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"Saul counted you as an ally so I believe we can inform you that we shall we transporting spirits of the finest calibur. Though if we pass by appropriate shops, I suggest we pick up a barrel of fish-heads, brine, or worse with an open top. Any carrion bird that could smell the waft of filth may not be so inclined to try its beak on the other barrels..."
Sable's eyes light up and he whispers to Winter in Elven,
Kabak rubbed his chin with a well calloused hand as he thought on Sable's idea.
I like it Sable. But we'll need to procure such things while at the warf. Stopping anywhere for anything will only make us vulnerable to attack. Mobility will be our greatest asset besides reacting with complete violence to any transgressors.
Liquors are a problem...at least if the attackers know what is in the barrels. A torch could soon transform your load and the wagons into a burning pile of wood.
Explains Phileas and looks at his foreman, who shrugs to indicate that he has no idea.
"Perhaps instead of a bloody procession, we should split the carts up more? I'm sure we could bring on a couple of hired muscles if need be."
Im not sure if we could find hired men that we could trust on short notice. What if we made a couple of trips? Or we split the wagons up and present numerous targets? Sounds like we'll need several buckets of water on each wagon in case of fire as well.
Im not sure if we could find hired men that we could trust on short notice. What if we made a couple of trips? Or we split the wagons up and present numerous targets? Sounds like we'll need several buckets of water on each wagon in case of fire as well.
Bree frowns slightly at Kabal. "I think that if we split the wagons up, and group ourselves off, we shouldn't need more than a couple of more men, perhaps even hired from the ship it the barrels came in on. If we don't put more than one hired hand in each group, then it shouldn't be too much of a concern. They aren't going to try to overtake the rest by themselves, and most would figure the coin a fine compensation. In the end though, I don't really care what we do, I just want to get this done!"
Brilliant! Bree thats a good idea with splitting the men up. Lets do it. Anybpdy else?
How long til those wagons are ready Phineas?
My name is Phileas...I ignored it twice, but boy, thrice is enough! Gimme half an hour an everything will be ready...
Uh...yah right, of course its Phileas. Sorry buddy.
Kabal will spend the 30 minutes laying out plans with the others, tightening the straps on his armor, checking the cord on his crossbow and the heads on the bolts.
"Well tha' is all settled then. Din't know you 'ad so many words in ya Kabal. I reckon I'm gonna wet m'whistle before we set off, all this workin' builds up quite a thirst."
Corvax disappears off down the street and reappears and reappears about ten minutes later with a leather cup of beer in hand and munching on a pie filled with some mysterious meat like substance. He spends the rest of the wait sat in the shade with his pie and beer and generally enjoying the short break from work.
Just like Phileas has said: After about thirty minutes 5 wagons are ready to be driven down to the harbour.
The old wainwright looks up to the Blot and shields his eyes, because the sun is next to the Blot making it appear as if a blinded giant would look down on Riddleport.
I hate that thing...the wagons are ready, did you decide whether you want to form one trek or several?
"To best deal with wolves, the farmer moves his full flock of sheep at once to reduce the time they are at risk, and relies on his sheepdogs to keep away the opportunistic wolf who looks to nab a straggler."
"One convoy"
Well? Sounds like thats the plan. Lets get this show on the road. We're wasting daylight. We definitely dont want to do this is at night.
Kabal will climb up into one of the wagons.
"Odds would agree. Marshall our strength against what might be arrayed against us. To separate us, is to weaken us."
Sebastian will man the third wagon, figuring it will give him the best views of trouble be it from the front or the rear.
Rumbling through the narrow streets of Riddleport your small trek draws many interested and curious gazes, but most people refrain from asking questions when they recognise Saul's dangerous men. At the docks you need a moment of orientation before you spot the foam runner, a slender barge with one mast that can surely reach enormous speed. Here and there you are even greeted friendly and since the sun sends some warm rays down on on the City of Cyphers, you all have a feeling of "This is going to be a good day"
Steering the wagons over to the quay next to the ship, you are very surprised to notice that the ship is already unloaded and all your hopes spoilt! Half a dozen stvedores carry barrel afeter barrel out of the ship and onto waiting wagons...
"I think another eager farmer wishes to reap our harvest, but how nice they have done half the work for us, perhaps they have simply made a mistake..."
Winter hops down off the wagon.
"Ho there friends, we already have wagons and hands to do the unloading, very kind of you to do it for us, but I cannot pay you for your labour fees you might harbour as nothing was agreed upon. That said, being the good soul I am I will provide you the one silver piece per man, to a maximum of six, which is a fair days pay for dock workers... who is your foreman?"
Winter also happens to have his sword out as he makes his point, squaring off to make sure they understand he is only being polite because he is a gentleman, not because he feels he has to.
Kabal grimaced at the sight of the thieves who had apparently beaten them to the rum. He drew his falcata and went over to the wagon first in line in case they tried to make an escape.
Dont even think about making a bolt for it boys. Looks like we got a misunderstanding to clear up. Which that tall white haired fellow over there is handling.
After Winter's words a massive man, wearing platemail steel shield and holding a large bastard sword turns up from behind the wagons.
He sneers at you and proclaims
The cargo has been resold my friend, sorry, but you're too late.
The man is Braddikar Faje, a sellsword and former Korvosan Guard who works for changing employers.
Ask the captain, he was open for re-negotiating his deals.
"Well then, the good Captain has mistaken our property for his own, and you had best be asking him for a refund. The offer I made for the reasonable compensation of your labour still stands, and I have your silvers right here, friend."
"Your complaint and feeling of hardship is valid, for you appear to have simply been decieved, and your anger and harsh tone is rightly uttered but should be reserved for the Captain with whom the problem lies, but I intend to be taking that cargo which is ours - bought and paid for, back to the Goblin, and I intend on doing that now."
"I offer you no insult or bad will, I simply ask for what is ours"
Diplomacy -
You mean which is now MINE
The last word is really booming and lures the captain to the scene. A sturdy dwarf with a pegleg, a colourful parrot on his shoulder and a broad scimitar at his belt.
What da all da fuss about da? I'm da captain Fizgabon, and who da ya be da?
The tall man arches an eyebrow and looks expectantly at Winter.
"Winter, Floor Manager of the Golden Goblin, agent of Saul Vancaskerin who is the owner of this cargo. I have come to claim that which is rightfully ours, bought and paid for, and there appears to be some misunderstanding between you pair of fine gentlemen about some payment made in error between you."
"I do hope that this can be sorted out very swiftly as this cargo is due back soon, although I have a few moments to help clear up the misunderstanding as you have so kindly saved us the time of loading it ourselves..."
Corvax groans in exasperation when the 'negotiation' begins and joins Kabal in blocking the way off the quay, drawing his sword and unshipping his shield as he does so.
"Why is it tha' nothing we ever do goes as planned? Jus' once I'd like things ta go right."
The captain rolls his eyes and replies
Bah! I was da told da people from Saul were all dead da! Then Mr. Faje da rum is already sold to da people here.
The tall man grimaces and his hand wanders to the pommel of his sword, but suddenly he relaxes and smiles
Sure, no problem.
He takes a step back and signals his men to unload the wagons again.
Bah! Well, there you go Corvax. Looks like this is going to be nice and boring. Which would be a nice relief from the norm.
Kabal sheathed his sword knowing that he could have it back out in the blink of any eye if necessary but he didnt move from in front of the wagon.
"Huh, would ya look a' tha'. Talkin' actually worked fer once."
Corvax sheathes his sword as well and hooks his shield back onto his pack before folding his arms and waiting for the work of unloading the wagons to finish.
[ooc]You people roll like...during the last two days.[/b]
You don't spot anything that would explain the man's strange behaviour.
The dwarf looks down on you and shrugs
Da Faje told me da you were da dead.
Hearing his name the tall man looks over to you and explains
Just gutter talk then, I guess...I heard Croat's men got you...sorry for that tiny misunderstanding.
Oh really? Thats what you heard huh? Funny thing that since just this morning we were recognized for having killed Croats men.
Kabal scowled at the man who didnt seem so big anymore
Sense Motive -
The man avoids your gaze and spurrs his men to work faster.
Bree hops down off the cart and approaches Winter. In Elven she tells him what she knows of the man, speaking quietly so her words do not travel "His name is Braddikar Faje. He's pretty much a sword for hire, use to work for the Korvosan Guard. Now he works for whoever pays well. Perhaps if he believes that all of Saul's men are dead, he knows something about Larur's passing?"
After about twenty minutes the whole unload-reload action is completed and Faje makes a sweeping gesture accompanied by the statement
Everything's done as you wished my friends. Hope you reach the Goblin safely and without any occurences.
Bree squints her eyes at the man, having made such an ostentatious statement about the safety of her group. She grits her teeth, and attempts to hold her tongue but finds she just can't let it pass.
"A lesser woman might think that was a threat, Braddikar. I'm sure you don't mean to threaten us though, now do you?"
"Glad we could clear up that miunderstanding; clearly our demise has been somewhat prematurely declared"
"Good day Sirs"
Winter boards the wagon, ready to return to the Goblin, a wary eye still on his surrounds... ready for a cheap shot or act of vengeance.
Bree stands there a moment longer, her eyes locked on the man. Her jaw clenching then releasing, clenching then releasing. Finally she purses her lips, flings her braid back over her shoulder and makes her way to whichever wagon has room for her.
The scene is a bit cynical especially regarding your expectations, since there is no cursing, no attack, no nothing, just Braddikar who waves you goodbye...
Extra alert you accompany the wagons back to the goblin and miraculously nothing happens - well, at least not to the wagons, well at least not directly.
At first you think there was some kind of strange hailstorm beginning, but since the sky is clear, the tiny objects falling down on everyone can't be hail. On closer inspection these things look like tiny, black, porous pieces of volacanic stone?!
But hey, they don't remain to be tiny and about 30m away you can spot a man with a large bleeding wound on his forehead! These things surely grow with every second and more and more of them are coming down!
Winter looks for a place to get the wagons under cover, and fast...
"Bloody hell! I think I very well may kill Saul my bloody self."
Bree does her best to shelter herself in the wagon while alternating curses to Saul and the Blot.
You're next to the Goblin whose domed bronze roof resounds like a large metallic drum from the impacts of the stones.
Behind Corvax the first barrel was hit by a cone-shaped stone and rum sprays out of the hole all over him!
You spot a roofed yard nearby, there the barrels should be safe for now.
Reflex
Reflex
Reflex
Reflex
Reflex
Too busy thinking about the barrels, Winter gets pelted...
During the hail though, he pumps out a wave of celestial energy to heal the accumulating wounds...
Channel -
Heal
Heal
Winter is hit by four stones,
but his healing energy mends most of the wounds momentarily.
"Augh! Save the alcohol!"
Corvax unhooks his shield, holds it above his head and hauls himself atop a cart, trying to deflect any stones that would damage the precious liquor.
Reflex
Reflex
Reflex
Reflex
Reflex
Nimbly dancing from barrel to barrel, Corvax is able to dake a deep gulp of the rum fountain while simultaneously avoiding being hit and protecting the barrels - only one lucky stone lands on his boot.
By the Nine Hells and Pharasmer's hairy teats! This aint good at all! Bah! Lets make for that covered yard!
Kabal snaps the reins and drives the wagon as he can towards safety.
Handle animal -
All while trying to dodge the dangerous hail storm.
Reflex -
Reflex -
Reflex -
Reflex -
Reflex -
Kabal is also able to avoid most stones...but one
and helps the driver to steer the wagon underneath the roof.
Bree also hurries under the roof, being only hit by one of the stones that hits her shoulder
Bree lets out a startled little yelp as the meteor strikes her shoulder, but this seems to only fuel her tirade against Saul, the Blot, now Clegg Zincher and Braddikar Faje... and others spew from her mouth which are unfamiliar to any who hear them.