Fane takes note of the Pathfiders entering the bar. She raises her mug and smirks at Quinthalas.
“Ah, you’re just in time! Like little baby cleaner fish, not knowing that the shark might decide it wants a meal more than sparkling teeth. Let’s see what we’re dealing with. But first, a toast!”
She beckons for everyone to come join her at her table, and bellows "Barkeep! Bring that round I ordered! I see some of you have been doing some pre-drinking." She holds up her own mug again. "No complaints there! But let's have this one drink together before we get to business."
A waiter brings over a tray of mugs filled with a pungent, dark liquid. It looks more potable than tar. Technically.
"Ah, but I'm being rude," Fane says, "I take drinkin' pretty serious myself, but if any of you don't wish to imbibe intoxicants I fully respect that."
She seems sincere, but there's something mischievous in her eyes. "Speak up--then let's drink up!"
A few people nearby snicker as Fane says. "It's a Port Perils specialty. You can get it at any bar in town, but nobody else will make it."
The waiter takes away the empty mug and replaces it with a spiced beverage. Very spiced. It has bits of pepper, ginger, and assorted herbs. It has a strong smell, and presumably a stronger taste. "Just for you!"
Once everyone has their drink, Captain Fane raises her glass, "To calmer seas!" before throwing it back.
"Heh. Not many share my preferences. The bar has some more potable potables, too."
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”Needs a chaser...“ our mutagenic hero, still half under the table, blurts, while already pouring a dark orange-ish red-ish fluid from a just-unstowed bottle from among his effects into the bar drink, causing a Mutation!
His body convulses a little from the effect, the veins in his neck visibly expanding in width and network, the ridges of his bones bulging at odd angles to protrude with increased prominence, his light colored eyes filling with a malefacient orangish-red tinge.
◆) Quick Alchemy @ Moderate Juggernaut Mutagen
◆) Inbibe
”That did it: I’m back!” Referring to his “stage” of inebriation, our “restored” Ulfen brute belches with appropriate proportion to the quality of the drink he was served.
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Sif gives Fjorn a nod of approval on how the Ulfen man acts on the matter at hand. She finds that he breaks no sweat in gathering the information they need. Their arrival at The Watchtower seems to be intimidating at first, but looking at what she is wearing, she thinks she is just as prepared in the right place, except for the fact that she is still wet which resulted from swimming into the sandbar.
She accepts the offer of drink from Stella Fane, as her way to socialize in the place they are in. "I'm glad we are able to meet you here. Nice place, I can say. And nice dress you are wearing." she tells Fane, as if trying to impress her but her words seem to not agree with the concerned look on her face as she scans Fane's dress from head to toe. "Cheers!"
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Ulvard grins, almost leering at Fane as he does so. "Ahh, a woman after Ulvards own heart."
He tosses back his drink.
Unfortunate timing however sees young Ulvard breath in just as the liquid enters his mouth and he splutters it all over the nearby drinkers.
"Ulvard apologizes." he says, before gamely trying a second time.
"Ahh, Much better.!" he burps.
"A'right," says the captain with a grin, "They've other, more popular, drinks at the bar if you don't share my refined tastes. Anyway, now that we're more properly lubricated, let's take a look at this contract and get to business."
She reads quietly for less then a minute before dramatically leaning away from the table. "Ugh! This is boring. I need you to keep me entertained while I do this so I don't fall asleep. Let's play a game!" She extracts a deck of cards from her hat. "I propose High Tide. It's a popular game around Port Peril, though I expect you've never heard of it. It's normally a gambling game, but it's no fair for me to take your money while I'm teachin' ya, and it's no fair to take my money while my mind's half on this document, so let's just play for points--I'll play ya for gold next time we meet. Okay, it's real simple..."
High Tide is a game played over three rounds where cards are passed face-down while players try to lie about what cards they've "added to the tide."
The best way to play cards isn't immediately obvious from Fane's explanation, so unless someone has already heard of it--or is just especially good with games--they've little chance of winning outright.
Of course, it's obvious that some cards are best so palming them or keeping them up one's sleeve would certainly give an edge.
And the game involves bluffing, so successfully misleading Fane would help.
The Pathfinders do have one edge: There are six of them, and it probably doesn't matter much which of them wins, just whether the captain wins or loses.
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"Moose Dung!" the Ulfen blurts, utterly without context, pouring himself a second Silvertongue Elixir and immediately downing it ">hiccup< Used to play a similar game in which the point >hiccup< is to >hiccup< get rid of all your cards in as many >hiccup< rounds as it >hiccup< takes without getting caught - if yew >hiccup< think someone is bluffing >hiccup< you call out Moose >hiccup< Dung!"
Putting his game face on, Fjörn starts "adding cards to the tide" with the over-confidence of smooth talk lubricated by deeper and deeper inebriation!
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Though the thought of sleeving a card or two passes his mind, Fjörn sticks to his strengths, unable to identify any of the "saltier" cards he may or may not have been dealt, he pretends that all of those that currently sit in his hand are such, bluffing to feign strength, and folding those such cards "into the tide", hoping to trick Fane into withholding hers!
"Oh!" he slithers "Don't yew want to know what Uncle Fjörn's packing in this little hand of his?" he teases her into into refraining from playing her ringers, like a baby cleaner fish muddying the water, confusing the shark, who begins to wonder if, led foolhardy by his stomach, he has swum into a trap! "Guess yew'll have to take a little risk here if yew want to know..." utterly "moose dunging", describing what the very counter-strategy to his strategy might be, opening the pandora's box of reverse-reverse psychology "...you feeling confident enough to make your play, >>hiccup<< Captain?"
"Fight? Why would we fight? Though in Port Peril, you may get your wish before you leave."
Captain Fane seems utterly baffled by Fjörn's commentary, and after one particularly bad misplay folds for the round. "Well done! Round one to you. Let's deal 'em out again."
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Sif glares at the card game that involves gambling. Good thing this one is played for points and not money. She volunteers for the second round to play after hearing the instructions on how to play it.
After taking the cards, she tries to stack them, of course, faced down, to keep Fane's focus away from her but into her cards. She tries to keep the cards faced down while making a house of cards. She then collapses them into a heap and quickly collects them. "If your eyes are quick, you might know that I added cards that were from the roof of the house of cards I just made." she tells her as convincingly as possible.
"Oh wow!" says Fane with a delighted laugh, "Completely shut me out there. Couldn't even take one round. It seems your Society has been keeping up their admission standards."
She scoops up the cards before pulling off one of her gloves and drawing a battered knife. "In any case, everything here looks to be in order. I accept the terms as laid out." She pokes her finger with the knife and uses her bleeding fingertip to sign the contract in red in that she made herself. She gives it a moment to dry before rolling it up, returning it to its magical case, and carefully handing it over to Quinthalas. "Now you're to deliver this to someone named Valsin to sign next, I understand?"
Fane taps her glove on the table and looks pensive. "I've drawn a bit of attention to us here with all the shoutin', haven't I? May have been a mite foolish. Never can tell who's watching--the Free Captains have eyes everywhere. Best to be sure that if these lot remember anything about this night, it's not that they saw us here together."
With that, Stella Fane sweeps her hat off of her head in an exaggerated bow and bids the Pathfinders good night. With a final laugh, she turns on her heel and whirls her cloak about her. The cloak glows faintly as it envelops her, and then she's gone in a puff of smoke. Except the glove with flies off and smacks one of the gamblers in the back of the head. She rounds on the person next to her, bellows "I accept your challenge!" and smacks him hard across the face.
Everyone else at their table is on their feet. At first they try to pull the two apart, but almost immediately are brawling with each other. They knock over a waiter, whose tray of drinks falls over the balcony railing and crashes onto one of the tables below splattering everyone around. They start throwing their food and drinks in the waiter's direction, hitting everyone else. The brawl continues to ripple out with alarming rapidity, as though everyone in the place was just waiting for the cue to throw a punch.
And several of the gamblers have come to the apparent conclusion that the Pathfinders have offended them in some way and start closing in, hands on the hilts of their rapiers as they start to draw their swords.
They're not the only threat, though. While none of the other brawlers are focused on the party in particular, the ensuing general mayhem is starting to get dangerous to anyone in the vicinity.
Ulvard's turn.
Initiative:
Ulvard
Offended Gambler (Plum)
Offended Gambler (Green)
Offended Gambler (Scarlet)
Offended Gambler (White)
Dolmandir
Fjorn
Offended Gambler (Mustard)
Clarence
Quinthalas
Offended Gambler (Peacock)
Sif
Port Peril Bar Fight
In addition, the general mayhem in the bar is treated as a hazard.
You can largely clear an area (the white dotted lines on the map) of brawlers and make it safer either by disabling the hazard (a two-action activity) using Diplomacy to calm them or Intimidation to make them back off, or by attacking the brawlers in general.
Oh, and also, killing people in a bar brawl--even in Port Peril--is generally frowned upon. This is true.
However: Don't worry about it. They'll be using lethal damage against you, too.
The man reels after Ulvard hits him once, and flies onto the table behind him after Ulvard hits him the second time.
The man in green cries out in rage as chips and beverages scatter around him. He draws his rapier as he moves behind Ulvard and strikes out at him.
for
The woman in the red dress does essentially the same thing, drawing her weapon and charging the Pathfinders' table, grazing Quinthalas.
for
A lady in a big white hat moves up to Ulvard, grinning as he must divide his attention between her and the man in green. She draws her weapon as she moves, but doesn't stab him. Instead she tries to smack him with surprising force--and backhand him just as quickly. He manages to duck away from the blows, even so flanked.
Dolmandir and Fjorn's turns.
Initiative:
Ulvard
Offended Gambler (Green)
Offended Gambler (Scarlet)
Offended Gambler (White)
Dolmandir
Fjorn
Offended Gambler (Mustard)
Clarence
Quinthalas
Offended Gambler (Peacock)
Sif
Port Peril Bar Fight
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Our Ulfen hero draws yet another bottle - this another Moderate Juggernaut Mutagen - and downing it in one gulp, speaks a command word, and the with it, the buckler strapped to his arm grows massively, like a saproling sprouting into a fully blossomed vine, into the shape of a large tower shield, which he raises with catlike reflexes!
◆) Draw
◆) Inbibe
◆) Envision w/ Sapling Shield
+
↺) Reactive Shield
Most people would stop fighting with a crossbow bolt sticking out of their abdomen like that. In her drunken fury, the lady in red doesn't seem to notice it.
The man in the yellow hat stumbles forward. He draws his rapier, but swings his other arm. He backhands Fjorn hard, swinging in a wide arc that could also have hit Sif--it doesn't, but it could have.
for
for
Clarence and Quinthalas's turns.
Initiative:
Ulvard (-2)
Offended Gambler (Green)
Offended Gambler (Scarlet) (-10, bloodied)
Offended Gambler (White)
Dolmandir
Fjorn (-4)
Offended Gambler (Mustard)
Clarence
Quinthalas (-3)
Offended Gambler (Peacock)
Sif
Port Peril Bar Fight
Swinging and connecting! Clarence's sword draws a gash across the man's arm--and his fine silk shirt, which seems to offend him more than the injury.
Quinthalas's turn.
Initiative:
Ulvard (-2)
Offended Gambler (Green) (-5)
Offended Gambler (Scarlet) (-10, bloodied)
Offended Gambler (White)
Dolmandir
Fjorn (-4)
Offended Gambler (Mustard)
Clarence
Quinthalas (-3)
Offended Gambler (Peacock)
Sif
Port Peril Bar Fight
The lady in red ducks back away from the spell, but the electricity still jolts her; combined with her other injury it's too much, and she slumps over the railing, her sword falling to the floor on the level below.
The woman with the fancy cape that looks to be made of actual peacock feathers charges directly into the crackling energy. It's a terrible idea! She's thrown back onto the table behind her, which collapses entirely. She looks pretty badly off, but then a white light shines over the worst of her burns and she seems more peaceful.
A halfling sitting on the swinging chandelier--when did she get up there--with a chicken leg in one hand, a mug of ale in the other, and the symbol of Cayden Cailen on her vest somehow manages to give Quinthalas a thumbs-up while also biting into her chicken. She isn't doing any significant healing, but he notes her pointing at some other fallen brawlers. She seems to be making sure nobody actually dies while otherwise letting things play out.
Sif's turn
Initiative:
Ulvard (-2)
Offended Gambler (Green) (-5)
Offended Gambler (White)
Dolmandir
Fjorn (-4)
Offended Gambler (Mustard)
Clarence
Quinthalas (-3, shield)
Sif
Port Peril Bar Fight
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"That woman has a knack to make a chaotic situation!" she complains. She then Steps back, away from the gamble closest to her, and with a snap of her finger and call of lightning, an arc of electricity leaps from Mustard to Green gamblers.
◆ Step
◆◆ Cast a Spell, Electric Arc, DC 17 basic Reflex save vs electricity damage
The man in the yellow hat tries to block the spell with his sword, which is moderately effective at best.
The man in the green silk shirt is slower and bears the full brunt. He collapses into a heap.
By this point bottles are flying. And plates. And a few chairs. Also a goblin?
Quinthalas and Domandir take the worst of it, struck by flying furniture. A flying body slams into the woman in the big white hat, nearly knocking her over. The man in yellow is hit in the side of the head by a glass bottle and wobbles on his feet.
Sif, however, ducks gracefully away from the chaos like it isn't difficult at all.
Someone lands on top of the nearby table. It's not... entirely clear where they came from, but the table tips over and spills coins all over the floor. Shining, glittering coins--it's a little distracting, at least to those who are subject to avarice.
and
Ulvard's turn.
Initiative:
Ulvard (-9)
Offended Gambler (White) (-7, bloodied, fascinated by the coins)
Dolmandir (-14, unconscious but stable)
Fjorn (-11)
Offended Gambler (Mustard) (-10, bloodied, fascinated by the coins)
Clarence (-7)
Quinthalas (-12, shield)
Sif
Port Peril Bar Fight
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Ulvard gracefully scoops up a handful of coins, roaring in pain as a flagon of ale is shamefully wasted by breaking it over his head.
The roar turns to anger and he viscously punches the gambler in white.
(assuming white goes down with those rolls)
"Two!" he calls out to Clarance and Fjorn.
He then stalks over toward the final gambler, ready to lay them low.
* interact (scoop up coins)
* strike
* stride.
An elaborate white hat floats to the ground, its former wearer now some ten feet away and on the ground.
Fjorn's turn.
Initiative:
Ulvard (-9)
Fjorn (-11)
Offended Gambler (Mustard) (-10, bloodied)
Clarence (-7)
Quinthalas (-12, shield)
Sif
Dolmandir (-14, unconscious but stable)
Port Peril Bar Fight
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”Time to sleep, yew” he scowls at the man with the mustard mustache, clocking him in the jaw once ”Quite a >>hiccup<< raucous in here, no?” ducking the flying goblin with his broad Ulfen shield, and retorting to his Ulfen kin (semi-kin?) ”Three!” then pointing to the crowd scrambling over them ”Brace yourselves! Here come some more!”
◆) Non-lethal Strike
◆) Raise Tower Shield
◆) Take Cover
+
↺) Shield Block
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The remaining gambler, seemingly unaware that his side's numbers are dwindling in his inebriated state, still weaves away from the punch. "You sir, and you madame," he slurs, evidently under the impression that Fjorn is two people, "are no better at fighting then you are with dice!"
He throws his drink into the alchemist's face before following up with a Flurry of ineffectual slaps.
Clarence, Quinthalas, Sif, and Dolmandir's turns.
Initiative:
Ulvard (-9)
Fjorn (-11)
Offended Gambler (Mustard) (-10, bloodied)
Clarence (-7)
Quinthalas (-12, shield)
Sif
Dolmandir (-14, unconscious but stable)
Port Peril Bar Fight
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Unbothered and untouched by whatever is currently flying above them here and there, and with one gambler to deal with, she believes it is about time to get out of the place. The problem is she is not good at talking to these people. What if she pushes them out of their way? Not a bad idea, she thinks.
With that in mind, she moves away from her companions and outstretches her arms to send forth wind that whirls around, bludgeoning anyone that is getting in her way before heading to the exit.
"Deal with that one, and let's get out of here." she exclaims in the midst of her rushing wind.
◆ Stride
◆◆ Cast a Spell, Gale Blast, DC 17 Fortitude save for 4 bludgeoning damage
The exit lies to the north, where the door opens onto the switchback stairs that lead back down the cliffside.
Clarence cuts into the crowd, pushing them back. Sif helps force the crowd away as the last of the gamblers falls.
Nothing to do now but get out of the bar with the contract intact!
Clarence is able to get to Dolmandir without being hindered much at all--although something expensive breaks over his head for the trouble. Fjorn easily deflects a small knife that comes in his direction from somewhere below.
Quinthalas needn't have worried. Between Clarence's efforts and Sif's, that section of the room has fewer active brawlers and poses less danger.
At this point, nobody makes any further effort to prevent the Pathfinders from getting to the and making their way down the stairs.
Hlar is napping in her boat, and is upset to be awakened. "I just brought you all the way here, and you want me to go all the way back already?" She looks up at the mayhem still coming from the bar up on the cliffop. "Okay, that's probably for the best. You'll be waiting on that sandbar a while, though. Your ship's not due 'til tomorrow. I have some squid jerky and plenty of water for you, though."
"Oh, no higher than it was when I picked you up. You might get a little damp..."
The ship arrives as scheduled, and sends out a rowboat to pick up the Pathfinders. They have a few days of more comfortable travel before arriving in Absalom.
There, they present Stella Fane’s contract to Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin, notifying him that she’s agreed to aid the Society with passage through the blockade, and that the way to Vidrian is open. In gratitude for their service, Valsin presents the team with an archaic wayfinder.
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Heaving past patrons with his shield, our Ulfen hero mows a way out of 'The Watchtower Gaming Hall and Purveyor of Fine Spirits' and into the clean air, kneeling down into a corner alley, and heaving the contents of his stomach - perhaps different beverages (not the least of which mutagenic) - rises once more to meet Hlar, hop into her boat, and promptly pass out.
"Little power nap" he explains, his eyes already half closing...