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Ka-
Smoke is visible in the sky, as careening down from the heavens, a small ball of flame and metal (and gnome) comes crashing-landing onto the sheer pavement, leaving a miniature smoldering crater. For a moment the figure doesn't stir. Is it alive? The humming sound of some choking engine splutter from the pile, the pattern irregular, the stuttered breathing of some machine alternating between loud piston crunches and halting depressurizations...
until...
"Blast!"
Covered in soot and oil, our mad hero rises, cursing here, and shrugging at the destruction rendered "Premiums will be going up" he seems angry, until "Unless... that's it: Field Test! Part of R&R, naturally, and more importantly, an exemption!" now excited! Then, with the press of a button mounted on his gauntlet, the engine cuts out altogether, one final pained choke spewing forth, accompanied by a gout of smog that completely soots the entirety of the rd next character to post, soiling him or her in black, as the gnome searches through another compartment and hands a few documents to the rd next character to post, explaining "You'll see my registration is current. Sorry about the damages. You can send billing here" he points to a line under the title that contains an address in Absalom - a PO box.
Turning to the next character to post "Councilman Professor Serj, perhaps you have heard of me?" he smiles with a knowing, shrewd intelligence!
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A well-dressed human steers clear of the smoke-belching machine.
"Why, yes, I've heard you. From quite a ways away, I might add."
As he listens to the thrum of the engine, however, Peter picks up the repetetive beat. Chukka-chukka-chukka-chukka.
♫ Chukka-chukka-chukka-chukka
♫ Chukka-chukka-chukka-chukka
♫ Mekka-mekka-grrr-mekka
♫ ""
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The De-Quinn's where having a working Brunch. Sat on the balcony of one of the De-Quinn town houses come warehouse. The roof top patio was well kept. They sat with staff at a table for full of the rich foods her brother liked so much. As the head of the De-Quinn noble house here abouts. He was taking weekly business reports from the managers and charge hands of the houses warehouses and Caravans.
"So very very dull"
Lady Alya De-Quinn thought to herself.
Nilifton De-Quinn her brother and 7th in line to the head of the house. Was going over performance outcomes for new contracts and a number of other things Alya cared even less about. All the while scribes dotted around, here and there, scribbled away.
She has come mouths ago to check the security of the houses versus holdings here. Hiring a few new guards and removing a few bad ones. But she had finished that mouths ago. Now she was getting really board. As an unwanted younger daughter of the family she had been given two options. Get married off to another trading family with a slightly better nobility. Or make yourself of use to the House De-Quinn. She had opted for the latter, joining the house Guard as an officer and security overseer. A wage, with Travel and living costs paid for while on house business. What little there was that is. Like here as she waiting on her brother.
"Alya! anything to report?"
She snapped out of it as her brother barked at her.
"Same as last week, all is good."
He Nodded and want on with other reports. Well
back to doing nothing then.
She thought, When out the corner of her eye she spotted something falling form the sky and heading towards the Southern warehouse area.
"Thank goodness."
She jumped up, standing her fill 6'2" straitening her well made but simple Black and gold House De-Quinn uniform. Clipping her fine blade to her belt and rapping her overcoat around it. Her black riding boots clips as she headed to the steps leading down to the street.
"Sorry Brother dear looks like something has come up. Bye now, Ill tell father your doing a splendid job. Toodily-Pipp"
She did not wait to hear his reply, but was soon on the street hurrying to the site of the crash. Thankfull, something was happening.
Once there she spotted a Bard working on a song as he looked on. As a some-what bard herself. She liked a good tune and flipped him a copper saying.
"O thats is good, how about this for one of the versus,
try it, it may work.
Now looking at the crash site and the Gnome sat in the dent in the street. She looked up she could see the De-Quinn warehouse was some way away. No danger then to the goods.
'Do you need a hand, my good Gnome"
She offered in perfect Gnomish.
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In a moment of "weakness" that Serj will later regret (and thus, forget, his enormous ego erasing traces of such events to make plenty of room for stories where he was the one in control), our shrewd hero fawns, finding himself grabbing Lady Alya De-Quinn's hand when she speaks to him in his mother tongue, and being foisted to his feet "I haven't heard that spoken in quite a long time" his own mastery of Taldane perfectly fluent.
Another moment he dithers, caught off-guard by the random gesture of kindness (to him, a pleasantry that would have a commensurate price, a commodity), before putting himself back in the proverbial pilot seat of the social interaction. "I can repay the favor" he pulls a thin metal card from his vest "There is a discount code on the back. We can give your portfolio an initial inspection. And go from there" handing it to the rogue. The "we" apparently him and his corporation - another entity with rights much like a human being, but lacking a physical "body" despite the moniker.
Dusting himself off, he uses a plier to pry the Moderate Blast Boots from his feet "Insulated, don't worry" peeling back a flexible layer tubing that surrounds his socks "Decomposes it's thermal radiation into chemical compounds that are mostly inert" The smell of burnt plastics now permeates the air "Councilman Professor Serj Harlequinn" he shakes everyone's hand, insisting even through reluctance, and grips painfully tight.
Directly approaching Peter Plus-Haut, he insists "Royalties as to the likeness of my persona for our joint musical property can be dispensed into the following slush" handing him too a card "I'll get you the routing number" he had always been an investor in "the arts"...
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Lady Alya takes the card and looks at it.
Harlequinn Enterprises LLC slips it away so fast its near unseen.
Her hand now holding a finely made paper card, she hands him her card.
The Noble house of De-Quinn Trading company.
The De-Quinn Manner-house,
High Town Square.
"Ask for my brother Lord Nilifton De-Quinn, he is always interested in new products to ship to our markets."
As the Gnome rushes off she watches him.
What an Interesting fellow
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Standing a few feet away the entire time is a Kobold whose scales glint with a silver highlight.
He is a slim kobold wearing functional but plain studded leather armor. He bears a staff, a dagger on his belt and a hand crossbow slung on his back along with a backpack. The only other adornment he wears is a necklace with a silver dragon hovering over what could be a pool or a portal...
He is currently covered in soot. The silver just barely showing on a few scales. He coughs out a small cloud of blackness, wipes his eyes, looks at the papers he was given and sighs.
"I just bathed and washed these clothes... Of course."
He coughs another time or two and looks at the slowly assembling crowd.
"Greetings all. My name is Eltis. I hope our upcoming mission allows for some cleaning time."
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Before the smoke has fully cleared, the quiet patter of hairy feet precedes a halfling bursting into the scene, slightly-too-large sword drawn.
"You've picked the wrong day to assault our fair town fiends!"
The short young man carries a sturdy frying pan on his back, and points his sword at each of the others in turn, accusingly at first, then warily, then decidedly shakily. As more of the smoke clears reality dawns, and he turns red.
"You're the other Pathfinders aren't you? Oh bloody hell I'm sorry about that. You'd think I'd have learned after last time we're a colourful bunch."
He puts his sword away and starts shaking hands, reaching up where necessary.
"Rilkin Hollowpot at your service. Now if you don't mind my askin', what is going on here?"
Turning a corner at a treacherous speed, a small, curious looking spherical device with a single planetary tread (like a ring around a planet, vertically aligned) burns rubber to brake suddenly, nearly crashing into Rilkin Hollowpot, but stopping fully and completely short of actual contact, and leaving a black streak in it's direct wake about feet long.
It rotates a single scope up, and points at the halfling (not unlike a sword), then scans the rest of those assembled, and spotting the besooted kobold, immediately rolls over - cautiously now - to stand before him.
Clouding the entire area with an alkaline chemical scent to add to the burnt plastic and rubber smells of the increasingly complex olfactor. But. Eliminating the final trace of soot that the mage's cantrip was unable to fully sanitize.
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"Other Pathfinders! of course, it seems the gods have their plans and we all seem to be in one."
She says, taking out from her coat her Pathfinder wayfinder to show them and then slipping it back into her long coat.
"I guess we are all in the same club."
Taking Rilkin Hollowpot hand she shakes it and replies
"Lady Alya De-Quinn, its a pleasure Master Rilkin Hollowpot "
This ends when the contraption shows up. As she waves away the gas,
"What in the seven hells!! is this thing one of yours Professor?"
Twisting it's scope to observe it's creator, the small elliptoid obeys, rolling over on it's single wrapover wheel to arrive swiftly next to Serj.
"BEEP! BOOOP!! BLIIIP!!!"
Excitedly, it runs a mini-circle around it's creator after introducing itself, then hides behind his leg, as if embarrassed or shy!
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"Rudimentary intelligence, perhaps. The software is patented. Executive Motor Operator (E.M.O.)" he looks at the construct with what appears to be pity, and explains "An unfortunate side effect of the recent upgrades to it's Gyroscopic Function was, well... the expansion in random vectors of it's behavioral parameters" adding "I suspect that the endowment of an order of magnitude greater selection of Kinematic Autotoggles (since the recent overhaul of it's lower-grade prototype) has overloaded the Possibility Inhibitor in it's Central Processing Unit..."
Serj hangs his head here, somewhat defeated at being unable to yet create an obedient robot that has enough sentience to understand commands but not enough to interpret them liberally.
"...A work in progress. But you needn't worry, for although it is combat-viable, it shouldn't turn on anyone who has the proper identification: It's programming recognizes wayfinders, and is wired to defend the wearers of such devices..." he cackles with glee, an abhorrent thought crossing his mind - his eyes manic as he marvels at his own genius "...Unless I manually override the algorithm, ofcourse!" the cackle escalates to a full on prime antagonist guffaw!
A beat. Serj collects himself.
"It has never come to that. No need to worry" Twice now, our shrewd hero convinces his allies that they are safe from the danger of his machines and machinations. He nearly convinces himself.
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As he is magically cleaned by the waving hand of the Elven lady, Eltis smiles. "Oh, thank you. No, I do not know the professor. I just assumed any gathering of adventurer types was a gathering of Pathfinders."
As the various newcomers come in, pointing a weapon or... well, probably a weapon, he sighs again but starts to relax. Then the sphere gasses him, setting off another coughing fit. He stumbles backwards out of the cloud and when able top speak says, "Oh, It is going to be one of THOSE days.."
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She smiles at the group,
"Well if are are all pathfinders, how about we head over to that there Tavern. Get some drinks and talk about ourselves a little. I have no plans for going back to the work today. Its so dull and you look like an interesting group. Come on Ill get the 1st round in."
When she gets to the Tavern she asks for a table.
"Hot Lemmon tea and honey for me please, O and if you have of that hot fruit-bread this town is known for, a loaf please with butter and plates, if you would be so kind"
She slipped the girl some coins and took her coat off, taking a seat at the table.
"So my good fellows what would you like to drink, No let me guess, for our Kobold friend here, steaming hot coffee, yes? for our Gnome the good professor, humm some milti-fruit wine me thinks. Then Master Hollowpot, O it has to be warm dark brown ale, and in a mug. O do tell me if I am right. Arr here is the hot fruit-bread, Ill be mother."
She says as she cuts it up deftly with a finally elf Blade, She then hands out slices on a plate to everyone.
"You know a bunch off pathfinders sitting here like this. Doing little. well, you just know the local venture captain will find work for our Idle Hands. "
She chuckles at some joke to herself.
"Please, please order your drinks I want to see if I was right."
Lady Alya seems a relaxed kind of person on the surface, but your pathfinders and you know she is doing just what you are doing and keeping a very close eye on others in the Tavern. Her hand rests on the hilt of her blade. Her feet firmly under her seat, ready to get her up and at anyone seeking to cause trouble. Her tone her manner, this was Elf with the ossuary and cunning of a Noble use to dealing with things.
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Our shrewd hero scoffs at the inbibition of "Mind altering compounds. Only a fool invests in so poor a returning enterprise. Might as well liquidate your entire fund for state seizure!" he laughs heartily as his own joke.
Clearly not a drinker, never-the-less the Councilman Professor joins the rabble, if for no other reason than to leverage the situation to his advantage "You see, it's a financial schematic that has a solid triangular base of sorts, which, through charitable donation, directly support the ascending and increasingly small upper levels, the whole of the operation giving rise to a sort of holistic inertia that brings all levels engaged, to rise" explaining to Rilkin Hollowpot how his "meagre fuse-lighting cash" can easily grow into a "explosive sum" so long as all the parts continue to work ad nauseam and that he trusts Serj to make it so but if only he would sign here while he summarizes the fine print as "Just a formality which inures the lifeblood of prime investors to be protected from the the general volatility that can sometimes make occasion to briefly occur"...
A telltale glint of greed in his eye!
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She smiles as the solo inventor hyped his Endeavours.
"That is quite the pitch, I have found with fiscal endeavours, that they need very astute capital Management, investment acumen, clear understanding of the division between financial specialisation and core business finance. Linked to carful mercantile sector selection. Aiming to protect oneself from any financial advisory when engaging with emergent markets. The ones typically associated with bringing new products to makers which are as yet untested and undefined. Your approach for the acquisition of venture capital by multiple streams of investment is admirable. If for nothing more than risk reduction with-in the framework of product development. But from experience I know that most new product business fail not with the design and development of their products. But they fail becouse as a business they lack the understanding of costs linked to manufacture and distribution. Yes your universal bath plug is great, now make me ten thousand of them. And I know all the buzz about 'Model Magical Manufacturing Practices' but MMMP can't help you when your don't have the warehouse space or a good transposition hub to ship from my dear Professor. Making money from sales is much much more than having a better widget than anyone else. If you don't want to find yourself on the losing end of a profit distribution contract, you a business plan that covers much much more than RnD."
She smiled at him a pleasant smile, the one she gave at family investor meetings.
"So tea for you then as well."
She waves for the Inn girl to come over with tea.
"May I ask Professor, what dose your invention actually do?"
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Serj's eyes narrow at Alya's cutting in on his right to exact fools from their money. He gets the sense of being trapped: First her helping him up and speaking in his mothertongue, then her casual attempted disassembly of the wellworn rhetoric he uses to solicit new "partnerships" in business.
He rises "No tea for me, thank you" to come sit beside her, ready to either: A) Remind himself that the way he conducts business is correct and morale, or, B) Defend himself against implied claims to the contrary. Realistically, it's a little of both "You see, the services I offer result from the breadth of experience I have in the Emergent Markets in both Finance and Robotics. The scale of Harlequinn Enterprises LLC has grown to essentially obviate me from the burden of taxpayment - something no investor worth his rocketfuel could operate viably at lack. You are more than welcome to trace the receipts of my Patents with the Recorder's Office, filed under the same name. Indeed, I need no Transportation Hub because I deal in Intellectual Property - and the Great Exchange of Ideas in Absalom, currently in a veritable Renaissance, propagates for me those business opportunities faster than any horse-drawn carriage or steam-pulled tractor" he shifts in his seat, feeling as though he has debunked the rogue's attempted assassination of his character "Observe this!" our shrewd hero raises his ganuntlet, and a flange flips open to reveal an array of buttons - one of which he depresses "You will see then that my price has gone up! Go ahead and look for yourself" Indeed, there is a "buzzing" sensation in her pocket (wherever she stowed his card)!
An imaging film has altered the chrome finish - a degradation from a polished gold to a ruddish silver!
"How you modify your family's fortune is your business, for not all of us suffer the burden of having to make familial appeals to generate or maintain our wealth - no - those of us lucky enough to be born into the absence of those economic modes that fastidiously retain their upmost position within the Great Economy - we are afforded the opportunity to choose our financial partnerships!" he teases her nobility here, playing the "class card" in an effort to gain leverage in the now intellectual armwrestle "But, to answer your question:"
He demands another "Bull Market: Heel!" to which the construct companion dutifully responds "My creation is a proxy asset to the Pathfinder Society. He (mostly) does as he is told. Today, he will protect us in our endeavors. And if he falls out of line..." he casts a stern look not unlike a parent scolding a child "...I'll scramble his memory chip!"
The Wonders Gears that serve as the localized intelligence network of Bull Market's coding "pout" a little here, the subtle tone changes in it's voice as well as the now shivering quake rattle of it's housing against the pub floor communicate the nuance of emotion astutely!
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"That's right!" Serj's tone is severely harsh.
"What was I saying!?" he looks back at Alya, then seems to retrieve his train of thought "Yes, RnD. That is the mutual partnership keystone. It's why I wear the Wayfinder, and why the Wayfinder is worn by me. They get their Agent, I get my Field Test. Quid pro quo!"
And here, where a man of vice would punctuate his words with a sip of poison or a puff of toxin, Councilman Professor Serj Harlequinn only sits in self-satisfied silence. Enjoying the "public privacy" that is the sounds of sentient beings flitting around a restaurant-pub. And saving every copperpiece in his abstinence from consumership!
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She sips her tea as the Gnome goes full pitch mode. She has seen the more times than she cared to remember as a noble trading company the house had regular pitch meetings where Inventors and Suppliers of goods would try and tell them their ware. Sometimes they would invest sometimes not. Her father called it, The Dragons Den. Where her brothers and sisters would pick wholes and review the business proposals.
The 'robot' was a Mechaicum as her bother called them, or Tin-golem as her sister did. They where common to see, and the Rocket boots well foot-ware that offered flight where also know. She took the card out when it started to react to his manipulations and placed it on the table in front of her. Now this business card, that was new. She could see real potential in a device that changed its text remotely on demand. When he was done, sitting there very satisfied with himself, she felt now was the time to ask him some questions.
"So in a nutshell you are asking investors to invest in your good self. As the soul intellectual property generator of Harlequinn Enterprises LLC. Hummm"
She sipped her tea looking around the room as if lost in thought, than back at the good Prodessor.
"I can see that being a weakness in your business plan. And as such any investor would be rightly corned in your approach of personally conducting active field testing. In what can only be described as one of the most high risk occupations known, that of a pathfinder. I think you would understand why losing the mind behind such IP would be a catastrophically hampering to an ongoing RnD business. and I bet you will say that it Has to be you doing the testing. But I would suggest that you delegate field testing of your work to another's. Just to reduce risk of loss for your investors."
She picks her cup once more and takes another sip looking at him, now the to brass-tacks.
"Right then, that said, Tell me more about this business card, becouse I can very much see a demand for these. As novelty items but also as Marketing tools. Can you time the card to change its text? and What is the range on sending new text? and what would you say the unit cost is per card?"
She asked interestingly.
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"If Harlequinn Enterprises LLC needed another partner, we would acquire one. Shame my fool of a brother has zero interest in building his financial wealth..." he wanders off mentally a moment, dwelling upon thoughts of his sibling...
...before snapping back into attention "It's a simple chemical catalyst, remote triggered. Hardly revolutionary in it's own field" he must be talking about the color-changing card "And in any case: Not for sale" feeling a little vindicated to have regained the curiosity and scrutiny of the noble elf despite her accusations, only to smite them, Serj grows suddenly bored, and shifts the position of his conversational participation to evasion "As a self-made entrepreneur who has grown his business from ground zero up, I am entirely unafraid of taking Risks. There is a saying: "If a man would shatter earth but for leaving his seat, why then are chairs designed for recline?"" he smiles a little here, having amused himself "It's rhetorical, of course. I'll leave it to you to draw your own conclusions"
Suddenly, it appears that our good Councilman Professor is out of place in the pub: not enjoying a drink, nor the music, nor the conversation. Checking his watch, he impatiently waits for his impending
Undampened, indeed of quite stark contrast to current moods his creator, the little Wonder Wheel that was given the name Bull Market whirrs around excitedly to the music, driving in little concentric circles at first, then circumscribing his own earlier positions with alternate patterned shapes, a little geometric intelligence riding a muse of creative expression!
Until he notices Eltis (again).
Our curious construct studies his mood, and seems to pick up on the sadness in the kobold's eyes. And so. Out of some uncoded and spontaneous caring instinct, he slows his speed, and spins over to accompany a space next to him, coming to a rest. And letting out what roughly mimics the sound of a sigh.
"Chirrrurrrurrrrhhhh"
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She sits back down and smiles at the Professor. Slipped the card he had given her into her pocket. He really liked to talk, and that was his down fall. She saw it as a fair trade. She had given him free bussness advice and he in turn has demonstrated and shown her how the one thing he had that interested her worked. A simple chemical catalyst, fascinating, Her house's alchemists should be able to reproduce the effect with little effort.
She said.
"Thank you for the demonstrations of the ideas. Very informative and ai hope you take may business advice to heart. "
With that said she want back to sipping her lemon tea.
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AS Bull Market wheels over Eltis initially groans and tenses up, waiting to be covered in some new substance. When it stops and seems to commiserate with him he smiles and gives it a gentle pat on the , er.. head? Top?
"Thank you for trying to help me earlier. I do appreciate it."
"Bleep BLOOOP!"
Responding in the affirmative, Bull Market wiggles from an internal whirring of some auxiliary engine as his Top is patted, not unlike a cat.
In it's mechanical brain, it vows in that moment to protect Eltis from danger, re-writing some of it's own source code (and briefly poking a scope at it's Maker, wondering if it's efforts will go unnoticed) to include an additional override provision that a specific troubleshooting tree diagram alignment can actualize with sufficient brute inertia to outprioritize founding axioms!
Powering down a moment, Bull Market resets his own operating system to include this new schema, and booting back up, makes a few unintended sounds as each network integrates the revisions...
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Pathfinders hustle about the grounds of Woodsedge Lodge, checking in, mustering in units, unloading and delivering supplies, cooking, and socializing. The atmosphere is tense but excited. The Maze of the Open Road is a place of legend that few Pathfinders have had the honor of traversing. Once dangerous, the Maze was recently repaired by Eliza Petulengro of the Decemvirate, and news that the Maze is once again malfunctioning has led to intense speculation among the gathering Pathfinders. Cutting through chaos and gossip alike, Venture-Captain Armeline Jirneau takes the lead, ensuring everyone gathers in their assigned units and tends to their duties.
"Everyone! Everyone! We have a bit of time before we begin, but there are several loose ends to attend to. Please find some of the Pathfinder leaders and make sure all is taken care of!" She shouts above the general din.
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After the Inn Lady Alya gets a note from a runner.
"Seems we are all needed fellow pathfinders"
She pays up and leaves with the others.
At the gathering she nods at a few fellow Pathfinders she knows and takes in what is being said.
gather supplies, Society:
escort mission, Perception:
magical investigations, Religion:
last meal, Society:
provide reassurance, Diplomacy:
aid in mustering:
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Bull Market wheels around stray pathfinders, piping a popout horn, and filling the air with the sound of a weak kazoo, hoping to wrangle the stragglers, then immediately dashes into the woods to recover a single bundle of herbs, and hands them to the nearest cook.
Serj canvases the area for future "partners" (who ask fewer questions than a certain elf in his company), explaining that with a modest investment now, they can expand their own portfolios with his expert help (with a little luck, and sign here, don't worry the fine print is to protect the integrity of the endeavor itself, and there is no reward without risk, yada yada)...
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Rilkin follows Lady Alya, and tries to keep track of his new friends in the chaos, and pitch in where he can.
Despite his small stature, he's well muscled and knows how to use his strength to move the gear quickly and precisely.
Halflings famously have keen eyes, and he never forgets a face. He helps spot some wayward pathfinders across the bustling grounds.
"The maze is magical you say? Well how about that!"
In addition to being no help at all with magical investigations, he eats too many of the ingredients and gets banned from the kitchen, his own nerves show through too much to help calm any other Pathfinders, and his small voice can't be heard over the din to help gathering agents.
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TASK - GATHER SUPPLIES:
"This is boring. I'm going to tune my lute instead."
TASK - ESCORT MISSION:
"How about I sing and call them over, instead?"
TASK - MAGICAL INVESTIGATIONS:
Peter sighs and looks for divine energy within the maze. It's a little confusing, but perhaps he can catch a glimmer?
TASK - LAST MEAL:
Peter eats just like a human would be expected to.
TASK - PROVIDE REASSURANCE:
♫ "Legends never die, when the world is calling you. Can you hear hear them screaming out your name? Legends never die, they become a part of you, every time you bleed for reaching greatness ..." ♫
Peter trails off and wonders if a song that doesn't mention bleeding would be better to sing over dinner.
TASK - AID IN MUSTERING:
Peter goes to muster fellow Pathfinders, but they all look at him warily based on his inappropriate song.
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Over the next hour or so, the group rushes to satisfy all the requests of the Society leadership.
Starting with the supplies, the party quickly gathers what is needed, Rilkin doing a lion's share of the lifting with his stout legs. As a result, you are able to grab a few choice items for your own use.
The group then shines at the escort mission, with Eltis and Rilkin leading the search and finding several wayward agents (but not a sixth for your group yet).
The magical readings are more difficult, but Lady Alya and Elits are able to concentrate enough to help the elemental liason.
At Calisro's insistence, Peter is able to do just enough to inspire the kitchen staff.
Lady Alya and the Professor are adept at Janira's task and morale is raised to an appropriate level.
As the flurry around the impending announcement peaks, Eltis takes the list and settles all the squads into some sort of formation.
The line for the supply caravan starts to wilt and there appears to be time left to purchase any supplies needed for the mission ahead. Don't forget your free Pathfinder item(s) as well.
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Bull Market wheels around the camp, plunking the following gifts into his hollow tank:
➤ Lesser Antidote
➤ Lesser Healing Potions x2
➤ Bloodseeker Beak (soon affixed to Serj's Flickmace)
□ Fortitude
□ Will
□ Skill
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Eltis follows Bull market around, also accepting items and thanking the person handing them out.
Lesser antiplague
Lesser healing potion x2
Scroll of restoration
+1 circumstance bonus on your next Fortitude saving throw.
+1 circumstance bonus on your next Will saving throw.
+1 circumstance bonus to one skill check or attack roll,
“Free” items:
Lesser healing potion
Scroll of dispel magic.
Bull Market heads to the magical tent and deposits a slick grey oil into his bucket.
➤ Oil of Mending