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"Most of the centaur tribes in the Kortos Mounts respect strength. My loggers and I think that removing this tribe's leader will stop these attacks. We'd like to hire you to do just that - track down whoever is behind this centaur tribe attacking our people, and do away with them. What do you say?" "It all sounds rather dreadful to me," pipes up Arfluoro, "and I suppose it may explain why a number of establishments in this town have been late with their payments." He pauses for a moment, subconsciously stroking his beard, "Although, if you have sufficient coin to hire adventurers, then one would think one would use it to satisfy outstanding debts. It is a simple matter of priorities, really." "In any event, 'doing away' with someone--as you put it--would seem a rather drastic measure." concludes the accountant. "And a costly one at that. Not sure how much profit there is paying for killing someone, especially when death is a natural and inevitable process. Better to simply wait for it to come, incurring no additional expense, than to invest in such a potentially risky endeavor." Arfluoro shakes his head, as of yet unconvinced of the wisdom of the matter, "What do you know of this centaur tribe's leader? And have you tried talking with them? Pursuing some sort of contractual remedy, perhaps?"
"These appear to be young-adult centaurs who are obviously letting anger override reason," Arfluoro informs his new allies. "Though they appear to be favoring arms and armor, they are quick and can easily trample one under hoof." The accountant utters a short prayer to the god of civilization, "Abadar, help me bring order to this unruly scene."
Then, the dwarf shouts, "
Uncertain of his success, the dwarf takes up a more defensive position by a nearby building.
Arfluoro eyes up these newcomers, trying to ascertain what they hope to profit from such an attack and whether any appear particularly devout.
He then selects what one he believes to be most devout or, instead, the nearest threat and has words with the attacker. "Such savagery! What do you hope to gain by this unprovoked attack? And is it worth endangering your future wealth and prosperity?" he cries.
: Critical Success The target is unaffected. Success The target takes half damage. Failure The target takes full damage; if the target can cast divine spells, it’s stupefled 1 for 1 round. Critical Failure The target takes double damage, is stupefled 1 for 1 round, and can’t cast divine spells for 1 round.
Arfluoro tries to recall what he had read about Dianne before his departure from Absalom. Society:
"I understand that residual necromantic energy from the Whispering Tyrant’s siege of Absalom is causing trees to wither on the eastern edge of the Immenwood, forcing the town of Dianne to hunt for resources closer to the Ariserphia centaur tribe’s territory." notes the accountant. "Absalom’s military cannot intervene in these kinds of troubles without orders from their commander militant, especially while they keep watch for cultists of the Whispering Way."
"Thank you for the well wishes," Arfluoro begins to say to the catfolk. He pauses for a moment, then adds, "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name." "Though I believe 'good luck' is more for Desnans. We in the Church of Abadar prefer to avoid such 'bets' and instead rely on the assurance brought by sound investments and careful financial planning." "Thank you for the offer," he tells Shayna. "But, I have been promised a promotion if this mission goes well and if I meet my assigned goal for quarterly earnings."
Again her voice trails off, distracted by the other member of the group. "And what do you do, sir?" she asks the dwarf. "I serve the Master of the First Vault," replies Arfluoro. "Though, I must confess, that I report to the senior-vice banker. It is my job to count the blessings." Subconsciously, he pats the sizable coin purse fastened securely onto his belt to make sure that none of the "blessings" had fallen loose. He eyes the flute in the woman's hands, trying to assess its value. "I, too, am headed to Dianne.""You are an instrumentalist of some sort?" he inquires. Tall, red-haired and with spider tattoos and pharasma spirals all over her fair skin, Tess draws a few stares from people once she gets outside Absalom, but nothing too awkward. He eyes the spiral symbols on the woman's skin. A Pharasmin, eh? Those zealots always are telling people, "You can't take it with you." To which, I always reply, "Of course not. That is why you send your deposit ahead in advance!" Despite his thoughts, he simply smiles and nods politely to the woman while keeping his hand firmly on his coin purse. She waves. "Hello, I'm Tess. I came in answer to the advertisement. Did you do so as well? Do you know where to find Gidget the apothecary or Enerika the arborist?" "I am afraid that I am unfamiliar with such persons," says Arfluoro. "But, can you tell me how much further it is to Dianne?"
"I have a mission for you Arfluoro." The bookish dwarf looked up from his desk, one among a sea of many within this wing of the Vault of Abadar in Absalom's Ivy District. Pushing aside a stack of ledgers, he pushes the rim of his glasses further down his nose for a better look at the speaker, Banker Rellows. "It is a field mission," Banker Rellows explained, placing a note atop the balance sheet spread across Arfluoro's desk. "I need you to travel to Dianne. We have had some issues of late with late payments." *** I spot buildings ahead. This should be the way--I hope, thinks Arfluoro as he subconsciously rubs his backside as he tries to match geographical features with the map he has in hand. Though unsure of his present location,the dwarf was looking forward to getting off of the small camel he had been riding from Absalom, though he was grateful he did not have to settle for an axe beak. He became more so when he spotted the catfolk up ahead. Garfield walks in and does a stretch. Hello, how are you all today. Anyone got any lasagna? "I am afraid, Hood Fur--I-I mean, Good Sir, that I don't have any," stutters the accountant, his well-tailored clothing looking out-of-place among those of most other travelers. The large silver key dangling from the gold chain around his neck makes bare his devotion to the Master of the First Vault. "I am, however, trying to make my way to the town of Dianne. Can you tell me if I am within reach of my destination before nightfall? Or, if not, where I may settle for the evening?" |
