"An excellent deal, yes," Bubo nods and eagerly hands Bartleby the gold he needs to get started. "I look forward to it."
Well, my fine friends. It looks as though we have enough folks here in the tavern to get a proper adventure going. Anyone have any leads? I have all this magical destruction at my fingertips and nothing to blast...
After spending five days quietly crafting the items, Bartleby sends a courier to notify Bubo that his items are complete.
"Here you go, three elixirs and one backpack."
Bubo soon arrives at Bartleby's shop and hands him the rest of the gold along with a smile. "Much appreciated."
A taller man strolls into Riggar's forge, inquiring about the prices.
"I hear you are in the business of armorsmithing - how much would you be charging for a Mithril Shirt? I'm in the market to live, and that seems like it'd help me out the most."
Bartholomew calls out to no one in particular at the tavern,
"Do we have any wand makers around these parts? I'm looking to buy a wand of true strike. If you know of anyone please send them my way."
The taller man also introduces himself as named Rayne.
After leaving Riggar's forge, Bartleby Nutmeg's sign catches his eye. He heads over to Bartleby's cart and introduces himself.
"Hello! I hear you're in the business of crafting wondrous items? You wouldn't happen to be able to craft Belts of Superior Maneuvers, would you? I may or may not be able to afford one right now, but it'd be nice to have a monetary goal to reach."
Scratching his head briefly at Rayne. "Ah yes I have heard of such an item. I can craft such a thing easily. The cost scales quickly depending on the strength of the magic imparted. My own power also limits the strength of the enchantment, but I can definitely create one that can be enhanced over time to grow in power as I grow in proficiency, and as your wealth increases. "
Jamir looked at the box of potions. Wonder what they are. Doesn't matter. Blue, is a nice color, I'll take that one.
"Thanks for the potion, it'll come in handy I'm sure."
You are quite welcome sir. Please stop by and browse my shop if you need anything.
A taller man strolls into Riggar's forge, inquiring about the prices.
"I hear you are in the business of armorsmithing - how much would you be charging for a Mithril Shirt? I'm in the market to live, and that seems like it'd help me out the most."
mithril is a hot item. I hope my supplier still has some, he wonders as he hears the word mithril again.
For a mithril chain shirt it will cost ye 884 gold pieces. I could have 'we done in bout 3 months time. What say ya?, extending a hand in hope of reaching a deal.
Taking Riggar's hand, Rayne nods and pays.
"Yes, that sounds more than fair. Much appreciated!"
Later, with Bartleby:
"Of course. I'd have to go with the simplest of enchantments, of course. How much do you expect it would cost?"
"Normal retail cost is 1000gp. We can split the difference in my cost. How does 750gp sound?"
"Yes, that sounds more than fair. In fact, I can even afford it right now. Would you be willing to accept the order immediately?"
"Absolutely, I can start the work immediately, it will only take me a day. There are many skilled leather-workers in the market here so obtaining a high quality belt to enchant will be no problem! Come back tomorrow."
After returning from his stint in the gladiator pits, Rayne stops by Bartleby's shop Riggar's forge, curious as to their progress on the orders he had placed.
Was wondering if you were ever gonna return me boi? I finished your armor for ye, but I heard you were getting some adventure in ya.
He grabs his mithril shirt, I hope it meets your standards
"Here is your spiffy new belt!"
|
Bursting through the doors, a large female wearing chanmail and wielding a greataxe, walks through the tavern. Flipping her axe head to the floor and strutting along using it as a cane, she makes her way to the bar.
Good day barkeep. I hear there is money to be made and fame to be earned here. I WANT IN! Slamming her hand down on the bar top.
A dark-haired man of average build slides into the room after the imposing woman. His steps are light despite the heavy chain hauberk he wears and a well worn dueling rapier sits at his hip.
Strolling to the bar he nods to the barkeep, "Withal. I'll take a whiskey, strongest you got. And a little of that fame and fortune our friend is talking about."
Withal makes a sharp whistle and in through the tavern door stalks a creature most would hold as myth in these parts. Those with the knowledge would recognize the scaled creature as an allosaurus, this one obviously not yet fully matured. Moving into the room, the creature moves to Withal's stool and stands next to the man, staring at the other patrons with slitted eyes.
For his part, Withal simply smirks and turns back to the barkeep, "Telorast and I are more than a match for whatever your clients can throw at us."
A young man is sitting at the bar scribbling in a tattered, book. When the allosaurus sidles up to the bar, it bumps Bartholomew's elbow and a small pot of ink tips over and spills out on to the page. Bartholomew glares up at Withal as he rips the page from the book. "Well, there goes THAT spell..." and then to no one in particular, "I tell you, there's no respect for Wizards around here." Bartholomew crumples the page and tosses it to the floor. "Whithal is it? What do you say you make it up to me by letting me practice a spell on your...pet. I copied it from this Kuthite fella the other night and I have no idea what it does. Don't worry though, it's probably harmless."
The barkeep, beautiful in her own right looks to the two adventurers whom just walked in. She smiles as they approach and one demands game while the other demands whiskey.
If it is fame you be wantin lass, be careful what ya wish for love. The employers who hire out from this area, don't have no easy tasks, they're all special in sone fashion or another. As far as yer whiskey request there handsome, let me ask Brutus and get back to ya
She returns a few moments later, shot glass in hand with a bottle from the back.
Here you go sugar, hopes this meets your standards. She pours a shot from a dark glass jug. On the front appears to be a dwarf, but the dwarf's head is split open.
Withal gives the young mage a sidelong look, "You're more than welcome friend, Telorast is a hardy one..."
He gives the mage a long look up and down, a dangerous glint in his eye "...just be careful. If my companion here were to come to harm...they'd be finding pieces of you scattered in back alleys for moons to come.", a smile spreads across his face, "Your call."
Turning from the mage, he grins as Gwendolyn reappears with the ominous jug, "I'm sure it'll be just the thing my dear."
Taking the shot from the bar, the bounty hunter winks at Gwendolyn before downing it. Slamming the glass back down he whistles appreciative, "I understand the label at least. Just the thing sweetpea."
Smirking, he jerks his head to the mage beside him, "I'm afraid Tel here disturbed my friend. I'd be remiss if I didn't buy him a drink, wouldn't you agree?"
"Thankyou for the drink, but no. I need to keep my wits about me for this new spell. It's very exciting, trying out new spells. The trick is making sure I say the words right." Bartholomew rubs his hands together in gleeful anticipation then stands and begins casting.
As Bartholomew attempts to call forth the magic, a loud ripping sound can be heard in the bar. "Uh oh..." is all he gets out before the tavern is filled with a crackling green stormcloud that rains acid down on everyone within 15 feet.
Bartholomew stands there the for the duration until the storm dissipates, wisps of smoke rising from his burned clothes and melted flesh, "Um, sorry everyone, that did not go as planned. Is there a doctor in the house?"
Hey. YOU...MAGE BOY!!
Bartholomew, turns around, in time to see the barkeep staring daggers through him and deep into his soul and psyche. He isn't able to get any words out before she speaks again.
YOU WILL PAY FOR THE DAMAGE CAUSED TO MY PROPERTY, YOU HEAR!!
After the acid rain subsides, she walks over to him, You owe me 20 gold, you damage some chairs and damaged my BAR. This is a one time warning, if you do it do it outside. Next time I WILL NOT be so lenient
Withal and Telorast bolt for a far corner of the bar as the crackling stormcloud erupts around the young wizard.
Smoke rising from both of them, the bounty hunter crouches down attempting to wipe the last of the acidic fog from the hissing allosaurus. Frustrated, he moves left hand to his belt, touching the pewter tankard that hangs there, "Get off yer ass you bloody drunk, see we both live to drink another day!
With the worst of the damage repaired, Withal stands, fury in his eyes. His hateful stare settles on the melted mage who caused all this trouble. The creature Telorast lets out a furious hiss, teeth snapping, while his master steps toward Bartholomew, hand on his rapier. His voice comes out in a barely restrained growl, "I did bloody warn you. Give me one good reason we don't find out what your intestines look like here and now..."
Because you will have to answer to me. And I assure you don't want that, no both of you sit down and have a shot on the house, she responds with a smile.
"You expect me to sit and drink with a man who's stupidity nearly killed the lot of us?!"
He eyes the barkeep for a long moment before shrugging, his anger seeming to melt away, "Wouldn't be the first time. Anything for you darling."
Paying no mind to the young wizard's injuries, Withal grabs one of the least melted stools and sits back down beside Bartholomew, "You really expect to last here with a performance like that son? Might want to go back to your studies for a while."
He turns to Gwendolyn, "About that drink?"
She winks at Withal, Good you come to your senses love. Same as before?
She gives him another Dwarven headsplitter.
|
|
AHH. This magic is awful.
Running from the mage out, finding cover to hide behind.
Well now this seems like an interesting mishap. I would like to not have this happen again.
Now as for this fame? I am ready for a challenge. Hoping to show off my extraordinary feats of combat perfection. Dina says while still hiding under a table. Her voice cracks as she says perfection hoping no one notices she isn't perfect.
Withal nods, "Don't see why not..."
Downing the shot, he again slams the glass on the table, blowing out a lungful of air, "Gods, that stuff'll put hair on your...everything."
He looks over at the wizard, "Sure you don't want one?"
"My sincerest apologies everyone. Sometimes, as you know, magic can be tricky. Don't worry, it won't happen again. I think I got the hang of it now. Next time will be much better."
Turning to Gwendolyn, "So sorry about the mess. Yes of course I'll pay for damages. Bartholomew pours out a small pile of gold coins onto the counter. "And of course I will clean up after myself as well. I wasn't raised in a barn you know. I always have mend at the ready. Comes in very handy. I can't tell you how many times I've burned holes in my clothes." He begins casting mend on the bar top, and the acid holes slowly begin to fill. "But I could use a wand of magical healing. My last one ran out some time ago. I don't suppose any of you could point me in the right direction?"
And you know what, I think I will try that drink you have there Withal. You make it look oh so tasty. I normally go in for wine but I'm up for a new experience. I think I still have some acid in my mouth, so how much worse could it be?
Riggar works for a bout 2 months, and after he is done his armor, and weapons are all magical. It was cheap, especially for the cold iron weapon, but he vies the end result as well worth it.
He then heads over to Bartholomew's stand, Aye, you in boy. Was wonderin' if ye could make me a cloak of resistance, something that provides a little bit better of protection than the standard one?
Ah, yes, but of course. A cloak of resistance is just the sort of thing I do. Let me see here. Bartholomew holds up his hands at arm's length forming a frame with his fingers and looks hard at Riggar. By the look of you I would say you are a practical dwarf, prizing durability and craftsmanship over flashiness. And being a forgemaster no little renown in these parts you definitely know how to spot quality. I'm thinking black wool, thick enough to double as a warm blanket while on the road, but not so thick as to hinder your movement.
Of course we would embroider the hammer of Torag on the back. Probably in silver thread. Oh, and the hem will be tiny alternating hammers and anvils. Now for the shoulder clasps, I can't imagine I would find a better smith around these parts than yourself, so if you provide the fastening hardware, it will give it that personal touch that really makes the cloak! Not to mention a 15% discount. Let's see now. The enchanting of the item itself is fairly straightforward. It will take me a few days as I have to procure all the necessary fabrics. I better take your measurements as well, just to be safe.
A bit of twine springs out of a pocket on Bartholomew's robe, floats over to Riggar and begins frantically measuring his waist, inseam, neck size and so on. That should do it. Let me just ring up the price. There's the fine wool, the silver thread, the various emulsifiers and solvents. Then there's overcoating, and the magic field balancing fee, Magical Mishap Insurance. Unraveling protection for the seams. Do you want double stitching? Of course you want double stitching! Who in their right mind would even think of buying a cloak with only single stitching? Silly of me to ask. Finally we have the Mage's guild surcharge, but I'll waive that one for you.
The total comes to 2999.99 gold pieces. But I'll tell you what. I've actually been on the prowl for a ring of featherfall myself. I understand you are a jeweler as well. If you are able to throw in a ring of featherfall, I'll drop the price to a cool 900 gold. What do you say? Deal?
Bartholomew rifles through a few books, then with a sheepish grin looks back up at Riggar, Ahem. Well, this is a bit embarrassing, but I just remembered, the Bureau of Balancing does not permit this particular item to be crafted by journeymen crafters. Although, it looks like there's a loophole here in the regulations here that allow me to craft the item. It seems here that if I could get a higher level caster, such as yourself, to put their stamp of approval on the item, it would be perfectly legal. But you would have to be involved in the entire crafting process. I know you are a busy dwarf, but I do believe this is the only way I could deliver in a timely manner.
Riggar is a bit put off as random floating twine starts to measure him, but "warms" up to the process...well as much as a dwarf could warm up that is. He listen to Bartholomew discuss hems, and clasps, stitching and other work terms.
He thinks about the ring of feather fall, and knows that he doesn't know how to craft rings, but tries to think of anyone who can.
Let me try and track down that ring for ya. I am not specialized in rings, but I may have a buddy who knows how to craft such things. If it is just a jewel ye be looking for, I can easily do that for ya, no problem.
That's the long and short of it. I'll get started as soon as I can.
Bartleby spends most of his time cloistered away in his lab, and his vendor stall seems to be closed currently. One day you notice Bartleby riding about on Martin his hulking ape. Bartleby appears even smaller than normal, only inches above a foot tall. His voice already a childish squeak seems almost comical now, as if speaking after taking a lung full of helium gas.
The tiny halfling is seen purchasing magical reagents often as of late, then scurrying back to his home.
Withal approaches the sturdy figure of Riggar, working hard at his forge. The bounty hunter stops at the door and waits to be acknowledged, his distinctive companion Telorast prowling behind him.
Once Riggar pauses he introduces himself, "Morning friend. From what I hear, you're among the most prestigious craftsmen in these parts. My name is Withal, and I'm curious if you'd be interested in taking on a somewhat unusual project?"
He whistles softly and Telorast moves up beside him. Patting the allosaurus' rough neck, he looks back to the dwarf, "Tel here's my pride and joy. Gift from the Mammoth Lords if you can believe that. Anyway, the jobs around here are as dangerous as they are lucrative and I'd hate to see anything happen to him. I'm wondering if you'd be capable of designing a set of studded leather to fit him? It'll be a bit more complicated than simple horse barding I admit, but life's no fun without a challenge. So what do you say, can you do it?
Riggar, looks at Withal's scaly friend. He looks it up and down, trying to figure out the best method to properly outfit the beast.
The best is up to the other viewpoint lad. I just do the best I can, and hope my work speaks for itself. I am my biggest judgement lad Riggar says with a hearty laugh.
So, to the task at hand, you want some masterwork studded leather, fit to your friend there. I have heard of dogs and horses before but I must admit this is one of the strangest requests I have ever heard.
He ponders for a moment, I will do it for at cost, since I have to admit this may never happen again.
Withal grins, "Excellent. You're one of the good ones master dwarf."
Moving into the forge properly, Withal produces 75gp and hands it to the dwarf, "No objections, your time is worth a little at the very least my friend. Now lets see to getting some measurements..."
Waving Telorast forward, he crouches strokes the creature's neck, "Be still boy. Master Riggar here just needs to get a few measurements."
For his part, Telorast regards the forgemaster warily with reptilian eyes and slow thrashing tail, but Withal's presence keeps him calm.
With measurements taken, Withal rubs his hands together, "Excellent. I look forward to the finished product...actually, I have another project for you if you're willing.", he taps the rather shiny breastplate he wears, "Only just picked this baby up. It's a solid bit of smithing sure, but I'd feel better with a little divine protection worked into it. What would something like that cost me?"
Bartleby hangs a sign in his shop
Now able to craft the following magic items:
Scrolls
Wondrous Items
Arms and Armor
Rings
Kale walks up to Bartleby's shop.
I want a belt what will make me stronger. What say ye?
"Piece of cake! I have already made a few similar belts for myself and Martin." Bartleby says, pointing over his shoulder at the massive gorilla sitting at the back of the shop mowing through a small bunch of bananas. "How strong do you want the enchantment?"
"Speaking of, have you noticed I have been working out? Training every day to toughen myself in combat. Those trainers put me through the ringer." he says pointing to a black eye he has. "Check out these primitive firearms though!" Bartleby flexes his biceps, his tiny one foot stature and miniscule rubbery doll like arms showing nothing close to any level of physical strength.
"It depends." Kale raises his hand and rubs his thumb and two forefingers together.
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