randall793's Three Days to Kill

Game Master randall793

Betony takes her bag and shakes it, liking the noise it makes. Looking inside it, she is surprised to see all the shiny metal bits. She holds open the bag and allows THistledown to stick his head in and give it a sniff.

"See those shiny ones, they are worth more than the dull dirty ones. I bet I can polish these up and they will be worth even more."

At the mention of food, she is eager to tag along.

Skane listens to Bjorn, then answers measuring his words;

"Já okkar fey félagsskapur vilja koma. Við öxl allur finna a arinn til hlýja við , með öl og fæða aplenty. Þá einu sinni þú hafa þinn örlög selveiðimaður í sígauni spilahrappur við geta gera skyndiárás áfram og próf Deeptown's baráttuhugur?"

Turning to the lean ranger Skane nods and beckons he lead the way.

As the group begin to drift out of the compound he bellows to no-one and everyone; "ANYONE among us know where we might find a welcoming hearth, strong ale and good food in this place?"

DM: How out of place do members of the group look? Are there clear mixes of cultures and races here in Deeptown?? Or is it too early to tell???

Dieredon will look for one of the best dressed locals while moving slowly into town. He leans down from Riman and says,

Would you by any chance be able to direct us to one of your finer inns in town?

I had posted a Knowledge: local, earlier hoping to get a little more information on Deeptown. Waiting patiently for DM's reply.

As the group moves out from the Caravansary, Rianna begins asking around about different establishments. Taverns and Inns from cheap to luxurious, even asking discretely about brothels and gaming houses when appropriate. Maybe she can find a place for a group like ours.

Diplomacy (gather info): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

"You know, I usually don't have such a hard time finding a place to eat." Rianna smiles broadly at Dieredon. "But we should probably find something soon, by the sound of his stomach, Bjorn is going to start eating your horse if we don't."

Wesh says "Goodbye Aleph" Wesh tehn waves as eh walks along. Wesh smiles at the mention of food.

Emerging out from the caravansary, you make out various mixes of cultures mingling in the bazaar-like courtyard. Your arrival adds flavor to the scene in addition attracting the attention of well organized touts who converge to your location, advertising services, and holding up sketches of local maps. Rianna's apparently interested demeanor earns enthusiastic replies. However most advise her to enjoy the ongoing festival held near the waterfront with a sly wink.

The touts make sure that these inns are worth considering: The Withered Oak, situated with a grand old oak tree near its entrance, frequented mostly by hired hands from the caravansary due to its proximity. The Sun and Stars, placed near the temple district, gets its name from the floating continual flames that acts as lighting at night. The Black Stag, its namesake referred to an trophy of a 12 point black stag head mounted on its walls. Its vicinity to the trade district reflects on its upscale rate and quality.

Wesh asks Rianna "What did you find?" Wesh thinks about hearing about the sun and the stars and says "I doubt a magical spell can really have the true effect of the sun and the stars seems more like a way to make money. The withered oak will have other travelers that have the true tales of travelers."

At Rianna's description of the various inns, Bjorn remarks, 'Eik og hjörtur ert báðir góður fyrirboði.'

Rianna thanks a gentleman for his help and turns to the group. "From what I can gather, money is king here. If the sale of it means prosperity and wealth, you can find it. As far as the Inn's go, my best bet for information would be the Withered Oak. Hired hands always loosen their tongues with a little alcohol."

@DM: How much time do we have before nightfall? I would like to ply my trade if there is time. I would also like to look for a Masterwork Fortune Tellers Deck to purchase.

The Withered Oak sounds fine to me as well. We may even be able to find work there. I am also interested in this festival near the waterfront.

Skane muses on the words of both Rianna and his fellow Northman...

"Já bróðir eik er góð kaup fyrirboði a sterkur viður með sterkur skap innan. A visna eik mega hafa glataður this gæði og við öxl tendrast á ný þess styrkur með okkar eiga heill söngmaður og verk."

...as he pushes belligerently past touts, not savouring their attentions and glowers down at any man stupid enough to meet his gaze.

"The only time I feel at home in crowds is standing with my brothers in the shield wall...and the crushing embrace of the boar's snout as it smashes..." he grumbles to anyone in earshot.

Rianna looks at the group, "At the very least, we should have a good meal and drinks together before any of us part ways. Perhaps after a nights rest, the goddess of fate will have decided ours."

"Staying in an Oak Tree sounds like a fun idea."

As the group collectively moves towards the general direction of the Withered Oak, the touts relent. Soon their attention focuses towards another posse of new arrivals emerging from the caravansary's entrance.

The Withered Oak is easily found due to the grand presence of a huge oak tree right in front of its main doors. The presence of now empty worn stools seem to indicate its location as a favored place for locals to while away their time. A few water troughs and a tethering bar could also be seen placed nearby to take advantage of the tree's shade.

As you breach the interior of the building, the continuous background chatter of its current patrons seem to halt for an instance before resuming on.

A horseshoe shaped bar sits in the center surrounded by 11 well used stools. Placed in the corners of the room are two circle tables for four with 3 long tables for six straddle between the two. A common room opens at the far right, the brazier in the center, currently unlit.

You spot a pair of barmaids, looking harried as they rush to fulfill demands, while the bartender, a medium aged human seems preoccupied in listening to an energetic Halfling who seems to be telling a story.

The early afternoon crowd is minimal, most currently enjoying lunch or steadily sipping drinks.

GM: Assuming the Withered Oak has a stable for mounts...Dieredon will secure Riman with feed and grooming, if available. If not, I will seek out such a stable before meeting the party at the Inn. Cost please to board Riman?

Dieredon scans the room. he leans in towards Rianna.

We should secure one of the long tables for six, if possible. If not, maybe you could inquire as to the possibility of a private room, if they have any?

"MISS, MISS! Can we have one of the long tables?" Assuming we are allowed to sit at one of the long tables... "Well, we found the Withered Oak. And it's just past noon. After a light lunch, how about we agree to come back here at sunset and eat a meal and share drinks together? I've got a few things I'm looking for, and need to spend some time in the markets. Of course, anyone is welcome to come along."

Bjorn stops to look at the great oak standing sentinel before it's inn. He nods in acknowledgement of nature's dominion even in the heart of civilization before moving to the door. Upon entering, he balefully glares at the weak southerners slouched on their stools and benches. Heedless of the niceties of polite society, Bjorn moves past the alfur and gypsy to occupy a long board. Scythe in one hand, he grabs the table with his other hand and pushes it towards a wall, oh so subtly rearranging the occupants of other tables between him and said wall. Diplomacy: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (8) - 2 = 6 Oooh! He is being nice today

Sitting on one of the benches with his back to the wall, he slams down his money purse on the board and, giving his best smile (read: least snarly growl), loudly calls out, 'Food! Mead!'

Regarding Rianna and her words, Bjorn replies, 'Hvaða? Leyfi? Við réttlátur koma hér og ÉG er of hungraður til fara frekari. Hvernig þessi matreiða hugsun ÉG lifa af á vistir og grípa fyrir bless var móðgun. Láta okkur borða, drykkur og syngja af vinátta, stríð og dauði af okkar óverðugur stólpípa. Þá seinna, rétt fyrir við ert of drukkinn til spjara sig til a rúm, við mega hætta störfum. Fyrir á meðan okkar sigur mega vera upplitaður frá minn húð, það enn kápa minn loðfeldur og við mega halda hátíðlegan á þá.'

Skane follows his shield brother but happily sits at the table with his back to the other patrons;

"Hvers vegna staður þinn bak til a veggur bróðir? Við ert öruggur hér við hafa okkar sígauni og prestur til vernda þú har har har!! Að auki allir bjáni hver hrollur á bak við mig munu finna bragð af minn öxi!"

Then setting his notched axe close by his leg like a loyal dog, the scarred Northman stoically waits to be served.

'Þessir sunnanmaður hafa útlit af huglaus hundur. Í a pakki á þinn bak, þeir ert stríðsmaður, en andlit þá og þeir brot þeirra spunaflug á milli þeirra fótur og neita til hitta þinn auga.'

Dieredon, upon seeing the actions of Bjorn and Countless, he walks slowly to the table with a smile, making eye contact with any patrons looking at the spectacle. He places a hand on each of the Northmen's shoulders and puts his head between them leaning over the table to quietly say.

As weak as these locals may appear, we need to tread a little more lightly if we plan to loosen their purses with a new job. They may have killing that needs to be done, and we want to be the ones they hire, no? Let's have some fun, but don't wreck the place. I would not want to have to pay for repairs out the of gold we have yet to make here.

He stands and turns to the barmaid.

Please accept my apologies for our gruff mannner. We have spent many days on the road without the benefits of such a fine establishment. A round for our table and please keep them coming.

Dieredon walks to a position opposite Countless and next to Bjorn. He slides Bjorn's purse back to him, and smiles.

First round is on me Bjorn.

Rianna rolls her eyes and shakes her head as the two northman push their way past her and Dieredon. Watching the spectacle before her, Rianna can easily imagine what a life with these northman would be like. "Porcine nerafinat." She says in a low huff.

Rianna follows Dieredon to the table and sits opposite Bjorn and Dieredon, lightly settling down next to Skane. "I will share one drink, but then I must go. There are things I have been desiring to purchase since I left home, and now have the gold to get them."

Rianna looks back over her shoulder, "Betony, care to join us for a drink? I would greatly appreciate it if you would accompany me on my search through the markets. After a drink of course."

Turning back to Bjorn, with a stern look on her face and fire in her eyes, "Stundum þú hegðar þér meira eins mule en hugrakkur stríðsmaður sem þú segist vera. Ég mun vera harður þrýsta á að fá upplýsingar frá þessu fólki núna."

"I would LOVE to go to the markets."

She stays on Thistledown until they reach the table. Her elevated position allows her to get a good look at the food on each person's plate or bowl. Her and Thistledown pause at each occupied table eying the array of foods, but reluctantly continue as the group winds its way deeper into the Tavern. When the group settles around the empty table Betony is confused. "Guys! don't sit here. This table is broken, all the food is at those other tables."

Bjorn smiles at Rianna. 'Þú vilja mig til spyrja?'

At Betony's words, Bjorn looks down at the table frowning. Placing his hands palm down on the long board, he concentrates, muttering a phrase. The planks look less worn and the splits have lessened or disappeared entirely. (Mending) Looking back to the gnome, he tells her, 'Er fastur.'

So saying, he grabs up the gnome and gently sets her on the bench next to him. Returning Thistledown's snarling growl with one of his own, he speaks to the wolf, 'Góður hvolpur.'

He reaches out and pats the wolf on it's head, heedless of the snapping jaws trying to bite off his hand. 'Ruf! Ruf! HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!'

Countless, can you be sure to communicate to Bjorn the importance of treading lightly so that Rianna can work her silvered tongue to our benefit amongst the locals?

Skane smiles grimly at Rianna's advice

"Surely bartering is always better over horns of mead and with two warriors at your back... best price guarenteed!"

Seeing the interplay between Bethony, Bjorn and Thistledown he merely shakes his head; "Barn á leika. báðir loðskinnasali og fey!

Upon Dieredon's request he again nods and stonely addresses his oar-brother:

Okkar ráðleggja þessi þú rólegur dúnn og leyfa okkar sígauni stúlka til nota hana silfur tunga á heimamaður!" he then cracks into a rasping laugh and bangs the table hard with his fist "Har-har-har!"

Regaining his composure he assures Dieredon the message has been passed on with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

The innkeeper looks up, searching for the source of the impromptu furniture rearrangement. Growls for food and mead spur him into action after the chink of the heavily laden purse lands on the table.

He approaches the table, noting the well trained wolf and her rider. His middle aged face smiles at the group in hospitality, nodding as he begins to talk.

Greetings, welcome to the Withered Oak, the owner, Mallus Bruwer at your service. I'm sure we could make your stay all the more pleasant after sampling our home brewed mead and our fine cuisine. He waves his hand and soon the barmaids bring in trays with mounds of roasted quartered fowl and a gravy bowl of onion sauce dip. A bowl of whipped potato follows, with a knob of butter completing the table soon after the apple pie is set down. Another clap brings in pitchers of fermented honey drink and wooden mugs around.

All for the inclusive price of 4 golds per head, you could rest upstairs in our coupled two bed rooms. We do provide services for your mounts, if needed, which would be an additional 5 silvers per beast. He adds, stroking his chin. After seeing his newest guests settling in, he returns back to his post at the bar.

The pronounced entry of the groups sets the other patrons talking, with occasional covered glances.

Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (8) + 0 = 8
"Well I suppose I could have a few bites before going shopping."
Rianna places a few bites on a plate and grabs a piece of apple pie before its all gone. She then half fills a mug with drink and begins to eat.

Dieredon addresses Mallus Brewer.

Thank you for your hospitality, good sir.

He hands him 5 gold.

This is for the room and stabling. I have already settled my mount in your stables. The extra is in consideration for the furniture rearrangement by my Northern friend here.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25

He leans in and speaks in a hushed tone to the party after Mallus departs.

Apparently from what my fine Elven hearing picks up, we are already known to many in this establishment as the group who took down Smart Aleck Kurt, and our friend Lucien and someone named Modus would have a great interest in our comings and goings. Rianna, we need to investigate these two names further. There may be work in it for us.

Skane piles a little of everything onto his plate, but pays particular attention to the mead, foregoing a mug and drinking a pitcher to himself.

He raises the pitcher and toasts "Skál systkin!" to all and sundry and drinks heartily, mead soaking his beard.

Upon hearing Dieredon's words, his scarred eyebrows furrow and he bellows to the inn, brandishing a pitcher of mead as if it were his axe!

"Monthani Kurt var ekki svo sviði nei? Og ef Skýr eða Mát- vilja okkur til drykkur frá þeirra höfuðkúpa þá láta þá koma! LÁTA ÞÁ Koma!!!"

Temptation to great, Thistledown slowly moves his head closer to the table, all the while, watching the others at the table. In a flash he has a quartered fowl and settles under the table, crunching happily.

Betony pulls the apple pie closer and grabs a fistful, which she quickly moves to her mouth. As her eyes expand in delight, she exclaims around the fist still in her mouth, "Thff iff gouuff."

Wesh hands the inkeeper 4 gold and gets then listens to what other say on the great journey. Listening to what others have to say.

perception
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

Wesh laughs at hearing the comment of teh great deeds and says "See we did great yesterday"

The antics of the adventurers celebrating a successful outing causes some heads to turn, but most other patrons are seemingly used to such displays.

In the midst of it all, an dark robed figure with a red sash with a inlaid symbol enters the premises, pulls down her hood and raises her hand in greeting at Mallus. She proceed to head towards the inn's noticeboard and puts up a large canvas notice before raising her hood back up again, casually tossing a coin at Mallus who catches it without missing a beat. A few patrons get up, starts reading the notice, murmurs in assent before collecting their gear and leaving.

Wesh turns and looks at the individaul that seems a little out of place wondering if there was actually something more disruptive tahn his party to see what happens. Tries to see if he recognizes the holy symbol or anything and then looks back.

knowledge religion
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

perception
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

Dieredon takes in the figure posting the notice, then rises and quickly crosses the room to peruse the notice.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

He hails the female elf in the Elven tongue as he moves to greet her.

In Elven

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22
Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (9) + 0 = 9

Rianna glances at the newcomer, trying to remember her face, wondering if she has seen her before. Before Dieredon can return from the Notice Board, Rianna yells, "What she post?"
Rianna finishes her meal, "Well Betony, you ready to go shopping? Or do you need a few more minutes?"

"Ugghh! No more of this pie! How can something so good make my tummy hurt so much. I am ready to get out of here."

Rianna chuckles at Betony's comment. "Lets go Betony. I wanna get a few things and be back here in time to see the show when these guys are too drunk to stand." Rianna heads out the Withered Oak, stopping briefly to look at the Notice Board. Her eyebrows raise at the sight of Madame Nibong's posting. "Perhaps we will have time to peruse the future." Heading out the door, Rianna leads Betony and Thistledown if he comes with back to the markets.

Between draughts of his pitcher Skane casts an eye in the general direction of what seems to be detracting from the toasting...

Perception 1d20 ⇒ 8

Squinting he realises the woman is another alfur and when Dieredon moves to greet her he grins and shouts in Skald:

"Ho Bjorn , virðast okkar alfur hefur got hans túnfífill upp. har-har! Hann hefur yddari hans blað og nú hann útlit til knippi það har har har! Fara fara ALFUR!"

He slaps his fellow Northman's shoulder and gives a bawdy laugh...

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

Bjorn notices the elf enter, giving a single unconcerned grunt before putting his face back into the feed trough.

Laughing at Skane's words, the northman rejoins, 'Bestur hann gefa hana eftirför. Hann er ákveðið lostæti nógur. ÉG ótti hún er svo fínlegur þessi minn blað vildi eyðileggja hana slíður.'

@Rianna "Well....I am Betonyy," as she pats herself on the head. She then pounds her chest plate and then bends down over Thistledown's neck and gives his head a playful wiggle while growling. "Rrrrrr...and we are the Brambleknight...or the new Brambleknight.."

"As for shopping...I need some woolen socks and maybe a thicker blanket..did I get enough from Aleph for that?"

Wesh walks up to look at the notice board for a few moments and then tries to see what Dierdron is talking about with the elven woman through body language although Wesh does not speak elven.

sensemotive
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

As the Northmen shout out seemingly innocent remarks during the course of their celebration, the two elves continue conversing in a series of back and forth discussion.

Rianna and the Brambleknight, completing their meal heads out through the main entrance.

In Elven

Dieredon walks back to the table motioning for Wesh to folllow. He addresses the Nothmen and Wesh.

It would appear that there is an opportunity for employment at Lawkeepers at the Festival. I should like to check out the fee for such services. Is anyone interested in joining me after lunch?

Skane clearly is getting drunk and has to focus on Dieredon's words intently, he then scowls and addresses his brother Northman;

"Ungur áll vilja okkur til verða ögsögumaður. Vafalaust það betri til vera a heilbrigður fed kind hundur en a hungraður úlfur neitun bróðir?"

The scarred viking grasps Bjorn's huge shoulder and looks at Dieredon intently, wieighing the proposition...

Pulling out his new cup, Bjorn cradles the open topped skull in one hand so it faces the elves while filling it with mead. Taking a long slow drink locking gazes with first one and then the other elf from under his brow. Lowering the cup, he replies, 'Bless eins og þeir skilja málsókn af náttúran.'

Dieredon looks to the remaining three party members.

It can't hurt to check out the festival this afternoon while the ladies are shopping. Let's see what the details of the job are, shall we? Drink up boys. We can come back after to finish the party!

Wesh looks at dierdron in thoguht for a moment then responds emphatically "I agree".

Skane nods slowly at his shield brothers words, then as Wesh moves to leave he roughly grabs him by the shoulder loudly exclaiming:

"One for the road eh vinur Wesh? You are now an honourary Norðurlander... so drink like one by Gorum! Let us fill our hauskúpa and drink to more glory!"

Skane retrieves his own skull cup and allows Bjorn to fill it with mead to the brim, then holding it aloft he stares at Wesh expectantly...

"Batna lítill bróðir..." he mutters drunkenly in Skald...