Before setting off on your glorious adventures through the Greenbelt, you decide to let Oomlowt sell some stuff you forgot to sell yesterday.
His frail, thin, Kobold arms are ill-suited to the task of dragging the crate of pungent liquor, so Raido decides to help him, because Raido's a nice guy and I rolled a 2 on a d6. Gird also brings in the three crates, with little trouble.
Oleg looks a little upset that you did not bother with the exchange of goods for wealth yesterday while Gird was speaking with him, but he lets it go and begins his appraisal of the items you've given him.
Booze: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Music Box: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Crates [with furs!]: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16
Bracers: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Oleg concludes that the liquor is little-more than worthless bandit-moonshine, barely worth 20 coppers a bottle. The music box is likewise nothing more than a glorified keepsake, possibly from when one of the bandits was very young. The furs are all fairly excellent, and each crate is worth 60 gp.
The bracers are just rings of metal, and you'd be better off wearing them than selling them.
As she was eavesdropping, Gird can't help but overhear. "By the will of f*cking Erastil! What the hells man, I ain't a merchant and I know sh*t's worth more than that! What, you got sun in your eyes or somethin'?" Glaring, Gird grabs the liquor and the bracers off the table, and stalks off. Maybe the bracers will fit the shorty or Oomlowt, and if Oleg don't want the liquor, maybe her teammates will. "Come on, bird man. We got other stuff to do."
Without looking back to see if he's following, Gird marches over to the halfling, and plonks the liquor beside her shorter friend (Eh, sure, friend, she's cute and funny). "Hey half-pint, you ever get drunk off the good stuff?"
Is Gird flirting, or is she just building comradery? The world may never know.
Grimacing, Gird shakes her head. "Nah, Oleg's a damn poor judge of drink, I'm thinking. And Gods, I'd love to, but my damn pact...thing with Erastil forbids me." Gird glares at her arm. "Still, ain't no reason for you not to. Drink up, shorty." Gird gets up and heads to the crates, where she pulls out another two bottles of the liquor. Oomlowt, bird guy and shorty are small, so they can share two. And the f*cking dog can get her own. I bet she's a heavyweight.
Heading back to Dariya, Gird pauses by Thrae. "This here's the good sh*t, if you wanna join us." Without waiting for an answer, she continues on her way. Gird has always enjoyed drunk-watching.
...Just out of curiosity, are there rules to drinking in Pathfinder? Expect that maybe you could get sickened or nauseated if you drank too much..?
"Awww, allright then", Dariya shrugs and forces the liquor bottle open, watching after Gird as the half-orc goes about her business. Paladins can't drink alcohol at all? Gee that sounds boring. Dariya is once again happy about her life decisions and not becoming a paladin. Being a cavalier is a lot cooler in the halfling's opinion.
Dariya starts sipping the liquour.
Question to the GM - does the booze taste good or awful?