Melba Connor |
I sigh again relieved that the undead seems to be down for good. I pet Tsuna for a good Job and kiss her on the forehead. "Thank you girl"
I turn toward Ara to make sure she is alright and I decide to cast a spell for her.
Casting cure light wounds on Ara
1D8+3
6+3=9 healing for Ara
After I heal I sit down on the spot to rest a second before I cast again.
The Admiral Jose Monkamuck |
There seems to be nithing in the room brsides what she had on her. She was wearing a seed and cloak. You notice the cloak isn't soaking up her blood even though it is in a huge pool of it. A sure sign of a magic item in your expierince.
I should tell you right now with rare exception trying to use an unidentified magic item in my game may result in it being cursed and you don't want that.
Melba Connor |
I stand up to rush over to Ara and check if she is breathing. "Ara are you alright?" I can hear breathing and ask Tsuna to sit next to her. The items must have been potent in magic to knock her out like that. I put the seed in my bag and stare at the cloak. I wonder if I should pick it up or if the same fate should happen to me as it did Ara knocked out over there.
Unsure what will happen I first try to heal myself a little with cure light wounds.
1D8+3
7+3= 10 healed
I eye the cloak as I lift it up slowly but with a smirk I put it on. After all it is my favorite color how bad can it be.
Melba Connor |
I get a little fidgety waiting for Ara to wake up sitting next to her after I put on the cloak. Taking the seed out of my bag I move it around in my hand feeling the texture and wondering what it did. The cloak I am wearing feels comfortable and part of me was hoping it had cool powers. I decide to try to detect magic on the seed and the cloak and hope I don't get a repeat of what happened to Ara.
Detect magic 1D20+2
20(30 because Jimmy said its his rule if I roll a 20 it becomes a 30 for skill)+2 =32
Ara Shanarin |
I wake up, shaken at the intensity of the magic I saw in the seed. I note that Melba has decided to claim the cloak without discussing the matter first, and although I am unhappy about that, I don't want to make an issue over it until we solve the mystery we are in the middle of.
I say "If you are taking the cloak, I want the seed."
Ara Shanarin |
I feel an obsessive desire to know what this seed is and what it is for. Almost desperate enough to seek out the city to the North, in case I can find an expert there who can tell me more than I already know.
I am appalled at the idea of going to a city, though. In general, I don't trust people. I don't even trust Melba, thoroughly--we haven't been travelling together long enough yet. A city would be full of people to watch and guard against. I also want to let no one know of this seed in case they try to take it from me.
I feel an almost compulsive desire to plant it and watch and tend whatever grows. This desire wars with my sense of reason which wants answers to my questions before I take actions, so I can be fully prepared to carry those actions out successfully.
I procrastinate regarding the travel to the city by suggesting "Melba, are you up to exploring further or should we rest for a while?--" and "did you happen to recognize what kind of seed this is before you gave it to me? I have never seen its like before."
Melba Connor |
I look up at Ara not really curious about the seed as much as her but still a little interested. "I am not sure what it does missy but I sure would like to rest for the night. If you would like we could head to the nearest town to replenish supplies and maybe find someone who might know"
I start a little fire and cuddle with Tsuna as I tell her.
Ara Shanarin |
If I go there, I will need to go in disguise. The owner of most of the property in town has a very strong grudge against me, and I really don't want to end up in his hands. I caution Melba "The nearest town isn't a very safe place for women. And it might be wise to not stay at the inn there overnight. Perhaps we can camp outside of town and enter it mid-morning to replenish supplies."
Disguise:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26
Kattarina |
"All right, wrap it up!" The cry of the foreman provokes a few weary cheers from the more exuberant of the laborers...me, I just finish securing the stay I'd been setting, and head over to fall into the pay line. A good trip, all considered, but a week of dragging heavy-laden pack animals across what could only charitably be called a cart path certainly leaves one feeling like they'd earned their pay. Especially when the work was simply a convenient means to an end. I had to get out here somehow, and doing it by working a caravan made it far easier to not be noticed by anyone, or remembered afterwards.
Reaching the head of the line, I collect my pay and inform the super that I won't be making the return journey. He seems...well, not exactly disappointed....more like concerned.
"This is pretty rough country to be striking off alone into, and this hovel of a town's no friendly spot neither. Mark my words, you'd be better off hiking back to <nearest notable city> with us and finding work from there."
"I've got a brother lives out this way," I lie. "Going to set up with him and help him make a go of it."
The answer seems to satisfy him, and he waves me off, turning his attention to the next man in line. Me, I head over to gather my gear off the supply wagon and settle it. I can't help looking at my hands again as I do so. Covered with dirt - filthy, mother would have said - and quite well worn in a set of callouses appropriate to heavy animal work. The sword-grip callouses are still there, but not as prominent. Unlikely anyone will recognize them if they don't know to look. Worn skin, dirty clothes, hair in need of a good cleansing...no one will be mistaking me for a lady or a soldier anytime soon.
The town looks rather bleak as I head towards it: barely more than a scrabble of rough wooden structures, nothing over two stories, and no stonework in evidence. If there's a garrison, it must be a stockade somewhere. That means no real noble presence, and probably only minimal guards, but the place looks rugged enough that the populace likely manages its own justice...or injustices. Trying to be on my guard without looking like I'm on my guard, I make my way down the main street...what passes for one in a place this size, anyway. I've got to adjust my expectations of just how rustic life is going to be out here on the edge of civilization.
Spotting a prominent tavern, I make my way towards it. Yes, finding travelling companions in the local tavern is something of a cliche, but cliches exist for a reason. Besides, where else are you going to look? It doesn't hurt that most of the other caravaners will probably be hanging around, and perhaps even sleeping there. That should put me near folk likely to take my side should trouble break out. And bunking at the tavern should let me hang onto that sense of safety, at least until the caravan pulls back out day after tomorrow. By then, I'll at least have gotten my bearings, and perhaps even be moving on.
It wouldn't do to wear my sword here...that's safely tucked away in the fine wooden trunk on my shoulder, along with what clothes and gear don't fit in my travelling pack. But I do have a knife tucked away in an easy-to-reach spot in case trouble pops up, and it's been a while since I've really had or needed armor. Trying to project confidence but not threat, I shove through the door into the common room, take a quick look around, then head straight to the barkeep to see about a room for the night. After that I'll grab a brew, settle in to a (relatively) quiet spot with a good line of sight on the door, and size up the locals to see if any look like potential employers.
Ara Shanarin |
I enter the town rather trepidatiously as dusk falls, and look towards Melba, relieved for her company and that of Tsuna. I decide to test my disguise by heading towards the only tavern in town.--I want to see my mother again and make sure she is okay. My stomach is knotted in terror--the tavern is run and managed by a monster of a man who has haunted my nightmares since childhood. Even though I am a relatively capable fighter now, that habitual fear still has the power to cripple me.
I harden my resolve and grimly open the tavern door.
(What do I see?)
The Admiral Jose Monkamuck |
Ara shortly after you enter town Melba turns to you and says "sorry my goddess is calling me away." And turns to leave.
Kattrina as you enter the tavern you can see it is disreputable. The patrons squint at you. They are all male and badly in need of a shave. None of them looks like someone you would want to travel with. You are sure if you dropped your guard for evan an instant they would rape you, kill you, and take all your stuff. The witstaff look listliss and beat down. All are female and not attractive. And everything is filthy.
On the plus side no one would think to look for you here.
Speing a free table in the back you go and sit down. Not long after you sit down you realize a shadow is looming over you. As you look up you see a tall man. He would be imposing but is too fat to pull it off. His hair looks like a bird's nest and his features remind of a pig, especially his eyes. As you look up he speaks.
"Hello, pretty lady. Looking for work?
Kattarina |
Great...this guy looks like one of those self-important low-lifes I've been putting in their place since leaving home. I'm sure he does have a "job" for me...far less likely that it's the sort of job I'm after. Still, appearances might be deceiving, and it wouldn't do to jump right into a fight if it's avoidable. But with a lead-in like "pretty lady," odds are decidedly against.
I glance around the room, noting the locations of any of my fellow workers from the caravan, and keeping a weather eye out for any thugs or ruffians fat-man might have backing him up. Then I give him a slow once-over and say:
"Just looking for a drink right now., but for the right price I can be hired. So long as it's outdoor work. I don't do bedrooms. If you've got something in the right vein, have a seat and let's talk. Otherwise, best be looking elsewhere."
The Admiral Jose Monkamuck |
Kattarina ther is no one from the caravan in the place and the guy doesn't appear to have any backup.
"We can arrange outside," he says sitting down. "What sort of price were you thinking of?"
Roll sense motive.
Ara as you open the door of the bar you recognize Darrol chatting with a young lady. He is one of the procures from the place your mother works at and he has an unsavory reputation. He is know for not taking no for an answer and sampling the wares before turning them over.
Kattarina |
Hmm...my colleagues aren't in the first tavern in town. They must've known something they didn't bother telling me. And here I thought we were getting on well. Ok, time to relocate...
sense motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21
I take the opportunity of his invitation to get to my feet, gesturing for the door. "Price depends on the job. What exactly is it you're looking for?"
Kattarina |
I'll head toward the door, moving in a way that allows me to keep an eye on both him and the barkeep. Once we're outside, I check my surroundings to make sure we won't be overheard, and say quietly:
"All right...sounds like I need to be talking to him then. And I assume since he's sent you to do business for him that he intends to handle this privately. Where do I find him?"
The Admiral Jose Monkamuck |
Outside there is only a woman around. As the guy left he exchanged a look with the bartender. The bar tender looked questioning but the guy shook his head. He glances at Ara as he comes out but doesn't seem to recognize her.
"I will take you to John's place"
Ara you recognize the name as the guy who is holding your mother