GM Niles |
The citizens of Falcon’s Hollow have contracted a fungal disease called blackscour taint. While the malady is not exceptionally deadly, poor conditions and a general lack of supplies mean that many of the sick—especially the elderly and young—face mortal consequences.
You are all traveling to/through Falcon's Hollow for various reasons but your presence has been noticed...
Each of you has received a message from Payden Teedum, the message reads.
"You have come to my attention as a person of some small ability, go to Laurel. She resides at her shop Roots and Remedies. Help her cure the plague and you will be rewarded with 50 gold peices"
You guys can RP meeting up in town or at the local adventurer's dive named The Sitting Duck (known to adventurers and other rapscallions to be very raucous)
When your ready click the spoiler below.
Lucanor |
Lucanor hadn't been in Falcon's Hollow long. By the hells, he hadn't even had time to check out the local chapel to his goddess yet. However, he had had time to check out Sitting Duck. It seemed as good a place as anywhere to get a feel for this town. Lucanor had taken a corner spot, his back to the wall, and, after ordering a drink, had settled in to observe the patrons from underneath the wide brim of his hat.
In truth, he thought he had avoided most notice. While he wore a symbol, it was a plain wooden one half hidden by his vest and wasn't atypical from the sort any other person might wear to show devotion to whatever deity they'd taken to follow.
Though this town doesn't look to be particularly involved in religious matters. Indeed, maybe the folks should have been. There was a stink of desperation in this place, and the stink wasn't entirely new.
He'd been sitting around long enough to pick up a few rumors of trouble, when the message was delivered to him. A curious thing, not only did this Tweed fellow know he was in town, he seemed to know some of Lucanor's capabilities.
Still, folks were in trouble, and the goddess would want him to help. He glanced around to see who else, if anyone, might have been given a similar message.
Hope I'm not jumping the gun, but technically its friday in my time zone so I took the 'starting on the weekend' bit literally :)
Hecktor |
Hecktor came to Falcon's Hollow in pursuit of the Shade assassin. He'd been traveling a long while to get here. Looking across the streets he noticed the amount of the sickly.
"Ugh, this place is as bad as a spoiled tater. The smell is disgusting. Seeing as to how their conditions are, i doubt any of them will know anything about sneaky personae. Likely my best bet for rumors would be the inn."
Hecktor pushed open the door, drawing the attention of some of the patrons. Standing 6ft 7 inch, he would have to slightly bend to get through the door. He headed towards the bar and ordered a tanker of mead.
Just as he was about to take a gulp, a patron next to him muffled a note against his arm and walked away. Reading the note he was surprised.
"What in the world....who is this Payden guy, how does he even know of me? Hmpf, oh well, if he knows about me after i entered this disease struck town, he might know more on the guy i'm chasing after."
Holding the note in his hand he casually looked around the room, semi lost in thought. Then he noticed a man not far from him getting a letter in the same fashion. He stood up and headed towards the man.
"Mind if i have a seat at this table?"
Heh, same here Lucanor, my weekend starts friday morning. Which is today
GM Niles |
Not a big deal, however I'm in a conference all day today and sat/sun so expect updates in the evening
Lucanor |
Holding the note in his hand he casually looked around the room, semi lost in thought. Then he noticed a man not far from him getting a letter in the same fashion. He stood up and headed towards the man.
"Mind if i have a seat at this table?"
Heh, same here Lucanor, my weekend starts friday morning. Which is today
Tall one to say the least, Lucanor observes, "Its a free republic," he glances about, "In theory. Help yourself," He gestures to a chair near him. "I see you and I have both acquired what I suspect to be similar attentions. My name's Lucanor."
Hecktor |
Hecktor sits down.
"It would seem so. Name's Hecktor.
"Seeing the common folk and this mob in here, i'd guess it's not surprising if we'd draw a few glances. Healthy, not dirty or fancy richboy clothes and a decent outfit along with weapons would draw some attention."
At weapons pointing towards the scythe strapped to this back.
Hecktor takes a gulp from his mead before glancing back at Lucanor.
"So what brings you to this disease struck town?"
Lucanor |
Lucanor nods at Hecktor's theory on how they've drawn notice. While he doesn't fancy himself a true swordsman, the blade at his side could probably feed some of the poor familes in this town (of which there are many) for at least a month if not three. Yet his garb clearly isn't on the fancier side. Even his armor is just hard and studded leather. I reckon I do register as 'sword for hire' to some. Not my intent, but there you have it.
Hecktor takes a gulp from his mead before glancing back at Lucanor.
"So what brings you to this disease struck town?"
"Originally? I just came by to check on some peers of mine. I learned a bit more of the plague, and I realized I might have another reason to hang around as well... I admit, I didn't expect someone else to have the same idea, but judging by the message. They did. What of you?" The inquisitor inquires, "What brings you to what even the locals seem to refer to as the armpit of Andoran?"
Hecktor |
Hecktor, knowing full well you don't just share every little detail, especially when in pursuit of an assassin, decides to share merely a plain version for now. Should it appear this caution was no longer needed he'd talk more about it.....if so asked for it.
"Excuse me for not telling all the details, since it is a delicate as well as a partially personal matter. But the rough version is i'm investigating a crime and heard the culprit might have attended if not still residing in this town.
Lucanor |
Sense Motive just for kicks 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
Lucanor strokes his short cut beard and nods, "I understand a little something about that sort of thing. Not your particular situation, obviously, but I can understand discretion. Course, if he is among this village, he might currently be coughing up a storm from this new sickness."
Hecktor |
"Quite a curious man, this guy."
"No, if i were this would be strictly business. Let's just say that during his crime a brother in arms lost his life."
"Speaking of the plague, i've seen a few during my travels. Nasty business. Rumors would go around about what caused them, ranging from food poisoning, hygiene and even alchemical causes. But this one, i have not seen a plague like this. Worst case scenario, this place'll burn down the commons if it gets to messy."
Percival Lawson |
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Into the tavern strides- well, taking slow and careful steps- a thin, short man in hardened leather armor as thick as he is, a wide-brimmed hat dwarfing his head atop him and a monocle covering his eye. Dark blood stains, old and fresh, spot the armor in places. The fellow looks around slightly nervously and heads to the bar counter. "Excuse me, please... I need alcohol." He raises a hand and waves away the beer the keeper is about to poor him. "No, no, not that kind." He speaks in a rapid but clipped and precise tone. "I need illegal alcohol, fermented in old socks and strained through ten feet of iron cannibalized from bullets, girders and holy symbols of dead religions, I need alcohol strong enough to damn a man to drink forever merely for inhaling the slightest amount... moonshine is the colloquial term for it, yes? I need moonshine. I hope that you have some, or at least know where to get me some. Please hurry with your answer; this is not as yet a medical emergency, but it may be if circumstances conspire."
Giving the keeper a moment to recover from his speech, the man looks around the bar again at the rest of the patrons.
Lucanor |
The first thing Lucanor notices about Percival is that they have a mutual love of wide brimmed hats. Points for style.
He actually smirks at the description of alcohol required. He nods to Hecktor, "There's the most specific tavern order I've heard in years."
Hecktor |
Hecktor nods.
"And there's a type of liquid i haven't heard mention of for a long time. Though last time i've seen the stuff it wasn't used for medical purposes."
He smiles after saying that.
Hecktor takes his backpack and opens it, seems to be resorting some items...and seems to have found something.
"I had almost forgotten i had this with me." As he pulls halfway out a metal flask, containing no more than what is inside his tanker of mead. He puts it back and looks back at the short man at the bar.
Hecktor |
Hecktor raises a brow.
"Is this guy a doctor of sorts?"
"Well mr. Lawson, i don't know if it is moonshine quality, but a comrade of mine gave me this flask of his own unnamed whiskey. It really can burn the unaccustomed throat, but it sure can warm you up when it's cold. Come over here and have a taste. Bartender, can i get a small cup please."
After the bartender gives him a cup, Hecktor takes out the flask from his backpack and pours a little bit (the amount of an italian espresso, which is not much) of the transparent liquid into the cup.
"Here you go Mr. Lawson."
"I didn't plan on drinking this till after i'd get through with my mission, but maybe this guy Lawson knows another use for it."
GM Niles |
Friendly neighborhood GM checking in. We will wait until the other two, Silas and Michael, check in before proceeding. OR Sunday evening, whichever comes first. But for something to do, an encounter.
As the three of you begin your chat a hairy man saunters up to your table. He is missing his front teeth and speaks with a lisp as he says
You little sissies aren't from around here, I bet your the ones brought the cough to this town. I'll show you how we treat strangers round ere With that he sweeps your drinks onto the floor.
Rules for this encounter, no initiative everyone gets one standard action to respond. You are currently sitting at the table. After you have all responded OR tonight 6pmCST I'll post the resolution of the encounter. The below knowledge local check is not part of your standard action, if you have ANY ranks in the skill you automatically succeed, if you have no ranks just roll and int check.
Percival Lawson |
Percival raises a hand and refuses the cup. "Thank you, but I should be able to raise a sufficient quantity myself, and I need to know its origins for certain. And yes, sir-" He adds, tipping his head to the hatted man. "It is not a terribly dangerous plague but far too infectious-"
Int: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Percival wrinkles his face in distaste and rises to leave. "Ugh, xenophobia, a tool that far too readily destroys the wielder..." He tries to gently push past the man out the door.
Lucanor |
Alchemist
Percival raises a hand and refuses the cup. "Thank you, but I should be able to raise a sufficient quantity myself, and I need to know its origins for certain. And yes, sir-" He adds, tipping his head to the hatted man. "It is not a terribly dangerous plague but far too infectious-"
Lucanor tips his hat back and listens to the learned man's opinion. He himself has been taught some healing, but he hardly considers himself educated on the matter of illness, not like this fellow sounds.
He's about to respond when the local good will committee arrives.
As the three of you begin your chat a hairy man saunters up to your table. He is missing his front teeth and speaks with a lisp as he says
You little sissies aren't from around here, I bet your the ones brought the cough to this town. I'll show you how we treat strangers round ere With that he sweeps your drinks onto the floor.
Lucanor glances over at the drinks now on the floor, then moves his gaze to the man in front of him as he rises to his feet slowly, "Neighbor, and I use that term because we clearly aren't friends and you chose not to remain a stranger by introducing yourself, neighbor... Any fool would know this plague was already going when we arrived. Now, assuming you're not just ANY fool, and want to hold to that mistaken belief of yours, I can't help note but that you work for the Lumber Consortium. I imagine you need your wrist unbroken for that kind of work." His eyes narrow on the big man's wrist. "You start something with any of the three of us, and you won't be the one to finish it. You ken me?"
Intimidate to Demoralize 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Hecktor |
I'll show you how we treat strangers round ere
Hecktor slowly rises to his feet. Standing even taller than Lucanor or the hairy man himself. Adding effect by slightly bending towards the man as to accent it;
You'd best listen to what this man said, he might say you won't be able to use it. I on the other hand will hand you your own handy hand on a rope to go dangling from your belt. You couldn't hand-le that, believe me.
Intimidate to add more terror to Lucanor's threat.
intimidate: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
GM Niles |
Since everyone in game posted I'll resolve the encounter early. Still waiting on Silas and Michael to move forward with the plot. If they don't post tonight I'll do another social type encounter tomorrow to keep everyone busy.
Lucanor voices his threat and Hector stands up to support Lucanor's statement. resolved that as an aid another action While this is occurring Percival makes his comment and moves to the door.
The man pales a bit. Umm, sorry for the misundastandin. I was just joshin wit ya, seein how you can take a joke. He forces a bit of laughter and orders you a new round of drinks before slinking out of the bar a few seconds later.
Percival perception DC 10
Lucanor |
The man pales a bit. "Umm, sorry for the misundastandin. I was just joshin wit ya, seein how you can take a joke." He forces a bit of laughter and orders you a new round of drinks before slinking out of the bar a few seconds later.
"Well neighbor, glad that's all cleared up. Maybe you should stick to your regular job... you're no good with jokes. Could get you in trouble one day." Lucanor takes the replacement drink. "To the health of all in this town, may it get better soon."
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26
GM Niles |
Your toast draws a few wry smiles and chuckles.
+1 Reputation with Falcon's Hollow (someone please keep track of this)
Going to use a reputation mechanic for events down the road. When the time comes I'll share the mechanic with you but for now assume + means good and - is bad
Lucanor |
Lucanor makes a mental note of the middle aged man observing them but tries not to let on he noticed the fellow.
Turning towards Lucanor as he hears him make a toast;
"Assuming the cause can be found..."
Lucanor whispers to Hecktor behind his cup, "I'm starting to think someone should get on that soon. It may have to be us..assuming the doctor and you are willing."
Michael Stamford |
Michael leans down and pats the head of his horse before whispering to her.
We're almost home, Adrienne. It's been a while since I've been back, and I'm not sure how much I really want to come home, but we're almost there.
...
Arriving in the town, Michael notices that not much has seemed to change. Everyone looks as poor and downtrodden as it had when he left. The only real difference now is that it's made worse by the sick wandering the streets and lining up outside the apothecary. After taking in the scene for a moment, he urges his horse towards the tavern.
After dismounting, Michael digs through his saddlebag for a moment before talking sternly to his horse.
"Adrienne, I want you to stay here. I know you don't like being hitched, so I won't tie you, but I don't like your tendency to wander! This place is new to you, and I know you're curious, but you'll have plenty of time to check things out later. Right now, I'm thirsty."
Taking 10 on handle animal for my mount to stay, so 16 total
Having ensured his horse would stay, he enters the bar in boisterous fashion. Nearly kicking the door open, he stands in the doorway for a moment as the eyes of surprised patrons turn to him. What they see is an unshaven man of average height standing in the door wearing full armor, shield on his back and warhammer swinging from a loop on his belt, with long chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail. He strides with purpose to the bar, sits down, and motions for the bartender.
"Two pints of your best stout, and if you have it I'm in need of feed for my horse outside."
When the bartender returns with his drinks, Michael gives a gentle tug on his sleeve, motions him closer, and whispers to him.
"I hereby recognize you as a temporary priest of Cayden Cailean and this a temporary temple. Consider this a tithe rather than payment, and give nothing of it to the lumber barons."
With that, he slips a single gold piece to the barman.
Michael Stamford |
Looking around the bar as he sips the first of his drinks, Michael looks for familiar faces in the crowd. He sees a few people he thinks he knows, but isn't quite sure. It's been almost 6 years since he's been home and hard labor can age men in ways no other job can. At the same time, he's not so sure they would recognize him either. After all, he's no longer the fresh-faced young boy he was when he left. As he continues to scan the room, he notices a table in the back that keeps drawing sideways glances from more than a few patrons. He can see why, considering one of the men sits almost as tall as others would stand.
Now that's a guy I wouldn't forget. Figure I'll head over and see what brings him into a town like this.
Picking up his other drink, Michael heads over to the table. When he reaches it, he pulls out a chair and sits down uninvited. Setting his untouched drink down he leans forward slightly, props his head up by resting his cheek on the fist of his free hand, finishes off his first mug in a hearty swig, and smirks slightly.
"So, you're a couple faces I wouldn't expect to see around here. Especially you, big guy." he says, nodding at the taller of the two. "What brings you two to this town? You looking for logging work?" looking at the tall one again he continues,"Tall as you are you'd probably make a good topper."
Hecktor |
"I'm starting to think someone should get on that soon. It may have to be us..assuming the doctor and you are willing."
"It's not exactly what i am here for. But people primarily have their health to worry about. And they won't be helping anybody much if they go forth and back to the apothecary."
Almost in synch with Lucanor, Hecktor looks towards the door.
Seeing a young man enter with much bravoure;
"Really now", He vaguely grins, "A uniform, by the looks of it not an everyday guard."
Casually answering the question:
"No, i am already on a job, and logging is not my type of work." And how about you, you clearly are not an employed townwatch. From the way you are dressed and mentioning a horse, i'd reckon you're with a mobile troop division."
Michael Stamford |
Michael chuckles at the thought of being part of a regular military before replying with a smile.
"Something like that. I'm a knight without any particular lord or master. A bit of a mercenary if you will, serving only those I choose and beholden only to friends and family. Which is actually why I'm here now. But that's a different story for a different time..."
Michael's voice kind of trails off and he stares at his remaining pint for a few moments before starting the conversation back up again.
So, you said you're not here for logging work, but you're here on business. There's not much else goes on around these parts other than logging, so it makes me wonder what it is that would bring you here. If you don't mind my asking, what is it that brings the both of you here, especially with this sickness going around?"
Michael Stamford |
"A lawman, eh? No wonder everyone keeps looking at you funny. Probably either hoping you'll bring the robber barons to task or afraid of the same. I say good on you. These folks could definitely use the help. Unless they've got an in with the Consortium they'll work themselves to the bone day in and day out. They'll never have a copper to show for it, but those at the top of the chain, who don't do hard labor, can live like kings."
Lucanor |
"Mmm..." Lucanor observes, "Yes, we've already met the Consortium's welcome wagon I suspect. Natural joker he was but I have a feeling they wouldn't have the same sense of humor about your own comments...honesty being the height of rudeness and all," Lucanor says drily. "I'm Lucanor... tall fellow's Hecktor. The gent at the door is Doctor Lawson. My own business is town was to check on some peers, but it seems a new reason to hang about has reason. Care to join us for a visit to the local herbalist? Seems some of us are in demand."
GM Niles |
Going to move the party forward in plot tonight around 8pm CST If that is ok with you. Silas has not checked in and I'm supposing that he won't be, if he does then we will add him in asap.
Michael Stamford |
"The Consortium's goons can go screw for all I care. Especially if it's true what my mother's letter said." Michael says, with no small amount of distaste in his voice. "Name's Michael, by the way. Michael Stamford. You said you were heading over to the apothecary here shortly? I think I might just join you on that one. Might be good to come home bearing a gift of medicine, especially with my father apparently having come down with this sickness. Might be a bit of balm for old wounds..."
Michael's face drops a bit as he remembers the fight he had with his father before leaving. He picks up his drink and takes a hearty gulp at the thought of returning home and facing the man.
Ma's gonna be happy to see me, I know it. But Pa... Stubborn old man hated me for leaving like I did...
Putting a look of nonchalance back on his face, Michael speaks to the other two men.
"Well then, shall we be going? I'd like to meet this Doctor Lawson."
Hecktor |
Putting his tanker down after emptying it. Hecktor casually rises to his feet.
"Well then Michael, that would make the hairy squirt we met earlier perhaps one of said goons. While we catch up with Mr. Lawson, perhaps you could inform us more about this Consortium. If all their goons are as much of an annoyance as that guy, we'll be busy longer than needed."
GM Niles |
Ok, I'm going to move you guys forward a bit. If you want to RP here further then just put the spoiler tags [Earlier] and I'll know that your talking about the bar.
The party gets up to leave and as they are walking out of the door a man grabs Hecktor by the arm and pulls him aside.
The party picks its way through the unpaved streets of Falcon's Hollow towards Roots and Remedies. It is early Fall so the weather is mild but not yet uncomfortable. The roads are muddy tracks. The time is late afternoon, 5ish.
Once the party arrives this is the scene. A large group (20 or so) residents form a long line outside of the shop as you arrive they make comments about "Staying to the back of the line" and "Wait your turn". They all seem to have the contagion and are coughing incessantly. You seem to have two choices, wait a few hours to see Laurel or cut the line.
Once again, like most social encounters I'm going to set a round length and no initiative. Everyone gets two full rounds to do as they please if you have any questions feel free to ask. The below Knowledge Local or INT check spoiler can be accessed for a move action skill check
Lucanor |
Lucanor listens to both Michael and Hecktor talk for a bit then raises a brow at as a middle aged man, the one from before, pulls Hecktor aside. Seeing that Hecktor was released quite quickly, the Inquisitor asks him softly "What did he want?"
Once the party arrives this is the scene. A large group (20 or so) residents form a long line outside of the shop as you arrive they make comments about "Staying to the back of the line" and "Wait your turn". They all seem to have the contagion and are coughing incessantly. You seem to have two choices, wait a few hours to see Laurel or cut the line.
Lucanor's grim visage grows grimmer as he looks at the sick and ill here. "Mind if I take a look?" He asks the nearest one.
If they allow, he uses what medical knowledge he has to appraise the situation first hand. He's risking contamination, but he can't just ignore it.
Heal Check 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
Knowledge Local 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
Michael Stamford |
"I wouldn't be surprised. The Consortium doesn't take kindly to strangers. They're worried that someone might come along that gets these folks to actually do something about their treatment. They act like a bunch of criminals, really. Protection rackets, false taxes, low wages, and worst of all is that they own most of the town. A lot of these folks don't even own their own homes and pay rent to the Consortium. If you can't work, or the Consortium just decides they don't like you, they'll raise your rent to untenable levels and evict you the first time you don't pay."
Once outside Michael grabs Adrienne's reigns and starts leading her while walking with the group. He waits until the group is well on its way to Roots and Remedies before asking Hecktor about the man.
"What was that about? More local color making itself known?"
Upon arriving at Roots and Remedies Michael softly shakes his head at the line.
"I'll bet these people don't even have the money to pay for their treatment...
Michael climbs atop his horse to make himself more noticeable to the crowd. Speaking loudly enough to be heard, but not yet yelling, Michael makes an announcement.
Any of you with children: I will pay for your child's treatment should you let my friends and I pass ahead of you. We have a doctor with us, and we may be able to help get everyone treated more quickly.
Edit: should probably add a Diplomacy roll here...
Diplomacy to influence the crowd: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21
Michael Stamford |
"We may not be here for treatment, but we are here to help. You said your friend is a doctor, and you seem to know a bit of something about medicine yourself. If we get inside, we can help render aid at a much faster pace. And the sooner these people get treatment, the better, right?"
Lucanor |
"True, but I doubt we'll find a cure as soon as we walk through that door or these folks would be getting more hope than they are. Still, it's your coin and their place in line," the man shrugs. He's not a coin grubber by nature, but it seems to him patience is a virtue that might be of more use
Hecktor |
Earlier to lucanor
"Easy now folks, too much noise would draw attention, would not want any people thrashing this down now."
On a softened tone to Michael;
"I am not being a spoilsport Michael, but good as your intentions may be, townwatch will undoubtly notice a crowd going cheerful from charity."
That said he looks around for signs of said guards.
Perception for guards: 1d20 ⇒ 3
haha, so much for today's epic guardspotting.