GM Smashtag's PFS: In Service to Lore (Inactive)

Game Master DSXMachina

Plod quietly munches through some trash that's scattered about in the street.

Mai gives Samara a grateful look. "I am glad somebody understands. Functionality is what is important, not superficial looks or images. Simplicity aids discipline and turns the focus away from self to the rest of the world." She gives a little sigh. "In my home land, my garb is honored as a symbol of sacrifice, service, and self-discipline. It is not considered a fashion catastrophe as it seems to be here."

She walks in slightly glum silence for a moment, then says to Passio, "Though I do like the design worked into the cloth of your garments. It reminds me..." She trails off with a shake of her head.

Out of nowhere Corbyn pipes up:

"Would anybody care to hear of the greatness of Ragathiel as we move onward to our destination?"

His face is wide eyed and stone cold serious as he awaits an answer.

Faeron shook his head with an amused lift to his lips at Mistress Mai's sulk as she moved to the back with Plod. It was unfortunate something had happened to the poor woman's store, but it sounded as if their companions were at least repaying her for the damages being done. Had he been with others he would have worried more, but just a few hours had left him with the knowledge that his companions were honourable if nothing else and they would act as was best. The grey eyes slid towards the exiting pair who were conversing quietly, not picking up most of the conversation until they had gotten closer to the mounted elf. Just enough to catch a few words about a halfling. The edges of his smile widening at the doubt in the other's tone as he once more helped the pale haired female up into the saddle.

A slight nudge of his knee and they resumed their trek to the orphanage. Turin's ears perked and alert for further danger as well as the fact that the massive grey was trying to stay as close to the female monk as was possible. For the moment the cavalier allowed this as it wouldn't cause any problems for more people to be near the donkey that contained their package. resuming his own watch while partially paying attention to the flirting disguised as bickering that had resumed almost immediately, if indeed it had ever stopped. He broke his concentration at the sorcerers touch because he felt the muscles twitch under them as the darkened nose swung dangerously around with ill intent. Pulling the opposing reign in warning.

"Turin."His voice was amused despite the sharper tone as he kept his jealous warhorse from taking a bite out of a companion. "It appears I missed quite a moment. Soothing savage shopkeepers now are we, little sister?He lightly inquired of the female sitting in front of him, laughter dancing in his eyes as she seemed quite flustered by the very idea as well as the praise. Amid all this the discussion on clothing seemed to be equally upsetting their other female companion. Mistress Samara's words hinted at how she might have gotten the shopkeeper to calm down as well. There were hidden depths here in all his companions.

"Be at peace, Mistress Mai. Your robes are much like yourself, tastefully simplistic and perfectly functional as Mistress Samara has said. You have already drawn more attention in them than any of the finely dressed ladies wandering the city have."His grey gaze moved meaningfully towards Jace and Passio with the amusement still deepening the lines around his mouth. He was enjoying the dance that the three had created around one another and hoped that whatever the steps might end in, that they would find peace and happiness in it. The sudden vocalization of their most reserved member had surprised grey orbs swinging towards the half-orc.

"And break your vow of silence, Corbyn?"He teased, knowing a story of any length would contain more words than he had spoken of in front of the group all combined.

Madame Solstdat stands in front of her shop, arm around her calling boy, one fist filled with gold coins. She watches silently as the party re-organizes itself in the street and moves off to its destination.

The businesses of the Coins eventually give way to the residences of Eastgate. Most of the houses on the main thoroughfare are well-kept, some even with small patches of flower gardens, and the cobbled streets are bordered by surprisingly clean gutters. Economic prosperity is indicated by construction: a workman's house is whitewashed wood, while a more upscale abode might be well-cut stone.

As the group approaches Auntie Baldwin's Home for Recovery, talking quietly amongst themselves, the nature of Eastgate changes. The gutters are more filled with refuse, and fewer stone manses dot the neighborhoods. The clothing of pedestrians shifts from silks and satins to broadcloth.

The Home for Recovery lies on a side street, branching to the north from the main road you have been following. At the entrance to the side street stands Miltivis' Market, while the Home for Recovery and two other houses occupy the east side. Across from these humble houses lies a large, odd stone house on a small estate; it is surrounded by a four-foot wall and gated at the road.

As the party passes the Market, a portly man with a badly-trimmed mustache standing at the door waves a hello. He is wearing a stained apron and is clearly the proprietor of the establishment.

Mai takes in the sights. "We seem to be here. Do we still want to stick with the plan to have Samara and myself watch the package while the rest of you seek information about the Home? If so, we should find a place Samara and I can sit and have a drink so we can stay still without suspicion. The man in the Market might be a good source of information." She speaks quietly hoping that nobody will overhear, lightly grasping Faeron's stirrup to keep pace with the big grey.

"I am not very good at the conversation things," says Samara in response to Faeron's question, "But setting things on fire is not a thing I commonly do. I guess even I was an improvement."

She looks around the area passively, and then silently listens to Mai Lin speak. "Yes, guarding is a thing that I would like to do. And drinking. But just tea or water. Nothing strong. My wits are my strength."

Mai looks around for a tavern or eatery where she and Samara might be able to sit in peace for a while without drawing notice.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

"Samara, can you see anyplace we could sit and eat or drink for a bit? I am afraid the crowd is in my way, but Turin's height should aid you." Mai pats the big warhorse's shoulder.

I won't spoiler this, because anyone wishing to take 10 to examine the street will be able to determine this information.

You and your party are standing in what amounts to a cul-de-sac. The Market is on the corner of the main thoroughfare and this side street. The entire west side of the street is taken up by the estate and mansion; the east side boasts the Orphanage and two other, smaller, houses. As you peer into the open doors and windows of the Market, you can see a counter with what appears to be bottles of various alcohols behind it, along with the usual staple goods; grain, produce, and the like.

The east side of the street is surprisingly quiet for boasting an orphanage. Several cats meander aimlessly around the big, wooden, dilapidated structure, and despite it being the middle of the day, no children are in evidence.

Mai removes the package from Plod's saddlebags and transfers it to her own nearly-empty pack, securing it carefully before shouldering the burden, then nods to Samara. "Shall we go get something mild to drink, sister?" She indicates the Market with a tilt of her head.

"Yes, that sounds like it would be a thing that is good," says Samara, smiling more genuinely than the awkward forced smile she gives in most social situations.

The area changed as they walked, getting progressively less populated by those seeking money or places to spend that money. He preferred it here. There was less of the sensations from home amid the more passive homes with their duller colours. None of the strict cleanliness, but more honesty. A light tug on his stirrup pulled the tall elf's attention down towards the dark haired monk at their side.

"We weren't aware of the extended interest in either ourselves or our mission."His grey gaze slid between the two woman and a faint smile grew on his lips. "Keep your eyes open, little sisters."The tall elf helped the female who had been sitting with him down as Mistress Mai seemed to have found where she wished to drink and pass the time. Swinging his own armoured frame up and off to the ground. Patting Turin's shoulder as the big grey was busy snorting and ruffling at the two female's to pay much attention to his master.

"I don't like how few children are about. If you ladies will excuse me?"He murmured the first mostly to himself, having seen none of the bustle he'd expect near an orphanage, and the last sentence to the two females with a deep bow.

"Turin. Guard."He caught the velvet soft muzzle that was nipping at Mistress Mai's tassels and pulled the big head around so he could stare at the huge brown eyes. A faint nicker and a rapid head nod showed Turin's understanding of the command and the cavalier smiled and pulled out a gold coin, passing it to Mistress Samara.

"Please buy Turin a drink. I'll return shortly."Another quick dip of his head to the two ladies and he stepped briskly away. Heading for the orphanage with one hand on his sword to keep it from being jostled as people moved past him. His expression stony as he knocked sharply on the wooden door.

"Samara, what kind of drink would Turin want?" Mai whispers, "Water? We should try the Market, I suppose."

Mai turns to Corbyn. "Perhaps you should accompany us to the Market, Corbyn? Faeron has an excellent point about us having more scrutiny than we thought when our plan was made. You can tell us of Ragathiel, too, while the other men check out the neighborhood and the orphanage."

Mai ensures the pack is secure, then heads to the Market, where she looks for a place where the three of them can sit and have a quiet drink.

"Perhaps you should accompany us to the Market, Corbyn? Faeron has an excellent point about us having more scrutiny than we thought when our plan was made. You can tell us of Ragathiel, too, while the other men check out the neighborhood and the orphanage."

"It would be a pleasure my lady. Perhaps we may find something for Plod as well. Eating trash off the streets has the tenancy to cause some irregularities with his digestion, resulting in unpleasantness later for not only him, but those around him."

Corbyn follows Mai to the market keeping an eye out for some place to leave Plod.

"Water, yes, I think water is the thing that horses like to drink most," whispers Samara in return, just because Mai whispered first. Maybe horse drinks are a secret where she's from? Who knows! Not Samara.

The heavy grey snorted when the two females began discussing what they should get him. Releasing a whicker at the idea of water. For HIM? A quick toss of his head sent messy silver strands dancing as he nudged Samara with his nose for her suggestion and reached out his neck to grumpily nibble on the monk's tassels. Swishing his tail twice and following them right up to the door of the tavern with no concern for not being allowed it. He was Turin, he was always allowed in! Well mostly, okay sometimes not...but well he was allowed in this time!

Mai watches the warhorse follow them to the tavern. "Corbyn, perhaps you can tie up Plod just outside the Market to give Turin company while we're inside. I doubt Turin will run off with Faeron nearby." She gives the big grey a pat on the nose and tries to dissuade him from eating the tassel on her sword, chuckling as she admonishes the beast. "Friend Turin, that is a symbol of my order and rank. Would you like it if I ate your saddle? I don't think so. Be patient, we'll get you some water."

Samara blinks a few times at being nosed by the horse, and she gives her trademark pat on Turin's nose in response. "We will get you nice things. I do not know what you like best to eat and drink, you are like me. Not very good at saying what it is you want."

Samara, Mai, and Corbyn:

The man in the apron smiles broadly as you approach with the animals.

"Hello, friends! I'm Miltivis! You can tie your animals at this trough here," he says, indicating the item in question. "Please, come in! I have all your basic necessities, plus some wayfarer's supplies, since you look like that type. Also, we carry some varieties of liquor if you're just looking for a drink!"

Faeron:

Your knock on the door is answered by, to put it bluntly, a haggard old crone. The small, bent woman is obviously blind in one eye and is missing several teeth; the rest are rotten. Her thinning, gray hair is pulled back into a severe bun, and she sneers up at you as she speaks.

"Eh? Eh? What do you want, elf? I don't take in your kinds' children; they grow too slow. Well?"

Jaces' eyes had looked wide at the mention of fripperies and his mouth opens slightly. Mai's words to Passio pull breath from him, 'I never meant to get him into trouble. And I never would force or want a lady to change her style based upon my whims....not matter how good she would look.'

At Mai's smile however his heart soars and he wanders into the square as if upon a cloud.

Jace looks to Corbyn with the pair of beautiful, if shy women, as he (and the others) approach the orphanage, then concentrates on the task at hand. He steps from beside the tall elf with a nod of his head; "Milady, I heard you were the proprietress of this establishment? Never fear we don't wish to sell you anything!" he says with a coy smile and the sincerity of years visiting the poor, but not poor of suspicions. "I am Jace Mercier."

The storm grey orbs look over the haggard appearance of the woman who answers the door. A state he could easily understand from her circumstances, but something in her attitude, the way she she sneered at them set his teeth on edge. Faeron's lips lifted, but it had edges, this wasn't a smile but a barring of teeth.

"How lucky for my kind's children, neighbor."He drawled before getting a slight surprise in having Jace step up beside him and greet the woman as well. Honestly he had expected the priest to have followed after Mistress Mai for as long as the dark haired female would allow. He tipped his head faintly in acknowledgment of the male's presence before returning his attention to the crone who ran the orphanage. Already feeling for the children under her 'tender' care. But then, appearances could be deceiving and perhaps life had simply ground any kindness out of her long ago.

Thankfully Jace seemed more at ease with her so he let the other take the lead so he could observe until Faeron came to his own conclusions regarding the facility. The hand resting on the pommel of his sword tightening on it for a minute as he decided that if she was as cold and cruel to the children as she first seemed it would be an issue he would have to remedy. It was a tragedy that children were lost or abandoned as it was without forcing them to suffer unduly for it. Even if it was outside of his mission parameters he could not sit idly by. Thankfully he did not think, from what he'd seen, that his companions would complain at the delay this might cause.

Mai bows politely. "Our thanks, Master Miltivis. We are looking for a quiet place to sit and have a drink for a time. Is there a table in the corner we might take? Also, er... we have been instructed to buy a drink for the warhorse, Turin. But there is water in the trough... do horses drink other than water?"

"Please, come in! I have all your basic necessities, plus some wayfarer's supplies, since you look like that type. Also, we carry some varieties of liquor if you're just looking for a drink!"

"You speak my language Miltivis. Are your greetings so polite with all of your customers?"

Corbyn ties Plod's reigns to the indicated location and makes his way into the building.

Samara allows the other two to speak, raising her hand quickly in a wave, lowering it down just as fast. She goes inside after Corbyn, staying nearby, before surveying the place for the perfect place to sit. Following Mai's idea of taking a table in the corner, Samara seems to contemplate two different seats.

One faces the wall, and nobody would see anything but the back of her head, except for her companions. But what if there is a bar fight and glass gets lodged in my brain? The other has the back to the wall, but faces all of those people. But if I sit there, everyone will look at me. She seems to have a hard time making up her mind.

Passio watches as everyone scatters to one of two places. Guess that leaves me to guard the package, Passio thinks to himself.

Perception to notice package was removed: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17

"Oh! I guess one of the ladies or Corbyn already got it," Passio says to himself. Shrugging, he realizes that Mai and Samara specifically invited Corbyn and no one else. Since his recent attempts to be kind to Samara and joke with Mai seem to have made them uncomfortable, he decides he will give them some time to themselves.

As Plod and Turin have been tied to a convenient post, Passio approaches Plod and pets his rough coat. He looks nervously at the cavalier's warhorse. Turin looks like he would bite, so Passio figures Plod is the safer one to give attention.

Plod receives Passio's attention well. Gods know he doesn't get any from Corbyn.

Passio notices the donkey seems to be appreciating the rubbing and continues to scratch the animal. Turin seems mostly focused on the point where he last saw the ladies, so Passio feels safe enough to move the side of Plod between the donkey and stallion, but with a careful eye for large warhorse teeth.

For a moment he sees a glimpse of the manor through the walled estate's gate and foliage of its garden. He ponders whether he should see what he could find out about how they feel about the neighboring orphanage. Hmmm...

"How lucky for my kind's children, neighbor."

The crone puffs up, full of bluster, and begins to snap back at the tall elf until . . .

"Milady, I heard you were the proprietress of this establishment? Never fear we don't wish to sell you anything! I am Jace Mercier."

She grunts in response. "I'm Auntie Baltwin, child. What do you and your pointy-eared friend here want?"

"Our thanks, Master Miltivis. We are looking for a quiet place to sit and have a drink for a time. Is there a table in the corner we might take? Also, er... we have been instructed to buy a drink for the warhorse, Turin. But there is water in the trough... do horses drink other than water?"

The fat man laughs. "Well, here's as good a place as any. Why don't you and your friends take a seat at the counter there and I'll serve you. As to the horse, there's water in the trough, and I don't know much else most horses like!"

"You speak my language Miltivis. Are your greetings so polite with all of your customers?"

He turns from Mai to Corbyn. "It's a poor shopkeep what don't make his customers feel welcome! So, what brings you folks by today?" he asks, as he peers curiously at the strange female elf hiding in the corner, as well as the gentleman standing outside in apparent commune with a donkey.

"Thirst brings us here," Mai says quietly, clambering up onto a bar stool. "Something mild, please."

She leans over and whispers to Samara.

Jace almost leans in towards the old crone, trying to get nearer her eye level to be comforting. "We have been sent here about a charitable mission. I believe you have been having trouble recently." He says warmly.

"You have been having trouble with your charges? I am here to help you. May I come in?" Jace says not speaking a word of lie.

He moved with the ladies, because they were soft, smelled good, and better yet gave him the attention he deserved. Which was why he felt a sense of betrayal that they tied his reigns to a post next to the DONKEY of all things and with only a water trough. His ears pressed to his head in protest and he grumbled with lips twitching and watched them vanish into the market proper to get what had to be drinks. Why else would you go anywhere near such a place? His precious ale was there and he knew it.

A human came over and began petting the donkey, while Turin grumbled and lipped at his reigns. Working at them slowly, but methodically until the leather unwound and fell free. Hanging almost to the ground in front of him, but he was loose. Large velvet eyes swung to the human petting the donkey as he slowly lowered his head and took the reigns in his mouth about half-way down so they wouldn't trip him. And then with a bunching of muscles he exploded into motion. Bolting away from the sorcerer and his smelly beast of burden and towards the ladies. Head and tail held high and in a full parade prance as he whickered at them and began sniffing around at barrels and other items looking for the ale he wanted. Making grumbling noises and shaking his head when he didn't find what he was looking for before moving on to the next.

His smirk stayed in place as she puffed up, storm eyes clearly daring her to try something. Not that he would stoop to attacking old ladies, but he found stepping to the side at just the right moment could provide a very effective lesson. However, Jace had kept his head much more effectively at her greeting and the woman's attitude turned a little more welcoming, which was still not at all, and asked them what they wanted.

"Asking for an apple would likely be ill-advised, I presume?"The elf drawled just below normal speech level as he lifted his gaze from the wrinkled woman and into the shadows beyond her where supposedly several sick children were at. Regardless of the 'tender' care of this woman it was those children who came first. He reminded himself of that even as Jace brought up the trouble that may be haunting the building and asked if they could come in. Keeping otherwise quiet and allowing the cleric to speak as he seemed more likely to get them inside to the children. It would have been quite entertaining for Mistress Mai to be here instead, due to her much sharper tongue and willingness to use it. It wasn't terribly charitable of him but the idea of that confrontation was quite amusing to the cavalier. Still, it seemed lucky that Jace had come with him as the old woman didn't appear to have a fondness for elves.

Samara nods towards Mai after the whispering, seeming glad to have a decision made for her. She walks out of the building without a word, or at least tries to, when Turin comes galumphing in. "Ahh!" says Samara, raising her hands in front of herself, "Turin, no, no... I am going to come out, please come with me!" Samara, while she likes horses, seems to treat Turin in much the same way as she might a person.

She gestures for the horse to follow her and then walks out, expecting the horse to read her body language, and she says to Passio once exiting, "I thought you were going with the others. I am here. Nobody should be alone. Not safe."

"Oh. Oh my. Turin is here," Mai observed in some alarm, watching the big grey hone in on the ale and Samara's efforts to bring Turin outside. "Miltivis, a bucket of ale, please, if you would like the horse to stay out of your establishment."

Mai hauls the bucket of ale outside, keeping her body between Turin and the ale. She makes sure Turin is standing at the hitching post before setting down the bucket so he can drink, shrugging at Passio and Samara. "I guess horses drink ale. Who knew?" She confidently snags the reins and ties them to the rail. "Er... do you want anything Sir Mancini? Or join us? I did not mean for you to keep company with the mounts. Come in if it pleases you." She glances between Samara and Passio, bows slightly, and disappears back inside.

"Oh. Oh my. Turin is here,"

"Errrh...sure... erh.. that'll be two silver..." Miltivus says, obviously bemused at the thought of drawing a bucket of ale for a horse. He quickly shrugs it off, though, as Mai Lin re-enters.

"Well, I'll have to make sure to get more from my supplier before Auntie Baltwin comes around again, make no mistake!" he says with a chuckle.

"We have been sent here about a charitable mission. I believe you have been having trouble recently. You have been having trouble with your charges? I am here to help you. May I come in?"

The crone sneers. "Well, if you're meaning you're here with my medicine from the temple, hand it over, child, and be on yer way. The children are needing it! And no, you can't come in. I'm a busy woman raising foundlings! I don't have time for nosy adventurers!"

"Asking for an apple would likely be ill-advised, I presume?"

Aunti Baltwin snorts. "And asking for anything from elves and Pathfinders is like pulling teeth, so you're the worst of two lots. I'm a busy woman! If you're here with the medicine, complete your charge, sir, and be on your way!"

"Auntie Baltwin? Of yonder orphanage? Surely she cannot out-drink a warhorse?" Mai asks with a smile, counting out the silver, with another for a tip.

Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Sweet! I'm not going to preview die rolls anymore!

"Auntie Baltwin? Of yonder orphanage? Surely she cannot out-drink a warhorse?"

Miltivus laughs. "The horse is drinking ale. Auntie Baltwin calls that 'a light breakfast'. She's kept me dealing in whiskey these past 30 years. A good spender she is, but she's nasty and rude, and them kids and cats of hers get into just about everything."

He shrugs.

"What can you do though?"

"She sounds like a wonderful neighbor. But kids? I didn't see any kids when we got here. Isn't the orphanage nearby?" Mai remarks, "I'm surprised not to see any children running around. You should hire some to help you. That will keep them busy and teach them the rewards of hard work."

Mai tries to keep the man chatting.

"I didn't see any kids when we got here. Isn't the orphanage nearby?" I'm surprised not to see any children running around. You should hire some to help you. That will keep them busy and teach them the rewards of hard work."

"Oh, the prices Baltwin charges to hire out the kids are too steep for me," Miltivus replies matter-of-factly. "You don't see any around right now because the healthy ones all got day jobs. Don't need any of 'em here, anyway; I'm all this store needs! So, did you need anything else? Some supplies, more drinks perhaps?"

"You wouldn't happen to have a simple traveler's outfit for someone of my stature, would you? People seem to think I dress oddly. Perhaps a change of clothing is in order. And how much can an orphan's day labor cost? I wouldn't pay more than a copper a week!" Mai looks through the Market's wares.

Jace looks crest-fallen; "Oh my dear lady, I am astounded. I thought you might have needed help....especially after the late unpleasantness. But if you do not wish help from a brother of Caydean?"

He shakes his head; "I have heard how overworked a lady such as your self is, I visited many an orphanage and orphan in my Duchy.....none created by me." he adds hastily. "I would have thought you would need some help with the heavy lifting, a lady like yourself should not be used to such."

more drinks perhaps?"

"I'll have one of your finest please."

Intimate:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
The stormy orbs narrowed as the old woman continued speaking. Her refusal to allow them in setting off alarm bells in his mind. Anyone who would refuse help at an establishment that clearly needed it was doing so to protect their own interests. Chivalry and curtsey only applied to those who deserved it. This old woman had just firmly put herself on the other side of that line for the cavalier.

He sucked in a slow, deep breath. Glaring daggers at the woman barring the way and trying to count to ten in his head while his glare suggested he was imagining tying her to the back of Turin and taking a trot around the clearing. Still, Jace was making a valiant attempt to turn the tides their direction so he bit his tongue and attempt to let the matter settle politely as there were people watching them and they were new comers to this part of town.

Jace flashes his warmest smile at the lady. Slightly puffing himself up; 'Well if this doesn't work, I'll have to go into the bluff 'Lord of the Manor' role. How I hate it, especially it's basis in fact.'

His eyes flick to the insulted elf, willing him to hold his tongue....maybe.

"Er... do you want anything Sir Mancini? Or join us? I did not mean for you to keep company with the mounts. Come in if it pleases you."

Passio returns the stiff Tian-style bow with a strange expertise. "No, thank you, dear Mai. I need not tempt myself with drink. Mancinis are ever prone to cause...excitement...when drink and magic collide. Best if I do not partake until we are done." He smiles and winks at the short female.

Turning his head to Samara, Passio says, "And Madam Samara, would you care to join me as I inquire about our medicine needing orphanage at yonder estate?"

Without waiting for a response, Passio strides up to the estate's gate.

"Hulloo! The Magnificent Mancini of Marvelous Magical Mysteries has come for his appointment!"

Samara seems to hesitate plenty after Passio asks for her to accompany him, and she has to run a few steps in order to catch up to him. "Yes, it is as I said, I do not want to leave you alone. A buddy system is a thing that can work. I have not had partners before though." She takes a step back as Passio announces himself, and she mumbles as a follow up to his introduction, "Samara Nolien."

In Miltivus' Market:

"You wouldn't happen to have a simple traveler's outfit for someone of my stature, would you? People seem to think I dress oddly. Perhaps a change of clothing is in order. And how much can an orphan's day labor cost? I wouldn't pay more than a copper a week!"

"Sure, miss. There's some sturdy broadcloth wardrobes in the back room there. One gold should about cover it. Take your pick, and you can change in there too."

"I'll have one of your finest please."

Miltivus smiles at the half-orc. "Certainly! I have this fine Varisian wine, just come in! It's an excellent red vintage, 10 gold for the bottle or 1 gold for a glass."

At the Orphanage:

"Oh my dear lady, I am astounded. I thought you might have needed help....especially after the late unpleasantness. But if you do not wish help from a brother of Caydean? I have heard how overworked a lady such as your self is, I visited many an orphanage and orphan in my Duchy.....none created by me. I would have thought you would need some help with the heavy lifting, a lady like yourself should not be used to such."

Auntie Baltwin's face begins to turn purple, accentuating the broken vessels in her nose and the watery, bloodshot eyes. "You. Are wasting. My. Time. If you're not here from the temple, shoo! If you ARE here from the temple, give me my package and get yerself off of my doorstep!" She is obviously ignoring the angry elf.

At the Manor:

"Hulloo! The Magnificent Mancini of Marvelous Magical Mysteries has come for his appointment!"

At Passio's call, the gate swings creakingly open, revealing an ill-tended lawn and garden. A footman stands just inside the wall, tall, pale, silent, and garbed entirely in black. He stares unblinkingly at Passio and Samara before beckoning them into the blighted grounds.

Corbyn Osric wrote:

"I'll have one of your finest please."

Miltivus smiles at the half-orc. "Certainly! I have this fine Varisian wine, just come in! It's an excellent red vintage, 10 gold for the bottle or 1 gold for a glass."

Corbyn starts rummaging around his persons. Confused and shocked he looks up apologetically and says to Miltivus:

"It appears that I have misplaced all my coin? If you hold the bottle for me I promise that I will come back and purchase it from you as soon as I acquire more. Maybe even 2."

I just realized that I spent every Copper of my starting gold. Way to RP myself into a corner...

Mai smiles at Corbyn. "You should try a glass before committing to a bottle, don't you think? I have gold enough for a glass. It's on me." She slides two gold to Miltivus and selects a regular style of traveling outfit for herself, giving her pack to Corbyn to guard while she tries on the couple of most likely outfits for size.

Samara watches the footman, and then looks towards Passio with a 'I hope we do not get eaten by undead' look, but follows after the footman once he beckons, eyes downcast as she wanders along with her arms crossed tightly.