On reflection I think I meant "reconcile" it rather than "retcon" it ... I rather imagine Alvaster stumbling through the marketplace, leaning on his cousin's arm, shocked whispers hissing in his wake..
Sounds like the kind of experience that would make you want to stay at home. Let go with this.
I was thinking the shop trip was some kind of after hours, private appointment. I'm sure that gnome guy doesn't get big hauls like that very often.
Alvaster sneaks up to the gatehouse door and nudges it open slowly, peering in, looking for anything of interest. Skullduggery is quite foreign to him, so his heart races and he frets that he has miscounted and will suddenly materialise at the worst moment.
Rolling Stealth check at 1d20 - 1, +20 for invisibility
1d20 + 19 ⇒ (8) + 19 = 27
You gently pull on the door but it appears stuck. You pull a little harder and it suddenly flies open, knocking into your face and sending you sprawling. You hold your breath in breath in horror as the guardsman raises his head and squints at the open door.
"wha der faa?" he mumbles, peering out into the gloom. He rubs his eyes "ss nuffin, jus wind"
He resumes his drunken snoring
Rolling Perception to notice anything worthwhile...
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
You step into the squalid gatehouse and cast about for anything of use. You notice a vellum folder embossed with a lumber corporation logo sitting on a writing desk. You open it and find a document that reads as follows:
Swallowtail Ball VIP List
The following guests will be arriving from out of town for the Ball. You are to let them through the gate and ensure they are escorted to the consortium building. Under no circumstances is the gate to be raised for ANYONE ELSE.
Frunan Sapphiredge (LC VIP)
Paneak Silvershaper (LC VIP)
Janaga Hawklight +1
Seamorn Wyvernjack +1
Eilcaryn Woodsoul +1
Aldren Foxglove
Frunan and Paneak are Lumber Consortium bigwigs whoare visiting for the Ball. Should I hear they have been treated with anything but the greatest deference and courtesy I'll give you to Teedum and Colm to play with - K
<Another name has been scrawled at the bottom, seemingly after the rest of the document was completed>
Johannes Crowley +1 - bring him directly to me - k
Another question - whether Alvaster will realistically be able to get a message to Coco on his way home
Well, you can try. You estimate you have about 30sec more time if you hope to reach the shadowed streets at the bottom of the hill.
Alvaster commits the contents of the document to memory.
He briefly considers producing the Novelty Darkwood Log Souvenir Quill that he has been carrying around since the day he arrived in town, and adding names to the list.
He clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction. Now is not the time to attempt forgery for the very first time in his life. Then he grimaces and gurns invisibly as he remembers that he is supposed to be sneaking and needs to keep a tight rein on the b$+!*y mouth noises.
Alvaster moves out of the room with exaggerated care and then moves quickly down the hill, homewards...
if you were rambling around these realms with a name like "Alan Jones" would everyone be like "HEy where you from with that crazy ass name you doodied up dickshit!"
if you were rambling around these realms with a name like "Alan Jones" would everyone be like "HEy where you from with that crazy ass name you doodied up dickshit!
"Clint Eastwood? What kind of stupid name is that"?
Does he recognise any of these names? He doesn't have any ranks in Knowledge (Nobility) so they would need to be very well-known or familiar to him for some other reason
None of the names are familiar. If Alvaster is originally from Almas or has studies magic items he might recognize Professor Crowley.
If the names are written in multiple hands like the door list of a s!%&ty club night then he will add to the list - however I am assuming for now that it is all in Kreed's hand (wasn't he Creed before?)
The writing is both in the same hand but the second section seems to have been rushed as testified by the inkblots and smudges.
<Michael may have intended C-reed but I am not sure if it was ever written down - this was before we started using the forums. The source books use K-reed so that's what I have been going with. Happy to go with whatever.>
Other questions: 1) What does Alvaster know of the traditions of the Swallowtail festival? 2) How soon is it?
From what Knoggs has told him Alvaster knows the Swallowtail festival marks the end of summer and the beginning of Autumn. The town is lit with lanterns and much drinking and feasting occurs.
It is now early Thursday morning. The festival is due to be held on Sunday.
<are we going to bother with coming up with new names for days and such?>
Alvaster's from Absalom, he doesn't recognise shit.
Okay so Alvaster just reads the names and skedaddles, he's heading homewards...
<are we going to bother with coming up with new names for days and such?>
Only whenever we feel like it.
You barely make it to the shadows of the streets before the invisibility potion wears off. By sticking to the back alleys you manage to make it back home without incident. After quickly checking the condition of the steamworks you collapse into bed and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The sun is low in the west when you wake. After a dinner of blood sausage and bread you settle into your easy chair to contemplate your next move.
You notice a slip of paper tucked under the front door. On closer inspection it appears to be a calling card. The front of the card reads:
"Prf. J Crowley, Purveyor of Arcane Artefacts"
On the rear a note hasd been written in a delicate spidery hand
"Mr Norkrung, I have heard much about your recovery of the Druingar hoard and would be honoured if you would condescend to an interview. If you are willing to give me an hour of your time, I have a proposal that you may be interested in. My man will return at dusk to guide you to my lodgings. Regards - JC"
You notice a slip of paper tucked under the front door. On closer inspection it appears to be a calling card. The front of the card reads:
"Prf. J Crowley, Purveyor of Arcane Artefacts"
On the rear a note has been written in a delicate spidery hand
"Mr Norkrung, I have heard much about your recovery of the Druingar hoard and would be honoured if you would condescend to an interview. If you are willing to give me an hour of your time, I have a proposal that you may be interested in. My man will return at dusk to guide you to my lodgings. Regards - JC"
Alvaster recalls the name "J Crowley" hastily added to the guest-list for the Swallowtail Ball. Plainly Kreed is keen to see this man, but is it because he is an ally, or an enemy? Or some other reason - only one way to find out.
First impressions, Alvaster reflects, count for a lot. Perhaps this is the time for his first true test of the Necromantic Prosthesis... he fetches his mirror, silvered thread and needle.
Nose
Mitigates penalty to Charisma based skills from loss of nose by ½. Can completely mitigate if the unnatural hue and seam of the nose are masked with make-up (Disguise check).
Does not restore impairment to sense of smell or taste.
Haywire Effects
Roll 1d4
1: Subject experiences intense pain around the graft for 1d4 rounds. They take 1d6 nonlethal damage each round and suffer -2 to attack rolls, skill and ability checks.
2: Nose drops off the face and cannot be replaced.
3: Nose whistles uncontrollably for 1d20 minutes (potentially disrupting stealth). Adds +2 to DC of Concentration checks.
4: Nose rotates to a sideways or upside-down position and remains so until detached (should incur penalty to Charisma-based skills).
[ooc]He doesn't have to do any saving throws until he has a kip, or unless something disruptive happens like someone channeling positive energy. At CL4 the nose will stay attached for 4 days, barring disaster.
Alvaster has the following spells prepared (after castigating himself for preparing combat spells every day)...
Cantrips - Preserve Organ, Light, Guidance, Detect Magic
L1 - Cause Fear (domain), Obscuring Mist, Hide From Undead, Sanctuary, CLW
L2 - Magic Mouth (domain), Norkrungs NP (spent), Augury, Spiritual Weapon
When the man-servant arrives, he will wear the Robe of Bones but no armour and carry only his dagger as a weapon.
You awake late the next morning and stumble into the kitchen to prepare your breakfast. The sight of the Tome and the Wayfinder sitting on your workbench brings memories of the previous night flooding back. You idly pick up the Wayfinder and turn it over in your hands. To find allies at such a time as this....
Preparing a mug of hot coffee you open the Tome and study the purple inked diagrams intently. Attempting to comprehend their functioning from base principles proves impossible; you can find nothing that bears any resemblance to standard engineering notation. Lost in study, the hours slip by...
You are snapped out of your reverie by the sound of fireworks exploding. It is now close to dusk. You hear the sound of raised voices from the market square. The festival must be in full swing...
That is, unless you want to do something else during the day..
What happened with Alvaster's "Gather Information" routine down at the Rueful Crab?
What happened with Alvaster's "Gather Information" routine down at the Rueful Crab?
Aw, yip. Will write something up tomorrow!
"Oh yes, dice! Sounds a treat." says Alvaster, forcing a smile. "In truth I'm not much a player but I enjoy the thrill of a little risk."
He leans forward and rises to his feet, slowly, pantomiming reluctance. He allows coins to clink audibly in his pocket.
"But I fear...", he rubs his chin, "my business with the man Weasel can hardly wait. I thought you might know him, but, no such luck. I must seek him elsewhere."
He sighs, and turns slowly to go - hesitantly, as if expecting to be interrupted...
"Ah WEASEL! He means our old mate Weasel, Steve!"
"It appears he does Theon"
"Weasel being a dear friend of ours It would take a pretty good incentive to tell you what we know about his...habits"
"That's right Theon. A very generous incentive indeed. 50gp should do it"
They look up at you expectantly
Shit, Alvaster's only got 54gp, 2sp, 4cp total! Not counting the 500gp he owes Knoggz either...
Alvaster sniffs (a luxury that he now very much appreciates).
"Ah, so we skip the game and head directly to the fleecing! Most efficient, an admirable approach. But, 50 GP? It's implausible! You must have mistaken me for gentry, but I am a man who works with his hands. I stake no more than two bits upon a single toss - suppose I played five rounds with you gents and - worst luck! - lost them all. Well then that would be no more than 10gp, and a sore loss for a humble man."
possibly applicable skills:
Appraise 5
Bluff 3
Diplomacy 8
Sense Motive 8
Alvaster will not go higher than 20 GP and will pay only half his bribe up front, judging the remainder on the quality of the information he receives.
You awake late the next morning and stumble into the kitchen to prepare your breakfast. The sight of the Tome and the Wayfinder sitting on your workbench brings memories of the previous night flooding back. You idly pick up the Wayfinder and turn it over in your hands. To find allies at such a time as this....
Alvaster thanks Steve and Theon for their time, hands over the promised money, and scuttles off back home. He ducks into the doorway, slams it behind him and stands with his back against it breathing heavily. When it is clear he has not been followed he rushes over to his writing table and scrawls a message on a slip of paper:
"Grey Cloak - "Fingers". Killed in the past few days. Body should be freshly buried in Falcons Crest. May be a bit mangled. AN"
Reaching into the folds of his cloak he recovers the furry little messenger entrusted to him by Potenuse during their nocturnal boat ride. The dried little thing wriggles as he stuffs the folded message inside. Holding the tiny automaton in his outstretched hand he opens the window a crack and mutters to it "Fly to your master, little one". The little creature unfurls its wings with a sound like rustling paper and flies off.
Alvaster paces for a while then settles down to examine the mysterious gnomish tome.
Preparing a mug of hot coffee you open the Tome and study the purple inked diagrams intently. Attempting to comprehend their functioning from base principles proves impossible; you can find nothing that bears any resemblance to standard engineering notation. Lost in study, the hours slip by...
Alvaster is startled back to awareness by the sound of a thudding sound coming from the window. Turning to look he sees a tiny shape throwing itself against the panes. Hurrying over he opens it a crack and the tiny bat-thing falls into his palm and is still. He hurriedly opens the flap in its back and produces a note written in a familiar hand:
"Perfect. Mangled not a problem. We'll sew a mouth on whatever is left of him if need be. Meet me the old tavern by the foot of the crest at midnight. The fools will be dead drunk by then. PV"
Alvaster smiles grimly, tucks the bat into his robes and returns to his studies
You are snapped out of your reverie by the sound of fireworks exploding. It is now close to dusk. You hear the sound of raised voices from the market square. The festival must be in full swing...
Alvaster spends the days after the raid laying low, wary of the increased presence of guards on the street. There is much to occupy him;The steam pipes seem to have become unaligned on the day of the raid. After many hours cursing and calibrating he determines that the flow of hot water from below has begun inexplicably fluctuating. It takes 2 full days of work to reconfigure the valves and pipes to account for the new unpredictability.
On the third day after the raid Alvaster, whilst enjoying his afternoon repast, is disturbed by a sharp rapping at his front door. Peering through a grimy window he makes out a tall, well-dressed elf holding a bottle of wine.
The elf knocks again "Hello? Mr Norkrung? I was hoping for a moment of your time. We have a mutual friend, Professor Crowley...."
can you roll two Saves for Alvaster to see if he's still got his nose?
Alvaster sizes the elf up...
Is he armed, does he look tough, etc etc...
If Alvaster still has a nose attached he will probably be more confident in dealing with this gent.
Alvaster, having been intent on his work, had not paid attention to his prosthesis. Reaching up to his face he gingerly touches the undead member. Although cold to the touch it seems to be in working order.
The elf seems unarmed (apart form the wine bottle). He is slight of frame, handsome, in an elvish way and holds himself with confidence.
His eyes dart about the front of the building but he does not seem to see you peering at him.