Call of the Forgotten Realms

Game Master Charles Evans 25

Seebo, seeing the distress on the face of the maid, says to Davkul
"See if you can check out this guys room, while I go over to give assistance and see if I can get any more info from her."

"Sounds like a good idea. From what I can recall, Pophilov is a common alias for a criminal from the underdark. It literally means Mr. Nobody."

Davkul discretely makes his way down to the sleeping areas, hoping that 'nobody' wont mind him being there.

Bronx looks at the destroyed items and a look of disgust crosses his face.
"Damn tricksy creatures. Yes, that is what we are going to do is find out what is going on with damn fairies, and stop it. I imagine my friend can handle just about any weapon, as can I. Though I'm more partial to any throwing weapons you might have, axes? Light hammers?"

I'm willing to place my bets on below ground. So I'll go below and have a nose around until I either find something of interest, or I judge 10 minutes have gone by. In which case, chances are I think I will either have found something, or I was wrong.

The dwarf turns away from you briefly to shout a string of instructions in dwarven at some of the other dwarves, then turns back to you. He continues to address Bronx, apparently preferring to have to deal with him than to give very much attention to Nim.
“Blasted fey. Seem to have been more of them around in recent months, or at least more talk raised by their activities. Always been reports of the occasional stand-offish dryad or well-behaved mountain nymph in the woods for as long as I’ve been in this town, but seldom of those flying, tittering, sneaky, invisible wretches until this last year. Something’s gotten them interested in this area- or driven them out of some other haunt, mayhap, to come and plague us. Ah. Here we go.” Another dwarf has arrived, arms piled high with a polished wooden box, a couple of gnome-sized light hammers, and a ‘big folk’ sized longsword. The dwarf behind the counter takes the box carefully from him, and puts it on the counter in front of Bronx, moving the buckets of broken arrows and crossbow bolts aside. Up close, Bronx can see that the box is crafted from rosewood. The dwarf behind the counter opens the box up to reveal, in the velvet lined interior, a gnome hooked hammer, beautifully crafted, with some sort of black leather grip on the handle, and cold-iron heads, polished to mirror brightness and inscribed with dwarven runes, at either end. The heads glow with a soft blue light, and the weapon is sized for a gnome.
“The gnome we made this for, was unfortunately unable to collect it... never came back from an escapade into the heart of Anauroch a couple of years ago, and his heirs declined to purchase it. The sharp end is woven with spells and runes of power to ensure that it is more likely to strike true in an enemy’s flesh, rather than cause some mere graze. At the other end, the hammer has been incised and bound with magic which means that even the tricksiest of incorporeal creatures will be unable to avoid the impact of your blows when you strike true. The shaft is made of the highest quality Adbar steel, and the grip is fashioned from black dragon hide, meaning that it will resist picking up the usual sweaty odours that some adventurous sorts find that grips acquire with hours clutched in their hands as they seek perils to destroy. The whole has been treated with a process which I regret is a trade secret I can not disclose, but which, rest assured, has much the same effect as blueshine in rendering the weapon impervious to most known forms of corrosion.” He snaps his fingers, and says something in dwarven and the other dwarf lays the pair of gnome-sized light hammers on the counter in front of Bronx. Whilst not inscribed with runes, they too are finely crafted, and have cold iron heads.
“Nineteen thousand gold pieces, let’s say for the gnome hooked hammer- no, I like the look of you... eighteen thousand seven hundred and seventy five let’s say... and I’ll throw in the pair of unenchanted- but finest workmanship for all that- cold iron hammers as well, and one of our cold iron longswords for you big friend.” He nods, and the other dwarf puts the long-sword, on the higher counter for Nim to inspect. (If Nim slips it from the scabbard to look at, he and Bronx can see that the blade appears to be forged from cold iron, although in this case of a much more 'average' standard of craftsmanship than the other items.)
The dwarf looks at you expectantly.

Seebo approaches the maid, who is being currently guided towards the ramp down to the kitchens by her fellow member of staff, whilst Davkul (unless he wishes to indicate otherwise) makes for the hall and the stairwell there.

Whether you wish to engage in any specific form of action or not, (which may give circumstance modifiers which I shall factor in as appropriate) please make a Diplomacy check to indicate to what extent you are able to get a favourable reaction.

Whether you want to outline any further details (which may give circumstance modifiers) to what you have already posted in terms of your intended rapid investigations down below, please make a Search check to indicate how effective you are in locating anything of possible interest.

Seebo goes over and offers, sympathy and consolations to the maid, and offers to help her to her quarters, Diplomacy check 1d20 2=22
"How long has Mr Pophilov been here,...... did you know him well, my dear?"
When they get to the maids quarters Seebo reaches into his healers kit,he brings out a small vial of mild sedative, "please take a sip of this, it will help you rest"

how much for just der sword?

Davkul goes for a little snooping...

Search: (1d20+3=15)

"As my friend here indicates, our means run a bit on the lower end of the scale I'm afraid." Bronx then places a handful of gold coins (around 9 coins I would guess) on the table. "We are looking for something a little more in this price range."

The dwarf behind the counter looks somewhat taken aback, as if from something about you he had expected you to be looking to buy in a different market altogether from that which you have just indicated.
“Cold iron longswords like the one he’s interested in”, he nods at Nim here and is starting to recover his composure, “usually retail for 30 golds- or the equivalent in silver or gems- each. As to the gnome sized hammers... we find all our smaller customers in the weapons market to be highly discerning folk, and each and every such item is a masterpiece of craftsmanship. It’s rather more a case of paying for the craftsmanship, you understand, than exotic materials, in most cases. Two hundred and fifty golds for each of the light hammers, absolute minimum. That’s what craftsmanship costs.” In the awkward pause which follows, he does his best to look glum. “There isn’t any patron you can refer me to, letter of credit that you can produce, or some other suggestion which you can make, is there? I’d love to help you if it is at all within my power it do so.”
Bronx and Nim are getting the impression that he seems to be genuinely sincere.

You cut in, diplomatically, introducing yourself as a priest of Garl Glittergold, and offering to escort the maid to her quarters.
“No, no. I have to tell Mrs. Prestwick”, the maid protests. “Someone has to go up there to the room to clear up. It’s a terrible mess up there. Oh dear. I left the door open. Someone will have to keep curious guests out. And the Lady Mayor will need notifying. It’s horrible. His face and tongue swollen and blackened, and someone having gone through his possessions by the look of it- and he said something about wanting to be woken because even though he’d been travelling hard and only arrived yesterday night, he had an appointment to keep today. And we were supposed to take special care of him, because someone important in town was paying for his bed and board here...”
By this point you are on the edge of the ramp to the kitchens, Seebo, the other member of staff whom the maid had encountered in the dining room having broken off to resume normal breakfast duties. Your first impressions of the likely cause of death, based on the miad's rather vague description so far, is that it could be strangulation, poison, or magic. You'll need to get a look at the corpse, or get a better description to be more certain.

You head downstairs into the upper parts of the subterranean lodgings of the boarding house, and begin to work your way along the corridors, in what you hope is a suitably methodical manner, looking for anything out of the ordinary, or which might indicate where the maid had just rushed from. After some five minutes or so of doing this, you become aware that you appear to have acquired a pair of shadows... two red headed gnome boys, who look to be in their twenties and to be following you, spending a lot of time whispering conspiratorially to one another. You have a suspicion that you may have seen them about the boarding house before, possibly playing pranks yesterday evening.

Bronx scraps the coins back into his hand and slips them back into his money pouch. "Sorry, we're new here and our means are small. We'll try else where, mayhaps someone else does a bit of lesser quality work somewhere. Sorry to waste your time." Bronx motions for Nim to follow as he turns and leaves.

nim really need der cold iron sword to beat up bad fairies and keep safe der little people i have dis much money (he puts down 21gp)

Davkul approaches the boys and quietly asks them...
"Excuse me boys, do you happen to know where Mr. Pophilov has gotten to? He was supposed to be meeting me for breakfast and he is very late now. I know he likes to be underground so I though he might be down here, but it looks like I was wrong..."
Bluff Check (if needed): (1d20-1=11)

Bronx stops at the door when he sees Nim attempting to purchase the sword. He'll move back over and leave an additional 9 gp to cover the rest of the price.

Sense Motive checks against Davkul. (1d20=2, 1d20=12)
The younger of the two gnomes seems to have been taken in by you, but the older lad looks distinctly unimpressed.
“Yeah; pull the other leg.”, he says scornfully with the amazing cynicism that only a child can muster. “Sure, you’re the fat gnome who was fighting those beetle things last night, but if Mr. Pophilov had wanted to speak to you about them, he would have waited for you and the others to come back from the forest, instead of arranging to see the sage Leafgreen. I saw him speaking to the sage’s men when they turned up with a barrow to collect some of the dead beetles for ‘specimens’.”
“Tell him he already had another appointment.”, the younger gnome nudges his elder. “He said he’d have to ‘try to fit the sage in’ with those men, ‘before his main business’.”
“Shut up, Merrick.”, the elder one reprimands him. “This fellow might be looking for information about Pophilov, which he will pay us for... meaning firecrackers for us for tonight.”

The dwarf behind the counter drops the lid on the rosewood box and passes it back to the other dwarf, with a comment in dwarven as he does so. He leaves the hammers where they are, for now, looking very thoughtful about something, as he looks to serve Nim.
“Are you two guys actually contracted in any employment right now?”, he asks, as he waits for Nim to confirm if he wants to buy the sword or not.

we have no job at moment, how much for der sword?

Seebo seeing the maid to her roomassures the maid that he will sort it out with Mrs Preswick and that she needs to rest and recover.
After puting the maid to rest, Seebo rushes to find the room and Mrs Preswick, hoping to see Davkul as well. While he wants to investigate he doesn't want to look guilty

Upon following the maid into the hubbub of the kitchens- the scurrying staff, the roar of the fires and stoves, the bubble of pans of water or of soup for lunchtime, the clatter of dishes in the sink- within moments Seebo is spotted and descended upon (despite the smoke and steam) by the eagle-eyed Mrs. Prestwick.
"OI! YOU! What are you doing in MY kitchens? BOARDERS STAY OUT OF HERE. You could cause a nasty accident, getting in the way, wandering in here like this during mealtime. And what are you doing with Agnes? I don't approve of personal friends or intimates being brought down here by staff, Agnes, least of all during working hours, as well you should know."
As she speaks, a trolley laden with dirty crockery, bearing down from the dining room above in the company of a staff member straining to control its progress down the incline, comes close to hitting Seebo as he stands at the bottom of the ramp.
Mrs. Prestwick is wearing a much stained apron and holding a dishcloth, at this moment in time; that and she is looking none too plesed by this perceived intrusion into her personal demesne.

Seebo offers his appologies to Mrs Preswick 1d20+2=19 and gives her a quick explanation of what has occurred as far as he knows it, telling her he was escorting the maid to her quarters for rest.

"Heh, smart lad you are..." reaching into his pocket, he pulls out 2 gold pieces. "How about this, a gold each for taking me to Mr. Pophilov's room, and a custom prank just for you boys if you will keep quiet about this. Nothing dangerous on the prank now though."

“The sword?”, the dwarf considers. “To buy it would be twenty five gold pieces to you, today. However we might be prepared to hire one of the hammers out as well for the day for, say, the nominal fee of five gold pieces- if you would both be prepared to undertake an errand for my brother dwarves and I, whilst you’re out looking for fey? Would you be interested in hearing more?”

“Ho no you weren’t, my fine fellow.”, Mrs. Prestwick tells Seebo. “Having stuck your nose into this, you can turn about pretty sharpish and head straight up to the late Mr. Pophilov’s room- That’s D14, up above the front porch, with the nice views of town- and since you have the look of a priest start saying prayers for his soul if you can’t do anything more practical. Mr. Pophilov was a guest whose board was being paid for by this town’s mine-owners and when I see them, wanting to know what has been going on in this establishment, I intend to be able to tell them at least every possible measure has been taken to ensure him a smooth transition to the hereafter. Now jump to it! I’ll see to Agnes- and be up later to make sure you’ve been properly respectful to the departed. And if you pocket anything for reason prank or otherwise... well it won’t just be me after you, but some very angry elves as well, I dare say.”

Seebo trying to look more afraid of Mrs Prewick than excited about the lead, as he rushes out of the kitchen to find the room in question.
"Very well Mrs Preswick, room D14 you say, I'll be on my way forthwith. I'll attend to any of the prayers and rights that I can provide for the unfortunate gentleman."

here is der money for the sword! (25gp)

i am happy to help you, mamma say help dem dat are in need!

Bronx is starting to look at bit frustrated with the dwarf. "Sure we'd love to help you as long as it deals with taking down some fey and it won't take us too far out of our way from our current task. Let's hear you proposal and be quick about it, we have companions to meet after completing a task in the woods."

“Understood, sir, and I shall try to be as brief as possible.”, the dwarf says to Bronx. “When those obnxious fey broke in last night, besides going on a wrecking spree of our stocks of cold-iron tipped arrows and crossbow bolts, they took something which had carelessly been left out in the workshop, easy enough for even the smallest of pixies to pilfer: a small, black, drawstring bag of velvet, containing a mithral hammer pendant on a fine gold chain. This was to have been a gift, and should have been locked away securely. We would like it back, undamaged, and if you should happen upon it during your pursuit of those tricksters today then we will be prepared to pay a small reward for its return to us. If you will swear to seek to return this item, should you happen upon it, then we will be happy to loan you one of the fine light hammers you see here before you, for the day, for the price of five gold pieces.”
Nim. If you want to hand over 25 gold pieces (and return any of Bronx’s money to him that you do not need) the dwarf will let you have the sword. (Please make appropriate adjustments to your profile.)

Seebo narrowly avoids another trolley, on his way back up the ramp. He heads out into the hall, up the stairwell there, and onto the upper floor of the boarding house. He speedily locates room D14 (the door of which is wide open, as the maid presumably left it) and standing just on the threshold looks inside.
Random percentile things (1d100=86)
The pair of windows of this room look east, over the town, and the curtains in one of them are half open. (The curtains of the other window are pulled tight shut.) The door is in the southwest corner, opening into the room, and inside, to the north, is a single bed. On the far side of that is a stand with a jug of water and a glass- the jug is half full and there are traces of liquid in the bottom of the glass. There is a fireplace in the north wall, which still contains glowing embers. There is a writing desk and chair in the northeast corner of the room, a washstand plus ewer of water against the east wall between the two windows, and a broad chest of draws with dressing table & mirror on top against the south wall. A pair of small travelling chests are lying open on the floor in the southeast corner and all manner of papers, clothes, and other gear lie strewn haphazardly around them. The burnt out stub of one candle has dribbled wax all over the dressing table, and another one burnt out over on the writing desk. Lying in the bed a horrible expression on his blackened face, and an equally blackened tongue protruding from between his lips, is a clean shaven black haired human man, who looks to Seebo maybe thirty years old. He looks very dead, and is lying in between the sheets. His eyes are open- he was probably awake when he died. It looks to Seebo from here as if the man was poisoned in some manner.

Seebo thinks this looks like it could be a death from dark reaver powder, a poison which must usually be ingested to have effect. It has only a mild flavour of its own and- whilst not a poison which occurs in nature- is at the modestly priced end (300 GP per dose) of the scale of products of the assassin’s laboratory. It dissolves in most liquids with little visible sign of its presence.

"Very well, I find this agreeable. Here is the rest of the money for the sword and the 5 gp for the hammer." Bronx will finish putting down the 9 gp he had previous drew out.

Questions for the boys:
What do they know of the 'other' man meeting with Mr. Pophilov?
How long was Mr. Pophilov here?
Ask after anything they thought might be suspicious these last couple of days.

The dwarf takes the money and one of the light hammers off the counter, and leaves you the longsword (for Nim) and the other light hammer (for Bronx). (Bronx please note, that besides being cold iron, the light hammer is masterwork.) Please adjust profiles to take into account these expenditures and items accordingly.
"If you could bring the hammer back tomorrow morning- or sooner, if you're done with it before then- and report on any success you've had looking for that pendant?" The dwarf comments. "I'm Haskul Ironfounder, by the way, Gedrik's eldest son, if you need to ask for me or to mention my name to anyone. We live in the house just east of the workshop. Now go get any of those darned fey you can find."
Since Nim's player is about to depart on holiday, but business here in the dwarves' workshop is about to be wrapped up, would it be okay if I assume (unless something strange comes up) that for the forthcoming likely search in the forest, Nim will be following Bronx's orders, as an alternative to having to temporarily halt posting?

After a quick examination of the room 1d20 2=7, Seebo goes over to the body to try to determine what killed the man. 1d20 4=20

After a quick examination of the room (search 1d20 2=7), Seebo goes over to the body to try to determine what killed the man. (Heal Check1d20 4=20)
Realising that the man was poisoned, closing the door, Seebo looks for some evidence of who the man really was. Then trying keep alert for noise outside takes as much evidence as possible.

Davkul asks what they know about the ‘other’ man meeting with Mr. Pophilov?
“What? The sage Leafgreen whose men he talked to last night and arranged to meet today?” The older lad responds. “He lives in a small house on the south side of town... real stone, on account of sometimes his alchemical lab catches fire. Used to assay rocks for independent goldseekers, but that trade dried up when they drifted away, and the elven mine owners have their own alchemical set up, so he spends his time buying and reading books and hoping to charge to answer questions on anything odd going on in these parts. He keeps a couple of servants who ‘fetch’ things for him. I guess he wanted some of those beetle things to cut up and study, so sent his men out last night to find him some, once word got around town about the excitement here.”
Davkul asks how long Mr. Pophilov has been here?
“He arrived in town yesterday. On a horse. With a mule to carry his luggage.”, the younger lad, Merrick, begins this time.
“No. He had his chests on an ass.”, the elder lad disagrees.
“That was a mule.”
“No it was an ass.”
“Mule!”
“Ass!”
“MULE!”
“ASS!”
(At this point another guest heading along the corridors comes into sight and they both quieten down in response to the severe look which they get.)
“Well whatever it was, he arrived yesterday, riding a big brown horse, and with his luggage being carried on a smaller four legged thing.”, the younger one concludes. “Very tired. Said something about having come all the way from some port underneath Waterdeep.”
(They get into another argument here about whether or not it makes sense that there could be a port underneath Waterdeep; Davkul knows that ‘Skullport’ is a settlement underneath Waterdeep, in the Underdark, and where some of the City of Splendour’s more disreputable elements sometimes hang out.)
Davkul asks about anything they think might be suspicious which has been going on or which they have seen these last couple of days?
“You mean except for you lot and those beetle things with green lights last night?”, the older lad responds first. “Well our aunt and uncle who live in Deadsnows- which is why we’ve come here for the end of the year- are complaining to mum and dad that there seem to be lots of nasty pixies around these days, and ‘how it didn’t always use to be like this’.” (He parrots an elderly female voice to say the latter part of his sentence.) “But I think the elven mine-owners are suspicious. I mean everyone knows that elves live in forests and sing songs and rubbish like that. They don’t ever have any interest in getting involved in real work. They’d only come to a place like this, if they were being punished for not being elven enough, or as spies for one of their elven queens. And those girlfriends they’ve got... they’re posh ladies… posh human ladies. Normal elves never have girlfriends from a different race.”
“Well I think that peddler we saw the other day going into ‘The Black Bear’ was definitely suspicious.”, the younger lad adds. “He went there straight from the lady-mayor’s mansion, without trying to call in on anyone else to sell them anything. Maybe he was blackmailing her.”
By this point you have proceeded out of the lower levels, up the stairs, to the upper storey of the boarding house, and have come to a stop outside a door with ‘D14’ on it. The door is firmly shut.
“This is it.”, says the older lad, gesturing. “Mrs. ‘P’ was getting it ready all yesterday morning ‘for the special guest’ she had been told to expect. She did it herself. Anything else you want, sir?”

"Just to make sure you keep an eye out for yourselves boys. I have a nasty feeling that the problem with these faeries is going to get worse before it gets better. Thank you very much for your help, but I suggest you make yourselves scarce here. A dead man is no sight for a youngling."

Making sure that the children are on their way, Davkul then steels himself before turning and opeing the door to let himself in, closing it behind him.

profile updated.
"Very good Smith Ironfounder, if it is within my or my companion's power to return this hammer with or without the item, we shall. Now Nim, let's be off as quick as we can be. We have a bit of a journey before meeting the others."
If we are done with the business here, Bronx, with Nim, will return for his pony and head out into the woods to examine the chain and things from the previous night.

The first thing which occurs to you is to head over to the bed, toss the rumpled sheets back, and start checking the body for anything. The deceased seems to be wearing a pale blue night shirt, with pockets, but doesn’t apparently have any other possessions on him. No jewellery or other personal effects, nothing in the pockets, and no signs of recent injuries on him. You do guess though, from the state of the body and your past experience of attending the dying or deceased in a clerical capacity, that this man died maybe five or six hours ago. (I’m including this as further information from that relatively high Heal check which you made.)

You notice voices coming from the corridor outside appear to have halted outside the closed bedroom door.

You recognise that one of the voices seems to be Davkul’s.

Seebo is concentrating intently on his examination of the body and performing what ever rights are required, and hears nothing.(listen 1d20 3=4).
Invisiblecastle either loves me or hates me depending on it's mood

You leave the dwarves and make your way back through the snow-covered streets to Mrs. Prestwick's establishment, where Bronx retrieves his pony from the care of the stable staff. With Nim to the fore (to trample through any deep drifts as necessary) they proceed westwards to the patch of open ground between the rear of the boarding hous and the forest. Here they find a group of eight men wearing the chain shirts and black tabards of the members of The Company of the Sable Bow (the mercenary company employed by Deadsnows’ elven mine owners) with a variety of winter cloaks thrown over their armour and other gear. Six of these men are standing poking at the snow banks along the edge of the forest with longspears, laughing and joking at one another, whilst the remaining pair are sitauated a couple of dozen feet further back, on the open ground, the one of them standing whilst the other sits on some sort of folding stool. Of these latter two, the standing man has a bow out and drawn a couple of arrows nocked between the fingers of his gauntlets, apparently alert for trouble, whilst the seated one has a heavy crossbow in his lap, a bolt loaded, and a light crossbow propped up against the side of his stool. By the look of the trampling of the snow, this group of men seem to have been active here for quite some time.
Time: a couple of minutes after 09:00, 30th Nightal, 1383 DR
Nim looks at Bronx, to see what he wants to do.

“What? He’s dead?” The boys look caught between fear and curiosity for a moment, before apparently deciding that discretion is the better part of valour and scarpering.
Davkul takes a firm grip on the handle, twists it, opens the door and steps into the room. (I hope you’ll please indulge me in waiting for you to confirm in your next post if you close it behind you, since someone else is already in the room whom you have just taken by surprise!)
The pair of windows of this room look east, over the snow-covered rooftops of the town, and the curtains in one of them are half open, letting the morning light in to lend illumination to the room. (The curtains of the other window are pulled tight shut.) The door through which Davkul has just entered is in the southwest corner of the room, opening into the room, and inside, to the north, is a single bed. Lying in the bed a horrible expression on his blackened face, and an equally blackened tongue protruding from between his lips, is a clean shaven black-haired human man (Mr. Pophilov, Davkul guesses), who looks to Davkul maybe thirty years old. He seems very dead, and is lying in between the sheets. Standing next to him, caught in the act of going through the pockets of the dead man’s pale blue nightshirt, and with a surprised expression (and slightly guilty look on his face, perhaps?) as he half turns to look at who has just entered is Seebo.
As to the rest of the room:
On the far side of the bed from Davkul is a stand with a jug of water and a glass- the jug is half full and there are traces of liquid in the bottom of the glass. There is a fireplace in the north wall, which still contains glowing embers. There is a writing desk and chair in the northeast corner of the room, a washstand plus ewer of water against the east wall between the two windows, and a broad chest of draws with dressing table & mirror on top against the south wall. A pair of small travelling chests are lying open on the floor in the southeast corner and all manner of papers, clothes, and other gear lie strewn haphazardly around them. The burnt out stub of one candle has dribbled wax all over the dressing table, and another one burnt out over on the writing desk.
If you could keep you initial response short, Davkul, and address it to myself and Seebo, please.