I am not the Usurer replied slowly, walking back to his position at the centre of town.
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You will find that there are no other settlements on the fringe of the Desolation. Provided the Boarding House is kept running, you are still welcome here in this camp. Will you be exchanging now, or shall I expect you to come find me after you've finished looking around?
The Usurer replied. Their characters, make me sure. Cowardly killing travellers in their sleep as a group. You showed you were more than a match for the three of them. I doubt the third brother would find the courage to face you again. Unless one of you were willing; I was actually going to suggest Sammar. It doesn't seem like his role as Bard's Gate emissary is using much of his time.
Its no secret they have a habit of murdering travellers. I merely suspected that there were three of them, rather than two the Usurer replied flatly. Marcus' anger was barely noted and if the smith was concerned, or intimidated by the killings and naked weaponry, he showed no sign of it. He slowly gestured to the building with his right hand. A boarding house is integral to the prosperity of this Camp. It is a vital cog in the Camp's welfare. You have slain the proprietors. Thus, it is your responsibility now. You shall appoint one of your own to manage this facility. Alternatively, I can provide you with a recommendation list of locals I consider trustworthy. How you treat travellers is your business. For all I cared, you could continue the Bender Brother's nefarious habits. It is of no concern to me. But the boarding house must be maintained and managed. Despite the more conciliatory nature of his words as he continued after a pause, his tone of voice never changed from its usual monotone. This duty does not come without its benefits. After you have kept the boarding house open for over thirty days to my satisfaction, I will consider you locals. You will be permitted to trade your gold for iron bits on a 1:1 ratio. I will allow you to trade two thousand gold to iron bits right here today in accordance with this ratio, as a last gesture of good faith.
Arachiel's fiery sword severely wounded the Gnome with two heavy blows; paving the way for a well placed crossbow bolt from Barak to slay him. Durin destroyed one of the Drow's images and Khun-Duhn destroyed another.
Tears of grief and rage filling the Drow's eyes, the many blurry forms stepped back and swiftly produced a scroll from a haversack. The Hound Archon was wise enough to take the opportunity to try to destroy the scroll, but the Drow proved too nimble. Ducking underneath the greatsword, he intoned words of magic and teleported away.
Marcus had to be held down to keep him from harming himself and others, but the confusion effect eventually expired. Wiping blood off their weapons and taking in the destruction of the extremely brief brawl, the group could not fail to notice the Usurer stood just outside the doorway, arms folded with his smiths hammer at his belt. The man's expression was like stone- almost completely absence of any emotion whatsoever. He said nothing; simply waiting to be approached and spoken to.
Barak's efforts to haggle are met with stony silence but the smith stoically changes the platinum pieces without a fuss. He seems uninterested in what Barak had to say beyond his introduction, which he returned in kind.
The Usurer paused his work to carry out the transaction but his watery blue eyes did not waver as he looked at Lord Vincent's eyes for a moment. I do not haggle. With those four words said, he picked up his hammer and returned to his work. ___________________________________________________________________________ The sign-language speaking, maimed Orc smiled cheerfully as he nodded acquiescence to Durin's amendment. With surprising dexterity for his condition, he had a tray-full of ales sent to the table with one of the waitresses, who favoured Arachiel with a wicked smile as she set them down.
Simon considered his words slowly, still coming across as very cautious, especially in light of the Tengu's increasingly large group of companions. Well, people here in the camp subsist on each other and the occasional travellers and merchants that pass through. Some make a living offering services as guides, but that's dangerous work. For every ten bands of adventurers or merchant caravan that tries to go into the Desolation, one comes back. Simon took a moment to study the newcomers. I mostly stay out of trouble. I'm a good judge of character and I haven't ventured far into the Desolation itself. I live a simple life here so no one tries to rob me. Mostly, i'm just a very quick runner... Not a bad talent to have in this forsaken corner of the world. Simon's eyes settled on Arachiel for quite some time before he spoke once more, much quieter this time. Don’t trust the mercenaries and guides you can hire in the Camp. I think all of them harbour secrets and agendas that come before those they have been hired to protect. Ironically... I think the giants were the most trustworthy of the lot, though I fear we have probably seen the last of them.
All of the Pounders left some time ago for a job. Gurg was the first to return. Clantock and his men are here in the camp. The Usurer picked up his hammer and began to continue his work.
The Usurer did not even smile although he made two audible pauses as he responded. A... pair... of Gnomes run a boarding house- just past the Chapel on the right. You can change gold here; five pieces to one iron bit. You can also exchange iron bits back into gold; two gold pieces for one iron bit. I also offer short term loans- for collateral equalling 50% of the loan amount and 25% interest compounded daily. The Usurer considered Vincent's questions and then nodded slightly in answer to the first. He did not respond to the compliment, either verbally or with body language. The Hill Giant's name was Gurg. Until today, he ran the top mercenary company in the camp; The Pounders. Not very bright but he didn't cause trouble. He kept his eight ogre's in line. Clantock's Fourteen hated them. They were the second-best mercenaries once Gurg arrived and he was driving them out of business. Maybe he know's something about what happened. Or perhaps searching their camp-site might find you some clues. Its behind this building. Simply though... the Desolation probably drove him insane.
The lean man's expression did not change in the slightest, nor did he respond to the jest. He continued to look at you evenly, for just a little longer than comfortable, before finally speaking. His voice fitted his mannerisms; it was a voice of quiet self-assuredness and authority, a tone that was clearly unused to having to compete for attention- somewhat paradoxical considering the low volume of his speech. It was also a voice entirely devoid of accent, unlike the thick voices of many of the locals you have overheard. Who you seem to be, remains to be seen. You may call me the Usurer. I oversee the exchange of money, as well as serving as a blacksmith. The Camp has its own currency. The man seemed to be looking at Lord Vincent's visible arms and armour. Another silence followed before he nodded, raising his eyes back to meet Marcus'. Your business here is your own. I don't need specifics. I do ask- how long do you believe you will be in The Camp? Are you passing through, or seeking to explore the Desolation...? he asked.
From her position in cover, Chi fires off an arrow that takes one of the club wielding Freemen in the shoulder and he cries out in pain as the projectile hits home. High above, Umagro grabs the haft of Tun'ada's longspear and agilely spins his body towards the Caldaru, bracing himself against the longspear so it can't strike him as he closes the distance. Snarling in rage at him, Umagro attacks with his right hand Kukri and his teeth. Tun'ada dodges several incoming blows to the Freeman leader's frustration, but Umagro does finally manage to cut the Caldaru with his exotic knife. You are not who I was expecting to face, kinsman... We should not be doing battle against each other he says to Tun'ada through gritted teeth as the two tribal warriors size each other up. Kukri miss Kukri offhand miss Bite miss Kukri hit
Init 11- Umagro is apparently displeased by Willow protecting Gelik- but he does note the hatch opening and not seeing anyone emerge, assumes hostile intent. He moves over to Gelik and clearly seeking to impress the crowd flourishes his kukri's in intricate and dizzying patterns; his prowess is beautiful and terrifying at the same time. His intimidating performance finished, he now looks intent on slitting Gelik's throat.
Dazzling display, Tun'ada DC16- he is shaken for two rounds. Tun'ada: I think you have to charge to be able to attack him this round?
The crowd is becoming larger and larger and it seems there are very mixed feelings in the crowd; even some conflict as voices begin to get heated in defence or contempt of the Freemen actions. All the while, Umagro continues to orate, gesturing with his free hand while all the while, the Kukri is held close to Gelik's throat...
On hindsight, I could probably have imported him from the latest Deus Ex game...
Its his actual picture from the AP. His face has tribal war patterns painted on it. Edit: Probably looks a bit better given full context. Link- Click Here
You ride swiftly through Eleder, noting that the packs of wild dogs are still causing chaos as very little time has passed. New Haliad is a district on the waterfront and it doesn't take you more than twenty minutes to get there on horseback. At the end of Whalebone Lane, on the west side facing the beach front, stands a large complex of whitewashed stone and brick, easily located by the pungent stench surrounding it- as well as a large crowd gathered outside on the street, staring up in worry and fear at a shouting figure with a kukri to the throat of someone you keenly recognise as Gelik, face white with fear. Knowledge Local DC14:
The compound is walled on all sides, including the beachfront, making it one of the most defensible structures in the city and a perfect place for the insurrectionists to hole up. The only easy way in is through the main offices on the street level to get inside; other routes would involve somehow circumventing or scaling the formidable twenty feet high walls. The man with a kukri to Gelik's throat has cover from you on the ground and its clear that any attack on him may mean Gelik's death. He is forty feet up above the street level you have just arrived at and is howling passionately to the crowd, orating-
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