hum, you are correct. arwen will then just ask the clerk
"Do they make stuff that be rank fer Orcs?" She blinks at Jethro a slight frown on her features.
"I think it's called `soap.' But it's not rank enough to be a useful Orc-repellant." Seeing the sudden frown on Suny's face, Jethro apologized quickly. "Sorry, just a little joke there. Unfortunately, I don't really know what we're going to need on this trip, so I'm just thinking that general equipment should do it. I hope we don't need heavy weapons and armor.
Jethro stepped back a pace, and looked up and down Suny. "Speaking of which, you might want to get yourself some armor as well. The orcs hereabouts don't throw snowballs."
Seeing Caln's arrival, Jethro turned to face the cleric. "Oh, good afternoon. Again. As I told the sheriff, I'm not a magical theorist, but I do know that a number of alchemists specialize in various forms of self-mutation. I heard of one that had practically taken a few levels in beholder." "But I see no reason why the gods couldn't do something like this. As our learned theologian put it, `they can do anything, 'cause they's gods.' Compelling argument." Jethro smiled. "But I hope Doctor Verne can tell us more."
Suny listens and smiles as Jethro replies. At his inspection of her current attire she laughs,
"I has leather armor, but why should I be wearin' it in'a town, surrounded by them's who's crew-ma...um...deep-uties..." She replies, "Asides, this be comfy..." She swishes the hem of the shirt she's wearing about a bit. When Jethro complements her on the comment about gods she grins and blushes,
"I in't never bin called a Theo-loggin' afore..." (^_^)
Hakiri follows the new recruits around, and delivers her report late in the afternoon.
"The featherbrained bit of fluff act might be an act, or it might just be irrelevant. You can tell by the way she moves she knows how to use her body in a fight. Have to ask Arwen about other things."
"Hmmm... he worships Pharasma, so he likes killing stuff, so he's a good fighter. Yup, put him in the front lines with the orcs."
"Good at talking. Really good at it. I think so, anyway. Mostly you can kind of understand what he's getting at. Pretty sure he does magic. He thinks his dad's an angel, but have you ever meet a wizard that wasn't a little touched in the head?"
Marco, whose been around for several months, "He's a scary bastard, good in a fight and pretty good at sneaking around."
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"Rations. It's a few days* drive there and back, and we'll likely be going on foot unless the badge can convince a horse out of one of the townsfolk-- six or seven horses, by the look of it. I'll remand rations from the lock up and see if I can't find those horses."
To Caln, Ausk looks him up and down and says "Long as we have an understanding on the welcome nature of religion in my home. You nail somethin' to a wall, throw bones or start chanting and my wife will run you out of the house faster than I can." An unpleasant run-in with a priest of Pharasma who saw Koria's leg and proclaimed that she was a 'weak-willed coward' for 'daring to defy the lady's will' soured her desire to interact with the Pharasman clergy, and his as well. The priest-- a person Ausk would later learn was, in fact, just a cover identity for some half-cent demagogue-- had made a few remarks about her resemblance to some Pallid Princess and Ausk had turned his face inside-out before they'd hit the city limits.
Truth be told, he didn't like religion. Preachy. Took a man's focus and put it on some intangible thing that didn't matter.
After his conversation with Caln, Ausk hits the stables to see if he can't beg or borrow a horse on good authority.
Hakiri follows the new recruits around, and late in the afternoon.
After chatting with the group and offering details, information and making plans for the coming expedition, Suny will eventually skip over to the Tavern/Inn where she is staying and have as descent a meal as is possible before retiring to bed in the relatively early evening. In the hopes of being up early, bright and refreshed for the adventure to come.
(^_^)
After Arwen and Marco get their questions answered by the Sheriff and the Clerk about the Orc's status, Marco speaks to Arwen.
I am ready for tomorrow, but that will not stop me from dicing and cards tonight. Care to join me in the Tavern for a few cold ones?
i get mad if i lose to cheaters, therefore i don't gamble
Fine by me, see you in the morning.
Provided Marco catches up with Suny before she retires for the night.
Care to join me for a few drinks, Suny?
Jethro will also head to the tavern after he finishes his errands. Let's see, that's 100 sp in a cheap pouch, some tobacco for the natives, a bottle of whisky -- rather vile, actually, but I'm unlikely to run into a whisky snob among the Crotchrot tribe of orcs -- a ten pound bag of flour, and a large jar of cooking oil. Between the flour, oil, and Caln's cantrips -- excuse me, orisons -- that should keep us on our feet for a month if things go completely pear-shaped. I just hope Ausk managed to get rides for us, because otherwise I'll need to beg one of the orcs to carry the load.
Of course, if he did manage to get rides for us, I get to spend several days perched unsteadily on the back of a far-too-large animal, which will not be fun, either. I lose either way, basically.
He is still waiting for a chance to see the doc's autopsy results.
"Now, for that drink,... and to dust off the lute to pay for it. I wonder if this town likes murder ballads. Somehow, I don't think those elvish greeting-of-the-evening chants the Druid liked to sing would go over well, but everyone likes blood." I wonder if I can coax anyone else to help out and make it a group activity.... "Ironfist said this place had the `best beer in Golarion.' Why, oh why, do I doubt that so strongly?"
Not really having an interest in going back to the Tavern after spending time there already canvassing for information, Caln heads back inside the Tributory Building to talk to the dirty looking human youth to see if he can get any information about the Orcs, the Marshall, and the Town.
Caln and Jethro both arrive at the entrance to the tavern at the same time. The old man sitting there has not budged from his original seat and has clearly been in his cups since morning. He looks up at the two of you drunkenly as you approach. When Caln asks if he and Jethro can be seated with him, his scowl merely deepens, and he mutters "free country." Over the next ten minutes, however, Jethro is impressed by Caln's easy way of speaking. For an outsider, Caln had a mysterious knack for knowing exactly what to say to calm the drunk's standoffish attitude. Every so often, Jethro adds a wisecrack, anecdote, or relevant dirty joke that's enough to get a smile from the grizzled old man. By the time ten minutes have passed, you think he's a bit friendlier to you. You learn that Lewis is not actually as old as he looks, merely defeated. He was a former soldier for Lastwall's armies, fighting orcs in the mountains to the southwest of here. When the orcs were sacking Ironhearth Foundry, Lewis was chastised for leaving his post to fight in the battle. He fought alongside the dwarves there, for he knew some of them and called them his friends. They all perished when Ironhearth was sacked by the Steel-Eaters. When he escaped, he bitterly returned to Vigil and made an impassioned attempt to "Get those scum-sucking vermin to answer for their crimes." He doesn't elaborate further on what it was he attempted to do, but he was exiled for it and has been drinking away his sorrows ever since.
Caln attempts to find out what the Tavern patrons have heard about mutating orcs, thoughts about the Marshall and the Steel Eaters
After delivering her report on the new recruits, Hakiri has the evening off. She hesitates outside the tavern, but she has learned to avoid it. Alcohol seemed to give many residents of Freedom Town a desire to open up to her about their true feelings towards the orc in their midst, and its ability to shorten an orc's temper was legendary. Touching the scar on her belly where the Marshall Oswald's bullet had passed through her, she sighed and headed home.
** spoiler omitted **
** spoiler omitted **...
If Mr Cranky is willing to talk about Caln will see what he can learn about mutated orcs, steel eaters and the Marshall.
Meanwhile, Suny quickly resolves a deal for room and board for however long she likes at The tall man identifies himself as Leonard Truffe, and he walks around the countertop as he identifies what Suny is after. By the time she's finished paying, he's standing directly in front of her - looming at a height of almost seven feet. Arwen and Marco know as residents that Truffe's reputation as a gentle giant is well-deserved - any trouble that happens within Freedom Town's limits hardly ever touches his Inn.
Hakiri: You "wrote your report" before actually seeing how they went about their business. I liked what you wrote, don't get me wrong, creative use of the Appraise skill, but you might feel the need to update what you've written about their characters after seeing them do things (for example, Caln's use of diplomacy with the drunk, or, if you decided to catch up with Jethro and Suny at the inn after Caln enters the tavern, seeing how Suny reacts to being groped might be worth noting.) If you do feel the need to retcon what your report contains, that will be fine.
Skipping barefoot into the tavern, the Elven lass taking some time to wiper her feet free of street dust upon the threshold. Suny ambles over to the 'bar', plonks her backpack and its contained chest down upon the floor before hopping up upon any chair or stool placed before the central edifice of the establishment.
Absently folding her legs up beneath herself she leans upon the counter and smiles at the person behind the large slab of wood which decks this part of the room.
"Hey-YA there!" She gives her usual chirp of a greeting as she engages said fellow in conversation. With his attention caught, she asks about the things that have brought her here, room, meals, cleaning and security. Interspersed with her comments are questions sprinkled in.
'Whut's tha' pace called?', 'Whut's yer name?', 'Who be that?', 'Who be them?', 'Whut be things good ta' snaffle?' With her questions rambling off into questions about why the town's folk dress or act they way they might.
And, if she does catch any one's eyes, Suny simply smiles and waves back to them with an open and cheery grin. Thence, with said various endeavors out of the way she does hop down from her perch, looking intently/innocently as Leonard moves to stand before her. Being a willowy six foot tall herself, She seems to have no problem -or evidences no resemblance of threat- from some one who is but a slight head or so taller than herself.
Gathering her things and moving to take residence within her new room, Leonard's attentions garner a friendly laugh, Suny's demeanor not actually changing, her stance such that there is no rejection of such actions. Indeed, one might think that such physical interactions seem completely normal to the tall, tanned Elf who is wearing nothing but a large canvas shirt with nothing but a belt beneath.
Marco enters the Tavern, and seeing Suny, approaches with a smile.
Can I buy ya a drink, deputy? What is yer poison?
I did catch your questions, actually - but you indicated that you were planning on asking the sheriff that question AFTER you finished shopping with Arwen and Suny, and I thought you might want the chance to respond to what you saw or interact with the environment in some way before I gave you something else to respond to.
I believe in doing things in the order that they happen in-game, post-wise.
Very well.
Ah, yes, my "adoring" public. "What the hell are you, some kind of freak?" At least this time it's just an old woman, so at worst it's likely to be a shouting match and not a knife fight. Jethro takes no notice of the gasps (he's heard them all his life), and finds a table where he can catch the eye of the barmaid.
"Good afternoon, lass. Could I trouble you for some bread and cheese for myself, and a gallon of ale for my mates, here. That will be..." --myself, Suny, Arwen, Marco, and Caln is five -- "five mugs, if you would. And do you have a name, lass? Mine is Jethro."
It has been a long, hot ride this morning, and Ironfist was up very early to get some travelling in before the heat of the day. People should start trickling in soon, when the sun starts to really hammer down on people. I can't imagine anyone wanting to work in the fields today any longer than they have to. And one advantage of being the new freak in town is that I might draw a crowd of gawkers.
Tavern perception:
As a result you aren't too surprised at Lem's hostile attitude. The boy is only 20, and came to Freedom Town a year ago. He still treats himself like an outsider, despite your and your wife's efforts to get him involved in the community. When he's forced to talk to you, though, his nose wrinkles up. You don't even think it's a conscious thing, he just becomes filled with disgust upon talking to you. You'd guess it's due to your ancestry.
Still, Lem knows the rules, and provides rations for a week's journey with only minor muttering. On top of the pile of supplies is a note from Oswald, written in a crabbed, thin script. It reads "7 horses req. for official sherriff's business, on Oswald's affidavit funeral expenses provided for." Unless there's aught else you want to say to Lem, you head over to the stables.
Ulfgar Ironfist, the stablemaster, is an old dwarf whom you know came to Freedom Town to escape the stolid life of the mountains (he never specified which mountains) in order to care for his horses. There are mothers in Freedom Town who care for their children less than Ulfgar Ironfist cares for his horses. Aside from his drink they are what he values above all else in the world. When you walk into the stables, you see Ulfgar conversing quietly with a tall, plain-faced man that you don't recognize wearing a brown duster jacket.
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Ausk walks plainly into the stables, noticing the two men but nothign else. "Note from the sheriff here for you, Ironfist," he announces, lifting the note and presenting it to the dwarf from across the stables. No need to involve himself in another man's business.
He walks forward afterwards-- he doesn't have time for pleasantries, really, and presents the note. He eyes the stranger over and tries to gauge the situation.
Maybe he should've had breakfast after all-- he's tired and a bit inattentive. "Morning stranger, from a stranger."
Realizing that the inn is probably not where the night life in this town is going to happen, Jethro finished his meal and took the lengthy trip to the tavern.
Marco heads back to his room briefly to freshen up, then he knocks on Sun's door at the Inn.
Suny, it's me, Marco...you up?
Having tucked her chest away and set her things out ready to have an early start in the morning, Suny skips over and opens the door to see whom ever is knocking on it.
"Hey-YA there!" She smiles in greeting to Marco.
"I still be awake. Am just gettin' ready ta' settle in." (^_^)
Ahhh, I see. Some of the others are at the Tavern, and I wanted to know if you wanted to tag along? I am headin' over now.
Suny beams happily at Marco's invite and eagerly skips out the door, spinning and locking the portal behind her, bending to hide the key just beneath its lip.
Okeys, sounds like fun!" (^_^)
Marco smiles broadly, which appears slightly out of place on the large, rough looking individual.
Great, let's go.
After the walk to the tavern, marco scans the crowd upon entering for other deputies and likely saps for a game of chance.
Perception:
Caln: Your attempts to gather information about the Steel Eater orcs with Lewis Faelorn sets him off into a fury. At first he limits his anger to ferocious-sounding muttering directly into his own beard as he chewed his lip, but as you continued asking questions about what he knew of them, what information he could give about the mutations, etc., he goes off the deep end.
He stands and staggers a bit, drunkenly, then shoves the table aside and attacks you, seeming to attempt to get you into a wrestling bear hug.
Grapple:
That's enough to beat your CMD as I calculated it (10+BAB+Str+Dex) - you are grappled. This fight is just between the two of you so no initiative - it's your turn.
Caln: Your attempts to gather information about the Steel Eater orcs with Lewis Faelorn sets him off into a fury. At first he limits his anger to ferocious-sounding muttering directly into his own beard as he chewed his lip, but as you continued asking questions about what he knew of them, what information he could give about the mutations, etc., he goes off the deep end.
He stands and staggers a bit, drunkenly, then shoves the table aside and attacks you, seeming to attempt to get you into a wrestling bear hug.
Grapple: 1d20+4
That's enough to beat your CMD as I calculated it (10+BAB+Str+Dex) - you are grappled. This fight is just between the two of you so no initiative - it's your turn.
Poor upset Lewis...Caln will try to calm him down by casting Gentle Rest as a standard action.
Touch Attack =
Yes, actually, you do need to roll a concentration check, but since I've already seen your d20 come up as a 2, I'll just rule that he bats your hand aside harmlessly before it can make contact. His turn!
Maintaining the Grapple, drunkenly:
Assuming it succeeds, he punches you, while beginning to cry and sob loudly. nonlethal.
Jethro, you're just walking across the town square on the side of the tavern at this point, and you're close enough to recognize Caln. You may or may not have noticed the scowling man from earlier.
Marco and Suny are somewhat further behind in the square, also heading for the tavern if memory serves me.
Ausk: Perception: You do not hear the growing noise of a fight starting down the street, because your focus is on the stranger in the stables. He smiles nervously at you when you state your greeting, then, as you meet his eyes, he slowly draws himself up to his full height. He was slouching quite a bit before, you see. He is a tall, lanky fellow at about 6'2". He takes a breath, lets it out in a quiet sigh, and turns to walk to the door. Ironfist is preparing the horses for travel.
*Skippy, skippy, skippy, skip* (^_^)