(1) Atalantia - Scourge of Magic

Game Master mdt

Alys raises an eyebrow: "Do they... happen to have a reputation of doing so without leaving any traces?"

A Ba-lor? Connor thought to himself. What was a soulgem? And did that mean the bandit chief was more dangerous dead than alive?

Connor flinched when the elder gnoll disciplined his offspring. He had almost manifested force screen as a fear reaction. Connor recovered while Alys asked her questions. "We are still learning about the Surface world here, and getting paid while traveling is the best way, so far." he told Gashan, respectively. Connor wondered what his glide-time from a skyship at altitude would be with those wings. "As for pay commensurate with our skills, well, caravan escorts are only as good as the information they are given. Or not given. Like a bandit chief that turned out to be more dangerous dead than alive, and a tradition of 'parley' that still includes tribute."

"I think we're agreeable to more employment." Connor stated, indicating himself and his friends with a wave of his hands. "As long as we're not walking clear across the continent." His face crinkled with distaste at the word walking. Keeping up appearances. ::Preferably South, but short-term.:: Connor sent over Selvan's Network.

::Watch out for a contract with this one. His kind's contracts have your soul after death, and are particularly binding.::

"Yeah, sticking to the ground sucks. What kind of work did you have in mind? Hopefully not some sort of drawn-out contract."

The Gnoll laughs. "Relax kid. I'm a half-devil, not a full devil. I don't want or need souls, they're useless to me. Couldn't bind one if I wanted to." He leans forward though, his yellow eyes burrowing into Reaghar's red ones. "Little demon blood in you too, kid. I can sense it. Pretty obvious too. I can tell when someone is lying when they make a deal with me though, and if you break a contract with me, I always know where you are. No matter where you are. That's it, so your soul's safe."

"Oh good, it's only everything else that's in danger then." Alys comments facetiously. "So what have you got in store for us?"

"Let's hear about your next caravan, where it is going and for how long." Connor asked, trying to overcome the obvious. This was the problem with working without trust between people. They either promised dire consequences, or tied you down with law. (Chaotic Good here.) Not that some trepidation wasn't warranted in this city of animal-men. Everyone had their own agenda, including themselves. He was just going to have to convince Gashan that they were looking for hire, not thievery nor cravenness. "Jorge and Gaje can tell you if we're trustworthy with cargo. Jhanisha can tell you our worth. As long as it's not sneaking into a dragon's lair," he said, eying the half-fiend's wounds, "and we're not leaving this afternoon, you'll probably get a 'yes, can-do' out of us. For the right price." Better to appear mercenary than subservient. Atalantia still had their loyalty, after all.

The gnoll looks at Alys. "Listen girl, I'm not holding a dagger to your throat. You don't want to make a deal with me, don't do it. No fur off my pelt. Your friend was nervous because I'm half devil. I told him the truth. Little limitation on my abilities, I always have to tell the truth about them. And any contracts I make. Or they don't work. Throws off the competition if they don't know me. They're not used to people telling the truth. So I'm not threatening your precious furless body, I'm just telling you reality. How you react to that, that's your problem." The gnoll laughs.

Looking at Connor, he chuffs. "Like I am going to take the word of two morons who can't follow simple orders." He glares down at the duo, who droop further. "Oh quit showing off for the foreigners, they'll think you're even bigger morons than you are." Both brothers look at each other, then the group, and then begin laughing and stand back up. "I swear if I didn't know better I'd slug their mother for cheating on me. How they managed to get so many muscles and no brains I'll never know. Anyway, there shouldn't be any dragons. I busted the arm when a rhino spooked and charged the group on the way back from our outing. Got a armorer making a nice set of rhino hide armor out of it now. Downside of being half devil is that some of the healing don't work so well. At least not without burning like hell. It's just a sprain, I'd rather wait the three or four more days it'll take to heal up on it's own than deal with divine energy to heal up. As for the job, I need to go to open up an trade office in the Orc lands. Rather than deal with ambushes, I'd rather just fly there. That won't work unless I go by myself, and that's inviting trouble. But you lot fly, except for wingless there. You lot got 3 days to figure out how to get him flying. It'll take about three weeks to get everything set up."

::Sam, you might get your palanquin sooner than you think. Everybody else, think flight-weight limits on this one.:: Connor flashed to the others. Three days plus three weeks? They would get back in plenty of time for the Southern rendezvous. But three days wouldn't be enough time to craft all that Connor had dreamed about. Not if he had to build a transport from scratch as well. Unless he made more than one litter, one for Sammark, one for cargo. If the astral constructs were robust enough, and could last longer than a few hours in flight, maybe.

"Maybe we'll surprise you." Connor countered, smiling. "But I still haven't heard about our pay for this trip. Or about the direction and any hazards we might face. Forewarned is forearmed. As for the healing..." He stepped closer to that enormous desk, willing his last healing tattoo onto the back of his hand, and then onto the fingertips as the Humavian reached for a non-armored part of Gashan's fur. "Our kind is also cautious about magical, or divine, activity. So we found...neutral alternatives. Would you care to try it out?" Connor offered.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17

Alys can't supress a grin as the large gnoll lectures her.

::Can we get a flying mount of some sort? We can't constantly carry you.::

I'm thinking Dire Riding Bat

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24 Aid Another Diplomacy for Connor.

"It would be impressive to show up with a squad of winged bodyguards to your destination on top of the impression you assuredly already make wherever you go."

"Hah, I had thought about that, boy. That's why I'm offering you the job." He answers Selvan first, then looks toward Connor. "Sure, give it a shot... although if it burns like the cleric healing, I may jerk my arm in reflex..." The gnoll seems amused, and the sight of the very large gnoll brothers flying across the room like rag dolls can't help but flit through Connor's mind.

Connor touched the gnoll's fur, willing the tattoo over and tapping it. (Natural Healing, 3hp)

(Here's hoping I don't need a Reflex save. Theoretically it shouldn't harm a half-fiend like good-divine healing. Going for diplomacy points here. Heal the employer, have him suspect us less.)

The gnoll flexes his arm after the healing is applied. "Hmm, not bad, still stiff though. I'll let you try that a few more times maybe. Didn't burn though. I know a small market for that if you can bottle it." He says thoughtfully, eyeing the group.

"As to payment... I'm thinking 20 Kloven a week, for 3 weeks. Bonus of 5 Kloven if you have to fight, per fight."

1 Kloven = 10 Dinah = 100 Stilvah (Platinum/gold/copper)

(200 gp/week, 3 weeks = 600 gp each. 50 gp per fight.)

"Right now our, production, you might say, is limited on that kind of healing. That was my last tattoo. By the time you're ready to leave, we should be ready with our own abilities, as well." Connor answered the larger man. ::It's three times what we were just paid. Sounds fair.:: he passed on through Selvan's Net.

"Plus, you forgot to mention," the Humavain added, "we keep what we kill. Within reason, of course. Nothing that would slow us down. But I wouldn't want to pass up on a better weapon after 'liberating' it from its' last owner." ::Reaghar, Connor sent, ::I think we're going to have to stock up on crafting supplies.::

"Hah, done." The gnoll holds out his clawed hand toward Connor.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13 (Not going to make it.)

::Does everyone agree?:: Connor asked the group. He looked back over his shoulder, to see if he got merely nods from the others.

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23 perception

"Up to you since it seems he's going to magically bind you in some way regardless of the state of your soul. Check the eyes. One wonders if this isn't fulfilling some inner need of his driven by infernal blood. It's probably harmless. Probably."

Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (16) + 11 = 27

::I'll take the burden if you want, lad. I'm already beholden to two extra-planar slave drivers,:: Sam thought over the link, shooting Tenfa the mental equivalent of a disarming grin. ::You lot will probably break free if I die horribly on this adventure.::

Oh no deary, I'd just make you keep walking even though you were dead. Sammark is not quite sure if she's serious or not. Just so you know, whoever agrees is agreeing for the group, since you are a group... so you're all bound by the deal.

"Doesn't bother me any. As for the bottling, I cant really put them in a bottle. They need skin to live on, as tattoos. That said, a person can hold a surprising amount of them, if i had the time, materials, and you want me to tatt up a 'mule' for you. But yeah, Connor, we are going to need inks if you all want tattoos."

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17

"We can craft as we go along, Reaghar." Connor replied. He turned back to Gashan. "As long as we're free to act on our own when necessary. The main point is that we're back here in no more than four weeks." the young man said, taking the offered hand. ::Everyone here insists on binding agreements. It could be worse. Think of the paperwork back home.::

Connor takes the hand, and as he does so, warm air on the back of his neck makes his hair stand on end. The warm air seems to be popular, as everyone in the room feels it. "And done..."

If anyone's characters have any intention of bailing at the first sign of trouble, or of betraying the agreement, I need to know now.

(Not Connor. Chaotic Good. Not Lawful because of the start of the overall story here, but leaning to lawful. I don't see a problem. A job is a job. "A man's word is his bond". We'll be back in time for the southern rendezvous.)

Sam likes money and is a touch reckless, it is going to take a lot of trouble for him to bail.

Selvan sees no reason yet to do any of the above though he does intent to lower sam into the canopy and fly casually for a while if he gets mouthy.

no, i see no real point in trying. i tried to bail on the underground escapades, but that was fruitless.

"Right, let's get our shopping done before we have to roll out," Sam said briskly, trying to break up the oppressive atmosphere of eldritch bindings.

You can all go shopping now, you have 3 days in town. I still need Alys's confirmation she's not planning any untoward things on the mission

I can't promise not to do anything stupid, but I'm not planning on bailing

(If we're done here...)

Connor politely thanked their employer, as well as asking for a small area outdoors to work in for the next three days. "It will beat trying to find a large room or a flat roof around here." he told the others.

Connor did ask Gashan the best place to sell the masterwork mithral full plate armor as well as the weapons and armor loot from the first ambush. And where to sell the copper ingots he and Alys acquired. (Gashan is in the import/export business.)

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Everybody gets each: (unless retro by mdt)
first ambush: 136 gp, 8 sp
Snowcoat armor: 210 gp

(More details later, awaiting feedback from mdt & others.)

Sam aids with a 29

Sam aids Connor where he can, though the stones and tattoos are a little beyond him. Building the palanquin was much more his speed, Sam knew a fair bit about knots and rigging so it was easy enough to put something together that would not send him plummeting to his death. Having something to focus his attentions on cheers him up considerably.

He does seek out an armorer at one point to have his leathers reinforced with psionics energy and get a buckler with similar enhancements.

I'm thinking a +1 psionic darkwood buckler and a +1 psionic enhancement to my current armor. With Sam providing the mojo as needed.

Any psionic weapons/armor will have to be crafted by the group as far as the enchantments go, you can buy non-magical MW items to psionically enchant, but nobody in Kelliart can create psionic items

The large gnoll nods. "And done. You can use the roof of the building here if you like, and there's a bunk room at the top of the stairs you can use for the next few days if you like. As to selling things..." He reaches into a desk drawer and takes out a handful of metal chits, similar to the ones given out for ID. These bear the logo of Gashan Trading on them. "Any of the shops that have our logo on their trade boards will give you the company rate."

You find that each shop has a board in it somewhere with small 2 inch square logos on it, if your logo is on the board, you get a company rate, which is +5%, so standard is 55% of book value on sales. It also get's you a 5% discount on items being purchased.

If there is time and one of you has the ability Alys would request her armor to be enhanced to +1, she can pay the 500 gp crafting cost (but not much more)

Connor will eagerly take the additional chit to show to the business owners when he goes buying and selling.

(Good thing I put all of this on spreadsheets.)

Everybody gets instead:
first ambush: 143 gp, 6 sp, 4 cp
Snowcoat armor: 220 gp, 5 sp

(If Alys doesn't want her own room at a nearby inn, it's only going to cost Connor for everybody's meals, or 6.50 gp, otherwise, with Alys nearby in her own inn room, 9.50 gp.)

(All-in-all, Connor saved 115.23 gp with the 5% bonus/discount. But Connor has no desire for masterwork weapons before he can craft Universal Items at Level 5.)

(mdt and Reaghar, I'm using 1 lb. of Tattoo or Power Stone-making materials every 250 gp's worth. So 1,650 gp of Tattoo supplies weighs 6.60 lbs., and 1,750 gp of Power Stone materials weigh 7.00 lbs. I'm planning on storing both on the palanquin.)

(With that Profession: Sailor roll, Connor should be helping Sammark instead. With Connor leading, it's a DC of 27.)

The group spends 3 days working up and getting ready, crafting, shopping, selling.

Then on the third day, they are assembled on the roof of the warehouse by their new employer. "Strangest damn thing I ever saw..." He chuckles, watching Sammark clamber into the hammock.

The big gnoll is carrying four thick sacks that hang as if they were made from lead cloth, although they seem to be empty, hooked on his belt. He also wears a set of adamantine lamellar armor that has been burnished to a satin finish, so that it doesn't shine in the sunlight.

Instead of his usual huge weapons, he seems to be carrying a massive bow slung low on his back. Each arrow looks like a javelin for a halfavian. His gauntlets have long spikes on them.

Then your new boss raises one fist up in the air, and his wings pound behind him, sending a gust of wind over the party as he leaps into flight. Despite his heavy armor, he shoots up at a good clip, enough so that it will require the party to move at full speed to keep up.

(Whew! At least it works.)

Connor stifled back a yawn. Working every day and into the night meant no more power stones beyond his first success. He'd have to craft day-by-day. Connor wondered how many tattoos Reaghar had managed to ink. Last night had been the last hot bath they'd get in a while. Before the sendoff Connor handed Hero on his silver chain to Sammark. "This will make sure I can keep track of you while we're flying." he told the half-elf. "You do realize we'll look like a flying escort for a nobleman, namely the guy in the carrier, a.k.a., you?" Connor asked. Mind your manners, Hero. We'll get a female holder for your necklace yet.

Connor had already manifested the astral constructs, two Small and two Medium, made for little else than flying. The smaller ones were staggered an hour apart as a warning to make new ones in time. The cargo was loaded into the palanquin, Connor's waterskins were topped off; everyone else was here. "The rope-palanquin's not pretty and steers like a pregnant pegasi about to drop a foal, but it will get us there." he told everyone. "All the constructs will obey simple commands from each of us." Connor told Sammark.

------------------

Connor watched Gashan take the lead. The fiendish gnoll wasn't a passive glider after all. Yup, should've looked for griffon-fur clothing. Oh well. he thought to himself.

Connor watched as they left Kalliert, adding more landmarks to his memory (and Knowledge: Geography. What cardinal direction are we going in, mdt?).

"Hah, fine for me. It means he'll be the primary target..."

WNW, see map

As the group heads out, Sammark has the nagging suspicion he forgot something important.

(You mean East-NorthEast, towards the sunrise, right?)
(Nice map.)

Yeah, ENE, and thanks, put a lot of work into it. It's not the one with all the GM stuff on it. :) That one has cities and caravan routes

I'll pick up a spyglass since I'll have little else to do but scan the horizon for threats.

"Maybe if the lot of you start treating with the proper reverence," Sam said, it was clear he did not mean it. Distracting by the nagging in the back of his mind, Sam puts his thoughts in order was part of his training and sorted through them systematically.

That's in character speak for I have no idea what it could be.

You have this nagging feeling you were supposed to see someone and didn't...

Grrr, hold on for a minute guys, I'll be back later tonight after a concert, I need to figure this out.

"Ah, bugger," Sam groaned, swatting himself in the forehead, "She might kill me for almost forgetting, she'll definitely kill me for putting it off until I get back. Oi! Gashan! I need to beg your indulgence for something," Sam called to the front of the formation.

"What is it, Sam'Mark Bella'Font?" The large winged gnoll calls back over his shoulder as they fly off over the landscape. The gnoll takes a high flight level, several miles up, so that the earth looks like nothing more than a tiny toy down below. Of course, the party will look even smaller. Perhaps a good thing considering how odd Sammark's hammock transport looks.

"Gotta pay my respects to someone who scares me more than you. Someone you'd probably benefit from making an acquaintance of," there was no deception there. There was exactly one person in this world or any other who could threaten Sam and have it stick.

"Too late Sam'Mark! I have to be in Org'Trassah before the Solstice Festival, if I want to do business, rather than fight my way through half the city."

"Fine, but you're helping me make it up to her when we get back. Someone's gonna have to bury my corpse."

You really want one of use to break the agreement, don't you?

I did ask 3 or 4 times if anyone was doing anything else while in town... and even told Connor I would comment on his plans for your carrier after I heard back from everyone. :) Where would the fun be if I didn't give you multiple chances...

Connor flew a little closer to the palanquin. "Sammark, I can make a construct to take a message back to the city, if you need one. Write on a scrap of parchment and tie it to the construct's leg." he said out loud. On Selvan's Net, Connor added ::But I'll need very specific instructions for the messenger, and it will only last seven glasses (hours) if it can't find your target.::