Once inside, Enard looks about for a table where people seem to be chatting and talking as much as concentrating on the game – also one where people are drinking a lot. He will choose a card game such as Golem over a dice game like Bounder by preference.
He plans to spend up to 5 gp on drinks – for the table more than himself, he’ll nurse the one drink. He loses in good humour if needs be, willing to lose up to 10gp worth, though he’ll bet in small amounts and generally try to play it fairly safe so that he loses slowly.
During the game he tries to engage fellow players in conversation. He’ll say something like, “So, do many pilgrims prefer to try their luck here than at the Fountain?” or once he has lost a hand, say something like, “Ha! I bet I am not the first Korvosan with more coins than sense that you have beaten at this game.”
He does his best to be pleasant Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 12 but keeps his ear open for any talk of our missing noble, or missing people or trouble in general Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16. He’ll change tables as soon as he can do so politely if he hears any interesting discussion at another table.
Retrospective: Enard introduces Corvin; “Well, I know this is a private club, but Corvin here likes gambling as much as I do … and his lucks even worse I’d say by the look of him,” he adds with a harsh laugh.
At the door: Enard is very reluctant to give up his sword. He looks the half orc in the eye. “This sword is very precious to me,” he says. “I’ll give it into your care, and enjoy myself and make no trouble within … but should anything happen to it, I will burn this place to the ground and make you eat your own entrails. That’s not a threat friend … it’s a promise.” He nods, gives the sword over, then turns to enter the establishment. Intimidate: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
I had the impression that Mason was going to try to get himself invited along to the club with Enard, but I might have missed something amongst the spoilers.
“Enard,” says Enard, putting out his hand to shake Kelan’s. “Desna frowns of late, but my friends convinced me that coming here to Sirathu would change our luck … and what do you know, perhaps it has.” He chuckles, then drops his voice as Mason draws near (though deliberately not enough that he thinks Mason actually wouldn’t be able to hear him).
“Cards and dice it is. I’ll follow your lead gentleman,” he says. “Just wait one moment while I tell my friends that I’ll be back to the inn late.”
Enard strides back to where Corvin and Rokuro stand, passing Mason as he does. With his face turned away from Kelan and Zoque, and looking at Mason, he flicks his eyes to the left, trying to indicate to Mason to go and talk with them – figuring if Mason is able to score his own invitation to the game (if that’s what he wants to do) it will look less suspicious than if Enard is there and invites him along.
Enard shakes the hand of one of the men, then walks back past Mason as he approaches towards Rokuro and Corvin.
GM, Rokuro and Corvin:
“I’ve just scored an invite to a private gambling den,” he says quickly and quietly. “Could be the sort of place our noble friend may have frequented while he was here, or at least a window to what passes as the criminal element in this town. Stay in Saevendir’s or Mason’s rooms tonight like Flavia suggested … though it looks like Mason might be with me. Worry if we’re not back by midnight. Place is called The Trick Door, northeast part of town. Tell Flavia.”
Enard turns to go, “and don’t wait up,” he adds more loudly and jovially, before heading back to the two men.
Enard talks to the battle sorcerer and the mercenary for a brief moment, then heads back towards the two men he was talking to a moment ago.
Enard pauses in his murmured conversation with Flavia, as if listening to something. He puts up a finger in a ‘wait’ motion, then wanders off a little from the rest of his companions, towards a small group of people standing closer to the fountain, whom he appears to engage in conversation.
GM:
“Pleasant evening,” Enard says to the people there, standing easily and looking at the fountain. “Forgive me, I could not help but hear you speak of Towers and Dragon Eyes … I came with my friends to see this fountain, but myself I am more interested in throwing the dice, and I have some coin to spare. Do you know of anywhere in this town that I could find some fellow devotees of Lady Luck, if you catch my meaning?”
Enard murmurs, “Sounds like a plan … but try to give one of the guys a signal or a whispered message to head back in five minutes after we leave – the streets are getting quiet, and it’d be easier to snatch someone from out here than to break into their room at the inn … now I think about it, maybe we should wait until they head back and sneak into their rooms once they’re inside. What do you think?”
As he speaks, Enard glances about, keeps an eye out for anything suspicious or troubling. Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Enard shakes his head. “No … let’s head straight to the fountain like you suggested before. The others might not have stayed at the inn, and either way we don’t want to draw too much attention to the fact that we know them. We’ll keep an eye out for them at the fountain though, and on the way.”
“We’ve lost track of the other two,” says Enard darkly. “We probably should have touched base with them at the inn … it’d be a pity if they are targeted by whoever we’re up against here while we’ve been seeing to the horses. Ah well … chances are they’ll be heading to the fountain too, if they’re able. Keep an eye out for them when we get there.”
At the counter, Enard looks at Corvin oddly. “Don’t tell me; you sleep in your armour too?” he asks.
When they begin heading to the rooms and Enard realises that rooms 11 and 12 are on a different floor to rooms 13 and 14, he can’t help it, he lets out a brief snort of laughter. “Oh, I didn’t even think of that,” he says. “Just blindly assumed that 12 would be next to 13 …”
“Two rooms … you’ll have no issue sharing with one of the men?” Enard asks Flavia, thinking it best if the answer were yes – it seemed to risky to have at least two of them bunking alone with possible kidnappers or monsters about.
If Enard notices that Flavia is having trouble seeing the register, he steps up close to the counter (but a little away from her) and calls out loudly, “Service! Service please!” (even if there is someone right there). If there is a bell he rings it repeatedly. As soon as he catches someone’s eye he begins asking about rooms in a demanding fashion – generally he is trying to be as demanding and obnoxious as possible without stepping over the line that might get him thrown out, in order to attract attention to himself and away from Flavia.
It seems like an Intimidate roll might be appropriate? 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Each group should probably head to the inn first (a little way apart) and get rooms – ideally someone in the second group can get a room adjacent to the first groups room(s). Drop off the horses and gear.
Then ... checking out the fountain seems like a good option!
On the early part of the ride to Sirathu, Enard and Flavia will no doubt have filled the others in on the plan.
“So essentially we enter the town in two groups, the first, smaller group – probably no more than two people – act as the bait, the larger group keep an eye out for them ... but try not to look like we’re keeping an eye out for them. We shouldn’t give any indication that we know the other group, we can share information in our rooms at night," Enard summarises.
“The idea is that the ‘bait’ might attract some unwanted attention, and when they do, the rest of us jump to the rescue ... hopefully ... Meanwhile, both groups can go about any other investigation of the disappearances, but the bait group in particular needs to keep it very much on the down-low – try to make it look like you are simple pilgrims as much as possible, otherwise we’re likely to tip off these slavers, cultists or whoever is at work here that something is up.
“Now, Mason has volunteered to play the part of bait, and we may have sort of volunteered Savendir,” Enard flashes the elf a quick, rueful smile. “Is everyone comfortable with those roles? Anybody want to put up their hand for one or the other in particular?”
Once the roles are decided on, Enard suggests that when they reach a somewhat secluded point on the road, at least two or three hours outside of town, the two groups separate, with the ‘bait’ group riding in about half a mile ahead of the others.
"Gone," replies Enard shortly, looking up from his eggs. "Which is where we'd best be soon too, if we're going to make Sirathu within the week." He looks over at Corvin. "Hope you can ride with a hangover, new guy."
“Flavia had this crazy idea ... which just might work.” Enard quickly explains the plan to Savendir (and Rokuro if he comes in), including he (them) having been nominated for a starring role.
“So I figure maybe we separate by half a mile or so on the road a way out of town, with the bait heading in first. We can get rooms at the same inn – the only inn isn’t it? – and go to the same places at similar times, but try not to be seen talking to each other. See if anything sticks. If needs be, we can have Flavia here, who I understand can move pretty quietly when she wants to, sneak around to keep a specific eye on you – tail you to see if anyone else is doing the same ... what do you think?”
Enard glances at Urzur and shakes his head. “No ...” he lowers his voice. “What’s his story anyway? He looks like he’d be made of sterner stuff than to be rattled by some fortune teller of dubious reliability ...”
“As for this Corvin – I’m not sure I trust him to be honest. He seemed intent on heading in the same direction, so I figured it would save potential trouble to invite him to travel with us, where we could keep an eye on him, and where he might be able to help should we get attacked by anything else on the road ... but once we get to Sirathu ... well, I don’t know yet. Besides, if I were a slaver I don’t know that I’d target him. He looks tough enough to give trouble, and he doesn’t look like he’d clean up well enough to fetch very much.”
“Yeah, maybe Savendir and, or, Rokuro if they’re willing. They’re both tougher than they look, and they’re both exotic enough that they might make good targets for certain types of slavers. We should talk to them when they come in.”
Enard shrugs. “I don’t know ... young nobles can fetch a lot of money in some markets out East I’ve heard, and accepting a ransom, even a generous one, might compromise their whole operation. But you’re right, we need to consider the possibility that we’re not dealing with slavers ... it could be a cult, or some monster that doesn’t leave any trace of its victims ... anything. Who ever is behind it they do seem to be targeting fairly isolated travellers, so your plan should work.”
Enard looks thoughtful. “I don’t mind playing the bait – if they are targeting nobles I can probably stretch my repertoire to look the part,” he smiles slightly, sarcastically, “assuming I’m not all too intimidating for them ... I’ll want some good eyes watching me though, I don’t want to end up as a pleasure slave in some Qadarin princesses harem ... well ...” he rubs his chin and pretends to consider the scenario.
Enard looks up and smiles wearily at Flavia. “No thanks. It’s probably terribly prejudiced of me, but I can’t shake the feeling that our hosts are waiting for us to let our guard down and rob us, or are setting up some long con ... legacy of growing up in a ‘noble’ Chelaxian household I suppose,” he adds with a hint of bitterness.
“You’re better at talking to people than I am anyway,” he adds more brightly. “My time is better spent making sure that I’m prepared as I can be for any more dangers we might face on the road ... or when we get to Sirathu. Your idea has some merit ... hmmm, some of us go in alone, yes, I like that – which of us will be the patsies? My instinct is that you’re right about this being the work of slavers ... probably taking them off to Kaer Maga or Belkzan or somewhere ...”
“I don’t like this,” Enard mutters to Rokuro later, when he’s sure that Corvin is out of hearing range. “Maybe this Corvin fellow is no more than he seems, maybe the Varisians put him up to tagging along with us for some reason of their own, maybe he’s up to something, or somehow involved with the disappearances ... I don’t know. But I figure he’s easier to keep an eye on if he’s travelling with us rather than trailing along behind. If he is no more than he seems ... well, the roads have been dangerous enough so far that some extra muscle can’t hurt ... but keep an eye on him. Something’s not right about that fellow ...”
"Is that right? Well ... We're headed out to Sirathu. They say there's been lots of disappearances out there of late, some nefarious goings on no doubt. There's a good chance you'd find work out there up your alley. You can travel with us if you want."
Enard's longer term companions may be surprised at this unexpected generosity ... And its too dark to see the calculated look in his eye.
“I’ll bet that line works wonders with the ladies,” comments Enard, looking with horrified fascination at the man’s gory and ill-kept hardware. “Are you currently being paid to kill things Mister Killgannon?”
“Well ... even if there is some accuracy to the divinations, nothing is set in stone,” Enard shrugs. “The sages call this time The Age of Lost Omens ... prophecies are broken and divinations can’t be relied on. Best we can do is get a good night’s sleep to face whatever lies ahead.”
Enard half smiles at Flavia’s comment in regards to a younger Harrower, then raises an eyebrow when she points to Savendir. “What do you mean?” he asks, then looks to the elf. “Well, you obviously put some store in the powers of divination at work here?”
“What?” Enard looks at the others like they’re mad. “She was human, and old enough to be my mother at least ... and fat enough to be all our mo – ah, never mind. Obviously we’ve been subjected to what they call ‘the old switcheroo’ – or a clever disguise. Don’t know why they gave me the fat one though ... A technique to keep us off guard, or have us wonder at the meaning and mysticism of it all.”
He glances around at the others. “What of the readings themselves? Did anyone learn anything of import? Maybe I’m just cynical,” he throws a glance at Flavia and moves his foot out of stomping range, “but I thought it was all non-specific enough that I could make what links I wished of it. Well ... of the ‘past’ and ‘future’ there were some things that could perhaps relate more specifically to my situation,” Enard frowns in momentary contemplation, “but nothing that could not have been deduced by a keen observer, or a little research.”
"Oh yes, we're special," says Enard, balancing on one leg to rub the toes of his other foot through the leather of his boot. He rolls his eyes at Flavia as she heads into the tent. "But I have to admit, my curiosity is piqued. I'll go." He carefully chooses ten silver coins from his pouch and gets ready to give them to the attendant when it's his turn.
"No, we're spending the night at this roadside gypsy caravan in the middle of nowhere for our health," the tall dark haired Chelaxian answers the drunkard mildly. "You?"
“A Varisian fortune teller,” answers Enard. “You’d have seen some of them in Korvosa if you ever ventured into the Old City, or places like Trail’s End. Some claim to see the future in tea leaves, or entrails, or crystal balls ... Harrowers use a set of cards called the Harrow Deck. In my experience most so called Harrowers are charlatans and swindlers, but some have true power.”
“Well I don’t put a whole lot of faith in fortune telling,” Enard mutters to Flavia. “But some few of these Harrowers are proper diviners or so I’ve heard ... at the very least this Madame Parasca has probably heard a thing or two, if so many people go to see her. I’ll tag along if you’re going.”
I suggest that Urzar and/or Mason guard our stuff – given that their players are otherwise occupied at the moment – while anyone else who wants to heads out to explore.
Enard makes sure that his purse and spell component pouch are pulled around to the front of his belt (so he can see them) and adjusts the straps holding Heartstriker’s scabbard in place so that the long sword is jauntily displayed, then wanders over to the fire to buy a plate of venison. He’ll keep an eye out for any interesting displays of entertainment or whatever else the Varisians have to offer, but he also keeps a wary eye on his person and possessions, and on anyone who tries to get too close, greeting any unwanted advances or attention with a stony frown.
"One of the two I think," says Enard, who clearly doesn't entirely trust the Varisians - whether out of unfair prejudice or hard experience is difficult to tell. "We want some space."
Following Flavia's example, he leads Swift and 'Spare' over to the holding pen and removes the saddles after pinning the ribbon to his coat.
The guards are actually watching the sky? As if they perhaps expect danger from that direction? Or as if they're skylarking rather than doing their jobs?
Enard quietly mutters something about having already encountered one lot of highway robbers on this trip ... But he makes certain that none of the Varisians are in earshot.
“Varisians,” Enard sniffs. “Keep your purses close ... What? Stereotypes like that exist for a reason you know ... anyway, they’re generally a hospitable and entertaining people, it may not be a completely terrible idea to camp with them tonight.”
Enard hoists his tankard to the traveller then drains it. “Well,” he says to his companions, “I doubt that Janderhoff has much of a red curtain district, and I’m not sure I’d like to sample it if it did ... I’ll be off to bed, see you all in the morning.”
