Always fascinated by what magics others wield, Ascaria notes the spell. Must come in handy for him. he thinks to himself.
"Oh! Good evening! I'm a lucky man, if you're fixing to drink tonight, luckier if you're fixing to lodge. How may I help?"
"You are indeed lucky, for Eligos has sent us to you for both drinks and lodging!"
Ascaria smiles broadly and gestures to his friends. "What manner of lodging do you have? Is there some common room we can garner for our use, or do you have separate rooms?"
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Mortimer sprawls out on the pavement in an attempt to air himself out while he waits for the others. The space behind his right eye starts to sting a little as he feels the onset of a nosebleed.
I'm out of my league here. I can't compete with this guy. He has this three story mansion and Gods only know what else. I hope she wasn't all that impressed with this and his... dandyishness.
He rolls over face down in an attempt to smother the stench, or at least lessen it for himself.
... or that stupid skunk. A skunk. Man keeps a skunk, and yet here I am still reeking. He wanted me to go, I bet. Classy way to drive away the competition. I'd rather have dueled him and lost. I'm not making any friends in this horrid town, and with this stink, I'm not likely too. At least it'll be cover for me in the cemetery. Nature's way of saying 'Don't you dare bother me'.
He lays there, gently trying to drain the blood from his sinus.
I don't remember when I've been this upset. Maybe when the twins were making fun of me... What's taking them so long to get out of there? Did they decide to stay in the mansion after all?
He rolls back onto his back.
He takes a small amount of a silver-colored dust, and brushes his hands off in the direction of Mortimer, while intoning a sing-song like lyric.
Whatever it is, it hits Mort like a gentle sea breeze, but in his present mood, he barely notices the skunk smell dissapate.
Relieved when the others are escourted out of the mansion by Eligos, he stands and tries to cover any signs of the nosebleed.
"Try to avoid talking about any enchanted items we posess to people we don't know well. It's not unlikely that we'd be shanked in an alley just so they could take them. Also, who the hell is 'Penfold', and why would I let him use my hat?"
Mortimer's brow furrows slightly in sorrow.
"I think he may mean me."
Mortimer looks woefully from Hourpen to Tynan, then lowers his head and looks away. He swallows hard on a blood clot. He says nothing.
Nope, not making any friends here.
He silently follows the others to the Crooked House.
"Yes, please. I would very much like a drink."
<glugglugglug>
Hourpen follows close behind Tynan, doing his best version of cowed servant.
Eligos has to adjust his societal prejudices when speaking in front of you. He may or may not have been ready to suggest the others ask you about the poorer districts, especially the slave district.
"What manner of lodging do you have? Is there some common room we can garner for our use, or do you have separate rooms?"
Tarquin brightens up at the gnome's words. "Well, I wouldn't be a noble proprietor if I didn't have both options available, but I'm also a busy proprietor, so I'm only able to offer up my singles. Three on the second floor, aaaand... three on the third. Yeah, pretty sure one of them opened up..." He looks at the Varisian woman, who nods with a smile, reassuring Tarquin of his correctness. "Yep! And since you all seem to know Eligos, why don't we agree to four silver a head, a night, breakfasts and drinks, on the house! That bastard never let me down, never took it easy on me over dragonchess. Where were we? Oh, yes, how many rooms? Five?" The proprietor looks quite happy.
The flute player finishes, and the Chel dancer begins moving through the common room. When she approaches you all, she pulls her blouse away from her bosom, revealing a pair of perfect breasts. The sweat from the dance allows various coins to stick, and she encourages you all to toss your own coin.
If a coin manages to land upon a breast, and stick, you get a warm yay of congratulations! If a coin falls to the supporting sash beneath the breasts, she pouts, and encourages you to another chance. With another coin, of course. No touching.
Tarquin hands the dancer a bottle of wine, accepting a kiss on the cheek, before he turns back to you all. "Now, if you need to gather together, privately, you can always look in on the private hall, and use it if it's not occupied. Lulu here," he points to the waitress, "and my wife, Christine, either can help you to your drinks, just ask, alright?"
Ascaria looks over the party and shrugs, ”The public room is fine I think for dinner tonight. Mostly, we’re exhausted by a long journey and just need some food and drink before turning in I expect and the rooms sound excellent. And yes, five is fine.”
”Do, ah, you have any exotic local drinks I should be sure to try? Some speciality of the house perhaps? I tire of wines and ales of late.” he hopes the barkeep can produce something to challenge his tongue.
The flute player finishes, and the Chel dancer begins moving through the common room. When she approaches you all, she pulls her blouse away from her bosom, revealing a pair of perfect breasts. The sweat from the dance allows various coins to stick, and she encourages you all to toss your own coin.
Ascaria tosses a couple silver to be polite, but his heart isn’t in it. He likes sultry mystery, less so when they’re just served up like that. Though they are worth a couple silver to him…
After he’s had a drink or two and everyone has relaxed, a little, he suggests, ”I say we go shopping tomorrow. There are things we would sell,” he looks at Mort’s big trident, ”And a few things to purchase - if we’re in agreement.”
”I’d like to buy a pair of First Aid Gloves" he describes what they are and how they work before continuing. "...and a couple scrolls - Cure Blindness/Deafness and Remove Curse. Eri here can use the gloves I think as he’ll be close to the action, but not in it, if you know what I mean. Also, he’s faster, I’d wear ‘em but with my short legs I might be too far away to be of use.”
”If everyone is OK with that, we’ll have a bunch of gold left over for folks to buy whatever they want here in the city.”
Hourpen slides the Bracers of Armor +3 toward Ascaria. "And these. Unless someone else can use them they might be worth selling. Turns out can't use them after all."
Eri tries to be noble and not gawk at the dancer. He tries again. One more time he tries and then shakes his head to grab a couple of silver. With a smirk he takes careful aim and gives in to his baser instincts.
”I’d be happy to wear the gloves. If possible I would like to acquire another Efficient Quiver. I did not like running out of arrows.”
Mortimer follows the rest of the group into the Crooked House. He finds a space at the bar ample enough to contain his frame, and props the trident up against the bar. He then props himself up against the trident.
His whole body visibly relaxes as he begins to watch the dancer move. His eyes glaze over slightly, as he allows himself to become entranced by the performance.
The flute player finishes, and the Chel dancer begins moving through the common room. When she approaches you all, she pulls her blouse away from her bosom, revealing a pair of perfect breasts.
At this display, Mortimer suddenly snaps out of his trance, then looks away while pulling on his right ear.
What did I come in here for? [...] Aww, what the Hells.He grabs five silver pieces and gently starts tossing them to her one by one.
”I say we go shopping tomorrow. There are things we would sell, [...] If everyone is OK with that, we’ll have a bunch of gold left over for folks to buy whatever they want here in the city.”
Mortimer simply shrugs, then nods.
The dancer manages to only lose one coin of the several Mort bestows. She thanks him with a quick jingle of her wares, before moving on. The halfling is quickly behind her, snatching up the silver that traveled to the floor. He nods and winks at Mortimer, before following.
Meanwhile, Tarquin gives the gnome's request some consideration. "I'm not much of a showboater, more a middle of the stream kinda bartender. I'm sure you're not talking about me setting a drink on fire. That's too much work. I have some aged sippers, if you want. Brandy and the like. You could try some tepache, on the house. Otherwise... I'd have to charge you for my Dragon Punch or my Fish Eye."
Fish Eye is something of a rarity outside of Egorian, only for the difficulty obtaining the actual fish, which seem to be found only in Lake Sorrow. And yes, it's the humor of the eye of the Atropin fish, mixed with moonshine to dilute the hallucinogenic properties of the extraction. It's known to produce a lucid dreaming state, as well as the tendency for the imbiber to speak skewed truth, making it the bane of local artists seeking patronage.
...
A drizzly morning greets you all, as you head out to the marketplace. Fortunately, you're able to find an establishment off of Southgate Plaza with relative ease. The proprietress, a one Lavinia Vang, is welcoming, after it becomes clear you are actual patrons, and not simply seeking shelter from the rain. She spends time looking over all offered items, and finds nothing unmanageable enough to turn down purchasing them at fair market value. She is able to produce the First Aid Gloves you seek. She waits on you, patiently.
On your way about town, for a moment, you swear you see a familiar face among the crowd. A female face, eyes flickering with hatred, then she is gone.
"ooooohhhhhh. Fish Eye please." he looks to his companions, "Got my back?" he laughs, though he's somewhat serious.
Ascaria enjoys his visit with Lavinia and quickly gives the gloves to Eri and teaches him how to use them. "So if someone dies, you have to touch them immediately. Right away. Pronto. If you do, you might just revive them from death."
He also shares out the cash to everyone.
"Mort, let's get you some armor, then I need some help finding the churches to pick up some scrolls, but maybe that's for tomorrow. Anyone want to come along? I plan to visit the churches of Sarenrae and Erastil if I can find them and just generally walk the city."
He asks Lavinia one more question, "We need some mithral armor for my mate here - he gets hit entirely too often. Can you suggest someone in town that might handle such a rare metal?"
Mortimer watches the Chel dancer and Halfling flutist wander off. I hope she shares more of that with him...
"Got my back?"
"Of course, little buddy," assures Mortimer, quietly. "But be careful with that Stink Eye Drink. I drank something once -- I thought I knew what it was. Don't remember much after that. I woke up -- I think the next morning -- in the alley behind Lazare's. It felt like something huge fell from out of the heavens and landed on my head." He frowns at this, rubbing his forehead pensively.
He keeps an eye out on the gnome for the duration of the evening, and if necessary escorts Ascaria to one of the rooms on the third floor, taking another for himself nearby.
I probably don't need to wear this while in town, he considers in his room, removing, carefully folding and packing away the Immolation Shirt. I'll don it for the return trip -- or wherever we head after this. He goes through his pack, and draws out Thedrick's dragon tooth pendant.
This, though. I can't forget about Kendra and Thedrick. Maybe I can still find out to whom it was that this belonged. Or belongs... He puts it around his own neck, then tucks it in under his undershirt for safekeeping and as a reminder.
He sits on his bedroll on the floor considering the evening's events. Although he no longer smells of skunk, he can't quite shake the memory of the stench from his head.
He falls over onto his side and drifts off into a restless sleep.
Motivated by reasons unknown to him, he carefully positions himself on his stomach at the edge of the bluff, and taps on the top most iron ball. It falls onto the two just below it, which fall onto the two below them, and like some giant outdoor Pachinko machine, the whole stack of iron balls collapses in on itself. As it does so, it reveals the entrance to the underground spring it was concealing, and the entire field drains of water -- returning it to all of its luscious glory.
"Oh, Hells." he says, standing. "what did I do now? Someone's bound to be unhappy about this."
He wakes with a start, relieved to find that it is morning.
The gnome, once composed, begs Mortimer to accompany him to town for shopping.
Shopping? I hate -- oh -- right!!
"Hey -- those iron balls we found in the Whispering Cairns? Aesur says we might be able to find an alchemist/smith combination shop in Egorian. I've got 8 with me -- he said we have a shot at turning them into some kind of Impervious weapon. Did we want to consider that while were here?"
"We need some mithral armor for my mate here - he gets hit entirely too often."
Given the ceiling allowance, Mortimer draws himself up to his full six foot eight inches. "I'm just hard to miss. Maybe something to make me look 9 inches shorter might help too," he adds looking down at the gnome. He laughs at his own absurd suggestion.
"ooooohhhhhh. Fish Eye please."
Tarquin nods, retreating to the kitchen. A brief conversation occurs between he and Christine, and the sound of clinking coin, seems to settle something, and a couple of minutes later, Tarquin brings forth a wooden stand, with half an hourglass cradled between three dowels rising from the wooden base. A clearish-blue moonshine waits within, and accepts Tarquin's pour of a vial, which plops a mucusy clear bolus and two fish eyes. He stirs the half-hourglass briskly, then bids the gnome to do so, lest the suspension settle, and he finds himself drinking thin to thick.
The taste is strong, and reminds you of sweetened bread. The burn is slow, but powerful, and your sinuses are instantly clear. Something thick coats your tongue, but a second swig loosens it. On exhale, you catch hints of ginger and peppercorn. When you are 'lucky' enough to down a fish eye, it is only eventful if you bite down. Otherwise, it slips down your throat quickly enough.
Ascaria's left pupil has dilated to black, removing any trace of color from appearing. The right pupil has constricted... Come morning, he will have regained full function.
Your vision shifts between three dimensions, and two, as if one of your eyes chooses to close against your will, and reopen, at its pace. Almost the rhythym of a cold fish's gills... The patrons of the bar are particularly interesting, as their thicknesses shift as well. It makes you more likely to focus on an exaggerated feature one moment, then fail to appreciate the exaggeration the next. This holds onto you until you turn in for the night.
Sleep takes you instantly when you set your mind to it, and your mind is aware of each and every moment of the transition from waking state to slumber. Your brain travels through a canal, which drops you from lock to lock, until you are quite deep.
From your Crooked House bedroom, you find yourself soaring across Conqueror's Bay heading north. Alongside you, the green wisp of light soars, moving around you like a curious bee. It remains always in the corner of your eye, where your peripheral vision catches hints of changes in its amorphous shape. The both of you slowly descend, until your no-longer-clouded eyes focus on the Yondabakari River, which leads you to another body of water. From Lake Sorrow, to Lake Syrantula. You manage to place yourself at the western edge of the Fenwall mountains, slowly swirling, almost nostalgically. You slowly realize that you have been brought here. The green wisp moves about the land, as if trying to define something that doesn't exist now, but will...
...
"Can you suggest someone in town that might handle such a rare metal?"
Lavinia taps her lip, briefly. "Well, you won't find anyone further north wealthy enough to trade in mithral. You're likelier to succeed here in Southgate. Gandervall's should have enough reach, as Blaise himself is contracted as one of a select few smiths to work for the Hellknights. Do not worry, he is not exclusive. You'll find his shop down Wallwalk, towards Hellhound Hill. His shop is call Bear and Bellows."
Hourpen waits until the group is gathered and hopes the noise of the place will cover their conversation. "I was considering doing a bit of exploring, see what I might learn from the struggling parts of town Eligos mentioned. Anyone wish to accompany me?"
Day One
Eri looks at the price list at Lavinia Vang’s place. He’ll stick his tongue out a little and mumble to himself. ”mmmsssfffmm carry the three hhrrrmmmdd ggggghhh ….hrm.” He seems to look at the number inside his head as he hefts the money pouch Ascaria has given him and whispers to him.
”I would like to purchase an efficient quiver, please. I would also like 60 cold iron arrows (6gps), 36 javelins 36gps, 8 spears (16gps) and 6 buck and a quarter, quarter staffs (9?gps). Thank you.”
Ascaria wanders the bar, looking at everything, some of it up close. He ‘joins’ others at their tables, and watches them eat, he moves around the room trying to see as much as he can. So fascinating! Eventually, he runs out of steam, as if the drink has worn him down, and he goes to bed early, stumbling up the stairs. He sleeps a long time…
Over breakfast, he tries to describe the experience, but words fail him. ”It’s like I had another eye, another way of seeing. And then I dreamed, oh but how I dreamed. My spirit was there again, the green.” he shakes his head trying to remember it all. ”When all this is over, there’s a place I need to visit, see what’s there. Looks to be quite a trek though. so it’ll have to wait.”
When Eri whispers to him, he pulls out his purse, and doles out 600gp to the archer. Ascaria the loanshark.
When he gets the information about the blacksmith, he nods in thanks. ”Hourpen, you want to join us? Might have some excellent armor there if you’re looking to upgrade. I’d like to join you on your walk after if that’s OK.”
Ascaria heads to the Bear and Bellows, hopefully with others accompanying him, and greets the owner, if he can get to see him or her, warmly. ”My good artisan, we have need of improvements and we’re told you are the best around. Can you help us?”
Ascaria wanders a bit heading back, enjoying his stroll with Hourpen, and looks for a little dive to have an early dinner. He’s still tired from the journey and the breakneck pace of the last few weeks. He lingers over the meal and heads back to the Crooked House Tavern where he turns in early, hoping for a nice relaxing nights rest.
"We'll do the churches tomorrow." he mumbles to no one in particular.
"I would like to purchase an efficient quiver, please. I would also like..."
Lavinia's head nod turns into a head tilt, as Eri begins a litany on mundane weaponry requests. "I only do business in magical items, sir. Are you asking if I have magicked weapons, for I do. I certainly do not have the number you are requesting, which leads me to believe you aren't, which means you'll need to find yourself a weaponsmith or merchant to fulfill your less magical needs. I do have your Quiver, if you're still interested." She moves along the counter to a cabinet at the end, where she pulls out a Quiver that appears to betray the dimensions of the Cabinet itself.
"So, we have Gloves and Quiver. Is there anything else you require?"
...
Arriving at the armory/smithy, you find yourselves alone, for the time-being. The front door has a bell, and it has been rung by your entry. The entry room has several bamboo hack posts, tinged with coal dust, as well as three display pillows sitting below three windows, all poised to receive the day's sunlight. No weapons or armor in sight, only the sound of a very, very busy forge somewhere beyond the entry room.
Eventually, a very bored young lady walks in, the noise spiking as you manage to see the forgeworks beyond, before the door swings shut, and she dusts herself off. She startles, not expecting guests. She speaks loudly to you. "What brings you to the Bear today?"
Hearing the gnome's request for an audience with Blaise Gandervall, she shakes her head, then speaks loudly, again. "Unless you're an emissary of Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II, All Lift Her Name Above All Others Who Are Beneath Her in All Things, then you can speak to me, and I'll weigh your wishes."
Presuming you make your request, she is able to promise the armor for Mortimer by week's end, and can immediately fill Eri's mundane ammunition request, although she does roll her eyes at the archer as he jumps from arrows to spears to staffs.
...
Hourpen leads those who would accompany him into the Slave District of the town, known as Whipcrack to locals and slavers alike. The halfling quickly recognizes his need to satellite tightly with his own group, as several men and women, bearing whips and paper-boards eye him with predatory interest. There is the faint smell of blood on the air, and you've now traded forge-sound for cries of pain and agony. All present seem inured to the sounds. All, save for the halflings shackled in all manner of tortured postures.
There are stockades that would break the giant's back, all of them full. A dozen halflings stand in bowed posture, forced to look down on water buckets three feet in front of them at intervals, drops of rain creating ripple rings that offer some minor distraction from the discomfort. A little further, and you enter a darkened alley, where cages hang from arches, and halflings sit or stand, clutching at their bars, and observing those who pass below. A little further still, and you come across the auction blocks, where naked halflings are brought center stage for beautifully-dressed Egorian servants to look them over, pinching the backs of the upper arms, lifting lips to check gums... The servants consult among themselves, nodding or shaking heads, until either coin is produced, or hands of rejection are raised, and halflings are brutally yanked from the stage and whipped for their failure.
You are petitioned often to partake in private viewings of stock, and the group as a whole is queried every once and awhile about Hourpen's skill set, and the likelihood of trade.
Welcome to Whipcrack.
Solrisa pays to have Memory of MemoRae stabled near the Crooked House Tavern, pleased that she didn't become panther poodoo.
Solrisa smiles, pleased to be invited to go with Hourpen, as she debates a second cup of Dragon Punch...because dragons can be both good and bad. She walks with Ascaria to go shopping each time stopping at tables, trying to find something to repay Ascaria's giftsie-presentie. She speaks with the vendors, asks questions of the vendors of what they think gnomes might like.
In the end, she buys nothing, but continues to think about it. She also dreams of making her armor magical so that it is less likely to be damaged.
Solrisa moves up to speak to the armorswoman.
"Do you think you could make my armor better? With magics?" Solrisa spins in her full plate so that the armorswoman might take it in. "Do you do that here?"
* * *Walking the Whipcrack* * *
Sol walks silently through the slave pens, her face not smiling. There is no joy in this place and it reflects in Sol's face. She cannot wait to leave, wondering why Hourpen wanted to come here in the first place.
"Uh-oh. Better not imbibe tonight. I've got my work cut out for me... He watches Ascaria with a weak eye so as not to cause the gnome any undo anxiety.
"And then I dreamed, oh but how I dreamed. My spirit was there again, the green.”Mortimer perks his ears up at this 'revealation'. "'Green'? There was a field in my dream, it was very green. Did you mean like that? Do we really need to wait to make this visit?"
" would also like 60 cold iron arrows (6gps), 36 javelins 36gps, 8 spears (16gps) and 6 buck and a quarter, quarter staffs (9?gps)."
Mortimer raises a single eyebrow at Eri, and wordlessly offers him one of the several darkwood clubs he's carrying.
[ ... ] she shakes her head, then speaks loudly, again. "Unless you're an emissary of Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II, All Lift Her Name Above All Others Who Are Beneath Her in All Things, then you can speak to me, and I'll weigh your wishes."
Mortimer kneels on one knee beside the gnome so that he might whisper in the diminutive humanoid's ear. "How do we get to be one of those?"
Staying in the semi-kneeling position, he bows his head to the Bored Young Lady and adds, "Please uh, Miss. We have some other things that might be of some interest to, uh -- the Queen's" what was all that she said? "Her, uh Infernal Majestrix so much so I am not allowed to say her name" I mangled that ... play it off ... good thing She's not actually here "s'sss' -- fine Armory and Smithy Establishment."
He looks up at her with smiling eyes hoping to at least be somewhat entertaining to The Mistress of Ennui, then starts to produce five darkwood clubs and five four pound iron balls of high quality from his pack (keeping one club and 3 balls) -- all the while kneeling.
Mortimer quickly tires of repeatedly using the phrase "Thank you, no! We're not interested." as he follows Hourpen around the poorer districts. He nonetheless never fails to reiterate the locution whenever they're approached with an offer or 'tempt'.
They call this civilization? I think they need new books. He keeps his eyes peeled for Alternative Churches.
"Yes, of course Acaria. I'm sure it would be better if I didn't go alone. I'd be interested in improving my own armor, but I think that may get a bit pricey. No harm in seeing what is available."
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"So, we have Gloves and Quiver. Is there anything else you require?"
"That should be everything for now, you've been most helpful - thank you!"
"Unless you're an emissary of Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II, All Lift Her Name Above All Others Who Are Beneath Her in All Things, then you can speak to me, and I'll weigh your wishes."
"Er, of course. Sorry, I meant no disrespect, I'm sure you'll be great!" He does indeed help Mort through the process of spending all his money.
...and the group as a whole is queried every once and awhile about Hourpen's skill set, and the likelihood of trade.
Ascaria is uncomfortable during his tour of this district and stays close to Hourpen out of a fear that he'll simply be carted off if not held closely. He idly wonders if he is in fact 'owned' by the military, but he leaves it alone for now.
He considers channeling near the cages to help out the poor halflings, but he fears being noticed so he leaves it alone...
- - -
Mortimer perks his ears up at this 'revealation'. "'Green'? There was a field in my dream, it was very green. Did you mean like that? Do we really need to wait to make this visit?"
"No, green as in magic, not green as in grass. It's hard to describe really." he thinks a moment before continuing, "I travelled quite far in my dream. I don't know how far it is in real life though. I need to see a map, and even then I don't know if I could find it again easily. It promises to be quite a trek."
"It was north across Conqueror's Bay, then along the Yondabakari River to Lake Sorrow, then on to Lake Syrantula. Finally along to the western edge of the Fenwall mountains. It's quite far."
He idly draws the map on a scrap of paper to help remind him as he speaks.
"I only do business in magical items, sir. I do have your Quiver, if you're still interested."
Eri ceases looking up at the board as Lavinia begins her litany of charges. He stares at her as she drones on and on about how much regular weapons are beneath her. When she stops talking he shakes his head as if coming out of a dream.
”Yeh, just the quiver then.” His smile impossibly broad, he carefully counts out his coin on the counter. ”Thank you very much, indeed”
Not much of a people person. I guess.
”Unless you're an emissary of Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II, All Lift Her Name Above All Others Who Are Beneath Her in All Things, then you can speak to me, and I'll weigh your wishes."
Eri squints slightly at the incessant enumeration. What is it with these people?
Welcome to Whipcrack.
Oh, yeh. Fook this place. I hate it. The archer needs booze, badly!
Tynan accompanies Hourpen into Whipcrack, keeping his hand on the back of Hourpen's neck in an outward display of ownership. Hoping to give him a small bit of comfort at the more horrifying sights, Tynan gives him a gentle squeeze and pulls Hourpen closer.
Rapidly numbed by the foul treatment of the halflings all around him in Whipcrack, Tynan quietly speaks to his companions, anger evident in his voice.
"I've seen more than enough here... let's make our way out of this place."
-----
Upon leaving the Whipcrack district, Tynan leads Hourpen into an alley free of prying eyes. Kneeling to eye level, he removes his hat and hands it to the halfling.
"Wear this while we are in this foul city. Concentrate on the appearance of a gnome or dwarf, and you will appear to anyone viewing you as such." Tynan stands, and speaks quietly. "You and your people deserve none of this treatment."
Over breakfast he asks if anyone would be willing to join him in his church tour, ”I plan to visit the churches of Sarenrae and Erastil today. If I remember right, they’re in the poorer neighborhoods, so it might be rough. Uh, anyone care to join me? I’d rather not wander around out there alone, but I can if everyone is busy.”
He explains that he wants to walk the city a little in the morning just to stretch his legs and see what there is to see. He won't be visiting the slave pens again. Then hunt down the churches in the afternoon. He doesn’t feel the need to have protection in the morning, but of course anyone is welcome to come along.
That afternoon, he visits each church and makes a small donation (10gp each) to their coffers. He inquires at each about scrolls and holy water, indicating he’s looking to buy both.
For the group, he’s buying a scroll of Remove Blindness/Deafness (375gp) and a scroll of Remove Curse (375gp). With his own funds, he picks up a scroll of Invisibility Purge (375gp) and a scroll of Water Breathing (375gp) as well if they can pen them. If they have Holy Water, he’ll pick up 10 flasks (250gp), and distribute them around to everyone as soon as he can (2 each).
He dines that evening at the Crooked House, and again gets to sleep early.
Hourpen offers a deep bow to Tynan.
"What surprises me even more than the sights here that confirm the worst nightmares of my youth, is the care and protection you and the others have offered. Thank you."
He takes the cloak, concentrating on the likeness of Ascaria. May those intending injustice see us as brothers.
"I will go Acaria. I would very much like to learn more about the source of the great feats you perform."
Solrisa ends up deciding against any magicking of her armor or shield, preferring to save her gold for something else.
* * *
Over breakfast he asks if anyone would be willing to join him in his church tour, ”I plan to visit the churches of Sarenrae and Erastil today. If I remember right, they’re in the poorer neighborhoods, so it might be rough. Uh, anyone care to join me? I’d rather not wander around out there alone, but I can if everyone is busy.”
Solrisa eats quickly so that she might attend Ascaria and watch him as he wanders and shops. She knows she still needs to get him a return giftie-presentie, but does not yet know what he might like.
She watches him as he wanders and shops, keeping an eye on what takes his fancy.
"So...Ascaria...what are you looking for?" Sol asks with big wide totally innocent eyes. "I'm just wondering."
"I will go Acaria. I would very much like to learn more about the source of the great feats you perform."
"Thanks Hourpen, that'll be nice. I dunno how much my powers match theirs though. We draw the same water but from different streams if that makes any sense. I must admit, I'm not really sure where my power comes from, but I do have a lead to follow up when all this is done." he grins.
"So...Ascaria...what are you looking for?" Sol asks with big wide totally innocent eyes. "I'm just wondering."
"Well I need some scrolls and holy water, stuff I'd rather not get from the Asmodeans, you understand." he tries to get s drink of water and wrestles further with his sling bag, nearly dumping it out as he digs through it.
Never can find what I need, and this thing is so heavy!
He mutters as he finds the flask. "Say, anyone thirsty?" he creates a little water and offers it around from a small steel flagon he has. He rinses it from the charcoal dust that accumulated from the bottom of the bag and passes it around.
Uh, anyone care to join me? I’d rather not wander around out there alone, but I can if everyone is busy.”
”In this town, being a moving target seems like a good call. I’ll tag along.”
”Say, anyone thirsty”
Canary brings the party. I could use some light.
Yes, please.
"Do you think you could make my armor better? With magics? Do you do that here?"
The young lady nods. "Yes, we could help you with the magicking. You'd need to leave it with us for a couple of days, but we could get it done for you, depending on your request." She nods a second time when the work is declined.
He looks up at her with smiling eyes hoping to at least be somewhat entertaining to The Mistress of Ennui, then starts to produce five darkwood clubs and five four pound iron balls of high quality from his pack.
She looks over the items, hardly giving the clubs a second look. She picks up the iron sphere, hefting it, while looking questioningly at the giant. "Do you need something made from this, specially? I'm not a mind reader."
Upon returning to the Crooked House, you are greeted once more by Tarquin and crew, who seem more than a little busy taking care of the patrons. Music fills the air, as well as laughter. There are strange faces, as well as familiar ones, as you take in the gathering.
Two of the previous night's businessmen are at the back, entertaining a dwarven merchant, while two woman enjoy each other's company at a nearby table over drinks. Lulu makes sure everyone is tended to, and she flicks her head to the back meeting room when you enter, should you desire dinner first, before retiring to your rooms.
Tarquin leans across the counter. "Sounds like Eligos is looking after you news to town. His butler stopped by earlier today to ask if you'd taken up rooms here, and made sure to tell me that any expenses you all incurred would be taken care of by Eligos himself by week's end." The owner gives you a knowing wink, and bids you all place your first rounds of drink at the bar. Lulu can take subsequent orders from the table.
The familiar drunk from last night becomes the familiar drunk of this evening. He looks up from his own drink, then smiles a gap-toothed smile, and approaches you all. "Welcome home, you all, welcome home! You must be tired, long day, long walk. Won't bother you, tired as you are, but... could you spare some coin? Not much, mind you. I wouldn't ask, but... work's been hard to come by..."
Tarquin looks immediately vexed. "What did I tell you, Axton? Do I need Tamash to throw you out of here? I'll do it, don't think I won't."
Tarquin won't. Feels like the owner understands that any coin you give Axton's gonna end up in his possession, regardless.
The gutters maintain the wet of the previous day, but no new rain falls today. A relative cool wind blows from the north, leaving the day grey, and overcast.
Led by the gnome, you all work your way north into town. From Southgate, your walk takes you into Thrune Square. The Grand Temple of Asmodeus on one side, the Imperial Palace on the other, there is no doubting the sheer oppressiveness of the architecture, not to mention the Forks. Perhaps thankfully, there are only two fresh bodies working their way down the impalers. They are largely quiet by now...
Old City, to the northeast, welcomes you with a much more familiar sense of architecture, which seems to resist the desires of the newer parts of the city to assimilate. Passing through Longmarket into Bilgetown, you are able to locate a small chapel to Sarenrae, as well as an old seminary dedicated to Erastil, which caters to the fishers and tradespeople of the lake. There are hardly any worshippers visiting during the day, when faces are more visible. Several street people appear to take note of your entries and exits.
Between Longmarket, and either of the churches, you are able to secure your necessities.
Entering the chapel, you catch a brief glimpse of a man who looks eerily similar to Tynan. Then he disappears down a distant alleyway.
Hourpen makes like he is laughing at the man's greeting, "And quite a home it is."
Hourpen looks around cautiously as they walk, having to remind himself several times that he has the look of a gnome and shouldn't attract the type of attention that has him worried.
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”A wise man once told me that if I see a fork in the road, take it! I think I’ll leave those alone.”
I hate this place.
Solrisa walks around the not-halfling district enjoying it much more than the sad-halfling district.
The familiar drunk from last night becomes the familiar drunk of this evening. He looks up from his own drink, then smiles a gap-toothed smile, and approaches you all. "Welcome home, you all, welcome home! You must be tired, long day, long walk. Won't bother you, tired as you are, but... could you spare some coin? Not much, mind you. I wouldn't ask, but... work's been hard to come by..."
Ascaria absent mindedly tosses him a couple silvers.
Tarquin looks immediately vexed. "What did I tell you, Axton? Do I need Tamash to throw you out of here? I'll do it, don't think I won't."
"Oh, no Tarquin, he's OK. Please, let him stay. It's much more comfortable in here than out on the streets." he implores.
Between Longmarket, and either of the churches, you are able to secure your necessities.
Ascaria is pleased to get the scrolls both for himself and the group. He tucks them in his bedraggled sling bag where they mix with the various drawings and other detritus. He wonders for a moment how he’ll find them again, but trusts it’ll be OK.
He passes out the holy water so everyone has some.
He hoists his heavy sling back back on his shoulder and presses on.
Tynan gets Solrisa's attention, and points at Ascaria's bulging backpack.
"If you're looking for something he needs, I think a pack which could hold more of his belongings might be an excellent idea."
She looks over the items, hardly giving the clubs a second look.
Mortimer's ears turn a little red. She must think I'm a Caveman now! "Those were gifts. I'm keeping one. I think I might create something out of it," he says, by way of explanation.
She picks up the iron sphere, hefting it, while looking questioningly at the giant. "Do you need something made from this, specially? I'm not a mind reader."
"I assure you, taking that on probably wouldn't be much of a challenge for you anyway," he grins, thumbing at his own skull. "But, nah, I'm not really all that martial," he adds. He raises his voice, wondering if he'll garner any Smith's attention. "These baubles we came across in our travels. If you have access to an Alchemist, they could work with Blaise. The metal is pure enough to craft into something that is at least -- Impervious. I was just looking to unload them for 8gp a piece if you think the Smiths here could use them." He raises an eyebrow hoping to at least haggle.
He takes thecloakhat, concentrating on the likeness of Ascaria.
As soon as he spots the halfling in disguise, Mortimer does a double take.
"Who are you, and where did you come from?!" he asks hesitantly, scratching his head. Ascaria's hat is different.
"[Eligos's] butler stopped by earlier today to ask if you'd taken up rooms here, and made sure to tell me that any expenses you all incurred would be taken care of by Eligos himself by week's end."
... ? Unexpected. "Well, how very kind of Eligos! We must stop back at some point and thank him for his generosity."
"What did I tell you, Axton? Do I need Tamash to throw you out of here? I'll do it, don't think I won't."
Do I really want a fancy drink?
"I'm not really sure where my power comes from, but I do have a lead to follow up when all this is done."
"I'm going too! I just have to see this place for myself!"
"Hey! Isn't that -- Tynan?" pointing (perhaps vaguely) toward a distant alleyway. He looks around for Tynan. "Oh, there you are, Tynan. Do you have a brother or something!?" He starts walking toward the alley entered by the disappearing doppelganger.
Solrisa's face brightens before slipping into an earnest, yet unintentionally comical conspiratorial look on her face.
"Oooh...you think so? A bag, huh? Like one of them Louis Ettin bags?" Sol counters, pressing for more ideas. "Here in Cheliax, I hear the devils wear Prava bags. Do you think he would like one of those?"
"Hey! Isn't that -- Tynan?" pointing (perhaps vaguely) toward a distant alleyway. He looks around for Tynan. "Oh, there you are, Tynan. Do you have a brother or something!?" He starts walking toward the alley entered by the disappearing doppelgänger.
"Who'd you see? Tynan? But he's right here!"
Ascaria none the less trails off after Mort toward the alley.
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"Who'd you see? Tynan? But he's right here!"
Solrisa smiles at Ascaria and Mort, following along.
"I used to make that mistake all the time! I thought Rae was around, but she wasn't. And didn't some of you think there was another halfling around when there wasn't? That happened a lot too."
"I used to make that mistake all the time! I thought Rae was around, but she wasn't. And didn't some of you think there was another halfling around when there wasn't? That happened a lot too."
"Yah, I know exactly what you mean! Now there's also gnomes popping up out of nowhere!" he says, hurrying toward the alley.
"Um...What? Where are we going? "
Eri follows along.
"The metal is pure enough to craft into something that is at least -- Impervious. I was just looking to unload them for 8gp a piece if you think the Smiths here could use them."
The girl looks the iron balls over, then looks over the giant. "Eight gold? I'd have to test the metal to see if your word is true. If you want to leave one here, we can run it tomorrow morning."
Gaining the alleyway, whoever motivated Mortimer to move in that direction doesn't appear to be there once you arrive. Many a street walker, but nary a Tynan among the throng, save for the one at your side.
The chapel dedicated to Sarenrae is attended by a kindly old couple, both clerics, the Belasurs. They honestly admit that they're tolerated largely for their limited time on earth.
The seminary is a more permanent fixture of the district, and as well as your purchases, you are invited to a fish stew lunch, to ease your day's hunger.
Returning to the Crooked House, Christine bids you take up chairs around the common room tables, as the private room at the back is currently entertaining a decent number of dwarven merchants visiting with resident merchants you're familiar with. They've even gone as far as bringing the entertainment into a private performance!
Lulu and Christine work their way back and forth to see you watered and fed, while also attending to a small group at the rear of the House, who are smoking it up a bit with personal hookahs. Christine makes it a point to ask how your day's been, and Axton petitions again, though Christine's look has a more resolute effect, and Axton turns back to the bar, and pats his armrest comfortably.
The evening winds down, and you all retire to your rooms.
A decently-loud scream, then unintelligible bellow on the stairs can be heard, taking place on the first floor. From what you can tell, the others may or may not have heard the same thing. They do happen to be the less than perceptive ones of your group.
"Eight gold? I'd have to test the metal to see if your word is true. If you want to leave one here, we can run it tomorrow morning."
"Sure, take it. I'll be back -- I would like to know what you think." Leaving two of the iron balls, he lightly pounds his left hand on the counter while flicking his eyebrows up, then confidently heads for the door.
Returning to the Crooked House, Christine bids you take up chairs around the common room tables, as the private room at the back is currently entertaining a decent number of dwarven merchants visiting with resident merchants you're familiar with. They've even gone as far as bringing the entertainment into a private performance!
He's happily distracted by Christine's interest in the group's visit, blathering banally about their comings and goings. However, while taking a seat in the common room, Mortimer causally tries to observe what it is the merchant dwarfs are trying to sell. He's visibly disappointed when all the barterers disappear behind closed doors.
Whoa. Now it's exclusive? Adamantium?
~~~
Shortly after retiring to his room, Mortimer hears signs of struggle coming from the first floor. He bolts down the stairs bellowing at the top of his lungs.
”Rawr!”
?
Wearing his amulet of natural armor, Eri casts Mage armor and heads toward the stairs.
AC 12
CMD 16
BAB +3
Defensive casting = 13 (@5th)
Spell Penetration= 5
The spells/day listed will include the casting (if any) that I made this round
b]Orisons[/b] DC:14(Acid Splash, Create Water, Detect Magic. Mage Hand, Spark, Message, Prestidigitation)
First Level: DC:15 (7/7 per day) (Feather Fall, Grease. Gravity Bow, Mage Armor, Magic Missile, shocking grasp)
Second Level: DC:16 (3/5 per day) (Admonishing Ray, Glitterdust, Gust of Wind)
Weapon equipped = +1 Composite Long Bow
+7 or +5/+5
+8 or +6/+6 within 30' with +1 dam
Tynan heads down the stairs in the wake of the bellowing giant.
That should wake everyone up...
Ascaria, having gone to bed early, wakes from a deep snore and isn't, for a moment, sure where he is.
Hearing the echo of Mort's bellow, he wonders if someone slipped into his room, but the thundering footsteps rule out that particular craziness. He gets up and opens the door to their room.
He turns and talks to the darkness, "Hourpen, something's going on with Mort. I'm going to see if he's OK. He hasn't been hurt yet, he's just yelling and running around. Might be drunk."
Solrisa awakens at the sound of Mort's screaming, worried that the man's down-there itches are becoming painful, but realizes quickly it must be more than that.
She rises, grabbing her sword. As always, she sleeps comfortably in her leather armor.
She goes to see if Mort needs help.
"For now you can think of me as Ascaria's brother. When we can chat with just the others around I'll tell you the story of my coming and going."
"I'm right behind you."
The first floor of the Crooked House Tavern is all abuzz as Mortimer finds the bottom of the stairs. One of the human merchants stands by the counter, waving his hands frantically, rousing the back room of dwarves, and calling out to the dancer to get help. She nods, and moves to the front door, as the rest of you follow close behind the giant.
"Careful! The big one is with him!" As soon as Tynan comes into view on the stairs, the man's tone changes dramatically. "That's the one!! He stabbed poor Tarquin, almost the moment the half-orc and dwarf stepped outside!! It was like he was waiting for just the moment!!"
The scene unfolding in front of you doesn't seem to argue with the man's words. Tarquin lies on the floor, bleeding out with a dagger shoved deep into his chest, while Christine cries out in anguish. "Please! Help Tarquin! He did nothing to deserve this!" She doesn't lift her tear-stained face to look at anyone, keeping her hands pressed near the dagger to stop the bleeding.
Tamash, the half-orc bouncer, is not present, but Axton the Barfly still is. He looks at you all with wide eyes, but says nothing at present. Both the dancer and the halfling are on the move, while several of the dwarves emerge from the back room, two of them armed. From the private bedrooms, the familiar merchants both emerge, as well, both armed with longswords. The merchant/cryer's companions stand, but seem to hesitate about moving forward, though they do touch on their hips for the weapons still sheathed.
The room still has a heady quality, from the smoke of the hookahs, and your vision seems to play at faces, as you look about the common room.
"That's the one!! He stabbed poor Tarquin, almost the moment the half-orc and dwarf stepped outside!! It was like he was waiting for just the moment!!"
"I've not left my room all evening, and would have absolutely no reason to attack Tarquin... he's been more than polite to all of our group." Tynan looks around for Ascaria. "Ascaria! Quickly, we need your healing skills!"
"For now you can think of me as Ascaria's brother. When we can chat with just the others around I'll tell you the story of my coming and going."
Does his voice seem familiar or what? He takes a closer look at the gnome. Nah...
"Fair enough... do you at least have a name?"
~~~
Mortimer looks from the fallen Tarquin to Tynan and shakes his head. He holds out his hand to Tynan bidding him to stay back for the time being.
He coughs lightly, trying to clear his brochial tubes of the smoke in the room. He takes in the carnage thus far.
"Ascaria, are you coming?! Tarquin needs you! Hurry!" he calls up the stairs.
"Please -- just hold on a second," he says to the merchant accusing Tynan, "If he did this, why would he still be here? There must be some mistake. Take a closer look, are you sure? We just saw someone earlier today who looks quite a bit like him."
He does his best to stay between Tynan and everyone armed.
"Please, let Ascaria help Tarquin," he implores Christine and the other House denezins, slowly taking a step or two forward as the gnome arrives.