Diners and Dragons: A Modern Fantasy Campaign

Game Master VixieMoondew

Legends tell of heroes who met when their backs were against the same wall, desperate groups assembled by the remaining survivors of some cataclysm; others tell of parties that happened to assemble in a tavern at the right time to aid a wandering merchant on a quest that started as a mere afternoon's work that snowballed into a grand conspiracy.

In today's economy, however, that seems unlikely.

Sure, a marauding band of orcs might raid a small town now and then before being ousted by the State Troopers in their flashing red-and-blue mail, or a politician would be discovered to have been consorting with devils, but that was hardly the beginnings of anyone's quest-- though it would usually make the news, at least.

No, today's adventurers are more likely to be errand boys with swords. Sw0rd4Board, @Ven2r, and ClubHub host gig-based job postings that vary in prestige from clearing (literal) skeletons from one's closet to requests from clients who seem to be a little confused but are willing to pay a surprisingly high amount to get "valuable cargo" "escorted" to their home from Arby's.

It's this sort of work that appeals to you now-- whether due to a need for a little extra gold in your Wells Fargo account, expensive NSFW art commissions of your OC's, or simply a little fairly-compensated excitement on the weekends.

That said, save for an outfit and any family heirlooms, a quick look around your home proves two unfortunate facts:
You are currently drastically under-equipped for adventuring, and the local K-Mart is having a "Store Closing Sale" with a percent marked off of all items.

So, with either a bag jingling on your hip or a card checked and double-checked for your budget in your wallet, you arrive at the store with the big K on it.

The sale is still in its early stages; while it's not quite as well-stocked as before, you see very few bare shelves.

There are a fair number of people in the store-- more than there have been there at one time than there has been in years, in fact-- but to call it "crowded" is still a bit of an overstatement.

Most promising, however, is that everything in the store is at least 20% off!

Feel free to purchase at 20% off base price: any non-magical, non-masterwork equipment. For those shopping for weapons, armor, or masterwork equipment (or anything expensive in general), please indicate what you're keeping an eye out for. There may be some... opportunities.

And yes, Nessie, you can try to boost anything you like. As always, there are potential consequences for failure.

Franklin entered the K-Mart with his head low, still sporting the expensive khakis, solid blue button-down (with long sleeves), and black tie he had worn to work. He had almost kept driving by and went home, fear of failure and embarrassment almost winning the day, but in the end his will had won a small victory and he had stopped at the store. Granted, he had spent a half-hour in the vehicle debating with himself whether or not to go in, but here he was.

The young man wandered the aisles, the sheer variety of items threatening to overwhelm him as he also tried to be on the lookout for anyone who might know him. To them, he already had a practiced alibi ready. Just looking for deals...you know these closeout sales. Sure, it wasn't very imaginative, but most everyone who knew him wasn't the imaginative sort. He walked about, getting some ideas on what he would buy, but not picking anything up. Looking for deals was one thing, walking around with throwing stars or a ken-do stick and trying to explain the 'deals' was totally different. Franklin was prepared to gather everything up quickly and make a mad dash for the checkout line when he had decided on what he wanted.

"Quit shoving!"
"You're the one who put your fat ass in my face!!"

"Oh, please stop talking, this was your idea."

"My idea had me on the top!"

"Nonono, go left, go left, you're gonna run us into the-"

The short woman collides with an open freezer door, much to the embarrassment of the lady stocking said freezer.

"No, no, it's alright," awkwardly giggles the shopper, rubbing her red forehead. "My fault. I didn't look," something flaps from within her cinched trench coat, "where I was going!" and again, the same awkward flap. She salutes the minimum wage earner and awkwardly saunters away.

"Owwww-wuh. You didn't hafta kick me," whines the coat, indignant.

The shopper loudly groans and hurries to the bathroom, shoes clacking against the floor. After locking and barricading the door, the blonde uncinches and unbuttons her trench coat and looks into a conveniently placed full-length mirror.

Firstly, she's much shorter than she's been letting on. Secondly, there are two of her, one atop the other's shoulders.

The top half opens her mouth to say something, and- "You said I could have a go, Cassidy," accuses the bottom half, cutting her off. "It was my idea, and I want a turn."

"You always get to be on top," whines Cassidy, hopping off the bottom half's shoulders. "Besides, you're too stupid and panicky to tell a convincing lie."

"So?" counters the bottom half, pulling at her face in the mirror. "I can't believe I let you shave my eyebrows," she grumbles, delicately poking the thin design painted there in mascara.

"You asked me to while you were shaving my eyebrows!" Cassidy smacks her on the back, leading to a shoving match which the bottom half quickly wins, one foot resting atop her defeated foe, arms raised triumphantly.

"There! I won, now that means I get to be the rider, and you get to be the horsey," announces the three-foot four-inch so-called 'mount'.

Cassidy scurries back to her feet, arms folded dramatically. "If I agreed to this, which-I-don't!" she emphatically pokes a blunt fingernail painted black with Sharpie into her other half's sternum. "What would you even say to the cashier?"

The bottom half shrugs. "Iunno. But it'd be better than whatever you're planning."

The top half pushes both of her hands into her face and groans, stretching the skin between her fingers. "I swear to G, Sadducee, it's like you don't even f~@@ing want to get wasted tonight. Come on, this is worth it, think of the story. Try with me here, okay? I'll be the cashier, and you'll be the customer."

Sadducee thinks on it, then inclines her head agreeably.

"Alright, I'll start," says Cassidy, "Du, ddu-dadu, du-dadu, dadu," she sings, miming scanning things through the register. "Ah, now that's some fine quality alcohols. Young ma'am? Might I see your ID?"

Sadducee titters, batting her eyelashes and bending over to expose her cleavage. "Oh, I'm flattered honey, but you don't need to see my ID. Can't you tell I'm 35??"

S.Bluff: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

"Ehh!" Cassidy shouts, imitating a buzzer. "Garbage, try another one."

"You call that garbage??? Let's see you do any better!" Sadducee gives her a light shove and grumpily imitates scanning goods. "Okay lady," she grumbles, "let's see some ID."

Cassidy titters, batting her eyelashes and bending over to expose her cleavage. "Oh, I'm flattered honey, but you don't need to see my ID. Can't you tell I'm 35??"

C.Bluff: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (1) + 13 = 14
S.SM: 1d20 ⇒ 10

Sadducee gawks, entranced by the performance. "Wow. That was, uh, that was way better. Alright, you've convinced me. Get back up here and let's buy some booze."

The city bus pulled up inside the far parking lot of K-Mart. It was always a little bit of a walk to get into the shopping center. Only one passenger disembarked from the aging public transit. A big, tall-looking human with wild hair and a long, sculpted beard, an old Detroit Pistons tanktop with cargo shorts, and a gold-painted mp3 player in his ears. If he took them out, you might have heard a Duel of the Fates metal remix. The large human looked up into a increasing cloudy sky.
"Hmm", the bearded man pondered, scratching his beard. "Portents look...f#<ky."
Never the less, self-proclaimed "Brother" Joe, Joseph on his social security card, Waskalis walked toward the K-Mart entrance, seeing the clearance signs even from yards away. Joe finally got a few days off from the temple..I mean, bar. Last weekend's art festival brought in a lot of folks out of the hot sun and drink some alcohol. It was nice to have a chill day, once in a while. And some retail therapy is just watch the cleric ordered.
The caydenite cleric took his time, walking through the aisles. The bearded human looked through the dwindling big man's deopartment in Men's Clothes. His ultimate destination was the Outdoor Department, where a facebook group said this K-mart location still had a lot of class kits still in stock. Joe was hoping for a cleric's kit.

Muttering invectives under her breath, Faith-in-the-Rain pulled the shutters down on her storefront and double checked the locks. It would be a lot simpler if she could simply get a friend to put a curse on the place so anyone who broke in suffered horribly - sure, you'd have to fix the glass a couple of times, but word gets around after a few people get immolated.

But the insurance for setting people on fire was far too expensive, since apparently there was a risk of stupid kids getting set on fire too. It seemed like a self-solving problem - they would only get set on fire once - but this was, apparently, a little cruel.

Truth be told, Faith was mostly grumpy on how expensive being a hero was apparently going to be. You'd think already owning a set of armour and the ability to create pretty much any melee weapon she could dream of would make this cheap. She didn't even need the spell components most casters needed! And yet there was still a ton of stuff you needed.

Plus, she could do with some new tattoo gear. It wasn't exactly a common thing to find in the average supermarket, but sometimes it was in the medical stuff. And even if the gear itself wasn't there it was possible to buy extra supplies.

Padding into the store, Faith looked around. "Ooooh, there's a deli." The scents wafting were inticing on an empty stomach. "Oh, booze!"

Franklin ended up in the Outdoors/Adventuring gear section of the store after spending several minutes scoping it out to make sure nobody he recognized was around. The last thing he needed was word getting back to his family that he was at K-Mart shopping for gear. What was he getting himself into? He had spent a few months in a dojo, learning how to kick peoples' asses if he could get up the nerve to defend himself verbally, first, and now suddenly he thought he could go down the rabbit hole and become a weekend adventurer?

Or, if he was honest with himself, a full-time one? Franklin didn't mind the work so much, he was good at it and it made him feel satisfied when the numbers fell into place. But the filth he sometimes had to work with...trying to make the criminal seem legit, his parents winking and asking him if an asset wouldn't look better as an expense, the clients berating him as if he personally had written the tax code that was taking their precious earnings. For f%!@'s sake, lady, most people would think making too much money was a boon, not a problem.

So here he was, quickly pacing the aisles as he built up his shopping list in his mind as he perused the shelves. Once he had a pretty good idea of what to get, he strode to the front of the store, grabbed a push-cart, then strolled back in, ignoring the bemused glance of the K-Mart employee who passed by. Wheeling into the Adventuring gear once again, Franklin started tossing things quickly into the buggy, agonizing before throwing in a set of manacles. The cashier would probably think he was into some kinky s@!&, but better that than tell the truth that he hoped to apprehend criminals with them.

Well, let's get to introductions.
Joe got tired of listening to the store's muzak, so he put his headphones back in, and scrolled down the screen to find something..groovy.
Oh! Some Robert Palmer sounds good! The caydenite slowly danced down the aisles to Sporting Goods. Sure enough, the facebook group was right. This location still had a large amount of class kits. After a few moments, Joe found a cleric kit, in good condition, not dusty or anything.
"Thanks, boss." The cleric of Cayden Cailean offers props to his deity.
Continuing his shopping/dancing, Joe turns a corner to find a white collar dude, who looked way to too uncomfortable to be in the store, gently place a pair of manacles into his cart. Joe walked over and made eye contact with the Captain Uptight, then looked into the cart of see the manacles. Pulling out one earbud, the strange dancing bearded dude looked back at the straight-laced shopper and commented, "Dude, nice!"

"No, no, no. This one will work, I swear," a colorful half-elf assures the K-Mart cashier. She jams a credit card into the chip reader, giving the cashier a tight smile as she wills the purchase to go through. But alas, the machine promptly rejects her card, mocking her with its smug electronic beeping.

"F@$&!"Nessie snatches the card away with an exclamation of frustration. "I can't believe they really deactivated all of them!" She scowls at the cashier for a long moment, before composing herself some small amount. "Whatever. I'll put it all back."

She turns her shopping cart sharply, driving it away from the checkout lanes and back into the aisles. The cart in question is heaped with various equipment, from lengths of chain and a grappling hook to a limited-edition mithral waffle iron. Apparently, the young woman has eyes bigger than her wallet and was unable to actually pay for all the items, even with the 20% off sale going on; now she has to perform the walk of shame and put everything back on the shelves where it belongs... Though, 'where it belongs' seems to be open to interpretation, and not all of it is ending up back on a shelf at all.

Nessie casually thrusts the waffle iron onto a nearby shelf, not even bothering to hide it behind the stacks of graphic tees. She glances around to make sure there's no one nearby, and slips a few scented candles into her purse. She drapes the chains over some clothing hangers, swipes a perfume kit, and leaves the grappling hook on top of an underwear display.

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (14) + 14 = 28 She'll start by stealing some Ocean Breeze scented candles
Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (16) + 14 = 30 Also some perfume

Soon enough, her cart is empty, and the junior's section is littered with equipment that some poor, underpaid retail worker will have to find and put away later. She ditches the cart and stalks off in search of the adventuring section, assuming this K-Mart even has one, to see if they have any cute knives.

"Dude, nice!"

Franklin heard the boisterous man close by say the words, but kept his head low, not recognizing the voice and glad for it. What had he been thinking? He should have just ordered all this s$$$ on Amazon like a normal person. 20% off was quite a steal, though, so oh well. The accountant raised his head slightly, hoping the owner of the voice had been talking to another, but nope...the man was looking right at him.

Franklin stared at the large, bearded man swaying to his music with a big grin on his face for a moment, before offering "Thanks. Um, they're not for me, you know. I mean, they're not for a lady-friend, either. Just in case I have a home intrusion and need to incapacitate somebody or something like that." The young man then noticed the markings of the Drunken God on the man's shirt, and eager to change the subject he reached into his cart and pulled out the bottle of wine.

"Soooo, what do you think about this vintage? I'm not much of a drinker myself, so any advice is appreciated." Franklin swiveled his head back and forth to look for any familiar faces, agonizing as he reluctantly stopped forward motion and waited for the man's response. He should have just grunted and kept on going.

Cassidy has difficulty lifting the two 24-packs of Pabst Blue Ribbon tallboys onto the conveyor belt, but she manages. She sweats anxiously as the cashier scans the goods, subconsciously squeezing Sadducee's head with her thighs and digging her nails into her palms.

To the 'appropriately-aged human's' delight, the poor, exhausted cashier scans the cheap beers without bothering to ask for the top half's ID. The most rigorous check he gives is a up and down and a lingering stare at Cassidy's cleavage as she leans over the counter to display it.

"I f+*$ing hate our marking system," he grumbles, doing math on a piece of receipt paper to calculate the cost. "Two 24 packs of 14 ounce beers comes to 672 fluid ounces. That translates into five gallons and one quart." He picks up one of the cases and squints at it before setting it down. "The food and drink sheet doesn't say anything about lager, so we'll call this an ale and price it at 2 silver a gallon. At five and a quarter gallons, you owe me one gold and five copper."

Cassidy almost falls off the counter as Sadducee yanks her foot inside the trench coat. "Bad math," whispers the dumber lower half.

"What?" says the minimum wage earner, looking curiously at the young gnome human woman as she comports herself.

"I said bad bath, er, math. Y'all're closing, I get 20% off everything, right? So I only owe you 8 silver, 4 copper."

The cashier shrugs and enters it into the computer. A moment later the two gnomes burst through the automatic doors, cackling wildly as they race their cart out into the parking lot.

"He didn't even say anything!" marvels Cassidy, trying to find their car by pressing the Lock button on their key fob, jogging towards the honking.

"Cause of these, b#~*+," confidently replies Sadducee as she tries to poke at the summoner's breasts but just jabs her in the belly.

"Ow, quit it!" Cassidy gives her summoned twin a swift kick, distracting them both enough for them to crash into the side of their custom-painted SMARTcar ForTwo.

"Look what you did to Siouxsie!" whines the top half, undoing the trench coat and hopping down.

"You know I can't see like that, the very least you could do is steer," says Sadducee, on the defensive as she opens the trunk.

Cassidy struts over to the large dent and scratch on their self-proclaimed "nightmare chariot" and smears some lipstick over the area. A few moments later, the dent pops back out, paint restored.

Mending

"What now?" grunts the bottom half, lugging the PeeBeRs into the car.

Cassidy pulls out a long sheet of paper. "Well, we proved it can be done, so, looks like we get more and grab some fun stuff as well!" She hands the shopping list over and starts flossing in the rear view mirror.

"Why does it say 'weapons, maybe also armor'?" Sadducee asks, scratching her head.

"Becauf, we wa-ed oo go ahn thone ehh-hen-jurh fif fonner."

The mirror image nods sagely, closing the trunk. "We did want to go on some adventures this summer, we did say that, yup. So, we're planning on murdering people?"

Spitting, Cassidy shrugs. "Or maiming them at least. Wasn't there a bounty posting at the laundromat? There's all types of s@#! we could get into, the world is our oyster."

"Mmmmm."

With Sadducee distracted thinking about oysters, Cassidy climbs back atop.

---

While vaguely considering some particularly salacious leather armor, the duo nearly bumps into Nephriel Neridian.

"Back up, back up, back up," whispers the rider as they fold themselves into some hanging clothing, doing a poor job of hiding. "That was f!*@ing Nephriel! She knows we're not 21, she'll tell somebody!"

"You mean the Loch Ness Monster-"

"Nessie," Cassidy corrects.

"You mean the girl who sells us weed? She's not a rat."

Cassidy pokes her head out of the rack, peering at Nessie from afar. "No, but we can't take chances. Let's just, stroll on by, and completely mind our own business. Maybe she won't recognize us, I mean like, no one would expect either of us to be 5'2"."

"Good plan, let's go." Sadducee starts moving, thrusting the top half into the shopping cart, winding her. They briskly pass Nephriel, pointedly looking forward and ignoring her entirely.

"Soooo, what do you think about this vintage? I'm not much of a drinker myself, so any advice is appreciated." Franklin swiveled his head back and forth to look for any familiar faces, agonizing as he reluctantly stopped forward motion and waited for the man's response. He should have just grunted and kept on going.

Joe notices the man's gaze rest on his holy symbol around his neck. "I'd be happy to." The bearded man takes the wine bottle and examines it.

The sound of loud and fairly explicit rap music can be heard through the store, and anyone near the entrance see an...interesting character come in the door. A gnome man standing at a fairly average three foot eleven struts into the store. His clothes and brightly colored dreadlocks wouldn’t be out if place on someone several feet taller in an MTV music video. Dark stubble frames his jawline, but a few gray hairs show he might not be the hip young gnome he seems to be.

Anyone listening closely can hear a slightly high pitched voice rapping along with the song. He starts wandering the store, muttering, ”Damn B, I need some juice. Maybe some chips too. Damn near forgot, gotta get some kinda knife. I ain’t never gon’ be a G if I can’t fight.”

While walking through the adventuring section he eventually bumps into Nessie and breaks into a smile, ”Yo wassup, Nessie? How you doin? How’d you get outta that kickback last Friday? That half-orc seemed damn pissed.”

While vaguely considering some particularly salacious leather armor, the duo nearly bumps into Nephriel Neridian.

"Back up, back up, back up," whispers the rider as they fold themselves into some hanging clothing, doing a poor job of hiding. "That was f!#!ing Nephriel! She knows we're not 21, she'll tell somebody!"

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16 Yeah, I assume she notices... That.

Nessie purses her glossy lips, considering how a pair of denim shorts will look on her ass, and looks up just in time to see an awkward woman nearly collide with her. "Hey!"

The woman — who looks kind of familiar? — retreats into a rack of clothing, appears to have an argument with herself, and then tries to walk right on past.

"Hey!" Nessie repeats, turning. "Are you high?" She cocks her head, finally getting a good look at the weird lady.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 3 + 6 = 25 +6 friends and associates bonus to see through a disguise!

Disguise: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23
Disguise, Aid Another: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (17) + 14 = 31

Nessie's 25 matches, beating the disguise check

"Not yet, no," says Cassidy, lowering her voice in an attempt to obfuscate her identity. She hopes the other gnome trying to get Nephriel's attention (with his eyebrows intact and all) will allow her to escape, but feels she has been definitively noticed.

Nessie stares at the woman for a long moment, and then blinks as it clicks into place. She smirks knowingly. "Do you wanna be?"

While walking through the adventuring section he eventually bumps into Nessie and breaks into a smile, ”Yo wassup, Nessie? How you doin? How’d you get outta that kickback last Friday? That half-orc seemed damn pissed.”

"Oh, hey," she replies casually. Looping an arm around the trenchcoat-ed woman's shoulders, she nods in the direction of the K-Mart parking lot. "I'll tell you all about it, but we're about to go smoke up. Wanna come?"

Can I get Perception checks from Nessie, Brother Joe and Franklin, please? Proper post coming later this afternoon when I get back to my PC.

”Fasho.” Docta G notices the Marvins and says, ”Who’s your friend there?”

Cassidy makes a face at the junior rapper. "Cassidy Marvin. The f#+!'re you?"

”You ain’t heard of me? Well, I’m Docta G, baddest rapper in Virginia Beach, ‘side Pusha T I guess.”

Sadducee snorts from inside the coat, only to receive another swift kick from her counterpart.

"You're a bad rapper? So you're, like, on SoundCloud, then?" Cassidy teases. "What I mean, is, I wasn't aware that VB had a rap scene."

Percepion: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

Even with the distraction of the Caydenite waxing philosophical about the bottle of wine, Franklin's keen eyes continued to dart about, praying to any of the deities who might listen that no one recognize him. Looking back to Joe, he smiled weakly and quietly said, "Well that's good. You never hear any good stories about El Nino." Franklin's eyes followed the large man's hand down to the cart, watching the wine be put back in before he met the man's eyes again after noticing the cleric's kit.

After an awkward pause he said, "So are you some kind of traveling cleric of Cayden Cailean, then?" Dammit, Franklin, just bid him good day and get to the counter before you see anyone.

At that, the accountant's eyes were drawn to the eccentric gnome who sauntered into the store to the sounds of gangsta rap, the head full of dreadlocks transfixing him before he realized the man was absolutely tiny. A gnomish rapper...no wonder this place was closing. As the gnome started speaking with a couple of ladies nearby, Franklin turned his attention away, both of the women seeming cute and edgy and therefore scary and completely out of his league (although one seemed oddly lumpy beneath the coat she wore). He pursed his lips as he looked back to Joe, willing the man to move along instead of continuing the conversation.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

"Well that's good. You never hear any good stories about El Nino." Franklin's eyes followed the large man's hand down to the cart, watching the wine be put back in before he met the man's eyes again after noticing the cleric's kit.

"I don't know", the big man waxed again. "El Nino messes up the west coast, but by the time it get here in The Great Lakes, we get milder winters that year. Sometimes I think we midwesterners should hold a regional holiday for El Nino; welcome it like a conquering hero!"

After an awkward pause he said, "So are you some kind of traveling cleric of Cayden Cailean, then?" Dammit, Franklin, just bid him good day and get to the counter before you see anyone.

The bearded man looks down at the kit in his arms. "Kind of. I'm from Michigan originally, but ultimately I go where Cayden sends me." The caydenite switches the kit his hands to extend his in greeting. "My name Joe. What's yours?"

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

"Yeah, he's a regular, uh," she struggles to think of a rapper to compare him to, and completely blanks. Not surprising, considering that her most of her music library consists of pirated Lana Del Ray albums. "Whatever. He plays a lot of parties here."

She rolls her eyes and tries to tug Cassidy in the direction of the automatic doors. "Come on. You have a car, right?"

Cassidy blushes and fumbles with a lock of her blonde hair. "Uh, yeah, but it ain't exactly big enough for four people. It's a ForTwo. But if we squeeze?"

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

The gnome-on-top clears her throat and unbuttons her trench coat, subtly flashing Sadducee's face at Nessie and Docta G.

Sadducee waves and giggles. "I get to pick the music."

As Cassidy unbuttons her coat Docta G chuckles slightly and says, ”Man, I know meetin’ a star can get some feelins goin’ but...” His face takes on a mask of absolute confusion when he sees Sadducee, ”What the...”

He takes a moment to adjust himself to the strange sight before following Cass and Nessie outside.

Franklin nodded in agreement as Joe continued on about El Nino, thinking to remind the man that they weren't in the Midwest. He thought better of it, though, as he didn't know how aggressive (or drunk) the Caydenite might be and it would possibly invite further conversation about geography. Not that Franklin really minded such things...just not right this second. As Joe mentioned the weather system being regarded as a hero, the accountant raised his eyebrows and smiled weakly. "Yup...mild winters are always welcome."

As the burly priest continued on, Franklin's curiosity about the man's comment about El Nino was sated as Joe mentioned being from Michigan. Ok, that made sense, then. As the cleric extended his hand in greeting, the accountant reached across the cart and grasped the offered extremity in a surprisingly firm grip. "Franklin. Nice to meet you, Joe."

As he noticed the man's gaze drawn back behind him, Franklin glanced back again and then turned a bit red, chuckling, "Sorry...all the racket distracted me. Didn't mean to be rude." As the priest glanced around him, the accountant glanced longingly at the checkout line, trying to build up the nerve to excuse himself.

"Deal," Nessie giggles, unphased by the sudden appearance of the second gnome. "Lead the way!"

As he noticed the man's gaze drawn back behind him, Franklin glanced back again and then turned a bit red, chuckling, "Sorry...all the racket distracted me. Didn't mean to be rude." As the priest glanced around him, the accountant glanced longingly at the checkout line, trying to build up the nerve to excuse himself.

"Well, $#|+, Frank!" Joe bellowed, like he was psyching himself up.

Well, this'll teach me to sleep and eat and stuff.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12

Watching the impressively vocal group being, Faith shook her head a little and smiled. One or two looked familiar, kinda - maybe she'd seen them back when she'd been in school, maybe they were customers, or maybe she'd met them at a bar once or twice - but she couldn't easily remember names.

Well, not off the top of her head. She certainly knew who they all were now. They were not a quiet bunch, and it was only through a minor miracle - and a clean up on aisle 2 - that none of the shop staff had overheard them. Not that they'd likely care. This place was more undead than a couple of vamps she'd met who wanted UV tattoos. Which was a terrible idea, but the customer was always right until they'd paid.

Still, the group of five (?) were more interesting than sorting out the right kinda hemp rope.

...and they had weed, and she'd run out.

The lights flicker, and a deep, cool voice comes over the (admittedly somewhat garbled) intercom.

"We are having a Blue Light Special. For a limited time, Coca CoLWa will be sold for twenty gold pieces. Twenty gold pieces for the Blue Light Special on Coca CoLWa..."

For those who choose to investigate, cans of red soda-- slightly glowing-- stand stacked in a pyramid. While famously not a particularly good choice for adventurers in combat (the carbonation making it hard to guzzle the entire can in six seconds or less), the Coca-Cola Company marketed it as a way to refresh between battles.

They also marketed it with elven supermodels, but that was beside the point.

Sadducee turns the pair of them towards the display, marching for the cola potions despite Cassidy's protests. "Oh we gotta get some of that s*@#, are you kidding? Let's smoke up after, I don't wanna be caught with my pants down when we're out and about killing people."

The Hello Kitty backpack (-20 gold), and two colas (+40), also getting one slutty outfit (6.4 g), a pair of high heels (8 g), and what the hell, interrogator tools/kink s&&& (24 g), that added to the original 63.8 (40+6.4+8+24+63.8-20), makes 122.2 gp, leaving me with a little less than 10 gold left.

Faith held up the backpack. Well, it was what she wanted, and it would carry her stuff. The cheap price was just icing on the cake. Grabbing it, and the large number of wipes, inks and needles, she followed the many other people down the aisle towards the curative cola.

...it probably wasn't addictive.

Grabbing a couple of cans - she'd saved enough to make it break even - she added, she couldn't help but overhear the comment about pants. "You know, I'm pretty sure killing some people is a lot easier with your pants down. They're probably going to be distracted at the very least." Even the people who weren't into it were likely to be shocked by a sudden lack of pants.

Somehow, she doubted this place would sell the tearaway ones. Besides, Faith preffered skirts most of the time. The effect was simple enough to replicate.

Cassidy glances down at Faith-in-the-Rain and cinches her trench coat tighter, making sure Sadducee is well hidden. "That's my go to if I ever get mugged, actually. Strip and run off screaming! Feel like a criminal'd think twice before runnin after a howling nude woman."

On your way toward the booze section (though as any Midwesterner knows, the good stuff should be in the store right alongside the basic wine and beer-- the fact that the ABC store is separate will forever feel strange to you), you notice that in the abandoned corner of the store, there seems to be a slight rustling near the back row. Weird!

In the Big and Tall section (which is woefully small, ironically), you find a sign beneath a poster of a particularly broad dwarf in scalemail. Apparently, middle-protection armors are currently 35% off.

Joe immediately stops his battle charge to the front of the store, as his head whips around to the abandoned corner in the store.

Docta G heads to the counter with a set of leather armor tastefully accessorized with a Supreme sticker, a shortsword that seems to have more style that practical use, and a flashy, gnome-sized boombox.

He puts his items on the counter and once the shortsword is scanned he says, "Ah, damn, I thought than was a dagger." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out some money, mostly in silvers and coppers. He makes a show of counting it out before he says, "I ain't got enough for the shortsword. Not less you wanna count it as a dagger. Same bin, ya get me?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23

This might be drifting into bluff territory. Either way, it's the same result.

The accountant jumped as Joe suddenly bellowed at him, his eyes wide as the man started yelling about adventure awaiting. Franklin looked on in concern as Brother Joe commandeered his buggy, alternating his thinking between joining the man (his friendly energy was rather contagious) or slinking off and abandoning his cart (surely the priest wasn't expecting Franklin to pay for that kit?). Franklin would be the first to admit to himself that he wasn't quite sure what counted as adventure and what not, but checking oneself out at the K-Mart didn't seem to qualify.

Maybe the man was talking about the two ladies and the lyrical genius who were heading toward the exit. Either way, Franklin followed behind the man, being pulled along as he maintained a grip on the front handle of the buggy, mouth open as he tried to work out a question, statement, anything really. Mainly he wanted to tell the man not to call him Frank, but he seemed so jovial as to make the accountant seem trivial. As he wrestled internally with how to handle the unstoppable force literally dragging him along, he saw a bit of motion by one of the areas clear of merchandise and now stacked with boxes.

Seeing that the area was devoid of other shoppers, Franklin reached forward and pulled at Joe's sleeve, only to see the man about-face as he was leaning and almost barrel him over. "Did you see something over there, too? Maybe it's just an associate trying to take a breather. I can't imagine the imminent loss of your job is good for morale." The young man strode toward the packaging in the corner, anxious to take back at least partial control of the situation. Maybe the guy would think he was weird and just leave.

A red-skinned Tiefling whose adolescence seems not so far behind him considers the conundrum before him. On the one hand, this job was going to be over soon. On the other hand, he had never truly given a crap about this job. On the prehensile tail, any profits earned at this late stage would be going straight to whatever suit-wearing jerk was driving the company into the ground in the first place.

Figuring that all his appendages agree, he turns over his shoulder.

”Jeron? Need your code.”

Without delay, a burly dwarf with dark skin and a dreadlocked beard hustles over, a crossbow hanging on the back of his managerial vest. He gets halfway through punching in the numbers when he stops and looks at the gnome

”Adventuring sort, are ya? Don’t suppose you’d mind helping out a bit?”

He stands on his tiptoes for a moment, eyeing the two taller women and the other Tiefling whose carts also contain some gear. ”Yourselves as well?”

Joe and Frankie, I’m gonna respond to you after this conversation.

"Taller," yeah, sure, taller than Faith and G, but in Mounted Formation they only come up to 5'2".

"Uhhh, helping out how? Are there some cave rats in the pillow storage? Oh, just these, please," Cassidy places a divider between her possessions and the next person's, and pays with cash.

Laughing in amusement at the strange, coat wearing lady, Faith replied, "I guess the trench coat means you can always be ready to swing into action, at least."

Swishing her own tail in an amused response, Faith replied, "We're either ooking to do some adventuring or we're going to have a really interesting weekend." Looking at the various carts for a moment - ropes, manacles, a variety of leathers and weapons, alcoholc and healing potions - she certainly wasn't sure she could guess which was the more likely, or the most fun.

"Still, 'tis a while until evening. What did you have in mind?"

Nessie saunters after the excitable gnome, pouting a little bit about being brushed off for a soda pyramid. She perks right up when she happens to come across the sale display of spring blades, though, and excitedly picks the cutest one. "F$$# yeah," she exclaims, and as she continues shopping, repeatedly flicks the blade open and shut with one hand in a slightly worrying manner.

She also grabs two cans of the CoLWa, a set of faux leather armor that she thinks will make her look tough and sexy, and a few other odds-and-ends that just won't quite fit in her purse. She arrives at the register triumphantly and begins unloading onto the belt behind Cassidy, when the dwarven manager arrives and begins to ask about adventuring.

The rogue tries to play it cool, like she's some kind of seasoned adventurer that's been doing this for ages. "American Spirit Blues," she tells the cashier, gesturing to the tobacco section behind the counter, before glancing brusquely at the dwarf. "Maybe. What's it worth to you?"

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20

Checking out with 2 colas (40gp), a Spring Blade (40gp), Leather Armor (8gp), Thieve's Tools (24gp), fancy wine (12gp), and cigarettes (probably like 4 silver for a pack? IDK but 2lbs of tobacco is 1gp) for 104gp total

The dwarven manager looks conspiratorially around the store for a moment, then leans in on his elbow, waving the four(ish) of them in.

"Look," he whispers, "you know how every time something gets foreclosed on or goes out of business, you have to clear out the goblins before you do anything with the property?"

At 20% off, 4 silver for a pack of cigarettes works for me! Checkout approved.

”Fasho man. I’m always down to adventure.”

"I've never worked retail," Faith murmured back. "You're going to have to explain. Are you talking actual Goblins?"

"The balloon-headed green suckers that nibble power lines if you don't bother to shield 'em and root through your garbage if you toss out fast food without double-baggin' it, yeah," he says. "Now I'm not sayin' you have to kill 'em. But I'm not not sayin' that. Let me know either way-- I'll have Josh come through with a mop after if it comes to that." The Tiefling beside him groans, but doesn't object any more forcefully than that.

Jeron pushes the Tiefling aside, punching a few buttons and opening the register. He empties the gold coins out of the tray into a bag and plops it on the conveyor.

"If you can get rid of 'em-- one way or another, ideally in a way they aren't gonna just walk back in tomorrow-- this is yours. Plus a twelve-pack of Coca CoLWa."

"Oh, yes," Cassidy lies, nodding furiously. "I have lots of experience with sapient pest control."

Bluff: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (1) + 13 = 14

At the sight of the reward, she wobbles a bit on Sadducee's shoulders. "Y-you mean a 12-pack, each, right?" she blushes, trying to seduce the dwarf into giving her what she wants.

Dip: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28+2 if he finds me attractive

He buys it... unfortunately for Cassidy. "I figured you'd split it between yourselves," he says, looking puzzled a moment. "You guys are a party, right? I figured you'd split it based on who needed it-- that's how Jamal always says it's done."

He pauses a moment, realizing that you don't know Jamal. "My cousin. Former adventurer, knee injury. There's an obvious joke there, but he hates when you mention it."

He drums his fingers on the register, then:
"I can give you an 18-pack, but I can't go higher than that. Call it a convenience fee, since you're already here."