Darkness Gathers (Inactive)

Game Master Edeldhur

You were told that Madame Freona’s Tea Kettle was the place where adventurers could find work and avoid the hassle associated with other places in Phlan. So far, that has been true. Madame Freona, a stout and officious halfling who runs the establishment with her five daughters, has proven an excellent hostess.

Although you have had to share a common bunkroom with several other adventurers, the evening meal was excellent and the atmosphere pleasant. You are preparing to bunk down for the evening when one of Freona’s daughters peeks into the room. She calls a few of the adventurers, including you, into the hall.

“Pardon my interruption” - says the halfling girl named Reece, one of Freona’s five daughters, just shy of adulthood. “A fellow just came into the common room downstairs and... Momma said come fetch you, on account of he wanting you for an easy job. Or something to do with coins. I am not sure...” She plays with her curly red hair nervously, waiting for your reaction.

I will come. states the almost 7 foot 1 inch dragon born as he pulls his massive weight to full height. He stands there a moment letting the blood return to his head from his sudden ascent. Then grabbing his stuff, he didn't trust everyone here with his stuff, he turned to follow Reece as she walks away.

Selene was sitting and reading the etiquette book, Dru had given her. Going over some of the techniques while working in a bit of rhe fine tea the pleasant Matrin of this tavern had made. Though she tentatively came out of her room more and more she still didn't care for staying in the common room too often.

When one of the daughters came to her room. The tall leggy tiefling stood and opened the door. She had chosen to wear her Common clothes. " Yes, tell your mother I will be down shortly. May the Goddess Illuminate and protect you!" came her reply as Selene, began to change and grab her gear.

After an hour, the woman began to tentatively head down the stairs. Her height and lanky frame combined with lack of dexterous training physical grab was not something she had in spades. So using the rail and adding her spears shaft as a walking staff she made her way down the stairs

" Slow moving across the night sky until the dawn. A steady pace wins the race!" She exclaimed silently to herself as she continued down to meet with this figure.

Stretched out on his cot with his hands behind his head, Ispen arches a bushy eyebrow at the interruption of his musings. He glances over at the red-headed halfling girl, then looks upward as the dragonborn dramatically rises, and then shrugs. "Aye, lass, I'll be down soon enough. Just need ta' gather me things."

The dwarf stands and pulls his chain shirt back over his head, adjusts it with his belt and axe harness, and then hefts his pack and shield. While not as tall as the draconian adventurer, Ispen is every bit as broad, and he lumbers, more than walks out of the bunk room and down the stairs to the common area.

As he approaches the bottom step, he calls out in a good-natured tone, "I'm hopin' there be at least a mug o' ale in this ta make it worth me time..."

Sitting in the back corner of the common room, Oskar let the shadows wrap themselves around him like a cloak on cold winter’s night. His green eyes stared into the half glass of tepid ale, Freona’s cheapest, perched in the center of the small table. Fortunately no one could see the somber brown eyes with long, dark lashes blinking back at him as they floated at the top of the amber brew. A slow heavy sigh drifts from his lips and he draws the glass up and sips. The eyes swirl and fade only to return again once the liquid settles. Like always, he recognized the spirit lurking in his glass. This one was Yazmine, the Stefan the Miller’s daughter. A pretty girl, prettiest in the village. She’d had most of the lads of Redcreek mooning over her at one point or another. Including Oskar. He’d always thought her brown eyes were smokey mysteries that could unlock the secrets of his desires. But she’d held herself aloof from such proposals. ”I’m going to marry a grand knight who’s the favor of the King and the Queen’s champion. We’ll live in a grand castle and I’ll have all my heart desires.” She’d used to say. ”I’ll not end up some farmer’s wife, scrounging the fields with a bevy of bairns squalling at my heels all day long.”

Poor Yasmine. Now those eyes floated in a mug of murky brown ale. Unlocking nothing except a powerful headache come morning.

Oskar had found her body snagged on Old Man Trello’s willow a mile downstream. Her lifeless face staring into the sky, her neck twisted at that oh so awkward angle that says ‘My death was not pleasant.’ The wall of storm water that took his village, his friends, his family. It didn’t give any a choice for a pleasant death. Nor, Oskar was soon to discover, did it leave anything too pleasant for the sole survivor. At least as far as Oskar knew.

”Mother says you should come.” The voice breaks him out of his maudlin reverie. ”Says, you’ll be taking it unless you’ve other means to pay your tab.” She added, her voice sounding much like her mother’s. That same blend of concern, revulsion, and just plain fear that most people eventually used after they’d known him for more than a few days. The constant appearance of the spirits of a dead village tends to turn people off, even if he was usually the only one who ever saw anything. People could still just sense something ill favored was lurking nearby. The nightmares didn't help. Dreaded, terrible things that clung to him like dreaded cobwebs every night. Dragging him through that ill fated storm over and over and over.

The drink put his mind to sleep, if only for a little while. But few have sympathy for a drunken, out of work, farm boy from the hills. The world was full of them. The back alleys and squats of Phlan especially.

It was only his quickness with his hands and willingness to do just about any job, legal or not, that kept food in his stomach and a roof over his head.

He lets out a long sigh and finishes off his ale. Watching as the eyes in the mug fade away with the last few drops. His unsteady rise elicits a frown and disapproving jangle of red curls from the girl before she scampers off to whatever other errand on her list. He really couldn’t blame her. He’d once had hopes and dreams. Morals and standards. Now he just had a blade, a flask, hopefully full but usually not, and a pack of spirits haunting his life. There was one other thing he carried. One other memory. One other…but no…that he’d not think upon. That would just cause him to demand more ale.

Instead, he takes a deep breath. Runs a hand through his mid-length dark hair and pulls the tattered sleeves of his shirt and dirty leather jerkin straight. Feeling a bit more presentable, he walks toward the front of the great common room where already several others he'd seen about the refuge have gathered around a new comer and the hostess of the Tea Kettle.

John had spent another of the finest days in good company with enough good food and wee bit more than enough good drink. He had decided to call it an early day and was sitting up in bed, covers to his midsection, when the fine colleen Reece came a'calling.

"Oh there ya are now, my love. Grand and sweet good'evening to ya and you are very well-come. Don't tell me why yer here, lemme guess. Yer here t' see me shillelagh arn't ya now, lass? O, can't say as I blame ya. Many a fine and buxom lass has come calling in th' evening to see me shillelagh." He pauses to thrust his hands under the blankets and start fiddling with something.

"I mean, many lassies, O and lads too, do let's all be truthful here, have come to me askin' about me shillelagh. They do wonder at how long it is, how strong and hard, how it feels to -thrust- it boldly out and have the lookers-on all standin' and a'gawkin' at it."

He finally dis-entangles his club from the sheets it was stuck in and brings it out. It is truly a fine whacking-stick, about a cubit in length and a faint scent of cedar follows its presence.

"Oh? How's that the now? Yer ma has a coin-giver by the by? Well why didn't ya say so. I'll be down presently."

He pops out of bed and takes the briefest of moments to secure his kit and tie his shillelagh about his waist.

He traipses downstairs just on the heels of Ispen. "Oh you have the right of it, good Ironborn sir! For anything worth talking about I'll need a wee drop o th' creature t' wet me whistle."

It was getting hot in here.

"...what you lack in tact, you make up for in fat." a long-nosed gnome informed a beet-red adventurer (northerner, by the looks of it). The Lantanese guildsman was wielding a toasted baguette with a small cobbler's nail protruding from the tip...a rather ridiculous and questionably effective weapon he had scrapped together expediently when the argument began.

It was a matter of bunk positioning. The raging northerner needed the window bunk, such that the cool night breeze might tickle her nostrils as she remembered from her longed for homeland. The towering woman with stormcloud locks had been away for some 4 years on a meaningless campaign for a now mostly dissolved military, sequestered here in Phlan as her coin ebbed and flowed with the schemes of the monsters in Old City.

Realeaux on the other hand had formulated a concentration shattering argument, hinging on some sort of academics no normal person would ever encounter. Those who heard more than 5 words had their eyes temporarily locked in the 'crossed' position, until a small migraine set in and caused the listener to black-out completely. Something about a so-called Wolf-Rayet star being occulted by the crescent moon, and how it effected the harmonic oscillator of his BBI-PS500 E-beamer, whatever that was. However, Reu had just slipped on a soggy chicken dumpling that had rolled out of his pocket, and mistook his own misstep for an aggressive act by the northerner.

Hence the baguette.

Years later those that witnessed the confrontation would ponder the outcome, had Reece not stepped in. But gold had rather interesting properties (as unalloyed metals went) for both sides, and the greying gnome couldn't resist the girl's charm.

When one of the daughters came to her room. The tall leggy tiefling stood and opened the door. She had chosen to wear her Common clothes. " Yes, tell your mother I will be down shortly. May the Goddess Illuminate and protect you!" came her reply as Selene, began to change and grab her gear.

"And your, Miss... Err, Mrs... Sister!" - the girl blushed slightly, but seemed satisfied enough she had encountered the appropriate title to use. With a polite curtsey, she quickly moved off.

---

I will come. states the almost 7 foot 1 inch dragon born as he pulls his massive weight to full height. He stands there a moment letting the blood return to his head from his sudden ascent. Then grabbing his stuff, he didn't trust everyone here with his stuff, he turned to follow Reece as she walks away.

Stretched out on his cot with his hands behind his head, Ispen arches a bushy eyebrow at the interruption of his musings. He glances over at the red-headed halfling girl, then looks upward as the dragonborn dramatically rises, and then shrugs. "Aye, lass, I'll be down soon enough. Just need ta' gather me things."

He finally dis-entangles his club from the sheets it was stuck in and brings it out. It is truly a fine whacking-stick, about a cubit in length and a faint scent of cedar follows its presence.

"Oh? How's that the now? Yer ma has a coin-giver by the by? Well why didn't ya say so. I'll be down presently."

Years later those that witnessed the confrontation would ponder the outcome, had Reece not stepped in. But gold had rather interesting properties (as unalloyed metals went) for both sides, and the greying gnome couldn't resist the girl's charm.

Reece's eyes went wide as the massive draconic creature stood up, but she did not back off, most likely caught somewhere between the urge to run away and the curiosity she always seemed to display about adventurers at the Kettle. She managed to stay put, shying away ever so slightly as Davorox passed her by, only to start blushing furiously at Johnny Boy's tirade, giggling with relief when he produced his much self-complimented club from under the covers.

---

He lets out a long sigh and finishes off his ale. Watching as the eyes in the mug fade away with the last few drops. His unsteady rise elicits a frown and disapproving jangle of red curls from the girl before she scampers off to whatever other errand on her list. He really couldn’t blame her. He’d once had hopes and dreams. Morals and standards. Now he just had a blade, a flask, hopefully full but usually not, and a pack of spirits haunting his life. There was one other thing he carried. One other memory. One other…but no…that he’d not think upon. That would just cause him to demand more ale.

As Reece hopped and skipped away from Oskar, she paused momentarily and looked back - "I... There is more ale on the table over yonder sir. It was requested by the other gent" - she nodded toward the table where Oskar was supposed to meet the apparent employer, and know more about this job being offered - "You will let me know if you want something else, ok?"

Rejoining her mother, who is cleaning up the counter, you could hear her excited whispered words about the errand she has just been asked to run, as if it was an adventure in itself.

----------

One by one, those of you who were getting ready to bunk down found your way downstairs, joining Oskar who had stayed on for a little longer, not yet ready to close his eyes and face another night. In the common room, the smells from the evening service still linger strongly in the air - the mixed aromas of roasted meat, boiled vegetables, ale, wine and smoke filling your nostrils. Autumn has just begun, but it is not yet cold enough for the fireplace to be burning - the temperature inside is pleasant enough.

As he approaches the bottom step, he calls out in a good-natured tone, "I'm hopin' there be at least a mug o' ale in this ta make it worth me time..."

"Always, Mr. Ironborn" - Freona replied from behind the counter, nodding at a large corner table, already set up with three pitchers of ale, several mugs, and a large bowl of Freona's well known salted potato peel chips . What grabs your attention however, is the hooded figure sitting there alone. Since the face is almost completely obscured by a large hood, you are unable to ascertain if it may be a man, or a woman.

As you approach, a feminine voice unravels some of all this mystery however, and you are beckoned to sit - "Please, find a place around the table Madame Freona has so kindly set up for us" - she offers in half whispered tones, even if you are the only patrons around at this time.

Davorox moves a chair aside and kneels at the table side. The chairs here rarely do well with me in them. Its rude to destroy something of Madame Freona's without having a specific purpose or need. I once heard that you piss of the the mistress of the pot you piss off the lot WHile not quite the height of manyu of the others on their chairs his bulk and kneeling altitude still makes him an obvious participant. Now what do you need us for? he politely but directly asks

Selene stood looking over the scene. As she does she looks over the food and then the host of this meeting. After that, she looks around the room at the other strangers gathered and wondered what exactly had the gracious Miss Ferona asked her to be a part of?

Selene pushed that thought aside as she absently ran her hand along the silver holy symbol on her chest and the two simple silver rings resting beside it. 'Blessed Mother may the stars that shine guide me and the Moons gentle light protect me' rolled through the Sisters' mind as the distance between her and a chair grew less and less. Eventually the robed tiefling sat gently on the chair.

"If you don't mind I would like to bless this food and those here? I know my goddess is not the same as the Morning Lord, who is often invoked, but The Moon Maidens' blessing on a potential endeavor, can bear much fruit in a different way!" Selene said her husky soprano voice seemingly something a bard or succubus would employ than a very conservatively dressed priestess.

Selene gripped her silver holy symbol and began to herself silently reciting over a simple verse. She would continue until someone said it was okay to bless this occasion.

If allowed her voice wells with passion and Selene speaks." May the New Moon rise, may those basking in the twilight of the New embrace the soft burgeoning light, though it may wax or wane before the end may those that preserver enjoy the glow of Selunes' Full Light!"

With that she will finish and smile with a hint of a blush in her lavender cheeks. Still she won't speak fully yet unless addressed, or something of interest or importance is brought up.

Oskar smiles at Reece as she points out the table. "Many thanks, my Lady." He says tilting his head and sending a smile in her direction. "Your kindness is a most unexpected and welcome pleasure."

And may the world offer you a kinder fate then Yasmine or any of the other good folk of Redcreek. He adds to himself on his way over to the table.

He stands, politely waiting for the ladies to sit. His garb, his mind, and his coin purse may be shabby and in a shambles, but he still could manage manners that would make his mum proud. He did so little else that would.

"A pleasure to meet you my Lady." He says to their hostess following the prayer by the moon priestess. "My name is Oskar." A bow of the head as he finally sits and waits to see if she shares her own moniker in return.

Ispen gives Freona a wink and moves towards the large corner table, his mouth watering at the thought of not only a mug of the inn's respectably brewed ale, but the delicious potato slices that were lovingly fried in the tavern's kitchen.

Striding over to stand behind a chair, the son of the house of Ironborn gave the hooded...woman?...a nod before moving the chair aside and sitting. After a moment, however, he notes Oskar's gesture, visibly frowns and then shrugs with a sigh.

"An' I'm Ispen. Thank ye kindly fer the ale. Always appreciated." He nods again, then adds, "How exactly can we be o' service?"

The woman observed as each of you sat at the table, allowing you all time to settle down.

"If you don't mind I would like to bless this food and those here? I know my goddess is not the same as the Morning Lord, who is often invoked, but The Moon Maidens' blessing on a potential endeavor, can bear much fruit in a different way!" Selene said her husky soprano voice seemingly something a bard or succubus would employ than a very conservatively dressed priestess.

"Well... Of course" - she replied hesitantly, and after the prayer was ended, acknowledged each of those introducing themselves, one at a time, with a slight nod.

"Well met to you all, and thank you for joining me on such short notice" - she begins once there is a pause, the questions from Davorox and Ispen lingering in the air - "I wish time would allow for a longer and politer introduction, but unfortunately it does not - it is my wish to remain anonymous for the time being, so I will not be offering my name. For that I apologize" - she took a drink from a water glass near her - "I will say I am a member of the Harpers, and hope that will be enough for you to accept the validity of my proposal" - the woman added, parting the hooded cloak slightly from her neck down, allowing you sight of a delicate sea-green blouse, and a pendant depicting a silver harp between the horns of a crescent moon.

"You see... By happenstance, you are in a unique position to assist with a matter most urgent - my associates have recently captured a merchant who we know was preparing to illegally purchase a... Very specific and dangerous item tonight. Our... My request is simple - I ask you to pose as the merchant and his hirelings, go to the buy site, make the transaction, and place a magical device on one of the sellers, which will allow my associates to track them back to their place of residence" - she explains - "Once the transaction is complete, you are to come back to the stables here, behind the Tea Kettle - I will meet you there and provide payment once I can confirm the delivered item is intact. I will offer you two hundred gold pieces for this" - the mysterious figure paused, waiting for your reactions, her eyes observing Oskar attentively.

Reuleaux stood atop his chair at the dinner table rummaging through a few oil-stained sacks of little bits of pewter and brass, his face crinkled in either dissatisfaction or concentration (it was hard to tell). He appeared to be making a sculpture or something that resembled a chicken carcass, but it was slow going. "Diamond! I need solid diamond!" he exclaimed, taking a calculated moment to wipe his brow. "Nothing pecks like pressurized carbon...oh yes..." there was something sinister and borderline evil in the way he said that which made most people rather uncomfortable.

Curiously (or expected, depending on how long you had been around the odd guildsman) he worked onehanded as a southpaw, his right hand behind his back hiding under his little vest. Even when he truly needed an extra hand, he seemed to prefer his nose, forehead, or a potato with a fork stuck in it before resorting to that mysterious hand.

When someone said something about the moon and food he mumbled "Yes waiter, I'll have the pickled walrus head..." But when the hooded Harper spoke, the lens-loving gnome gave her 100% attention...especially at the mention of a magical item, his eyebrow hairs stood up like an astonished cat "Ah yes, the hunt begins! A most diabolical scheme, and one they will surely never see coming. Not in a million-billion years. But the details of the disguise are paramount! We will need Calishite cotton undergarments, as it is well known to be the fashion for the traveling caravans. A black stallion to act as throne for the Zhentarim merchant-lord...no one messes with the Zhentarim! Finally, we should discuss the security inherent upon the lockbox carrying our trade bars. I for one prefer the ol' poison dart trap, but perhaps more convincing would be a fire spout...?" he glanced around for input, bending his tiny body in some impossible angle to get a glimpse of everyone.

The Great Game. That was what his granddad used to call the war and intrigues between the factions of Faerun. Each trying to one up the other, trying to gain or protect their power, usually at the expense of folk like those who lived in places like Redcreek.

Oskar caught the woman watching him, did his best to school his features and not notice the sudden appearance of the skinny legged old man with his ever present corncob pipe billowing smoke like a forge chimney. Wilbur Oddpot, that old codger. He always seemed to show up whenever Oskar was taking a job or trying to fence whatever slim pickings he could manage. Back in Redcreek, Oddpot thought he was a clever fellow and shrewd card player. Truth was he was the worst cheater at a hand of Talis the realms had ever seen.

Doing his best to ignore the puffing spirit and using the odd little gnomes statements as cover, Oskar watched for any signs of what the woman might not be sharing. Only the big shots play the Great Game and win. Granddad used to say. Unfortunately, Oskar really didn't have a choice. It was take the gold or starve on the street. But not having a choice didn't mean he had to blindly dive into the owlbear's cave.

Insight to see if she's lying or holding back: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

"Madame, I appreciate the meal, and the temping offer. However this is very short notice." Selene stops and looks about to those gathered. They were all strangers, gathered together to be the errand boys to a mysterious figure.

" With the time limited and a sense of desperation on your part without much information to give,nor include us in, one which is your name or proof of identity, Gathering a group of strangers here together must mean you are willing to pay quite a large sum for our envolvement,yes?" Selene asks as she gingerly eats and sips on the food before her. If was a shame to let it go to waste especially after the Harper was generous enough to purchase it.

" Now I am not opposed to aiding you, but as we are gathered here as a group. I will wait for them to Illumina us to there ideas, concerns and what not." the Teifling says continuing to eat her voice sultry and melodic. She would let the others ask more questions. As she knew she would try to help as best as she can, if the story was true.

What are we buying it with? And what do you pose we do if the merchant was known to these buyers? two hundred seems about right for one of us looking at the amount of unknowns and an unknown benefactor expecting us to bring an unknown item for an unknown reason to be taken to an unknown place by said unknown benefactor. And the unknown antagonist group will be tracked by other unknown. Yes I think 200 a piece would be well with in the scope of t his. the dry comment of the dragonborn edges around the end of the "harpers" words.
(untrained)diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13

"I could offer you my name, a true or false one - would that really make such a difference? And as to the item itself... We are not completely sure either. And before you ask, yes I do know how that sounds also. Like some poorly written plot, or a bad joke"

After another pause for water, your interlocutor continues - "I can perhaps go as high as three hundred gold pieces to be distributed among yourselves as you see fit. But my funds are limited". And please consider I am also taking a gamble here, as you could simply keep the cargo to yourselves, and sell it to the highest bidder" - she looks around the table - "I do not know much of your purpose for being here in Phlan, but perhaps something else I could offer would be... Information? We have a good network, and many connections. Would this make the deal more worthwhile to you?"

Information would be good as always, but not good if one is dead. he pauses a moment or hunted by those whom wish him dead.I'll play it like I am planning for the worst,. again a pause what healing helps could you supply incase we are set upon in this task? The three hundred to me would be acceptable if paid upfront.
(untrained)diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22

"Well don't mind if I do," Johnny Boy had declared before falling upon the well-laid table with the gusto of a hungry man. He'd had dinner, yes, but it had been so sumptuous he'd quite forgotten about supper. Now that he had a chance to make up for it he decided to do his duty with plate and bottle.

Around a mouthful of boiled lamb and potatoes, he declares, "Waiter, bring a pitcher of ale every fifteen minutes until the gnome makes sense! And then bring one every half-hour!"

Listening carefully to the masked-lady's non-introduction introduction, O'Connell relies on his innate Leprechaun senses to know if the lady is saying something without saying something.

Insight!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19

"That all sounds quite fine, quite fine," he says for his own part. "Quite fine indeed, Ms. O'Leary, which is yer name now, for I'd rather call you by a fake name than no name at all, and that name is a fine as any other.

I can see that yer in a pickle yerself, so I'm not meaning to take me shillelagh to yer backside for all that ya don't know, but can ya not at least tell us _who_ it is we'll be meeting and putting the job on? Is it some nasty-bad orcs who we'd just as like try to eat us as sell us the thing?"

Having said his say he returned his attention to that which was most important, which was the un-finished pile of crisped 'taters that lay in front of him, screaming their challenge. He had thought that leprechaun chefs had perfected every use there was for potatoes, so that the innkeep had found a new one must make her a legend in some book or another.

" The silver light mends minds." Selene said with a smile as she nods. After hearing some of the issues assuage the Nun looked to the woman.

" I am stratified with you atleast addressing my issues. And with Oskar being a good stand in makes it even better. I hate to ask bur what does the item look like? I do not wish to leave such a dangerous object left in such dubious hands. I also hope such an item will not endanger us, via curses or malicious presence? But I am willing to aid you. I have heard of your order, at least through the various tomes I read as a child among my order." The Sister says as she eats and drinks. She observes still the others as she takes in the scene.

As the conversation turned and it appeared planning a clever disguise was off the table, the gnome's shoulders slumped only slightly (he had in truth been secretly rooting for a new pair of cotton undergarments, not for the private need but rather for the useful elastic bands they featured).

As the Harper pondered the mystery magic item, Reuleaux offered "Oh, a wonderful puzzle! So, we know nothing about it...save the item's price. A very informative number, yes it is! Were it a mere pair of gold trade bars, we could expect a Belch Remedy, Color-changing Skirt, Aura-spectacles or other such trivial novelties. But a score of them? Expect nothing less than the everlasting razor edge of a knife wielded by frog-men sorcerers who enchanted the blade last solstice amidst human sacrifice. Yes, I must know, what is the item's price?"

Hoping to use my rock gnome ability Artificer's Lore, which is basically expertise on History rolls pertaining to magic items, along with the item's price, to get a handful of likely candidates about the item's identity.

History, Artificer's Lore: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9

Or not. XD

”Yes, I can provide healing if necessary” - the woman replied after a short pause - ”I will make sure I have someone with me, who will be able to assist with it if necessary” - she added to Davorox with a confident nod.

”As far as we were able to ascertain, the sellers are no more than thugs and bandits who happened to come across… Something they should not have in their possession. Something they cannot keep. And Ms. O'Leary sounds good” - she smiles, her expression brightening up while replying to John and Selene, who seem intent on providing her with assistance - ”Thank you” - she adds directly to the cleric.

”I can tell you the item will most likely be in some sort of protective wrapping, to avoid scratching or scuffing” - your would be employer explains - ”It will have an oblong shape, much like an abnormally large egg I believe, yet its colors will be quite different - a deep dark shade of red, almost black, with slivers of bright orange”

”Its value..?” - she looks at Reuleaux - ”I honestly do not know”

He tries, but Oskay is unable to completely contain his own surprise at hearing the merchant somehow matches his own looks. Was it just a case of 'all Damaran's look alike' or was it something else.

The carved bit of red madrone tucked under his shirt suddenly feels hot against his skin. A flash of memory.

He's just a wee lad standing, holding on to his mother's leg. She's upset, same as da. They're arguing with another. The other man is young, but has the same pointed nose and dark hair of his father. Same manner of brushing his hair back when he was upset as Oskar's father. Heated words are exchanged. Sister Liza is crying in the corner while the twins giggle and spill milk across the table. Finally the younger man takes something from his pocket. A partially carved piece of red madrone, the center rose only half complete. He tosses the wood onto the table and stomps from the house.

Quick as it came, it is gone. Leaving Oskar in a quiet daze only half listening to the questions of the others and the woman's answers. That is until the ghastly ethereal face overshadows Madame O'Leary's. This time he needed no help remembering Alecsar's mismatched eyes. And the fact that the man would sell his own mother farmland in the High Desert of Zakhara if it'd get him an extra gold glory or three.

The others will surely crab to the fact this harper was blowing smoke about how much the dingus is worth. If not, he'd set 'em straight when she wasn't about. He pours a healthy amount of the Tea Kettle's finest into a mug and takes a long drink. The hidden symbol beneath the shirt grew cold, but Oskar simply ignores it. You had your chance at being my moral compass back home.[i] The thoughts are directed toward the symbol or whatever it represented. [i]We both know how that worked out, so you can just breeze off.

"I'll play your butter and egg man O'Leary." Oskar says throwing on a smile and taking another long drink. "But I want to know more about this coin pusher fella. Might even want to see for myself how much of a looker he is. More important, a little background'll help the play go down smooth." He waves a hand along his tattered tunic and down to his worn boots. "Not to mention, if they're expectin' a man of means to purchase this valuable whats-its, I'd better look the part. So how're we gonna turn rags to riches Miss Harper O'Leary."

Reu tapped his chin running through a mental catalogue of magical items, but after a certain point his actual knowledge just blended together with his imagination "Ah yes! Priceless Egg the Multi-hued, able to yield twice the omelets whence scrambled. It is said the embryo within is no less than King Corriander II, with a spicy yolk to match his spicy decades long reign. You can stop right there, I've heard enough! Count me in." stabbing a screwdriver into the table for unneeded emphasis.

Ispen sits quietly, drinking his first mug of ale as the conversation progresses. He watches the participants as much as the possible employer, gauging each and taking in their responses.

Finishing his drink with an audible gasp, then wiping his mouth with the back of his forearm, the dwarf sets his tankard back down on the table with a thud and says, "I heard enough. I ain't sure what yer actually after with this thing we're ta be getting, ma'am, but I'm thinking with yer being one o' them Harpers an all..."

Ispen chuckles and shrugs, "Well, if'n yer willing ta go up ta three hundred, Mrs. O'Leary...well, then it ain't really my business ta be knowin' exactly we're picking up. Just good ta be knowin' that we're doing our part to keep the peace and whatnot."

With that, he nods, and reaches for one of the pitchers to refill his mug.

" That is a fair point. We do need to look more the roles in which we will play. As for this egg."Selene looks to Oskar and then the excitable gnome and giggles a bit."I Doubt it is King Corriander the Second. Though it does seem priceless. We can verify it with magical identification, At least I can, and maybe a few others here." The pauses were subtle but she let them hover here and there. Still she was a bit concerned for their safety. Bors did fall here to some ner do wells.She would not wish the same fate for anyone, especially herself and those gathered.

Subconsciously the priestesses hand went to her silver holy symbol. It didn't hover long on the actual symbol but on the more scuffed of the two rings. Gentle digits used to the delicate work with a pen tracing it somberly and longingly before she stopped and abruptly let her hand fall. The tears twinkle in the moonlight of our minds. A remembrance of the good and bad, never forget, but never dwell on them long.'

" Though I have a feeling that this egg is worth more then the given assessment. I am willing to overlook that as I doubt we have much time if we wish to prepare. I do hope though that we can possibly use this as a possible business relationship moving forward? That is if we complete this task. I know that right now we are mere slivers of silver in the night, but the dark will break and the moon will shine for this meeting. But Ms. O'Leary, aside from Oskar, Why us?" The sister asked taking in some more of the offered food. It had been awhile since she had more heartier fair. With her fasting and mourning not that long ago she was still nursing a delicate stomach. Needless to say a violent stomach would not assist this group or her to any gathered.

"Also Master Gnome, I doubt we will eat the egg, and please try to make sure you take better care of your tools, you wouldn't want to loose such an important tool on such sturdy and reliable craftsmanship as our hostesses table." The nun says before taking a bite of the food she had placed on a plate. It would be an interesting group so far. The mission may be just as more interesting and insightful.

untrained diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8 300 gp and you fit the expense of making us look the part. the dragon says again as negotiation.

At the moon cleric's rebuff, the wings of the 'foul' creature Reu was assembling began to flap uncontrollably. The Lantanese guildsman responded by prying loose the aforementioned screwdriver and stabbing the metallic bits over and over...while simultaneously interjecting (at last) a greeting "*bash* Thank you kind lady of Silver *smash* The name is Reuleaux (pronounced ray-low) *splat* I specialize in both Type I and Type II optical bifurcations *whack* using the so-called "Delinger" method of collimation-" It seemed he would never shut up nor cease stabbing, but finally a tiny spring uncoiled and sent an obsidian chess piece flicking out of the brass chicken carcass, finally putting an end to its flapping.

Reu leaned in close to the false-birds ear whispering "..stubborn little minx aren't you?" with that same uncomfortable look of pure evil on his face.

Ironborn paused with his mug to his lips, arched a huge eyebrow in Reuleaux's direction, blinked, and then openly laughed. "Oh, I be likin' this one..."

" A pleasure to Meet you Reuleaux, I am Sister Selene Marsk, Bookkeeper and Librarian of the Order of the Owl. I am a devotee of Selune the Moon Maiden." The tiefling says with a polite dip to the smaller creature before giggling again.

" I am not an engineer but I do not think hammering away will accomplish much?" Selenes' natural sultry Tome rolled off her tongue as she spoke. Though she hated it growing up, the woman had gotten used to it by now. In fact Bors used to love to listen to her sermons and lectures. Why she didn't know, but in the end she was glad she had atleast one fan among the attendees.

Though she had moved to engage with her fellow adventurers? Or what ever they were.The Nun kept her ears open to what the woman was saying.

"Oh aye," John concurred with Ispen. "He ain't right in the head. O' course, where I come from that's a right high compliment, so I tink I come to the right place then."

Reu brushed aside the attacks on his methods and character, being quite accustomed to the ill-informed reasonings of laymen. Such was the burden all true geniuses carried: to be misunderstood. Education was of course the remedy, though few had the material wealth or simple inner drive to stand face to face with their own intellectual potential. Those who had chosen, as Realeaux, to hyper-specialize in interesting yet obscure topics were forever destined to be alone in crowded rooms...indeed, there was little doubt this greying odd-duck would be peerless even in a Lantanese guild of experimental lenscrafters.

Of course the gnome was too aloof to shed a tear for himself, and recoursed (as always) to focus on his work. Recalibrating the contact sensitive plates with the correct harmonic vibrations seemed to be getting somewhere, the half assembled chicken face lurching for the first time and letting out a feeble, metallic "...bok?" but Reu quickly corrected "No, no, no. It's 'Cluck'. C-l-u-c-k." The bird blinked its eyes a few times, the rusty lids ringing like a tuning fork offering "Sss....squak?" to which Reu reprimanded "Oh dear that's not convincing at all. We'll have to re-encipher your vocal disc, won't we...*sigh* Only untarnished silver has the right resistivity..."

Scrambling through his little tinker sack confirmed his fears: Reu was low on resources and rather broke. His innovations would have to be delayed until these promised payments could be arranged...

The woman's eyes go wide as the mechanical contraption gains a life of its own, and even wider as Reuleax begins stabbing at it with a screwdriver.

"Unfortunately Oskar, there is no time to 'look the part' much further than making the best out of the fortunate resemblance, and trying to act it out as best as you can" - she interjects when she manages to find a silent moment - "Also it is not possible to take a look at the would be seller. He is not in Phlan anymore, and the exchange is supposed to happen tonight. Our only option is to make do with what we can" - she explains, placing a violet vellum pouch on the table.

"If you are willing to accept the task, in there you will find the means to pay for the exchange, and also the magical silver pin which needs to be placed on one of the sellers" - Ms. O'Leary added in a serious tone, then turned to Selene again - "And who knows what the future holds? The Harpers are always looking for those willing to work against villainy, wickedness and oppression - our allies are many, and I would be glad to count you among them in the future, if you show such inclination"

"I believe you do, and that is why I asked Reece specifically to call you to this table" - she continues - "Because I need help, and I want to know if my intuition is correct"

"In for a Fang, in for a Glory, eh O'Leary" Oskar says with a sigh following the Harper's denial of clothes or a chance to see the mug he was supposed to be impersonating. He ponders a potential angle only to have his attention draw toward Reuleaux. As the gnome pummels his chicken, Oskar watches the spirit of little Timmy Neufel, the village headman's son, materialize and begin to ogle the gnome's odd metal chicken, his child eyes wide with curiosity and desire. A youthful giggle rings in Oskar's ears as the boy-spirit laughs at Reuleaux's struggle to tame the willful device. Soon enough he starts to mimic the gnome's stabbing and of course each time the little spirit hand passes through the aether-tuned metal the stuff twitches and jumps in reaction, causing the Reuleaux even further consternation.

Swallowing hard, he turns a pale face away from the spirit and quickly downs half a mug of ale. The young ones were always the hardest to see. Both for the lost innocence and tragically short lives, but also because they could also be the most frightening and most dangerous.

"Right then." He says setting the empty mug back down and turning back to the Harper. "I guess we hope this rube we're buying the dingus from isn't too sharp and he'll buy a fib about dressin' down so as not to draw the eyes of any other mugs interested in the goods."

Pushing his chair back from the table he lurches upright after grabbing the pin and pouch. "Sounds like times tumbling down the pit, so we best be off then." He resolutely avoids looking toward Timmy even as the spirit's giggles continue to rattle in his head along with Reuleaux's muttering.

"Wait, wait." Ispen stands and gestures to Reueaux and asks, "Afore we go, are ye likely ta be able to control that...contraption o' yers? Or mayhaps we had just be leavin' it behind."

A pause during which a look crosses the dwarf's face that easily shows his concern and skepticism that the chicken-thing should be part of the group's charade, and then Ispen adds, "Ye know, just so it's safe and doesn't get broken..."

"Ahem. Yes, well, its not finished yet. Some assembly required! But if the paranoia of an ill-timed cluck consumes you, behold!" he puts on a pair of tight leather gloves and grabs a large pair of metallic calipers. After tapping the right keycode of symbols on the little bird's skull, the cranium pops open to reveal a small crystalline shard. The gnome proceeds to carefully extract the pseudo-brain, whispering a warning "...Easy now, one mistake and we'll be as crispy as Freona's chips...there." With a final lurch and barely audible *hork* the pile of scrap appears to have lost any power of independent mechanus it once had. Unceremoniously the miscellaneous tidbits were swept back in his toolbag "Check please!"

I guess I can lend a hand. If we run into trouble I will expect the compensation to reflect that. Davorox says as he pushes himself to his feet. When and where do we meet these "guys"? Looking around at the others, Whats our play?

Selene stands and gives a slight curtsey before she looks over the others and nods. "As with all things my imposing Dragonborn friend, Introductions and basic self-assessments. As you have heard I am Sister Selene Marsk, a devout priestess of Selune the Moon Maiden. I was a simple Bookkeeper and Librarian of the Order of the Owl. A tragedy spurred vision has lead me down the path I am currently on. A path shown by the faint glow of the Maidens eye to Phlan, where I will be a beacon to provide the many gifts my Lady can provide" Selene states to all those gathered. She was in her day-to-day vestments. She would need to change into her work clothes, to look more or less like something a seedier merchant would wear. At least she hoped she could pull it off.

" I have more personal reasons to be in this city as well, but I am not comfortable enough yet to share those details. I do hope though that this meeting could lead us to a more prominent and prosperous friendship!" Came the second half. Though she was hesitant to enough mention she was here for something more then the standard missionary works of Selune, it felt cathartic letting out that she did have other reasons. Hopefully, she could tell these fine men that she had come to help solve the murder of her husband or at least stop those responsible.

I am Davorox. Pythnilgar. I come hunting a "friend." I have been led here by those I worship and will join you. I may say more when the time is right. Suffice it to be that I will no longer be a slave! The copper dragon born speaks confidently if rather loudly.

The woman smiles as the adventurers begin standing up one after the other, the decision of accepting to aid her apparently reached - "Thank you for your help" - she nods at them.

At Davorox's question about the site for the meeting, she provides them with directions to an abandoned barn on the northern outskirts of Phlan, where the exchange is to take place.

"Check has already been taken care of, master Reuleaux!" - Freona shouted from behind the counter - "And I hope all that stabbing did not ruin my table" - she added with a raised eyebrow.

Gazing at the numerous tiny holes Reu saw the massive structural damage he inflicted upon the table as a definite improvement, and thus gave an assuring hand wave in Freona's general direction. After all, what was before a featureless, barren surface was now populated by innovative toothpick holders and clever irrigation pathways for spilled drinks...spaced seemingly at random with an almost artistic quality. He left the inn satisfied to have made a difference in the character of the establishment.

"Pleasure to meet you Davorox" Selene says with a curtsy and then smiles as she reluctantly looks at the table and sighs seeing the holes. She would make sure to compensate Miss Ferona later for Reuleauxs' minor damages, but for now, she would let them stand.

" I will say I must change. I doubt my vestments would be appropriate for such a meeting. Especially of Selune. Even though she isn't blessed with even a shrine here, I doubt the sort we are seeing are fans of any benevolent deities of the moral good" The teifling woman said as she curtseys and heads back up to change and get her necessary gear.

I figured it would give you all time to get your other necessary things.

Oskar grabs his meager belongings and winces as Reuleaux sweeps the pieces of the mechanical device back into his sack. The reaction isn't because of the holes left in the table or because he thought the device of any real use or even that there was unfinished ale still waiting in the pitcher. No, it was because of the sudden frown and blossoming distress upon Timmy's small spirit face at the sudden, swift removal of his material world 'toy.'

"Errr...yes." He says distractedly to Selene. "Best hurry. We don't want to miss our window with these mugs whoever they are." He says hoping the need to be on their way would get everyone clear before Timmy decided to throw a tantrum. The mere thought of experiencing that a second time sent shivers racing down the Damaran's spine and a mental apology to Madame Freona. Maybe she'll blame the Harper. Is his last thought before slipping out the door and into the night air.

As the group leaves, Davorox will wait til most are gone, so that he is mostly unobserved, then swiftly and smoothly wipe his hand across the holed table. His other hand twists the cord to the coins about his neck. [ooc]Cast mending[ooc]

Selene will change into her wool skirt, white shirt and bodice, as well as her scale Mail and shield. After that she grabs her Mace and Spear and heads down the stairs with a smile. In fact she has her holy symbols hidden and her hair down and exposed. It was strange to do so but still she did it to jot look like a priestess.

As Oskar is slipping out the door, Johnny Boy sidles up next to him and gives him a knowing wink. "Ya want me to stick to the shadows, boyo? If'n they start trouble might could do for one of our cards t' not be on the table, yeah?"

Rejoining the group the tiefling looks at the others and flashes a smile of her spark like teeth. " I hope the intimidating tiefling is showing. Though my friend Dru always told me I looked more sultry then scary." The priestess says with a bit of a deep purple hue flushing her cheeks.

Bors thought the same. So did many other men back home though they thought her both sultry and scary! Selene hoped this group would find her more the latter then the former.

As Davorox is preparing to leave, he notices Reece staring at him and the table, eyes wide open, and a smile on her face - "You are a magician" - she stammered.

-------

The group gathers outside, greeted by a cool but pleasant late Autumn evening - the sky is clear and particularly starred.

The streets are calm at this time of night, even if martial law is not in full force this week - here and there you can see small groups of people going about their business, mostly silent or having conversations in hushed tones.

To one side, a woman hurries along with two children, scolding them for staring at the gathered group. Further down the street, four men walk slowly and unsteadily, exchanging opinions about something in slurred, but relatively loud voices, in contrast with the seemingly noiseless village. As they wander off, another group comes into sight, not very distant from where you stand, at the entrance to Freona's - three men and a woman seem to be involved in some sort of altercation - they are keeping their voices down, but the words are spoken harshly.

Further update coming later today, moving us along.

Oskar nods at the halfling's suggestion. "Aye, always wise to keep a bit 'o steel up a sleeve and outta sight." He says. His mouth opens to say something more, but his eyes are immediately drawn toward the tiefling priestess. Suddenly realizing he was staring at the rather dramatic transformation of the previously modest and demure cleric he turns away, cheeks flaring under the dim lamps outside the Tea Kettle.

"You look great...errr..ahem...Sultry or scary, either can be...ummmm...effective distractions." He stutters and stumbles to Selene. Hearing Eddy's laughter from just over his shoulder. Ho boy! Ozzy you've the charm of an ogre's dirty backside when it comes to the fairer sex. The voice chuckled. Figured you'd grow out of it, but here ya are just as clever as a sack o' wet mice. Hahaha!"

The big, blacksmith's son was ever a charmer and had a smile that melted hearts up and down the valley. Except for Yasmine's, which, of course, drove the man crazy. Still he never lacked for companionship. The dramatic opposite of Oskar's quieter, internal and often solitary self. It is why Eddegar ended up being head of the village levy, harvest king, and likely headman at some point, while Oskar tended the shrine with elder Yusef.

To distract himself from Selene and his own awkwardness he looks over the nearest small gatherings for any sign that they might be taking an unusual interest in the Tea Kettle or his companions, but Eddy's echoing laughter and his own darting glances at the tiefling make it difficult for him to really notice much.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11