"Fifteen gold!? I asked for a simple bottle of drink, not liquid gold! Maybe you mistake me for the Abadaran Pope! A man bejeweled from head to toe? I am but a simple knave trying to make his way in the world. Surely you can give me a break...what do you say to 5 gold?"
Appario will begin to haggle with the man, first testing Jorek's resolve and defenses before employing more serious parries and thrusts in an attmept to get a better price.
"I mean to give this to a woman of extraordinary beauty (when I finally meet her), surely you can lower the price for true love?"
"This bottle has more value than the blood I split to protect it."
"Shall I show you the scar where the blade slid in as I saved your life?"
Maddok growls when he hears the bandits not falling for Semenya's illusion.
"We should prepare in case their magic and words aren't enough. Circle around and trap them with me. You're lighter than I am and can move faster without being heard", the big Shoanti explains. "When we attack you get the one on the left and I will take down the one on the right".
"Whichever of us dispatches their target first can cut down the last bandit", Maddok suggests with a completely straight face - his eyes betray his real intent.
"I look forward to seeing what you can do with a big sturdy piece of wood", he says indicating her assorted stakes.
Granor, amused,listens to Appario's haggling attempt, and leans against the wagon, smiling. Then he suddenly rememers and starts rummaging through his pack. Wiht an exclamation of joy he fishes out a small bottle filled with a viscous liquid the color of red honey. He then approaches Derek with a smile.
"Master Keegan, maybe you would like to toast with me with this. It is my father's secret recepy. Somethig he calls 'true dwarven holy water'. I can make it, but it is rather expensive, and magical. So this bottle is all i have for now. For an admirer of spirits, this will be a revelation i am sure."
He offers the bottle to Derek and smiles at the lady.
"My lady, i apologize if i offend by not offering this to you, but to it, wine is like buttermilk. It is a dwarven brew that can knock out a dwarf. I have given it to few human women before, and most of them have passed out from a single quaff. But of course, if you are willing to take that risk, i am very willing to offer this fine drink to you too. For the lady, of course, i will pour it in a glass."
"Well not, there’s a thing. Haha, it's a rare day when you can actually follow Braheg with something more potent. I'd be delighted."
Derek turns his face to the heavens and shouts.
"For what we are about to receive, let us be truly thankful. And if we cannot finish it all off, then throw us onto the garbage pile til we have slept it off."
Derek opens the bottle gently, sniffs the contents, pours a single drop on his tongue and tastes it.
He then get's a slightly dreamy quality to his gaze for a moment before taking a real swing.
After a few moments he turns a slightly bleary look towards Granor, slowly opens his mouth as if to speak a great revelation.
"Hic. Good schtuff!"
"Would you, now?" Vahnwynne looks bemused. "I hope you can keep up with me, then, else you won't stand a chance!"
She strokes one stake fondly, glancing at Maddok out of the corner of her eye, as she silently moves to a better location to get quickly at her man.
"5 gold!? Grand Prince Stavian himself would have been proud to serve this bottle at his palace in Oppara! I shall go no lower than 12 pieces of gold for this bottle made from the most exquisite grapes!"
Derek shakes his head to clear away the cobwebs.
"Right, the Caravan can go through, that is no problem, after all, in our story we did not lose any of the merchandise. What we must do however, is disguise lady Drovenge so she is not recognized. A challenge I know since her natural beauty is hard to hide."
Derek looks around.
"I am afraid we will require some alternative clothing, can anyone lend me some suitable pieces?"
once some pieces are offered, Derek will use his artistic knowledge to hide lady Drovenge in plain sight.
"That should be sufficient, nobody is going to actively look for you my lady, and few are the Dottari who would in fact dare to think you might be hiding like that."
Granor will not talk to anyone untill asked, because he is horrible at lying to people. His natural charisma might offset that a little, but not enough, so he hopes that there will be no reason to talk. He will cast guidance on Derek for the Disguise roll, so that the end result is 21 and not 20.
Appario smiles, not so much for the prize, but for the haggling itself.
"Agreed! 10 gp it is." Appario will pull out 10 gp and pay the dwarf.
Appario will spend the rest of the trip happily whistling a nameless tune (though it just might resemble the battle hymn that Derek sung earlier that day).
Two good battles in one day. How could the day get better?
Appario remembers his new longbow and he pats it gently.
Ah yes, it does get better with the spoils of war. And now I get to go sell the spoils of war. The day can improve.
As the party reaches the gates, Appario will add in the disguise, but feels no special responsibility to get the caravan through the gates (creatures and all) for that is a matter for the caravan master. Appario has done his job in getting the caravan safely to the city and made a few contacts for the Church of Abadar.
Lady Drovenge agrees to the plan, and makes sure noone can see her while she's changing out of her dress and into whatever clothes Derek is able to procure for her. She still looks stunning, but at least the clothes are more suitable for a pretty maid than for a noblewoman.
The dottari at the gates spend several minutes with master Ockerton as they go through all the wagons, asking a question now and then, and lifting produce on occassion. At one point, Appario is certain he can see some gold change hands.
The disguise seems to be working, as none of the dottari take any particular care around Lady Drovenge, bumping into her and making lewd remarks just as they would a common maid. Derek can see the color rising in her cheeks, but she stays her tongue until the caravan is moving again.
"Those.. buffoons! When my grandfather hears of this, he will make sure they're fired on the day!"
Granor gently interjects.
"Well, my lady, they didn't know of your stature at the moment. Trust me, if they did they would have treated you with much more respect. I am pretty certain that most guards would treat a beautiful maid like that. After all, they envy the lucky bastard that gets to kiss her hello when she comes home. I am not certain that firing them would do anyone any good. What if they have families my lady? Children to feed? Maye having them put to some nasty duty, like patrolling the sewers or guarding the city dump would be more adequate? For the sake of their children of course."
Granor offers a quaff of 'dwarven holy water' to Appario too.
"Master Lind, if you would like to toast with me on our victory? It is quite a strong drink, so i suggest not dringking too much of it at once. Even i do not do so."
"Remarkable self-control my lady Drovenge, if you care at all, know that my respect for you have increased even further."
Derek considers for a moment.
"If you really want a bit of revenge towards those Dottari, then I have an idea..."
Derek leans in and whispers in lady Drovenges ear.
"Well now, as soon as we have our lady properly entertained and secured, I shall begin the rumor mill"
Appario will agree to the drink reluctantly, unwilling to push aside a friendly offer of good cheer from a new ally.
"I am not much of a drinker, but that's okay because *some* of us drink enough for two." Appario eyes the slurry rapscallion before taking the smallest of sips from the offered bottle.
Appario gasps, chokes, sputters, and finally tears up a bit before getting down some of the hard beverage. After a few moments of coughing, Appario will try to regain his composure.
"Thank you, friend, that was...uhm...delightful."
"Yes, sewer duty would be an appropriate punishment for such behavior. Thank you for the suggestion, master Goldenbeard." She smiles at that, and Derek's suggestion brings a mischievous gleam to her eye.
Once through the city gates, Ockerton directs the caravan through the evening streets, ending up at a warehouse near the docks. Settling the wagons into the warehouse, he locks it up and the merchants make their way to a nearby inn for the night.
"I thank you again for your aid, master Keegan. Master Goldenbeard. Master Lind." Ockerton shakes each of your hands in turn. To Appario, he continues. "I shall visit your temple on the morrow to discuss further protection measures for my caravans in the future."
"Shall we go immediately to the safehouse? I think that the lady will be safe there, so we should pick up our pace, but not too much as not to arouse suspicion. And master Keegan, maybe you should separate from us, and start the 'rumor mill' as you so appropriately called it."
Granor pulls his cloak on himself, to conceal the armor as much as he can, as to not to draw guard's attention to himself.
"Master Goldenbeard, a word with you and Derek in private? Excuse me m'Lady, I have questions for my colleagues."
If they will have words with me away from the caravan and Lady, he will ask:
"I'm not sure I want her Ladyship within our Temple or to know too much about us. It's not that I distrust her, but distrust her wealth. Yes, yes, yes, I know the teachings of my Church." Appario will pause and then continue.
"What the Gardeners are doing is both noble and just in bringing order to the chaos infecting this town, however, the rich and privileged are more apt to allow the system to hold as it is rather than strive against it. I would know more about her and her Grandfather before we let her into our very temple."
Yahirma tries to gauge how convincing her illusion was as she steps out to meet the bandits and says her earlier lines.
Sense Motive
Although she doesn't pick up on any special hunches, she may have heard their warnings to each other.
Perception
Through the Message spell she sends to Semenya "They seem more suspicious than they should. I may need backup."
To the bandits she follows up with "Hot meals, camaraderie, and a line of work that wouldn't shame your own grandmother half to her grave just to hear how you're paying the rent. We," she says, looking meaningfully at the surrounding trees, which could be holding any number of other people. "We would not have come all this way to make a hollow offer."
"As you say master Goldenbear. I shall see you all later. And you make a point Appario. Take her somewhere else then, somewhere safe but out of the way, maybe the church in fact?"
Derek will head over to the Keegan Company; get a few choice pieces of clothing to use for disguise and then head out towards a nearby tavern.
He will disguise himself as a caravan guard. Splash a little low grade alcohol on his clothes and act slightly inebriated as he stumbles into the tavern.
"Pull me a pint of your best tavern master; I got a thirst to quench!"
Derek will down the bar as he slaps some coin on the disk, he will then down the ale in one gulp and smack his lips with appreciation.
"Damn me, but I wasn't sure I'd ever get a chance to drink again. Caravan duty you see, easy money...well, usually it is. Damn me if we weren’t attacked on the way over. Whole slew of bandits they were, took us by surprise they did. But we fought them of we did! Oh yes, and then some"
Derek slaps a few more coin on the disk and waits for a refill.
"Thirsty work it was...but we won the day, the bandits ran away they did, away liked whipped dogs haha!"
Derek leans closer to the tavern keeper and fixes him with a blurry look.
"Almost perfectly you know...but damn me if we didn't lose something after all. We got the wagons in, whole as you wish, but not all the people..."
A few very obvious looks over the shoulder, like a drunk being paranoid follows, Derek then grabs the tavern keepers apron and whispers in a voice too loud.
"Lost a passenger we did, some hoity-toity lady, bandits took her they did, right from under our noses...couldn't save her, no sir. Wanted to go after her we did, but too many wounded...pity...lost a reward for taking her back I should think."
Derek puts his head down on his arms and sobs a little.
"So many dead...so many dead..."
Derek slowly staggers outside the bar, as soon as he can, he will slip into an alley and alter his disguise and head to another tavern to repeat the performance.
Semenya will, as they turn to face their guard, walk up - visibly unarmed, though she's got the wand of Magic Missile up her sleeve. She'll remain where she's within 30' of Yahirma, but outside of ready bowshot range.
Her hands move in a slow circle and she drones...
Duration
Hit Dice Affected
DC is Will/14 on the Hypnosis spell. If one of them makes the save, Yahirma will make them roll it over.
Diplomacy
"While your plans have gone asunder, we are here to talk. We'll only kill you if we must, and we'd prefer not to. Certainly there's room to listen?"
None of the three seem to be affected by Semenya's droning and gestures, but hers and Yahirma's words seem to work well as it is.
"Torval here seems to think there's a whole host of soldiers in those trees, but me and Wilmar know better. Even so, your words make a lot of sense, regardless of how many of you there are. Say what you have to say, but make it quick."
Yahirma sends to Semenya "I believe the honor is yours, as you know the operation better."
"Gentlemen, we represent the people of Westcrown. Not the nobles, but the people who simply want to make a decent living, without fear of banditry, and without fear of shadow beasts, or mysterious Councils, or disappearances in the night. While not as exciting as hitting up caravans on the road, it's also considerably safer - those of your comrades who survived are likely being taken to Westcrown now."
"What we're offering is a chance to make a reasonable wage - in return for your willingness to help root out the various schemes, and to help guard the streets of Westcrown against anyone hired by your former employers. The pay is mediocre, the hours suck...but you're less likely to get smashed by people like him..." She gestures to Maddok "Or dropped by people like me."
"You'll get food in your bellies, a place to sleep, and a chance to make a difference in this city. Perhaps help us make it a better place for everyone else."
Maddok stands from his hiding place, hammer is hand and bristling with fury. The big Shoanti snarls menacingly while flexing his bull neck.
The men look from Semenya to Yahirma to the intimidating Maddok. "What guarantee do we have that you won't turn us over to the dottari, or the Hellknights? With this," he gestures to a small bag attached to his belt, "we will never need to raid caravans again, or even return to Westcrown."
"You'll have to just take us on our word", Maddok rumbles. "You are not leaving with what you stole one way or another. You either hand it over willingly in good faith or I will take it off your broken corpse".
"You spilled blood of my blood. Among my people that means death. The only reason you live right now is because the women", he says looking briefly at Yahirma and Semenya, "have little stomach for more bloodshed today".
Hmmm...I suspect we may be approaching plan B.
Looking somewhat concerned, Yahirma says to the bandits "As you can see, we are an organization of strong convictions - both in desiring to improve this region and in our willingness to face the opposition as a united force. Wouldn't you rather have that man at your side rather than on your trail?
Yahirma motions towards the money bag.
"The strong one is correct about that gold, though. If the Trade Warden were here, he would say it is a fair trade to give bullion for a second chance. The Cassowary might sway you with his ample stocks of alcohol and promises of delightful evenings of reckless roisters. The dwarf might reference the health of your very souls. I simply give you this: we will not let you leave with that money, but we will let you leave here with new-found allies."
Appario watches as Derek runs off to go raise mischief, leaving him with the Lady.
"Of course." Appario stares at the back of the fleeing thespian, agog at whatever mad machinations he is hatching.
@Lady Drovenge: "He runs off and leaves you with me...and I have so much to do. I don't quite know what he's planning, but I think are you going along with it, yes? We need to keep you busy for a bit? I don't suppose the Lady has any desire to see the Church of Abadar and then tend to the markets?"
Appario thinks a bit more.
"Good Master Granor, will you be joining us?"
Not willing to be outdone by Maddok, Vahnwynne also comes out of her hiding spot, her two wooden stakes held ready. "I haven't had a chance to use these yet today. Maybe you want to give them a try?"
Seeing themselves outnumbered, the three archers look more concerned. They get into a whispered argument with eachother, before apparently coming to a conclusion.
"We are known in Westcrown, both by the dottari and by others not so concerned with the law; that's part of the reason we agreed to join Firwel out here. The pay would be sufficient to let us relocate. Let us leave with enough of the gold to do so and you will never see us again."
"The guardsmen didn't recognize me, but there will be many more eyes at the markets. Many of the noble houses send their servants here to shop, and some of the servants would surely know me by sight. It might be wiser to stay indoors somewhere."
Maddok looks annoyed.
"Charity is reserved for children, elders, and the infirm. You are none of these".
"You will have to earn your new life".
"I agree with the lady. The markets would be too risky. Perhaps we should go to your church and she could demand sanctuary for some reason? Maybe you, my lady, are being courted by two suitors, and you cannot make up your mind over which one to choose. And both men are hounding you with questions, so you decided to hide somewhere where they wouldn't go, or wouldn't expect you to be. Of course, you would still play the part of a lady's maid. But, anyway, let us walk towards the church, as it is the best hiding place for now."
Granor scratches the now bare patch of skin on his chin, that nestles between his two braids.
Appario looks baffled by Granor's words.
Appario resists the urge to say: "My dear Granor, the markets very nearly **ARE** the Church of Abadar."
"Granor, if it is quiet and peace that you wish for the Lady, then my church is hardly the one for that! Unless the Lady considers merchants, hawks, and moneylenders to be soothing? On a good day, like today, the temple square is like to be rife with people and the sounds of Abadaran preforming their sacred and holy duty: commerce!"
Appario pauses to think.
"This is not my plan nor do I have a head for such things. I would do battle gladly either on the field or in the market stall, but this is more difficult."
"No, I don't think the Church of Abadar will work...and besides, they would charge you for every hour they kept you 'safe'. 'No good deed goes unpaid', so the sermon goes."
Appario ponders more before visibly shrinking, then giving in.
"I think we take her back to the Gardening House. I do nothing we have a better option to keep her quiet and safe."
If Granor agrees, they will take the Lady to the safehouse.
Granor starts thinknig. Fast. He wants to keep lady Drovenge safe, but he also thinks that Derek's words are wise.
We don't know this lady good enough that we can trust her with the knowledge of the gardener's whereabouts. But, we however need her alive. Hmmm what a conondrum
And then it dawns on him. With a smile he says:
"I have a yet even better idea master Lind. Let us go to the dwarven house of commerce, nobody will look for her among a bunch of surly dwarves going about their business. And you can also do some business with the dwarves if it pleases the church of Abadar. And she will be safe there. Dwarves are honest folk. They do not betray those they break bread with. I hope you do not mind spending some time with the dwarves my lady?"
The archers become tense at Maddok's words and tone, and one breaks off at a sprint towards his horse and starts fumbling with the reins.
The other two look dumbfounded as their partner flees, and both put their hands in the air.
The young Lady looks strangely at Granor. "I'm not sure why a house of commerce would be better than a house of gardening; I quite enjoy my grandfather's gardens. But if you think it best I will go with you."
Well, you see, my lady, there are no gardens around that house. Just a place where we, gardeners sometimes gather to talk over a pint or two. Now, tell me, do you mayhap do your own gardening, or do you have other people tend your gardens for you?"
He gives a sidelong glance to Appario, hoping that the lady won't catch it.
Unless, she really does her gardens, this is a pretty foolproof way of knowing if someone is a supporter of gardeners. She may be, i could not tell from her words. He thinks, wondering.
Maddok closes on the panicked bandit and throws a whistling haymaker.
Unarmed Strike w/Power Attack
+7
Maddok closes on the panicked bandit hefting his hammer as he does.
"You had your chance".
Hammer attack w/Power Attack
+9
The fleeing archer is still fumbling as Maddok comes running towards him, but Maddok's fist fails to find its target.
Vahnwynne follows Maddok's lead, attempting to strike the archer with the blunt end of one of her wooden stakes.
Vahnwynne's stake strikes the archer right between the eyes, causing a nasty-looking bump to quickly appear on his forehead. The man stops struggling with the reins and cries for mercy instead.
She laughs. "Naturally we have servants to do our gardening. I like to walk in them, but I wouldn't want to get my hands dirty!"
Maddok runs after the fleeing archer, flattening him into a pool of flesh and blood with his hammer.
The two other archers panick, and Vahnwynne decides to prevent any further escape attempts by clobbering one of them into unconsciousness with the blunt end of her stake. The last archer tears up, falling to his knees and crying for mercy.
"Of course you wouldn't. Although, there is some joy in nurturing something, watching it grow and knowing that it is you who is responsible for a their growth. But, to each his own as they say. Enjoying beauty of flowers is a compliment enough for us gardeners. So, shall we? To the house of commerce!
Ah well, hope gone. She's just a noblewoman. Ah, never mind. She will be a useful ally it seems.
Thinks Granor as he, smiling, points the way towards the dwarven house of commerce.
Maddok nods in appreciation of Vahnwynne's work.
"Do we have an understanding now?", the big man roars.
The last archer manages to say "I'll do whatever you ask!" amidst his sobbing.
By the time Derek has visited several taverns to spin his story, the sun has begun to set and many taverngoers have started to make their way back home. Entering the sixth tavern, only a handful of patrons remain inside.
One burly man seems to take an interest in Derek's story. Edging closer, he beckons the tavernkeeper for two mugs of ale and hands one to Derek. After each have taken a swig, he speaks. "So, this lady you speak of. Who was she?"
Yahirma takes a moment to strap her staff to her backpack before performing a search of the camp.
Perception
Derek turns eyes that are much more sober than he appears to be on the man and nods.
"Oh but she was a beauty, and rich to boot I shouldn't wonder, she had a mane of hair on her like...hic...like a wave...but this was a wave of (whatever the hair colour was) you see?"
Derek looks like he is focusing his thoughts for a moment.
"What were you saying? Ah yes...sorry, who she was right?"
Here another sip of ale is downed before an answer comes.
"Well, I'll be damned if I can remember the name, but she was coming to see someone here, uncle? Nah...Brother?...don't think so, maybe it was dear ol' grampa? Or father...a man anyway. I think she was called Movenge...Novenge....something..."
Derek does his best to try and coax the man into asking for the name specifically.
Maddok message-whispers to his allies, "These men are the worst kind of craven. Even if we could get them to agree to aid our cause I have no doubt they would sell us out to the Devil-Knights at the first opportunity if it benefited them. What would have done with the last two?"
Yahirma's search turns up the average camp-equipment; there's bedrolls, food rations, cooking equipment, and so on. If there was anything of value among the tents, it's no longer there.
There are twelve horses tied up near the tents, several of which have started to become agitated due to the stench of blood and death from the crushed archer.
3 composite longbows [+2 strength]
3 scale mails (one of these is severely damaged)
3 potions
3 leather bags, containing a total of 600 gp)
The man looks Derek over, a hint of disgust creeping into his features. "Movenge? Novenge? Might it have been Drovenge, by any chance?"
Derek hides the smile that is slowly making its way across his face by taking another measured sip of ale.
As he sets the tankard down he fixes the man with a bleary eyed look for a few seconds before shining up with an idiot grin of recognition.
"Drovenge! Yes! Damn me if that wasn't the name she went by. Gone as we tended to the wounded."
Derek covers his face with his hands and sobs. He tries his best to seem so broken and drunk that he will be unable to volunteer any more information.
The man quickly rises, grabs some coins from his pocket and throws them on the table, and rushes out of the tavern.
Yahirma shakes her head slowly and steps up to Maddok to whisper "Curse me if you aren't more right than a lopsided Umasi... We would be watching them from here on and having to expend the resources to do so. I was hoping for a clean conversion, but the remaining two are too much of a risk now. That said, do we really wish our first fight as Gardener trainees to end with a mercy-killing? What would your little brother say to that when he asks you the tale of your heroic deeds over a pint of ale?"
She looks back towards the two remaining bandits. "When outsiders stumble upon my people or our neighbors in the throes of ritual fervor, the response varies by the nature of the tribe. Those who are forgiving will chide the interlopers, perhaps giving them a few knocks on the head to speed them on their way. Those who care little for the well-being of outsiders strike them furiously but without killing intent, intent on teaching them a firm lesson but this once before casting them out. There also lurk those who secretly pray for trespassers, whose blood sacrifice ritually nourishes the tribe. The last is a path into darkness I will not allow Westcrown to walk. For the other two, I can sleep soundly this night with the choice of either. There is no right answer at this point. What would your people do in the same situation?"
Vanhwynne ties up the two living bandits, dousing the unconscious one with water to wake him up. She then takes up sentinel duty while Maddok, Semenya and Yahirma decide what to do with them.