Count of the March (Inactive)

Game Master djdust

As they walked from the pier towards the bar they'd been told to check, Ivar shifts his bearded axe on his shoulder, chuckling at Zeetri's comment about the 'Rear Admrial.' Ivar agreed he was an interesting fellow, but the Clipper ships the River Guard used were no joke. They were as well-crafted as the larger sea going Imperial Navy ships he'd seen.

Nodding in agreement with Zeetri, finally collecting their payment would be nice. But Ivar had enjoyed sailing up the Sellen River. He hadn't even minded the barge. He'd not traveled on one before and it was interesting to see how the vessel opperated. Shrugging at the observation about work noncommittally. He really didn't care who he worked for, as long as he wasn't stuck in one place too long.

As they moved up the street, Ivar, not wanting to accidently hit anyone with his axe, shifts it to his hand using it as a walking stick. Chuckling as the Lizard nudges his friend's leg. He liked the odd creature little creature, running around on its hind legs. Being from the north he'd not grown up with lizards of that sort. He'd wondered several times if it might taste like chicken but decided it would be unkind to ask.

As his friend regained his footing, Ivar paused at his question. They did make a formidable team. Of course, Ivar felt he and his axe made a formidable team on their own, having a wizard along was just gravy. Responding, "Ve do make qvuite de team, you und I. but I find I do not stay in vone place very long, so ve shall have to see, Ya?"

As they move down the street, he sees the sign for the Wise Piper. Pointing that way, he heads towards the entrance. "Dat is der place ve are looking for."

Opening the door, he pauses at the threshold, looking to see if anyone in the tavern fits the description of the folks they are looking for.

Liamae, Moira, Selja, and Túrante
Again you find yourself in the Devy Manor, meeting with the Baroness herself. "My apologies about your companion," she starts off, "but after our last meeting, her crimes have come to light. I will do everything I can to support her, but she will need to go to court. Andoran has asked for her extradition pending her arrest, but I think she stands a fairer trial here." She smiles, assuredly, and given she is the seat of law in the land, you may assume she will preside over the trial.

"Now, to the order of business ess at hand. The girl, Khari... she's going to need work if she will one day take my seat and title. I know some.of you are more... civil and trained in the ways of court. I would ask of you to be her tutor," she motions to Túrante, "but she insists on Liamae. There is something about you she fancies."

Liamae curtsies politely then turns to Túrante, "With your leave, my Princess."

Ivar and Zeetri next!

"Of course, Liamae," says Túrante. "Though I shall miss you greatly."

"Of what stands our companion accused?" asks the princess curiously.

After a long journey back to Behlaim, Selja is not prepared for the sudden change that's come over the company. "There's gotta be a mistake, Baroness!"

"No mistake, dear Selja. Her charges range from simple trespassing, to assault, damage of property, and even murder. ...and jaywalking. I can not ignore these charges, but I also can not ignore the invaluable service she has provided to my and our community in returning Arnholde to me. All will be taken into account."

Ivar and Zeetri

Upon entering the Wise Piper from the cool, damp air of morning, you are met with the comforting smells of food and the warmth of a cozy hearth. A few patrons sit at the tables, breaking their fasts with a meal of pan fried corned beef and hashed yams. The proprietor, a bustling red-headed woman welcomes you in and bids you take a seat. She introduces herself as Talia, and asks you not to mind the full sized taxidermy grizzly decorating the dining hall, "I won it at auction, c'n ye believe it!"

You ask about the Marquis' Men, but of course you were tasked with finding a half-orc knight named Kytes, two elven maidens, one a bonafide princess named Túrante, the other a fancifully dressed courtesan named Liamae, a timid young man named Iagon, and an inquisitive sylph named Attai.

However, Talia informs you that no, there was no half-orc knight, but the others did arrive a few days ago, along with two other women in tow, a grim lady with a steady hand and strong voice, and a naval officer. The sylph left with the naval officer back downriver, while the women, joined by a local cleric and a broad broad, went off chasing down some witch in the woods. The young man, Iagon, stayed behind, but left just the day before after a walk in the forest, stating something about having some business with The Nighttripper. "I've heard rumors about tis Nighttripper. Tey say he makes strange bargains in offer of charms and elixirs," she adds. She informs you that she continues to hold rooms for these folks, and expects them to return "any moment now!"

Zeetri listens to the unfolding story of adventures coming and going.

"Fooey, Ivan. You almost had a naval companion.". He says with a frown. Back to Talia, "thank you for that recap. My name is Zeetri Olaru and my friend here is Goldilocks. Say, I don't suppose you know what these adventures who remained behind are up to, do you?". He asks, glancing at the bear occasionally.

Moira crashes through the tavern doors and flings herself down at the nearest empty table. She folds her arms on the bar and her broad-brimmed black hat hides her face--but it doesn't take face-reading to figure out that she's angry and tired. Very tired.

A heavy adventurer's pack looms over her figure until she shrugs it off onto the floor with an unceremonious clatter. With it gone, the patrons of the tavern can see jeweled hilts of fine weapons protruding from a harness over chainmail--a dagger at the chest, a longsword at the left hip. She breathes heavily and would seem asleep except for the tap-tap-tapping of her fingers on a small drum slung by her left side.

After a minute, she slouches back, pulling her hat low over her face. The minor magic of prestidigitation blasts her filthy fingers clean. She rubs vigorously at her face with a black handkerchief. Finally, she sweeps off her hat to reveal a disconcertingly poised, almost suspiciously professional smile lurking among disheveled dark hair. Two haunted dark brown eyes hunt for the barkeep. "Talia, m'dear, something hot to eat and something strong to drink, please. Make it two somethings to drink. It's been all hells of a day."

Stepping over the threshold Ivar takes in the sights, smells and sounds of the 'Wise Piper' Taking the room in at a glance, the bent wood back chairs, the round oak tables, the stone hearth, the large brown bear in the dining area. The place was clean, well-kept and busy, always a good sign. Ivar had often pondered the similarities between ships and taverns: Different styles, sizes, purposes and quality. If Ivar was going to give up a life of adventure at sea it would be to own a tavern. Smiling as the red-headed woman introduces herself, chuckling when she confesses that she'd won the bear at auction. He liked her already.

As she answered their questions about the the change in the group, he makes a mental note who is still working for the Marquis, hoping it didn't change the nature of the contract. Once Talia had exclaimed that they should return 'any moment' Ivar asks, "Vould you mind pointing dem out ven dey arrive?"

Ivar chuckles at Zeetri's comment about a 'naval companion' it probably is better that the naval officer had left the group. Most of those types look poorly on northern raiders. Giving Zeetri a look, he realized most folks wouldn't understand what being a 'named man' was and thought it wise to give a 'proper name.' Turning to the red head as Zeetri finishes talking, he gives a smile, the scar on his left cheek pulling at his eye, so its half closed. "Ve appreciate der information Talia, please call me Ivar."

He gestures towards one of the tables in the corner, "Ve shall vait over der until de return. Is dat Pan fried corned beef I smell. Vould you send over two plates und some ale? Ve have traveled far und vorked up qvuite der appetite,"

Moving to one of the round tables, he rests his bearded axe against the wall and drops his rucksack beside his chair. Pulling the chair slightly to the side he watches the door, waiting for anyone who fits the description.
-----------------------------
He notices a woman older than himself enter, wearing formal black garb of mourning, which contrased with her heavy practical brown leather boots. Tapping the table he makes eye contact with Zeetri, asking softly, "Do you t'ink det might be der grim lady vit der steady hand ?"

Watching Ivan set his overly large weapon against the wall, Zeetri smiles to himself and sits himself down without need of relieving himself of any armaments, only his backpack.

"That does look like the one described as Moira Keening. Let's hope that she still has some of her other companions about somewhere. Let's wait for more to show up."

Watching the dark featured woman take a seat about the same time as Talia's serving girl delivers the two plates of food and beverages, Ivar nods. Taking a gold coin out of his pouch he sets it on the table and pushes it towards the serving girl, "Dis should get us started for der evening, Ya?"

Since they'd been on the 'road' it had been a while since they enjoyed a proper meal in a comfortable establishment, and he saw no reason not to take the time to enjoy this one. Turning towards Zeetri, he nods, "Ya, vaiting is good, ve can enjoy dinner und drink as der others show up."

"Say, I don't suppose you know what these adventures who remained behind are up to, do you?"

"Aye, dere's one of 'em now," answers Talia as Moira bursts into the room, "Ye c'n ask her yerself."

Talia takes Moira's orders and whispers, "Dere's a couple o' gentlemen askin' 'bout ye," as she gestures with a nod toward Ivar and Zeetri.

Túrante says, "Given her services, up to and including risking her life with us, we have a personal interest in the fate of Miss Fenchurch. We owe her gratitude for her enthusiastic support." The quick use of the royal we indicates that in this instance Túrante has decided that she is speaking on behalf of Kyonin, escalating this matter from an interpersonal relationship to a diplomatic one.

Following on Moira's heels, she arrives at the tavern with her blonde hair still somewhat disheveled and her cloak stained and muddy from the days of travel, but otherwise well-composed. She takes a moment to dab her face with a moistened kerchief and, like Moira, uses petty magic to remove the worst of the grime.

She sidles up next to Moira and gestures to the tavernkeep for a beverage of her own, then says, "I feel like now our time will be divided, as I must investigate further into these allegations against Fenchurch."

"I'm with you, Túrante. I know the baroness says she'll do what she can, but until I know Fenchurch is safe, I feel like I have to do what I can. I owe her that. I think we should pull strings to get into prison for a talk with Fench, see what she wants us to do. I'd hate to bust her out of jail only to have her explain that she wants to face trial and clear her name or something."

She drains the first drink and starts on the second. "Also apparently those fellas have been asking about us. I think everyone who might have it out for me is a swamp witch, hobgoblin, or undead, so I don't think it's me they're after. Maybe they ratted on Fench."

Finishing drink #2, she swaggers to the bar for drink #3. On the way back, she stops by Ivar and Zeetri and says, "I've been fighting in the woods and underground for a few days. Sorry if I stink. Talia says you wanted to talk to us? I'm dead on my feet, but I'll sleep better if I know what you're after. What's up? Do you have anything to do with Fenchurch getting thrown in the hoosegow? Actually, why don't you come sit with us if you've got something to say. Selja'll be here soon, I reck."

She smiles at the two of you throughout, making strong eye contact and tap-tap-tapping at her drum with her left hand.

The briefest flash of annoyance crosses Zeetri's face as Moira approaches him before he and Ivar can wait out her friends. He wanted to scope the situation before approaching. And of course he wanted to be the one to approach.

"Well yes. Actually we were intending to talk to a few more of you. Now that there seems to be only three of you this could explain why we came to this lovely tavern to talk to you in the first place.". Zeetri smiles affably, assuming that this should explain the situation.

After a brief pause, before Moira has a chance to respond, Zeetri extrapolates, "The Marquis was worried That's something had happened to you Well, more to the point, worry that something had happened to her treaty. She has sent me, Zeetri Olaru, to help you finish this oh so important mission.". Satisfied that this cleared things up, "this is Ivar.". He finishes, hooking a thumb back at the big man.

Digging into the corned beef and hashed yams, Ivar watched as the elf joined the dark human. Realizing if he didn't slow down, the food would be gone before he could taste it. He took a sip of the ale and watched the two women for a moment.

Taking another sip of the ale he continued eating, watching as the dark one walked towards the bar and then towards their table. Raising an eyebrow as she 'confronted' them, he took in another fork full of corned beef. Setting down the fork as his friend began to explain their purpose in the fine little tavern.

Lifted the ale to her in a toast as Zeetri introduced him, he washed down the corned beef. Looking towards his friend he asked, "Shall ve finish our repast before ve join dem? Or do you vant to carry plate und pint over to der table?"

Zeetri looks to the door, awaiting Moira's other companions before responding to Ivar, "Well, she did come all the way over here to greet us, didn't she? It would be rude to refuse her company now." He says as he grabs up his own items. "Unless you have objections? We can discuss your progress with getting the treaties signed and what needs to be done yet." he says, looking back to Moira with a smile.

Meanwhile, Lizard turns over a trashcan in the back alley, chasing down some rats. Zeetri smiles at the joy Lizard feels from the thrill of the hunt, before going back to his slightly less genuine smile.

"This is about the treaty? Thank the gods, and come with me."

All the lines of Moira's body soften as she melts from fight-or-flight to drinks-tonight. She orders another 'nother round for everyone.

"One of us was thrown in jail today--after fighting like a hero during out expedition--sorry if I was a little tense."

To Túrante, she says "They want to talk about the treaty stuff. That's more your show than mine, but hey."

Shrugging at Zeetri's question, Ivar watched as his traveling companion ready to follow the bard. Looking from his plate to his ale, he makes a decision. Drinking the ale down quickly, he stands up throwing his rucksack over his shoulder and retrieving the bearded axe from its place leaning against the wall.

Holding the axe like a walking stick, he places his two tinned fork on the pewter plate and lifting it in his left hand, leaves the empty ale where it sits. Hoping the serving girl he gave the gold coin to, can find their new table.

Pleased to see the womans body language relax, he follows the dark featured woman to her table. Raising an eyebrow when she says that one of their number had been thrown in jail Ivar decides the 'ambassadors' may be more to his liking than he thought.

Chuckling as the dark featured one named Moira addressed the elf named Túrante, Ivar sets his plate down on the table. Carefully flipping the axe and rest it on its head against the edge of the table, dropping his rucksack near his chair. Turning to the dark featured woman he nods towards Zeetri, as he sits down in front of his half eaten corned beef and hash, "I know vat you mean, Ya."

A tall half-orc woman comes through the door, adorned with an amalgam of human and orcish tattoos, most prominently a rainbow songbird above her decolletage that is readily recognizable as the holy symbol of Shelyn. She sets a heavy-looking breastplate along a wall, followed by the glaive strapped across her back. "Sorry I'm late, it's hard to get out of this thing," she complains.

She's surprised to find her companions with some new company--a powerful Ulfen and a colorful Varisian. "Will you boys buy me a round too?" she asks playfully in a resonant alto. "We sure are needing it."

She glances at Turante and Moira, trying to read the table.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (3) + 12 = 15
"Hm, or is this official business we're dealing with?" Selja was uncertain.

"I'll buy you a round any day or night, Selja! C'mon and pull up a chair. Túrante's friends in high places are checking on her progress getting that treaty signed. Did we tell you about the treaty? Túrante's crew was... is... a diplomatic mission. I don't know a ton about it."

Turning to Túr, "Gods, who would have thought that I'd be second in seniority in the company! Kytes, Attai, Iagon, Fench, and now Liamae--they have all followed other paths."

She drinks a toast to the elf. "To the companions of the way, and to you!"

Distracted by the reasonably sized muscular woman Walking into the tavern, Ivar watches her move, admiring her tattoo's. He raises an eyebrow as the woman walks up to their table and begins to unload her gear, similar to his own. Smiling slightly, causing the scar on his left cheek to pinch and pull his eye into a squint. Lifitng his ale, he waives at the waitress he'd given he gold to, Speaking up in agreement with the dark bard. "Ya, ve vill buy you a drink."

Putting his boot on the chair leg beside him he pushes the chair out from under the table, "I believe you are vit dese others? Go ahead und have a seat."

Not knowing all the people named, Ivar did not want to offend so he lifted his ale in toast.

Zeetri opens his mouth to reply to Selja, but Ivar beats him to it. He smiles a wide grin, and then attempts to share a knowing look with Moira and Turante.

"Diplomatic mission, yes, That is precisely what we were checking up on. While my friend Ivar buys rounds of drinks for you ladies, why don't You tell me about your progress on this Turante? I think that I would like to tie this one up so that I can move on to something a little more exciting, although I can help you navigate the Sea of nobility if you have a need."

Zeetri is still finishing his first drink, as he is a bit of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.

"Help... navigate the sea of nobility?" says the slightly-disheveled elf woman. Something about her seems oddly familiar...

"The real goal is to help bring stability to the region. That's why we've been involved in so many of these local investigations and adventures: We're showing that we can help solve these problems, building the goodwill that will show all parties involved that the treaty is a good idea, that building bridges together is advantageous."

"At the moment, though, we are at loggerheads with an ancient temple that has a mummified undead guardian that is beyond our ability to banish."

As he ordered the next round of drinks Ivar catches bits and pieces of Zeetri's explanation and the Elf's response. Done ordering, he returns his attention to the plate of half-eaten corned beef and hash. Hearing her speak of an ancient temple and its mummified undead guardian, he looks up. Shifting a bit of sweet potato hash to his cheek, pointing at her with his spoon. "Dis Guardian, you t'ree have fought it?"

kn. Mobility: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22

Zeetri looks at Turante for a moment in quiet contemplation.

"Oh... Yeah, I guess you are probably okay with the diplomacy thing. I can be a diplomatic wingman if you have need of one."

As Turante continues to explain about 'helping out the little man' he nods along.

Yeah, yeah, that sounds like the right thing to do he agrees inside his own head.

"Yahhhn...Mummy?!"

He exchanges a quick look with Ivar.

"You know... Fire's pretty good at banishing dried up ole mummies. Since this seems to be a part of the over all mission to get these treaties signed, it seems as if this would also fall within our current job description."

The half-orc looks between Ivar and Zeetri. "Well, fire's not bad, but acid is better if you can manage that. To really finish the job, we'll be needin' to Consecrate, Hallow, and Dispel Evil from the remains. Most o' that's beyond what I could hope for now--we'll be lookin' for a powerful cleric, or powerful scrolls from a cleric."

"Thanks for the drink!" says Selja, as the pint arrives. She holds it up. "Cheers to new friends and new adventures?"

Zeetri nods along with Selja "Oh yeah, acid, fire, cold, Sonic, I can do any if those damage types with any if my spells. That other stuff is beyond my ken as well. Have the three of you shopped around for scrolls yet? That would be our best bet, if you can read them. I can't."

Zeetri uses the word 'our', already assuming that they have all agreed to team up.

"New friends and new adventures, indeed.". Zeetri holds up his original ale, maybe 3/4 of the way down. He doesn't even check with Ivar. He's pretty sure Selja has him hooked.

"Cheers!"

Moira finishes her last for the evening.

"No, Ivar, we didn't fight it--we fell back to get reinforcements. But... I was able to make a skeleton fall over laughing down there. That was good, but I've been thinking that if I can figure out a stronger spell, I should be able to make a mummy curl up and cry. With a little luck."

Moira looks confident. And sleepy. She leans forward on her hands and elbows, yawning.

Catching Zeetri's eye, Ivar nods. He didn't know much about 'mummys' but fire seemed to be good at 'banishing' most everything. Nodding as the well framed half-orc thanks him for the drink, Ivar lifts his stein in response to the toast. To new friends indeed, they would help these ladies finish their task and get back to the Marquis and their pay,

As they finish the toast, Ivar turns to the dark bard, nodding as she confesses they hadn't fought the mummy yet. Raising an eyebrow when she commented about 'making a skeleton laugh' he wondered if he'd misjudged her appearance. Maybe the dark features were simply a ruse, and she was really a comedian. Smiling to himself, he realized if they traveled together, he'd have a chance to find out. Smiling he responded, "Vit a little luck, ya."

Having finished his corned beef and hash he pushes the plate away and yawns as well. Waiving at the matron of the establishment, "Ve shall se if de have rooms available near yours."

Do you want to RP the arrangement of rooms or move on?

"Moira's got a way with dead things," interjects Selja at Ivar's raised eyebrow. Then she takes another long drink from her mug. "Er, not sure I said that quite right."

After getting to know her new companions for a bit, Selja tries to find out who in town might be able to supply the clerical help they're looking for. Diplomacy (gather info): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7. Or maybe she just stumbles around the room for a bit, having had too much to drink.

I'm ready to move on, and we can handwave the selling and purchasing of items. Selja has personal connections to the temple of Shelyn, so that's a good place to start. Niles, the head priest, is unable to cast 2 of those spells, but you may purchase the necessary scrolls.

Because of Belhaim's recent economic hardship, there is an upper purchasing limit of 2500gp for any one item. There is a 75% chance that you can find a specific magic item worth 1000gp or less.

Other than that, the following items are available for purchase or trade:
1. Book of Extended Summoning (2750gp)
2. Flaming Longsword (2015gp)
3. Seeking Lite Crossbow (2035gp)
4. Wand of Cure Light Wounds (750gp)
5. Scroll of Lesser Restoration (3) (450gp)
1. Deep Red Sphere Ioun Stone (8000gp)
2. Wand of Lesser Restoration (4500gp)
3. Goggles of Minute Seeing (2500gp)
4. Dust of Darkness (2400gp)
5. Scroll of Sanctuary (3) (75gp)
1. Light Fortification Studded Leather Armor (1015gp)

Standing up a little shakily, Moira bows theatrically. "Well, I've got just a couple chores and then I'm hitting the hay. I'll tell Talia to heat enough water for anyone who wants a real bath to have one, on me. Anyone needs anything mended, I'll do it in the morning."

She then makes good on her offer by begging Talia to start heating water. Some coin changes hands, including a massive tip for the poor housemaid who will be sent out into the dark for water and firewood. While that's happening, she discharges her spell-storing blades on whatever tavern vermin appear at hand, hoping for silverfish, the book-eating scum. She loads both blades with castings of Mortal Terror. Then, she uses Prestidigitation on her entire kit until things are clean. Mending follows, and there's a lot to be mended after the day's violence. She finishes by donning her Sleeves of Many Garments and snapping it into an incredibly soft robe.

And whatever the cost of the bath, it's totally worth it for the near-scalding oblivion of the water. She chases her last insistent trains of thought to their dens and silences them, then silences the the thoughts that hounded them. Eventually, she gets out so someone else can have a go, blasting her dark hair dry with Prestidigitation.

Yawning and stretching under a (very clean) puffball of hair, she stumbles off to bed, not bothering to take off the robe, which is probably softer than the sheets...

...and in the morning she looks almost completely normal, especially after wielding her comb. Maybe those are dark circles under her eyes, and I guess there's a brittle edge to her smile. But her stuff looks brand new. She's snapped her Sleeves into a black and green tunic that fits over her mail, somewhat softening her look from its usual funereal air. It has a jaunty military cut--maybe Moira is embracing her new life as an adventurer.

At some point, she's going to advocate for purchasing a new Wand o' Cure Light Wounds. "Mine is just about empty... and let's get those mummy-buster scrolls, right? We should ask if they are guaranteed to work or if mum might resist their power. Anything else we need from whatever this one-boat-town has got? I want to go wreck a dead guy and free a ghost."

Since Moira did a meandering bedtime, I'm not going to feel guilty doing one :)

Hearing Moira offer to pay for a hot bath, Ivar rubs his beard, a hot bath would be nice after several days 'on the road.' Lifting his stein like a toast, "I vill take you up on der offer vit t'anks" He gestures at the waitress for another round. "I vill be vating here, have der servant let me know ven you are done, ya?"

As Selja and Moira head off, Ivar has a couple more pints of ale as he waits for the servant to come fetch him for the hot bath. Having made arrangements for a room with Talia for a small private room, he stops there and drops off his bearded axe, Rucksack, and breastplate. Stripping down to his doeskin breaches he unbraids his long hair so he can wash it. Collecting the large towel provided in on hand and his scabbarded seax in the other he heads to the washroom, his totem tattoo proudly on display.

Soaking in the tub until the water is almost cool, Ivar scrubs his skin until it is a bright pink and washes his hair and beard twice. Drying off he quickly combs and braids his blond hair while it's still wet. Wrapping the towel around his narrow waist he returns back to his room, Saex in on hand, pants in the other.

Once back in the room, he rests the blade on the small nightstand, drops the towel on the floor and is quickly fast asleep between comfortable, reasonably clean sheets.

Hopefully having an uninterrupted night
Waking with the dawn, Ivar quickly gets dressed, going down the hallway for his morning ablutions. Returning to his room he dons his breastplate, war-belt and cloak, shouldering his rucksack and tucking the scabbarded saex in his belt he gathers his bearded axe and returns to the common room downstairs.

Seeing Moira in the common room, he waves at the waitress hoping to order breakfast. Leaning the axe against the wall, he drops his rucksack on the floor and nods to the bard as he sits down in the bent back wooden chair. Seeing how clean her gear was compared to the previous evening, he comments, gesturing towards her overall look. "Qvuite der trick, your gear looks brand new, und der green vit der black looks..." He smiles slightly, causing the scar to make his left eye look pinched. "How you say? 'jaunty'."

As the waitress arrives at the table, he orders a bowl of mush with honey and apples and a pint of milk. When the conversation turns to purchasing a wand, he chimes in reaching for his pouch, "I have a few gold pieces, I can chip in for der purchase." He looks up, realizing how much he relies on magical healing and asks, "Vill vone be enough or do ve need two?"

he can chip in 300 gp.

Not wanting to disturb the temple in the evening (and perhaps having had one too many drinks), Selja decides to spend the evening recovering from their long travels.

In the morning, she performs her daily devotion to Shelyn by painting a watercolor of the sun rising over the tavern, a songbird admiring the scene.
Craft (Painting): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19

It's certainly pretty, if a bit formulaic. As she comes down the stairs, she offers the piece to the bartender. "Please take this, with Shelyn's blessin'."

She finds Moira and Ivar downstairs. "We'll be needin' a lot o clerical magic to deal with the mummy. Come with me to meet Nilos, who leads the local temple o' Shelyn. Even he might not be powerful 'nough ta do it himself, but he might know where we could find it."

Nilos is a made-up person in my background, who our GM appears to have adopted.

As the night winds down, and people begin to retire for the evening, Zeetri excused himself. "I need to go see what that dumb lizard is doing. Make sure he's only eating the rats and not the cats. Oh! You ladies haven't met Lizard yet. You'll see him tomorrow though. He never leaves me alone.". He smells his arm pit on the way out.

I washed a couple of days ago. I'll be fine. Nothing a little prestidigitation can't take care of

After another hour or so, after the common room has cleared out, Zeetri sneaks upstairs with Lizard in tow.

"You never can be too sure about these places. No telling what kind of trouble you could cause out there.". He says as he ushers his familiar upstairs into their room.

In the morning, Zeetri wakes up and sees the sun has already been up for a bit. Getting out his spell book, he reads through what he might need for today. "Heh, same things I prepare everyday! Boom! Pow!" As he and Lizard descend the stickers, a little bit later than he had intended, he sees Ivar and two of his new friends head out the door.

"Well, I didn't think we were that late. I woulda chipped in a bit for that wand of curing Wednesday we're talking about. I'll have to even that out with them later. Eh, let's find today Turante lass and get some breakfast."

a little bit later than he had intended, he sees Ivar and two of his new friends head out the door.

Slow your roll, we need to wait for Túrante Poicellë. We didn't say we were leaving yet. Not to be a jerk but I'd rather other players not describe Ivar's actions. Feel free to respond to Ivar's posted actions or to describe your own actions. But even if we establish a 'majority decide' rule for what were doing, (which I would recommend we do) I still would rather characters describe their own actions and the GM describe the groups actions.

Pushing out an empty chair at the table, Ivar nods to his friend, "You are just in time, Ve have saved dis chair for you, und you can chip in ven ve get der."

My bad. I read the bit about Selja asking Ivar and Moira to go with her a little too fast and it had already happened in my head.

Zeetri squints as he passed through a ray of light coming in through a window. As he moves toward the proffered seat, Lizard a compsognathus scurries forward and jumps into it. Without even giving him a glance, Zeetri places a hand on the dino and tries to push him off. Lizard digs down and stands his ground, however, forcing him to get into a full on shoving match before he dislodges his familiar from his seat.

Taking his seat, finally, he pushes his hair out of his face and looks to the others. After a brief pause and taking a deep breath, "I hope that will I never have need of this wand, but I wouldn't want to be without it if I do. I have some gold, and can help out. This will be a commitment for us to adventure together for some time. It's everyone okay with that situation?". He then waves over a waitress.

Please go ahead, I need to go out of town this weekend and won't be back until Sunday.

Good morning, it is now Sunday, Gozran 8.

All rest peacefully in the comfort of a private room at the Wise Piper Inn. The slightly chilly morning brings fog to Belhaim, not an uncommon occurrence.

Talia serves a breakfast of oat meal and dried fruits, "Apologies, loves, but be savin' te good stuff fer te upcomin' coronation!" Of course, you haven't forgotten the coronation of Khari as the new Heiress of Belhaim! Better take care of this mummy business quick if you want to be present for the ceremonies.

Selja leads the group to the Shrine of the Seven Roses, the local temple of Shelyn, to speak to Nilos Genser, her tutor and head priest of the temple.

Of course, Nilos is pleased to see Selja return after setting out with these adventurers, and greets her with a warm embrace. "You're as beautiful as ever, m'dear, surely The Eternal Rose smiles upon you. Now, what can I do for you this day?"

Moira gets ready to hit to the shops to liquidate the party's wealth. Before heading out, she passes the scimitar to Túrante.

"I know it's not a dueling sword, but... I don't even know how to swing one of these. You know how to use one, right? Just in case we need to put down a lot of dead guys. We'll sell it afterwards."

Then she whistles down to the marketplace, making herself quite popular by selling everything for half of what it's worth--as is traditional. Everyone loves adventurers for a reason, right?

Túrante gives the scimitar a few test swings back and forth. "I can use it, just not as elegantly as my elven blade," she says apologetically. "I'll hand onto it in case it... comes up. Thank you."

After finishing off his oatmeal, Ivar follows the ladies outside. Raising an eyebrow as the elf displays a high proficiency with curved blades. He realizes they intend to separate, some going to the temple and others to the market. Not being overly fond of churches in general, Ivar offers. "I vill go vit der bard to der market." He shifts the axe from casually resting on his shoulder to setting the handle-butt on the ground. "Ve never know if someone may vant to take vat is not dere's."

As Moira moves off whistling, Ivar keeps pace behind her, enjoying the companionable silence.

"And you're charming as always, Nilos," responds Selja, blushing. Even as a worshipper of Shelyn, Selja still struggled to see herself as beautiful, even as others complemented her. "I'm glad ya sent me to go with these folk. They've a knack for rootin' out trouble. But we've lost a few folk. Liamae has new duties now. And can ya believe that Fenchurch was arrested?" Selja frowns at her loyal companion's situation.

"Thank Shelyn, we've also gotten some new help. Ivar, Zeetri--this is Nilos Genser, head priest o' the Shrine of the Seven Roses." Selja gestures toward Ivar and Zeetri to introduce themselves.

"We're needin' some help ta put ta rest a powerful mummy lord--a long slumberin' evil that we should put down for good. By Shelyn's blessin' we'll restore the place, but the miracles we need are more than my meager faith can manage." Selja explains the situation and the needed magics. "I know this might be beyond what even the two of us could do, but I'm hopin' you've got some magics tucked away for a time like this."

I think that the group intends to go to the temple and then market together. That looks like how it's playing out.

Zeetri walks along with the rest, just along for the ride at the moment. He knows that his job will be completed in due time. The Marquis is counting on them to get her signatures. The plan that the girls have laid out to gain the confidence of the people makes sense, but...

Why has there been such turnover with this group? Some wandering off while others getting arrested. At least there not dying off.

After being introduced to the head priest, "It is always the highlight of any visit into town to get to know a head priest. Especially in our line of business, and I can't think of a better goddess than Shelyn to be associated with. As for this mummy, I only have fire, acid, and a paltry "Disrupt Undead" to threaten it with."

Looking over at Selja as he finishes, he can't help but study her face and wonder, I wonder if my grandmother looked similar to Selja. Or was it my Aunt?

"Ivar, if it is not impolite of me to pry, how long ago did you arrive? I am assuming by your armaments and your accent that you are not local, but please, correct me if I am mistaken." Túrante asks the northman.

Moira finds not all of the merchants are necessarily happy with her dealings. Some grumble as they count out their payment, and plead for her to please buy something in return. She may remember Banker Braldon stating that the town is running low on cash due to the previous group of heros dumping a literal dragon's hoard on the town before venturing off into the wilds, as well as being currently cut off from trade from the southern heartland due to the hobgoblin occupation of the ruins of Dunholme to the south.

Nilos nods and is able to procure the necessary scrolls for Selja. "These are some hard to come by scrolls, dear one, but it sounds the need is dire to rid the land of such evils. If you believe in your mission, I trust you understand the value of such magics and don't accept them lightly. I will let you take them from here, and if you are successful in your endeavors, which I pray you are, you may pay the temple back when you return."

"If you are not successful," He adds grimly, "our loss will be much greater than a few leaves of parchment. May Shelyn guide you."

Raising an eyebrow at Túrante question, Ivar wasn't sure what she meant by 'arrive' so he answered the second part of the question first. "You are not mistaken, I vas born on der Ironbound Islands. by trade I am a sailor, by choice a vanderer, by disposition und training a mercenary. Lately, I vas in der employment of a consortium vorking vit lumber in Andoran. Dey paid me to escort Zeetri und a contract to der Maquis. Now der Maquis is paying us to find you."

As they walk and talk, Ivar keeps an eye on the merchants, noting how some of them grumble. He considered buy something to appease the merchants, but it would be like giving money to a beggar. The others would notice and just harry him more. As they moved, he did look for a fruit stand or baker or cafe where he could purchase lunch. The warm oatmeal had reminded him of how tired he was of dried meat, fruit, and cheese.

Selja bows in gratitude as Nilos loans the scrolls to her. "Thanks for trustin' me--trustin' us, on this mission. By Shelyn's grace, we'll be back soon with good news, and we can share stories over a nice meal." As she leaves, Selja gives Nilos a less formal and much warmer hug.

And just like that, it was time to continue on, a bit of shopping to be done. Lots of coin would return to the town soon--at least because of the cost of the scrolls. Selja keeps her peace.

Selja, assuming that we have discussed knowledge of mummy and spell tactics as we walk (taking from the discussion tab) Redirect me if you did not actually intend to bring it up with Zeetri.

As the scrolls are given and new conversations begin to break out, Zeetri still seems lost in thought over the puzzle of this mummy lord that Selja has described. Looking over to Selja, he is finally ready to reveal what he has been able to trudge up from his memory banks.

nature: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (4) + 13 = 17

religion: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32

"I know a little about the Serpentfolk, but not much more than your average intellectual, I'm afraid. Now, concerning Ydersius and mummy lords in general, that's another story!"

As he begins to illuminate the others on what he knows, Lizard whips around and snaps at where his tail just disappeared from. He then lunges at his shadow and rushes off round the corner.

Moira's smile grows ever-slightly more thin and taut as the merchants grumble while robbing her blind. She decides that maybe when she gets back, it will be time to stimulate the local economy. If anyone could get a caravan of these goods to the city, they'd make a killing just selling stuff and bringing back buckets of coin.

But you'd have to get downriver first. Maybe it's time to hire enough people to build a warship--a light river cruiser built for task might do better than that frigate of Ortego's.

Maybe best to stick with mummy-busting for now. But those hobgoblins could use a humbling.

At least the spell-scribing stall will be greasy with prosperity by the time Túrante is done...

She explains her thoughts to anyone who tagged along to the market. She also chuckles a little at the thought of her shift from funeral director to would-be shadow-benefactor warlord protectress, stimulator of village economies, banisher-of-the-dead and smiter-of-hobgoblins, but the goal is the same: to help normal folks live a little better.