and apparently most of the years have been spent in this establishment, as she looks like she fits in perfectly.

"There is mutton stew on the fire, with some brown bread if you want, for 2 silver a bowl. The grog was made fresh today... we even got some fruit in it today, off of a shipment from Osirion. So, I ask again, what'll you have?"

She doesn't seem to be taking no for an answer.

Miro is, well, shall we say entranced, by the "performer" that is on the little stage in the tavern. A burly half-orc woman, playing on a mandolin, singing perhaps the baudiest songs Miro has ever heard. Lort sees who Miro is staring at, and sizes her up as likely to be good in a fight, and perhaps for a roll in the hay as well. She sports more scars than Lort does!

more to come... still trying to find time to recreate the full post that I lost last night after 20 minutes of typing!

"Two silver for a bowl of mutton, in this place?!" Lort recoils, "You must be..." Lort takes one look at the humorless waitress's face and sighs, "Give me a bowl. Don't worry about the silverware, and set it down anywhere. I mean it, anywhere." Not like I'm going to touch it anyway. "For drinks, how about anything imported that comes in a sealed bottle? Make sure you put it down for us with the seal still intact."

Flicking the exorbitant two silver pieces towards the bar wench, Lort turns to listen to the baudy ballads. He even joins in singing for Half the Orc but Twice the Fun, thrusting in Miro's direction at the appropriate moments.

"She's pretty good with that mandolin," says Lort somewhat admiringly, "but I think I'd better wait until I can remove disease before I let her anywhere near my instrument."

Lort's companions finish their throws. Just Miro to go now before you know who you need to pay. Next time, just ask them to arm wrestle, okay?

"Well done! Your aim is much better than mine," Lort congratulates the other two, somehow managing to keep almost all of the disappointment from his voice, "Though I'm not sure if using magic is appropriate in a friendly game like this. If it is... you'd better watch out when we get drunk enough for you to agree to an arm wrestling match!"

Miro has a look of fascination upon his face as he listens to the half-orc belt out about the size of Logan's ram, the pride of Helphaestus, and the slick belly of the Downtrod Lady. He recorded them all to memory, to be perhaps sung at an (in)appropriate time. Meanwhile, he closes an eye and lines up his darts:

Dart 1: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
Dart 2: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Dart 3: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

He winces as his first two throws are off the mark, then carelessly launches the third one, hitting the bullseye, naturally. Laughing, he tosses a gold coin on the table and turns to the serving wench. "Yes, some stew and bread would be wonderful, thanks!" Another 2 sp make their way into his hand. He is careful to drop them into her hand.

"Though I'm not sure if using magic is appropriate in a friendly game like this."

Finarin looks at Miro in an accusatory fashion.

Cyrus ducks deftly around his companions, trying to pretend like he cannot hear the wench, and acting as if she isn't even there.

I am way to spoiled on the fire mead... And Sheeba... And Sirena... Little black dress... I gotta figure out how I am going to pull this song off that I wrote and not look like a fool next to pro performer Miro...

He is relieved to hear others order, maybe she won't notice him.

"Nice throw Miro!" He exclaims as the halfling non-chalantly pegs the bullseye.

"I'll take you up on that arm-wrestling match, Lort, on the condition we follow it up with a test to see who can jump the highest." He says with a smirk. "Strength vs Strength"

"Make that a long jump and you've got a deal!" bellows Lort eagerly, Kurgess's fleet feet but I love athletic contests!

"Like with the darts, best two of three?" No magic, Lort, lead by example.

Lort strength check 1: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Lort strength check 2: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Lort strength check 3: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

Lort actually falls off his chair for the first wrestle, and is too flustered to put on much of a good show after that.

"So, who wants in on the long jump? Outside in the street, running start, three tries and the longest jump wins?" asks (the likely humbled) Lort.

Highest of 3 wins. Found the rules for jumping: Acrobatics rules here. High works as well as long, but easier to measure long. Highest single result wins, yeah?

Lort takes three running leaps, measuring each by the rearmost part of his body to touch the ground. If the streets weren't clear enough for the half-orc's first leap, they certainly were for the last two!

Lort acrobatics check 1: 1d20 + 1 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 4 = 8
Lort acrobatics check 2: 1d20 + 1 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 1 + 4 = 13
Lort acrobatics check 3: 1d20 + 1 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 1 + 4 = 21

Much more satisfied with that result, Lort smiles and bows, indicating that his companions are next.

Lort has a movement speed of 40ft, hence the +4.

Cyrus smiles at the acceptance of the challenge.

Zero chance I win this arm wrestle match... but the jumping contest, thats where I will finally redeem myself...

"Now, don't break my arm my friend..." Cyrus says with a smile.

Cyrus strength check 1: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

The first effort is a much closer contest than Cyrus would have ever guessed with the massive cleric, giving him confidence even though his hand is eventually pressed to the table. "You don't have to go easy on me just to make me feel better." He says with a mischievous smile. "I think I just overheard them up the odds to 10-1 in your favor..."

Cyrus strength check 2: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

Cyrus strength check 3: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15

When Cyrus puts Lort's arm down not once, but twice he is genuinely surprised. The crowd groans as all of the money that had been bet on the obvious favorite changes hands. "Looks like a few people will be having a few less drinks tonight!"

The group heads outside to the street, which is quickly cleared of the foot traffic, and a ring of bodies creates a makeshift arena for the men to finish their contest.

Lort completes each of his three jumps and bows bringing the crowd to a roar. Money begins to change hands while a raspy voice calls out odds again to the crowd.

"Thank you my friend, for indulging me in our little games. We should definitely do this more often. Now, please allow me to show you why they call me, The Flea"

Lort didn't call his god's favor in the arm wrestle, so don't you dare cheat. Save those special tricks for a more appropriate circumstance...

Cyrus acrobatics check 1: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

Without a single step to generate a running start, Cyrus dips down into a low crouch and launches forward, nearly landing in the crowd that had almost not given him enough room.

Cyrus acrobatics check 2: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12

Cyrus acrobatics check 3: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21

As he finishes his last jump, going exactly as far as the half-orc, he follows suit with his friendly competitor by bowing to the crowd, eliciting an equal roar as before when Lort had finished his jumps.

"By my measure friend, it seems this last contest is a draw. What else are we going to find to test our skills against each other?" He says with a laugh and a slap on the big cleric's shoulder.

"Truly, even though I worry his hip will break, Ibid could likely give us both a run for our money in this contest... Perhaps even Finarin?"

"You gentlemen go ahead and get your running and jumping done. I have a feeling I'll be doing some running myself after a helping of this wonderful stew." Miro chuckles as he chokes down another bite.

"Never eat the stew in a dive bar, you mad fool!" shrieks Lort as he realizes what Miro is doing. Lort rushes forwards, leaping heroically over tables and patrons alike in his mad bid to save the halfling, "What were you thinking?"

Lort finally gets to Miro's table and knocks his bowl to the floor, "How much did you eat? Don't worry, I'll save you!"

"Okay Miro," Lort begins, "Now listen to this story carefully. There once were a hill giant, a troll and a troglodyte who walked into a dungeon. Shortly afterwards, the hill giant became aroused..." Lort continues a bizarre and convoluted story of monstrous peudo-sexual sadism, ending with, "...and the resulting ooze actually became an ooze! It lurks there still." (Lort's attempt to induce vomiting)

Lort heal check: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

That must have been one disgusting story!

To Miro's surprise, the ste is actually quite good. Rich, meaty, and thick. Something that will stick on your ribs for quite a while. Far better than one would expect at a place like this. Makes him think it is time to try the grog.., or maybe the rumboozle, or some such sailor drink.

Lort notices the singer looking him over, and she looks a tad hungry. Without thinking, he forgets himself and scoops up some of the savory stew with the coarse bread, and. Takes a taste. Before he realizes it, he has finished his bowl, which was a healthy portion, and has ordered a round of grog for the table. Even that was tasty.

What he doesn't remember, though, is when the satchel ended up on the table, with a note pinned to it. Embossed on the satchel was a scarab. The note says,

"Do not open in the presence of others, only near loyal servants of the Ruby Prince, and not before you are at sea."

Surprisingly, the paper bursts into flame immediately after being read.

Hahaha

While the stew is fine, especially in a dive like this, Lort's disgusting story has the halfling holding his hand up in a silent plea for the man to stop. When the story continues without mercy, he doubles over, gagging.

"What the hell man!? Why would you go and ruin my meal like that!?"

"Ruin? You mean it was good?" balks Lort, looking over the halfling with a skeptical eye. Is he mad, or...? Lort scoops up the bowl from the floor and runs his finger around to mop up some of the unspilled gravy. "Wow, my apologies, Miro. Waitress! Another round of stews and some of that fruity rum for my comrades." Lort pays for this one.

Things then proceed as GM Silbeg describes.

Why is she looking at me like that? Maybe you should challenge her to an arm wrestle and more wrestling besides? After all, the soup doesn't taste diseased, maybe she also isn't...

Luckily, the arrival of their mission documents distracts Lort. "Well, look at this! Best to get it back somewhere safe, wouldn't you say? Is it time to board the Throaty Mermaid? Are we allowed on yet?"

The tavern door opens, and the long-absent Garundi strides in. He seems to be in good mood, but there are some odd bloodstains in his clothes.

"Amaranti sorry for being long gone. Got lost in city, trying to find wizard." he explains, motioning the barmaid to bring a beer.

"Big city, not familiar streets. I ask help from Varisian man, tell I want magic in lance, show him I have gold. Varisian man say to follow and start taking Amaranti to wizard. But he take me to dark alley, no wizards, just Varisian friends. They want gold, but give no magic. So we fight." At this moment Amaranti starts re-enacting the battle, striking the air with hands and lance, but miraculously manages not to damage anyone or anything in the bar. Once the scene is over, he takes a long gulp from his tankard, and has a hearty laugh.

"Ha, was good battle! But Amaranti had no magic in lance, so he keep looking. This time I more clever, don't talk of gold, just ask for wizard. And Amaranti find wizard, pay him gold, wait for long time, and now..." the Garundi presents proudly his weapon "...Lo! Amaranti has magic lance!" he continues gleefully.

"So, what I miss? You have fight in bar yet?"

Upon seeing Amaranti coming in the door, the grizzled bar wench makes her way over to the Pathfinders, a pitcher in one hand, several mugs in another. She puts the pitcher and mugs down, and looks at Lort, throwing a rag down in front of him. "You make mess, you clean mess. Questions?"

intimidate: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29
She gives Lort a look that could cause paint to peel, and he is reaching for the rag before he even thinks about it. "You do good job, maybe I bring you drink Marta" she indicates the half-orc skald, "has bought for you. You catch eye of Marta, you in for long night. Ha ha har!'

She then turns to Amaranti, convinced that her point has been made. "So, tough guy who beat up Szcarni who try and jump him, you want stew?" She pauses a moment, and then answers herself. "Yes, you want stew. Big strong tough guy need hearty stew to keep up strength. And strong drink, too, I think."

She then turns and walks away, but stops after a moment. "Slip, you want more stew? I put it on half-orc's bill. Yes, of course you want more stew. Everyone want Bertha's stew." Content that she has her answer, the bar maid(?) continues on her way.

Lort is so flustered with the demanding waitress that he complies. It was that, or smash her in the face. Not sure I'd win that one... oh, wow, how did she even notice that I'd spilled the stew? I'm wiping it not off floorboards but more layers of grime. Better not make it too clean, she'll send me that drink. Lort glances up where the bawdy half-orc minstrel sits astride her mandolin, legs too far parted to even be provocative anymore... stop looking, it's been a while but not so long that you need to put up with the likes of that.

"So, shall we leave as soon as Ibid get here?" Lort asks, a little too eagerly, before changing the topic, "So, Cyrus, you'll have to tell me how you did that back in the alley there. Those leaps were amazing! Flea indeed!"

Lort reaches down and takes a heavy pull from his spiced rum, This is really good. How is that possible? What is this place?

"Gentlemen, let us discuss the ... matter at hand before our brains become addled with this berry liquor, which really should not taste as good as it does. What plan do we have to safely deliver our ... diplomat? Shall we befriend this ... crew?". Finarin looks toward Lort. "Or shall we ... overwhelm them with our presence?"

"It never hurt to make a few new friends, my friend Finarin. Why not both? It's even better to be friends with someone if their big buddy will hurt you otherwise." Miro laughs and takes another swig of the liquor. That was a sweet burn all the way down.

"Excellent suggestion Finarin," says Lort, pushing the rum to one side he turns to his assembled companions, "I'm thinking it would be a good idea to keep an eye on the diplomat ourselves. I know he has a bodyguard and all - and we really do want to be sensitive to the situation and not look like we're taking over or don't trust him - but a subtle all-night game of chance held within sight of the diplomat's quarters might be in order. What do you think?"

"Come to think of it, Lort, living in a desert city, with all that sand, may have had some bearing on my nickname as well..." Cyrus chuckles. "Now my secrets? Only the streets will know those... for now." He says somewhat cryptically.

"I do think getting to know the crew would be the best way to assess any potential threats. Good to get in their heads to best understand what might motivate them to do the ambassador harm."

"We must protect elf with funny mask?" Amaranti confirms, trying to memorise the assignment. "Maybe we lock him in cabin, and let out when boat stops..." he suggests.

"Or her..? Is ambassador boy or girl? Really hard to tell of elves... Boy-elves and girl-elves look all the same.." Amaranti ponders aloud, and then when realising Finarin is present, he turns toward the elf: "Sorry.."