"I just think it will throw them off guard, that is all," replies Ten.
"Well, why didn't you say so? Bring the drinks, if you'd be so kind." Sanvoros walks straight toward the three men. He grabs a chair, turns it around, and sits down right at their table.
"Gentlemen! How are you this fine morning? Lovely day for a stroll to the scenic and beautiful Driftwood District, eh?" He does not smile in the least when he says this, and it is quite clear he is not looking for idle chit-chat.
"Greetings. Can I be of assistance?""Yes, actually. We are here to speak to an artist being treated here. His name is Lovthian Howe. May we please speak with him?"
The woman frowns.
"My, Mr. Howe is becoming quite a popular man these days. Are you members of his family or fans of his .." The woman pauses slightly, her frown deepening "..ummm, artistic style?"
"Gentlemen! How are you this fine morning? Lovely day for a stroll to the scenic and beautiful Driftwood District, eh?" He does not smile in the least when he says this, and it is quite clear he is not looking for idle chit-chat.
The three start as Sanvoros pulls up a chair at their table.
"This is private table. You not welcome here." The bald tattooed Senginese man says in accented Concordant, eyeing San with a mixture of hostility and fear.
The three place their hands closer to their sword hilts.
Ten walks to the bar to order drinks. The bawd helming the bar eyes him uncertainly and puts her cleaning rag down.
"What'll it be sailor?" She inquires in a tobacco-roughened voice
Iz:
Ten walks to the bar to order drinks. The bawd helming the bar eyes him uncertainly and puts her cleaning rag down.
"What'll it be sailor?" She inquires in a tobacco-roughened voice
"Good morning my good woman, can you be so kind as to send a couple of pitchers of your finest ale and 6...." he pauses looking at the soiled rag, "erm, 5 tankards over to that there table by the window?" Ten Foot gestures to the table, noticing for the first time the hostile attitude of the three ruffians.
He places two gold coins on the counter top, "this should cover it," Ten gives her his biggest toothy grin.
The barkeep makes the two Galleons disappear like magic. She pulls the bung out of a barrel behind her and fills two clay pitchers with a thin-looking ale. She puts them on the bar with five mugs and smiles at Ten, revealing a set of teeth that has seen better days.
"There you go, sailor. Enjoy."
The bawd suddenly looks over at the far table where San is conversing with the three bravos. The gap-toothed smile runs off her painted face. She casually puts her hand beneath the splintery bartop.
"You might want to go talk down your pals, mate." She warns Ten in a croaking mutter.
The other patrons seem to smell the tension. The three berry heads are the only ones not looking tense, their slack faces set in drooling grins, their lips stained purple from the Happy Berries they recently ate.
Ten grabs the handles of both pitchers in one massive hand and inserts his stubby fingers into the handles of the five tankards.
"No fear my good lady, tis but a bit of friendly banter," he calls out loudly as he heads to the table, "pull me up a chair mateys, I have me hands full"
The three bravos are startled again by Ten's booming voice. They look over at his burly form and their hostile looks deepen a bit. The tattooed Senginese man turns to San.
"What you want? We got no money for you. You go away. We want no trouble."
Despite the bald man's assertion that they want no trouble, their hands inch closer to their hilts.
"My, Mr. Howe is becoming quite a popular man these days. Are you members of his family or fans of his .." The woman pauses slightly, her frown deepening "..ummm, artistic style?"
My friend here," she motions to Seven Eagle, "is a fan of his stylings, but I am afraid we are here because we require his assistance in another matter. We believe he has information that could help us put to rest a vicious abomination that is terrorizing some of the more remote plantations"
The golden-robed priestess sighs
"It's always some horror or another. The Feathered One knows how many shattered shells I have had to knit back together after trying to deal with something out in the jungle."
The priestess bows to the four party members.
"I am Three Diamond, head priestess of this chapter of the Silent Sisters of Mercy. If you wish to see Mr. Howe, I have no problems with this. He is in his room this morning, he had a difficult night. I will have my assistant Seven Tiger accompany you, and I ask that you do not exite him unduly. Follow me please."
Three Diamond turns and walks towards the entrance.
"Before you go Sister, you mentioned that we weren't the first to see Mr. Howe recently. Has he had other visitors?"
The three bravos are startled again by Ten's booming voice. They look over at his burly form and their hostile looks deepen a bit. The tattooed Senginese man turns to San.
"What you want? We got no money for you. You go away. We want no trouble."
Despite the bald man's assertion that they want no trouble, their hands inch closer to their hilts.
"What do I want? Not much, just curious as to what brings you to this part of town. You see, my friends and I noticed you guys a while back, and you seemed to be headed the same way we were. After a while, it got to be a little more'n just coincidence, you know? So, I just assumed we all must be old friends; why else would you be following us, right?"
Izkrael will walk up and stand just behind and to one side of Sanvoros' chair, so he can easily interpose himself between one or two of the guys, keeping them from surrounding Sanvoros. He 'casually' has his hand resting on the hilt of his longsword.
Before Ten orders them drinks, Sanvoros simply states, "Why beat around the bush? Let's just walk up and ask why they were following us. I'm not one for screwing around."
*sneakity sneak*
"Before you go Sister, you mentioned that we weren't the first to see Mr. Howe recently. Has he had other visitors?"
Three Diamond turns back to Joleesa.
"He has had several visitors since his arrival here. He is quite an accomplished artist, though I find his subject matter ... disturbing. We have had several art afficianatos come to talk to him, but I believe they came away disappointed. Poor Mr. Howe is quite unstable after his exploration party was massacred in the Jungle of Skulls."
Three Diamond turns back and begins walking to the door. She enters the foyer, the party following behind.
The foyer was once a grand entryway for a rich house. That was over a century ago. Now the marble-tiled entrance is dingy, its intricately-carved woodwork stained with decades of hard use. Cheap trestle tables are scattered around the large room, many with robed figures sitting at them. Priestesses and guards dressed similarly to the one met at the gate walk among them.
Three Diamond walks to a young priestess dressed in a white robe and murmurs in her ear. The priestess looks at the party. She is probably about 25, and delicately pretty. Her name is Zapatec as are most of her features, but some Dragoran ancestor gifted her with dark blue eyes. A Sword Circle pendant fashioned as a stylized yellow sunburst is affixed around her neck. Her long black hair is braided down her back with colorful dino feathers worked into the weave in a classic Zapatec style.
Three Diamond brings the young woman over.
"Allow me to introduce my fellow Sister, Seven Tiger. These are .."
Three Diamond trails off.
"I don't believe we were properly introduced."
"What do I want? Not much, just curious as to what brings you to this part of town. You see, my friends and I noticed you guys a while back, and you seemed to be headed the same way we were. After a while, it got to be a little more'n just coincidence, you know? So, I just assumed we all must be old friends; why else would you be following us, right?"
The Opaline native-looking man smiles easily, putting a hand on his Senginese friend's tense arm. He looks at San appraisingly.
"I get you friend. Honestly, I can say I would probably be suspicious if I saw someone who seemed to be following me. I did see you folks at the Explorer's Guild, but the fact we ended up in the Driftwood District is pure coincidence. We three are taking a commission from a local planter for some bush beating, and we are just getting ready to collect our gear after a quick drink, right fellows?"
The other two grunt, still hostile. The fact that Iz has drifted up near them, hand on hilt doesn't make them any calmer.
The smiling man sticks his hand out to Sanvoros.
"No hard feelings. By the way, I am Feranado Gumachio, but everyone calls me Feran,"
Ten Foot reaches the table about the same time the introductions are being made and places the pitchers and mugs on the table. "Going to be thirst work all this bush beating," he booms, before noisily pulling him self up a chair. "Help yourselves," he grunts as he unbuckles his tankard from his waist.
Ten Foot reaches the table about the same time the introductions are being made and places the pitchers and mugs on the table. "Going to be thirst work all this bush beating," he booms, before noisily pulling him self up a chair. "Help yourselves," he grunts as he unbuckles his tankard from his waist.
The curly-haired bravo smiles up at Ten.
"That's very neighborly of you, friend."
He takes one of the pitchers and refills the tankard in front of him. He gives Ten an appraising up-and-down look.
"My you're a big lad aren't you? I'm Feran."
Feran sticks out his hand to Ten. He then looks over at his scowling companions.
"These fine lads are Bjorn Vagrdanzleiker" he indicates the fair-skinned Dragoran bravo. "and Kung Meh." He indicates the bald tattooed Senginese bravo.
Ten reaches out and grasps the offered hand in a firm handshake, "Ten Foot Twin Eater is the name, pleased to make your acquaintance Feran."
"They say my papa may have had some ogre blood in him, others say there were two in my mama's womb, but I ate the other one, either way, this is what the heavens decided to gift me," he smiles warmly, once again showing a lot more sharp canine teeth than you would expect.
He then reaches out and fills his own tankard.
He doesn't offer his companions names, figuring they may not want to share it and also because he is struggling to remember them as they are such new associates.
"I don't believe we were properly introduced."
"Oh, forgive us. I am Tobias Ebonwood, this is Joleesa Morvais, Seven Eagle and Egan. *Motions to each* Now, you said something about Howe's party being massecred in the Jungle of Skulls. Do you have any information on that?"
Not buying the friendly act for a second, Sense Motive on Faran (1d20+1=14) Sanvoros nevertheless breaks into a huge grin which is anything but cheerful. "Really? Going to work for a planter as bush beaters? Sounds a little dull, but who am I to judge? You know, I grew up on a plantation around here; maybe I know the guy. Who will ya be working for? If I know him, maybe I give you a few tips on how to handle him ... oh, and you can call me Fulovet."
It isn't hard to see that the jollity is forced on Feran, but he is a smooth customer. It is harder to tell his deeper motives. Sanvoros gets the feeling that he is a little nervous about the interrogation. The smile on his face never reaches his eyes. He shakes Sanvoros' hand.
"Pleasure to meet you Fulovet."
Feran shrugs with Opaline nonchalance at San's statement about bush beating.
"Bush beating is anything but dull in the plantations closer to the Uplands. It might not be as glamourous as exploration, but the chances of making it back for a tankard of ale are better."
Feran frowns at San's probing.
"Look friend, I don't know you, you don't know me. I'd rather not be talking my business with someone who just came up to me in a tavern and started asking questions. I understand you think we're following you, but you have to take my word that we are not. I appreciate the ale, but you can either take my word that we have no issue with you or we CAN have an issue with you."
Bjorn and Meh are still scowling at the three party members. The fair-haired bravo is flushing bright red, something quite rare in Opal. He barks out in accented Concordant:
"Wei don' ya guo ouff aboot yer buisnass ya pack a gangrel sads!"
Feran glances at Bjorn.
"Easy Bjorn, they're just being careful. It's too early in the morning for a fight."
Three Diamond and Seven Tiger nod to each member as they are introduced. Three Diamond responds to Tobias' question:
"Well, Mr. Ebonwood, it's a story as old as Opal. A band of friends with a desire for adventure hares off into the Jungle of Skulls and meets something that rips them apart. Mr. Howe was very lucky to emerge from the jungle, if you want to call it luck. I don't have specifics his case, but perhaps Seven Tiger can tell you something. She has been working with him lately."
Seven Tiger regards Tobias with her deep blue eyes.
"Mr. Howe doesn't make a lot of sense. He scribbles more than he talks. When he does talk he often mentions a Temple of Frozen Flame. Most likely a foul nest of undead skindancers if truth be told."
"Maybe one of these Skindancers is the creature attacking the Plantation. His help may be invaluable if this is the case."
Joleesa is trying not to embelish her story and is sticking to the simple fact of a creature attacking Plantations. The more she adds, the harder it will be to keep up the lie.
Seven Tiger sighs
"There are always undead skindancers and their horrid minions skulking in the jungle. We have a house filled with the wreckage of folks these abominations have ruined."
Seven Tiger looks over the group
"I don't know what exactly you hope to find out from Mr. Howe, but I will take you to his room. If you would follow me?"
Seven Tiger turns and starts walking away, her long black feather-bedecked braid swinging behind her. She heads to an impressive set of stairs leading up to the next story.
"Any information Mr. Howe can provide will be invaluable. We were recommended to him by one of the Plantation owners who said he used to deal with him before his... decline."
Seven Tiger turns at the stairway.
"Well, I hope he can help you. Follow me please."
The young priestess leads the group up to the third floor of the large mansion. The floor creaks and the once expensive-looking wallpaper is peeling off in broad swaths from the walls. A strong smell of citrus permeates the area, with an undertone of fouler stenches. Loud cries and maniacal laughs echo faintly through the dark hallway.
Seven Tiger reaches a door and takes a keyring from her belt. She fits a large iron key into the door's lock and turns it. She opens the squeaking door and a small room is revealed.
The room is small, but there is a bed and a small desk and chair inside. A man is hunched over the desk in the chair, scribbling furiously. Seven Tiger clears her throat.
"Lovethian? You have some visitors today."
The man scribbles on. His feet are buried in foolscap scaps.
"Do they wear the Sign?" The man asks querilously, not turning around.
"Look friend, I don't know you, you don't know me. I'd rather not be talking my business with someone who just came up to me in a tavern and started asking questions. I understand you think we're following you, but you have to take my word that we are not. I appreciate the ale, but you can either take my word that we have no issue with you or we CAN have an issue with you."
"Look, let's cut the crap, eh? You guys are as much 'bush beaters' as I am a pastry chef. Really, do we need to go through all of this? Think about it ... all we have to do is pretend like we believe your load of lumper dung story, go off in the corner, and watch YOU for a while. Eventually, no planter would show up, your story would completely fall apart, and we'd be back to where we are now. Now, we're busy people, as you guys probably are, so let's skip all that and just deal with this. Save us all a lot of time and effort, you know? So, why were you following us?"
Ten Foot cannot help but grin at San's outburst.
... So, why were you following us?"
Feran's smile drops, and the three bravos grab their swords, springing up.
"Did you just call me a liar long ears?" Feran enquires with a deceptive mildness.
A shout from the bar distracts the group for a moment. The tavernkeeper has a giant Sticky Pod* in either hand behind the bar.
"Take it outside @zzholes!" She snarls.
The barroom is dead quiet except for the suppressed giggles of the berryheads in the corner.
Feran looks to Sanvoros.
"You have challenged my honor. We can settle this outside. I assume your other long-eared foreign friend will be your second?"
*
"Grrr, pick a window your leaving," Ten Foot quips, before the Bar Lady speaks, he then raises his hand in acknowledgement, "Yeah, yeah, outside, lets not smash this lovely ladies place up."
As Sanovas is about to leave, Ten Foot takes his arm, "One moment Brother, let them go first I need a word with you."
If Sanovas lets him, Ten casts the following spells on him, praying to his god to aid his friend:
Bulls Strength
Magic Weapons
Protection From Evil
The three bravos troop outside. The bravo Kung Meh mutters and makes a few hand gestures over Feran outside. Bjorn stands back, watching Ten, San and Iz as they emerge. A few tavern patrons come stumbling out into the humid morning air, eager to witness the brawl. A few passersby also stop, smelling conflict.
VILYA:
After only a few minutes, the three bravos Vilya and the others had been following spill out into the boulevard. Her companions follow afterwards, as do a few sots. The blonde bravo they had been following sets into position facing the doorway, his back turned to Vilya. Unfortunately he also blocks her line of sight.
OK, while Ten casts his spells (Sanvoros thanking him and saying he'll return the favor someday), Sanvoros takes the following actions: uses a charge from his mage armor wand, casts expeditious retreat (gives me +30' speed for 3 minutes), and uses shield off of one of his scrolls. These should give me another +4 armor AC, and +4 shield AC.
Once outside, (how far part?) Sanvoros will say to Faran, "Funny, I thought you had to have honor in order for it to be challenged. Go figure. So, fists only, or are we gonna make this fun?" as runs his finger along the edge of his greatsword.
Feran smiles thinly.
"I was going to suggest fists rather than steel, but you seem to prefer the deadly option."
Feran unsheathes his rapier, the thin grey steel flashing in the early-morning sunshine. He whickers it back and forth in front of him.
"As for honor, I would say that some foreign base-born racial mongrel like yourself fresh from a catamite crib aboard an Orcish merchant trawler would know little about honor. I, Feranado Gumachio, am willing to school you in the ways of honor as they are practiced by your betters, although you will not enjoy the lesson for long before Tecuhciztecatl takes you to whatever hell is reserved for abominations like yourself."
Feran takes a defensive stance, rapier held at the ready.
"Wow. You learn to talk like that all by yourself? Must have been beaten up a lot as a kid, eh?"
Sanvoros readies himself; he keeps one hand free for the moment.
Ten Foot's huge grin drops from his face as Feran insults the heritage of Sanvoros, indirectly insulting Ten Foot as well.
"You kiss your Momma with that mouth?" he bellows, he doesn't look amused.
Spell Craft to notice if Feran has any buffs on him and an initiative roll. (1d20+4=7, 1d20+1=18)
Seven Eagle supresses the urge to run to Mr Howe with excitement, but he lets his companions do the talking.
Vilya attempts to sneak closer in order to see past the large bravo blocking her view. She mutters to herself under her breath.
"Move, ogre-runt. Move, damn it!"
Feran looks scornfully ay Sanvoros.
"Who will be your second, mongrel? The pale long ears or that Sea Wolf byblow drunken priest?"
Feran nods to the tall blonde bravo.
"Bjorn will be my second."
Bjorn growls out
"Aye, Feran, that aile du. Kick 'is fairy arse tu Mictlan an' back!"
Quite a crowd of apprentice boys, tosspots, streetwalkers and general layabouts are collecting around the two combatants. A couple of city watchmen amble over, keeping a distance from the crowd. One of the watchmen hurries off after a quick conversation. The crowd starts to murmur with anticipation.
Sanvoros nods to Izkrael. "He will be my second."
Ten Foot looks for Vilya the Taker in the crowd, when he sees her near Bjorn he makes a point of meeting her gaze, he holds it for a few seconds before pointedly staring at Kung Meh and then looking back at Vilya.
The formalities over, the duel begins. Feran lunges at San, his rapier moving at an unreal speed.
1d20+6=8, 1d4+3=5, 1d20+6=15, 1d4+3=7
Feran's lightning-fast rapier slashes around Sanvoros. One lunge seems destined to skewer him, but Feran's slim blade turns at the last moment, as if it had hit a force field.
"Good morning Master Howe. My companions and I were wondering if we might have the benefit of your knowledge on matters mysterious..."
She steps to the side and introduces Seven Eagle. "My esteemed companion here would like to ask you a few questions."