Conquest of the Vale (Inactive)

Game Master leinathan

Assuming the team would make a decision soon, Wulfgar moved back to the camp to prepare for their departure. Using his cantrip he dumps water on the fire to make sure all the embers are out. Adjusting the straps on his pack to make sure nothing would dig, the greatsword hanging from it's broad leather strap. He preferred to carry the large sword, resting it on his shoulder. But he was unwilling to leave the saddle, bridle and saddle bags, they had cost more than the mule. Dumping the grain he had brought for Jenny on the ground, it was pointless to carry the weight of it. Holding the saddle comfortably in both hands, he returns to the group in time to hear Pavo say they should return to the fort. Smiling a gap toothed smile, Wuflgar asks. "Shall we be leavink comRades?"

Looks like Wulfgar, Portia, and Pavo in favor of returning to the fort. Tanu in favor of finding the horses. Talia in favor of finding the killers. To the fort it is!

%: 1d100 ⇒ 13

The party sets out after striking camp, headed north. Tanu gets to ride, but everyone else must trudge through the mud. The party first must descend from foothills, which involves lots of carefully maneuvering down a steep slope. Then the path leads into thick old-growth forest, which presents its own obstacles -- the way is slow.

The Vale is beautiful, of course, but also wild, covered in vines, and constantly echoing with the calls of large animals.

What is our marching order? Are we performing any actions while traveling? If so, roll appropriately.

Pavo sees Wulfgar struggle a bit with the weight of his mounts gear,and hold out his arm.

"Wulfgar, I can easily carry that burden without impairing my combat ability. Strap it onto my pack, and your weapon will be easier to access."

Along the trek, Pavo is quiet, but keeps his bow out and in hand. His halberd remains comfortably swung up over his shoulder, allowing easy access to whichever method of death he needs.

Pavo sees Wulfgar struggle a bit...

Yeah, no :)

Raising an eyebrow at Pavo, Wulfgar looks at the fighter with his clear grey left eye as his right eye roles up into his head. Shaking his head. "I am thankink you comRade, but no. Beink able to be carryink own gear is ancient rrrrule." He gives a gapped tooth grin, "Besides, strrrrappink saddle to rrrrucksack is cumbersome, dah? Easier to be drrrroppink saddle and drrrrawink grrrreatsword."

It had been a long day for Casamir. An owlbear had spooked his horse a few days back, taking the lion’s share of his supplies, not to mention his tent and bedroll. To top it all off, his favorite prism inscribed with Lalaci’s symbol had taken a spill on a rock and shattered.

He just had to make it to the fort. Luckily, he spied a group of travelers in the distance, all of them sufficiently armed as to be adventurers.

Casamir rambles up to them, raising a hand in greeting, ”Good day, friends! I’m looking for, ah, Fort Thorn, is it? Happen to know where that might be?”

At the outset, Portia Porphyria-Jeggare began the trek back to Fort Thorn with the others, on foot. That lasted about four-and-a-half minutes. She had been studying the magical incantations for her phantom steed, working on solving its limited duration and struggle through mountainous or swampy terrain. She had not made any progress in the past couple days since arriving at Fort Thorn -- having only an hour a day to study her spellbook was yet one more significant difference to life at The Academae where research and study were paramount to one's routine.

She had bought a real horse with which to explore Bloodsworn Vale. That lasted about as long as her Phantom Steed at full duration. And despite a real horse's grace and beauty from afar, up close they were sweaty, smelly beasts with minds of their own. How can Druids possibly like those dumb animals. Returning to Fort Thorn, she's conjuring her own mount.

A ghostly, violaceous steed forms where the Wizard conjures it and takes her weight. And her commands to move forward. Gracefully. Elegantly.

. . . .

”Good day, friends! I’m looking for, ah, Fort Thorn, is it? Happen to know where that might be?”

Portia looks to her allies as this new apparition appears in the distance, approaching. She raises her eyebrow to Pavo and Tanu to take the lead in determining this man's worthiness. 'Adventuring is such a world away from nobility and court life, even The Academae. No intrigue. No guile. Everyone is perfunctory and even trusting. I guess that is how this game is played among adventurers. ....Hmm, I believe that when betrayal, even mere manipulation, occurs in soldier-life, it is shocking. Imagine, a world where guile and intrigue are not infused in every ounce of life. It's almost like the HellKnights.'

Portia Porphyria-Jeggare steps forward on her violaceous, ethereal steed of eldritch fog. "Well met."

The girl is young, late teen obviously, and her eve-green, leather explorer’s outfit looks as though it has not yet seen a battle, just a little dusty from the mountainous road, suffering a few minor scratches from a wild thorn here and there. It still has that new-leather smell. The girl carries herself gracefully, even regally: She was clearly taught from a young age how to walk and talk like one of noble birth. A violet cloak matches her eyes, coruscated with deep intelligence, and her gleaming ebony hair and pale-olive skin reveal an authentic Chelaxian ethnicity. A golden signet ring, enchanted bag, magical headband, and fancy golden choker complete her ensemble.
A bright coral snake is wrapped delicately around her wrist, looking exactly like a Wizard’s Familiar posing as additional jewelry. "We are returning to Fort Thorn ourselves. I am Lady Porphyria-Jeggare."

Casamir gives an exaggerated bow, before popping back up with a smile, "Casamir Ydrasku, at your humblest service. What a fine coincidence! Mind if I tag along?"

In a stark contrast to Porphyria, Casamir is just on the cusp of middle-age, a few streaks of grey running through his dark hair. His clothes are far from new, with an old but well-made sling at his belt seeming to be his nicest possession, which is really not saying much.

Pavo steps up to the newcomer, holding out an armored gauntlet for a handshake. The tall, black armored man with spikes aplenty nods.

"I am Pavo, Aspirant of the Order of the Scourge. I take it you are here for gold and glory?"

Casamir gives Pavo a hearty handshake, "Of a sort, yes. I serve Lalaci, He of Motely Repose. It is his bidding for which I am here, to see the beauty of the world and, if necessary, to fight to preserve it. The land and the gold is a nice bonus, though."

Hearing the stranger rambling through the woods, Wulfgar drops his saddle and reaches over his shoulder, laying his hand on the greatswords handle. As the tan dark haired man greets them, Wulfgar studies him. His left eye focused on the stranger, his right twitching unfocused. As Portia speaks up and informs the man of their destination and introduces herself, Wulfgar visibly relaxes. As Casamir introduces himself, Wulfgar releases the weapon's handle waiting as Pavo introduces himself. Raising an eyebrow as Pavo asks the man about 'gold and glory.' Wulfgar Chuckles as the man replies about 'beauty of the world and fighting to preserve it.' He quickly decides it will be fun watching these two interact.

Reaching a skillet sized hand forward and giving a gap toothed smile. "Grrrreetinks Casamir, I am beink Wulfgarrrr Ivarson, servant of Gorrrrum." Gesturing towards the path inferring Casamir should join them, Wulfgar turns and picks up his saddle and continues following Portia.

Tanu's eyes snap to the newcomer when he appears, readying himself in case he was hostile. When this Casamir claimed to be looking for Fort Thorn, he relaxes somewhat but still not completely. How did he miss the fort coming into the vale? Kind of the first main stop... However, his manners came to the fore when the conversation continued, and he snapped off a brief bow of the head. "I am Tanu, and this is Nisha" he said, with a fond look down at his horse. He was obviously very happy to be riding again after Portia's conjured horse was able to take one of the eggs, leaving enough room for him to ride again.

As the group turns and begins making headway back to the fort, he falls in next to Casamir. "Where are you from friend? And how did you find yourself so deep in the vale without passing through the fort?"

”I am a son of Varisia, born and raised.”

As Tanu asks him how he ended up lost he chuckles sheepishly as he says, ”Well, a very good question, and part of an unfortunate saga. I had fully intended to go to the fort when a gleam of light over a side trail caught my eye. I thought it was my holy guide’s sign. Turns out it was just a shiny rock far in the distance, which I found out after an owlbear had eaten my horse and I took refuge atop a small peak. Since then it’s been...difficult.”

Talia lets loose a short, clipped laugh. "Difficult indeed. We've had similar problems. I'm Talia Khavortorov, of Brevoy." Just 'of Brevoy' she thinks, morose at the thought of her loss of influence and title.

As they walk, Talia looks for game to hunt and food to forage. Her magic provides her with a supernatural competence - she doesn't slow a pace as she walks, and readily pulls mushrooms from tree trunks, wild onions from the ground, and puts an arrow through a small feral hog at 60 paces.

survival, deadeye's lore: 1d20 + 5 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 5 + 4 = 28 That's 9 days' worth of food.

'Hmm, this guy saw a shiny rock in the woods and mistakenly thought it was from his god. He and the Cleric of Gorum should get along well.'

Portia Porphyria-Jeggare carries the Owlbear egg with which she has been entrusted carefully -- after not feeling that she accomplished much in the battle, she really wants to get back with the egg in tact. At least she has her phantom steed.

Portia keeps her steed in the middle of the group, behind Pavo whom she trusts the most, and Tanu whom she likes as a Vudrani. She hadn't met any native Varisians in her brief time in Korvosa outside of The Academae, but had read enough of them to know that a small part of her is drawn to the romance of the bohemian gypsy lifestyle and culture. 'Of course, it's probably more like the real life horse: Beautiful and graceful from a distance, stinks like dwarf-sweat up close.'

She looks to Ydrasku, '("Iodrescu"?)', "A Varisian. I studied your people and these lands a bit at The Academae; the Master of Illusion Magic taught us. I didn't realize the Azata, Lalaci, was a popular figure of, um, 'worship,' for you people. ....You'll probably get along well with Wulfgar; he also worships a really, you know, chaotic, being." That word, "chaotic," she's trying to not make it sound pejorative. It just comes out that way.

Portia's words are friendly, inviting. Her prejudice is most likely inadvertent; she seems unaware of how insulting her words may be taken. She's trying to be friendly, but her youth and upbringing both hinder her. Despite her attempts to fit in, she looks nothing more than a rich, noble girl on a magical mount playing at adventuring life.

Portia Porphyria-Jeggare looks at the fungus and onions Talia provides. Naming the gift aloud while receiving it, the telltale sign of feigning pleasure as not to be rude, Portia thanks the Skald. "Oh, um, toadstool and onion." She flicks off some dirt and what she hopes is just mud. "Thank you. Uh, perhaps it would be good cooked.

"By the way, that Spider Climb spell was a real boon." Portia's snobbishness completely evaporated with the hearty food out of thought. "I decided to focus on Abjuration magic at The Academae, and thus my learning of Transmutation magic really suffered. But I know how beneficial such magic is and, well, now that we're returning, victorious in our fight, I wanted to mention my thanks properly.

"I never learned much of Brevoy; you'll have to tell me about your lands sometime."

The bit about the shiny rock had me laughing for a solid minute.

"Well, Lalaci himself is not. Though I cannot speak for all my people, the Empyreal powers are quite popular among most. Desna, of course, is the oldest and most respected of them, but all have a place within the hearts of the Varisians, the azata especially. Freedom and joy, after all, is what many of us hope for, and what the azata promise freely and joyously." He laughs at his own little joke for just a bit too long.

Casamir stays in fairly good spirits, despite his unfortunate lack of a horse. It's clear he's dealt with worse travel with worse company,

"Freedom? Freedom from what, specifically? Responsibility? Civilization? Law and order? There is no real freedom without structure and organization, which we must impose on this rough and dangerous place. I am sure your horse is enjoying it's freedom, delivered at the claws and beak of an owlbear."

Pavo walks deliberately and scans for dangers even as he speaks in his muffled baritone, not looking at the newcomer directly as he talks.

Casamir gives Pavo a befuddled stare before saying genially, "Freedom from those who would tie us down, from those who would keep us from living life to it's fullest. I do not disagree that freedom from all expectation and responsibility leads to the deepest cruelty, but the mighty do have a tendency to see the world as theirs alone."

He gazes wistfully into the forest for a moment, a slight scowl on his face, "My horse did deserve better, though. That, I am unable to refute."

knowledge(religion) Lalaci: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Raising an eyebrow as the Varisian explained how he got lost, Wulfgar chuckles when Portia says Casamir and he should get along, then laughs aloud when she refers to Goram as chaotic. His right eye temporarily focuses with his left as he looks at her, his eyes watering from the laughter. "Bwa ha ha ComRade Porrrrtia, that is common misunderstandink. Gorrrrum not chaotic at all. He is but havink one law. Fight! It is the fightink that is Chaotic." His right eye rolls up into his head, showing white. "True he is lovink the fightink, so seemink to be chaotic. But very serious about followink one law." So badly want to start "The first rule of fight club..."

As Casamir and Pavo begin a conversation about their views on Freedom, Wulfgar knows well enough to leave the conversation alone. He had never had anyone try and 'tie him down' the worst thing he had experienced was getting locked up for the night being drunk in the streets. And that pretty much happened everywhere; Chelaxia, Varisia or Taldor.

Seeing Talia bringing back food, Wulfgar quicken his pace to admire the harvest. Nodding in agreement with Portia. "Mmmmm. Onion and Mushrrrrooms good eatink with boarrrr. Bringink out earthy flavor. Boarrrr almost beink as good as bearrrr. I am havink some potatoes we could be addink."

As the ladies conversation changes to different schools of magic and and exotic locations, Wulfgar, still dreaming about food, slips back to the rear of the pack. Occasionally checking their trail behind them.

As the conversations swirl around him, Tanu tends toward quiet focus, as was more normal for him. He keeps his gaze pointed forward, sweeping left and right looking for any signs of danger.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

After meeting a new companion on the road, the party once again begins to walk north. The rain does not let up, and the sky is gray and cloudy. Several times, someone's foot slips in the mud or slips into a wet hole, and the going through the wooded hills is slow for everyone.

It is still raining: -4 to Perception and ranged attack checks, reduced visibility by half.

In this way the party travels through the morning and into the afternoon. At noon, it is time for lunch, and the food that Talia has collected while traveling is enough to feed everyone a hearty meal and leave leftover onion and other roots for dinner. A fire for cooking makes smoke, and smoke draws some attention: Party lunch is interrupted.

Identifiable by the hissing sound made by evaporating water as it swoops through the air, a flight of draconic creatures circles in on the party's resting place. Four of them can be spotted. The creatures have red skin and eyes, long horns that sweep back from their heads, batlike wings, and powerful clawed legs. Their tails are long, and equipped with horny protrusions. The creatures let loose a cry that sends birds fleeing for alternate shelter as they grow near.

Rather than immediately attacking, the creatures instead circle the traveling companions. One of them -- the largest and most muscular specimen -- rumbles out a question in its native tongue. "למי מכם יש את החוכמה לשלם את המחווה שאנו דורשים?"

I am using Hebrew in place of Draconic.

"They demand tribute and question our wisdom if we do not provide it. I am inclined to refuse, but I defer to your expertise on such matters, Jeggare."

Pavo slides the visor of his black spiked helm down, and watches the flying creatures calmly.

Once the party stopped for a lunch, Wulfgar drops his saddle and offers to help with the preparations. Skinning the boar while others got a fire ready. He pulled a few potatoes out of his rucksack, chopping them with the mushrooms and the onions. once the vegetables were chopped he stuffed them into the boar. Rubbing the boar with plenty of salt, he put it on a spit over the fire. Nodding and smiling a gap toothed smile at his preparations. "Dah, boarrrr good eatink comRades."

knowledge(arcana): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

Having not considered the effects of visible smoke Wulfgar was tending the fire when the creatures started circling about. Looking up he begins Studying the creatures as they circle above, hearing Pavo's translation the cleric of Gorum maneuvers so he can draw his greatsword. Gesturing towards the creatures. "Flame Drakes, comRades. brrrreathink fire, vulnerable to cold. Beink very quick. They will be wantink tribute. If not, fightink."

Lore of the Flame Drake Fools!: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (2) + 14 = 16

Seeing four fire-breathing creatures flying above them, Portia casts the Standard Resist Energy: Fire instinctively. Then she 'Moves' her hand into her Haversack to retrieve her Scroll of Major Image, also allowing Tiamat to slither inside for a few seconds.

'Damn it to Belial! I've been studying Draconic but haven't become fluent yet.'

Not knowing what languages the Drakes speak other than Draconic, Portia speaks to her allies in Infernal, then Sylvan.

Then, in the common tongue, she whispers to everyone, "Feign terror; acquiesce."

Seeing members of the party prepare for battle -- either by drawing weapons or by casting spells -- the creatures become incensed. They snarl and bare their teeth, crying out, "הפסיקו את הטיפשות הזאת! זרוק את הנשק שלך! אין עוד קסם! לא תקבל אזהרה נוספת."

The largest specimen fixes its beady eyes on the party members one by one as it flies around them. When it speaks again, its voice carries an avaricious tone. "המחווה הראשונה שלך היא הקלה ביותר לתשלום - אנו דורשים את כל המטבע שלך."

GM, I'm not sure where Talia's extra coin would be? If there's lockboxes at Fort Thorn, she'd have left it there. If not, she'd have had it in her pack on her horse. Either way, she doesn't have any money on her :)

Being from Brevoy, Talia knew of flame drakes of course - or at least - of the legends surrounding dragons. They were certainly not creatures to be messed with without preparation, and the group's inability to fly, nor to be prepared against their - presumably - flame breath, meant they would likely not live through the encounter if violence broke out. Barking a quick order to Portia, she turns to the drakes.

"Нема повеќе магии - тие ќе нападнат ако фрлиме повторно! И јас се согласувам. Не мислам дека можеме да ја добиеме оваа борба."

Turning to the drakes, Talia dips, showing her most ladylike curtsy, as if she was meeting a Brevic noble of the highest station. A bit out of place perhaps in the middle of the Bloodsworn Vale, but she trusted it would convey the message. "אני מברוי, ארץ שנכבשה על ידי דרקונים, כידוע. אנו מעריכים אותך בערך הגבוה ביותר. אני גם לא נוהג לסחוב מטבעות במדבר, אבל אולי יש עוד משהו שאוכל להציע? מה חשוב יותר לדרקונים מאשר למטבע? אני מניח, משרתים? יש עוד סוגים שלי - אנחנו רק קצה החנית. אני מתכוון לטעון לירידה כאן, ואני אשלוט בה, כמו המלך לשעבר שלי ברוי, על שמותיך. ואז, תתייצב נושאים, אלפים מהם לאורך זמן, המעשר אותך, נלחם למענך. אבל אתה חייב לתת לנו לעשות את העבודה שלנו, ללא שקט, כדי שזה יהיה. ובתמורה, אני יכול להישבע לך החיבה ש"

Trying to stall, speak for long enough to influence the drakes' attitudes.

diplomacy?: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (7) + 13 = 20

Looking from the largest of the fire drakes to Pavo, then to Portia, as she begins to speak in languages he didn't know. Wulfgar begins to scratch his head. When the drake growls more in it's own language the big cleric lifts his hand from his head, raising both hands showing hi has not weapons.

As Talia begins speaking in a language that sounded like the one Portia had spoken in then in draconic, Wulfgar frets, "What are they sayink comRade? They are not wantink our boarrrr I am hopink."

"They want us to give them all our coin as tribute." Talia whispers, her posture and focus remaining on the drakes. "I'm offering that I serve them instead, as my people have served dragons over the centuries."

The dragons rumble with laughter as Talia presents her case. Growing still, the dragons flap their wings to hover rather than continuing to circle. The largest dragon gives its response: "יש לנו כבר אדון, בעל עוצמה ששולט בעמק הזה. המסע שלך ייכשל, הוא אומר. לא. אתה חייב לשלם, ואם אין לך זהב אז האוזניים שלך יספיקו."

Such a thing as keeping coin in a lockbox is not an action that can be taken retroactively. Any items that were stored on horses should be removed from character sheets.

"They are demanding we drop our weapons and surrender all our coin, and have admitted this is only the first and easiest tribute to deliver. I expect they will attack momentarily if we do not immediately comply."

Pavo does not draw his halberd, remaining wary of the circling dragons but not willing to commit to violence just yet.

"I have a few hundred gold stored in my haversack, if we do decide to hand it over. I recommend against that course of action."

Casamir nods towards Pavo, "Now that, I can agree on!"

Looking toward Pavo as the hell knight kindly translates. uwlfgar turns toward Casamir as he comments. The cleric ponders for a moment that Goram yearns for battle, not slaughter. He was more than willing to fight, but he would not start it after others have said it would be a slaughter.

Keeping his right hand raised, Wulfgar slowly reaches towards his money pouch, lifting off his belt he holds it up, shaking it. Then tossing it to the ground. Looking from Casamir to the drake, his right eye holding still, focusing with the left. He smiles a gap toothed smile. "It is matterink not to me, comRades. Fightink or no. Money is irrrrrelevant." He watches the Drakes to see if any come for the pouch. Keeping an eye on Pavo and the others to see if someone attacks when the Drakes lower their guard.

No worries, I figured as much and had already crossed off all the gear that was on her horse. I just wasn't sure what to do about the 2k gold she had, because while I didn't take it into account due to the general granularity of PBPs not requiring such detailed planning and the fact that Talia's player is less intelligent than Talia, I thought I'd ask - Talia likely would have taken the gold into account even as her player didn't. Additionally, had I thought about it, Talia likely wouldn't even be in this scene, as she would have tracked her horse and her lost nest egg. Regardless, in this case Talia's player has learned a valuable and expensive lesson :)

"They say they've got a master they serve. We can pay with coin or with our heads." Talia's mind races, chasing lore that can help them in their situation, either to protect against the power of the drakes or to harm the drakes themselves.

She frowns as Pavo and Casamir seem intent to fight. "I disagree. Give them some coin and buy us time. We can be more prepared when we meet again."

While Wulfgar takes his money pouch off and tosses it to the ground, Talia turns her attention back to the drakes. "אחד חזק ששולט בעמק . לא שמעתי על האדון שלך. אנחנו עוצמתיים, היינו יודעים עליהם. תגיד לי, מי עלינו להיות יראת כבוד?"

"Like I said, I am unhappy with this arrangement,but they seem to have the upper hand at this moment. I will comply."

Pavo raises his voice in draconic,

With that, he reaches back and draws out a fairly weighty purse and holds it loosely by the drawstrings.

At the lead drake's urging, one of the smaller drakes swoops down to collect the gold. Landing heavily in front of Pavo, it opens its maw wide, waiting for its new victims to deposit their tribute.

The largest one responds to Talia: "לורד ורדק חזק. אתה תראה."

Pavo and Wulfgar have withdrawn their coinpurses, and Talia has told the drakes that she's broke. What are Portia/Casamir/Tanu going to do now?

Portia Porphyria-Jeggare reaches back into her Haversack, allowing Tiamat to return to her wrist, and disgruntledly grabs a handful of gold coins -- seven.

She tosses them to the ground near the Drake who landed.

The drakes look unimpressed with their tribute so far -- three gold from Wulfgar, only seven from Portia, and none from Talia. A second drake lands and looks expectantly at Casamir and Tanu.

As soon as the drakes started circling, Tanu instinctively would have run to Nisha and mounted up. His lance was planted in the ground, flag flying high to give them some comfort from the chill air while camping, but Tanu made note of where it was so he could easily grab it up if need be.

Not knowing any of the languages being bandied about by either the drakes or his companions, Tanu is largely left in the dark about what is going on, listening closely for any guidance from his companions. His face darkens when the conversation turns the way it does. He looks ready to refuse, but valor turns to wisdom as the rest of his party seems willing to deal with the drakes.

Tanu reaches into his pack and pulls out a coin pouch which appears very heavy. He opens it, looks longingly at the contents, shuts it, and urges Nisha forward to the closest drake to hand it over with a bow of his head. A quick glance suggests there are over 100 coins in there, while an exact count would reveal it to be 117 gold pieces.

"There is my coin, for your master, for his patience in allowing us passage."

'At The Academae we learned that some savage, ruffian, murder-hobo adventuring groups give themselves pet names -- foolish really -- but perhaps we six shall be hitherto known as "The Drake Manglers." If we survive this humiliation I think I'll propose it.

Casamir grumbles a bit before reaching into his bag. Two purses are buried at the bottom, one full of gold, the other with a walloping 4 silver pieces. He grabs the silver pouch and tosses it to the drakes.

The drakes scan the party. With multiple people insolently throwing a mere handful of coins onto the ground, the drakes growl with hateful dissatisfaction. They don't even bother to stoop to the ground to pick up Portia or Casamir's coins, but the two drakes that landed take Pavo and Tanu's coinpurses with their teeth.

The two drakes then take back to the air. The other two drakes cease hovering and return to circling. They eye the party members with angry red coals. They don't immediately fly away, but nor do they attack or say anything. They just continue to fly back and forth for a few minutes, their eyes on the group. They are not happy with the size of their tribute.

Typically, when you are attempting deception (Casamir especially) you would roll Bluff.

Would sleight of hand be a reasonable alternative?

I had wanted to use Bluff earlier but thought it was language dependent. Looking at it now and seeing that I don't necessarily have to speak Draconic to Bluff that the coins offered are what we have, AND that we are scared and deferring to their strength, I will absolutely do it. (Also, I'm happy to see that if I can attempt that Bluff check, I likely qualify for the +5 bonus mentioned in the Core.) Anyway, let me know if I can attempt the Bluff and -- as my character would know better than I -- she would jump at the chance to step up to the Drakes and try to gesture that this is all we have, and that we're afraid of them.

Watching the Drakes reaction to whatever Talia had said after he drops his pouch, Wulfgar, looks from the drakes to Pavo. Curious to see if Pavo is complying or preparing to draw a weapon. As the hell knight drops his weighty purse, Wulfgar almost feels bad for the man.

Raising an eyebrow as Portia tosses a half-dozen or so coins down, Wulfgar bites his lip so as not to chuckle. Apparently he is not the only one who needed a job. As Tanu and Casamir pull out their pouches Wulfgar focuses his good left eye on the Drakes as his right twitches sporadically. Hoping to discern the creatures intent. As the drakes begin to hover and circle, the cleric of Gorum watches them, asking his companions. "What are they waitink for, comRades?"

Not sure how effective a sense motive is without the language familiarity, but worth a shot
sense motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

"To see if we are going to give them more," Talia says, silently cursing that her life's work had run off with Noleski the night before. "In case I don't live through the next few minutes, for those of you that don't speak Draconic - they say their master is Lord Vardak."

Talia turns the name over in her mind as she speaks it, looking to dredge up any lore about who this Lord could be.

knowledge: 1d20 ⇒ 12 History: 21, Local: 25, Nobility: 23.

"Might as well hand over the coins now. It'll end up back in our pockets sooner or later, I'm sure. No sense picking a fight with flying fire-breathing lizards when we can't even see them to shoot."

Sleight of Hand is not a reasonable alternative -- the skill measures a use of body language and facial expression, not manual dexterity.

Portia may roll, but Casamir must also roll.

If it is a failure (a natural 20 does not signify an immediate success in this case) then you must roll initiative, as the drakes are too suspicious to accept the ruse. Alternatively, you can pay -- one ear, or all your coin.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17

Bluff: 1d20 ⇒ 16

Casamir sighs and curses in Varisian, then pulls out his pouch of gold and tosses it to the drakes. He mutters to himself, ”Damn oversized lizards.”

The drakes rear up when Casamir reveals, with insolence and without either shame or humility, that he had deceived the drakes and attempted to get out of paying their tribute. They hiss steam from their noses and shriek. The lead drake scoffs in Draconic, "הטעיה וחוצפה! עכשיו אתה צריך לשלם הרבה יותר מזה."

That's a failure on Bluff! Combat has been joined. Casamir wins initiative.

I’m sorry, I totally misunderstood your post, I thought that you wanted the bluff check for the previous action, in my case giving them the silver pieces, not the current action of giving them my gold. It really wasn’t clear to me what the roll would apply to. Had I known that the bluff check was to feign the second time I wouldn’t have made it and just given them the gold without any check. I’ll check back in the morning but I’m happy to write up another post to reflect that if that’s what it’ll take.