Fahim Al-Khabyyr's page

Fahim chuckles at Zaiharahel's joke, then again as he imagines what Zaiharahel would look like as a "troll." He focuses, though, when Honus seriously begins discussing disguises.

"An amusing suggestion, my dashing friend. I, at least, won't need a disguise. It's not a talent I have, and I work best when my mouth is not full of rocks." Fahim winks at Zaiharahel.

"If either of you feel comfortable with making disguises, then have at it. Anything we can do to limit the number of things that will upset Rimetusk can only help. However, if no one has that particular skill, I think it may be best to just play to our strength. After all, we would not be telling stories of the fabled Abdula's victory over Pharasma's Voice in a game of skill if he had chosen a game he was terrible at?"

Fahim sighs whimsically as he thinks of the story.

"How silly would it have been if he chose Djinni Disks over the Satrap's Board? Or maybe Salamanders and Slides? Oh, that would be a funny story indeed."

Fahim continues to giggle to himself as he trails off.

Fahim gathers the group in a "private" location, maybe a corner table at an inn/tavern, maybe off to the side of a store, where they can talk without concerns of being easily overheard.

"Well, we're not much better off than when we started, though it is good to know that ... more direct options are not available. Always good to know what roads you shouldn't travel, even if you had no plans to go down them in the first place."

Fahim gives an exaggerated sigh and looks in Rimetusk's general direction, though he is not in their line of sight.

"It looks like we'll just have to ask Rimetusk to cross, and see whether fate deals us the Satrap's Vault, or a Taladarian Honor."

Fahim reflexively winces as he realizes that the worst hand in Qadirian Qaurters would be an insulting reference to someone from Talador. Like Mexus.

"On the plus side, I'm very good at cards."

Fahim smiles sheepishly as he waits for responses from the group, if any, before heading off to confront Rimetusk.

After Fahim is finishes talking to the shopkeeper, he will politely end the conversation and let the group buy any supplies they may need. Fahim will then lead the group around town to do "other shopping" while talking to the townsfolk about Rimetusk, his mood, what he likes, and the best way to get across the river without paying an arm and a leg. While he is not as good with general chit chat as he is with one on one negotiations, his silver tongue still somewhat offsets his disheveled appearance.

Diplomacy(Gather Information): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Hours: 1d4 ⇒ 4

"Well then, may Rimetusk live a long and prosperous life filled with nothing but good health and pleasant thoughts. Speaking of pleasant thoughts, do you know how Rimetusk has been feeling lately, and what may cheer him up if he is in one of his less cheerful moods?"

Fahim nods knowingly.

"Show me an honest ferryman and I'll show you someone who hasn't been a ferryman long. Still, paying a ferry "tax" is as much a part of traveling as buying supplies. How much does this one usually charge?"

Fahim nods his head in appreciation and returns the gaze with a similar understanding.

"Well, I would be a sorry traveler if I didn't ask for the current travel news. Weather across the river, normal travel routes, distance to the next resupply store, and charges to cross on the ferry. You know, the kinds of things any sensible person would want to know before leaving the safety and warmth of your fine establishment. Now, that being said, I'm not claiming to be one of those sensible people, far from it, but I've had the benefit of knowing a few in my time, and those seem to be the kinds of things they care about."

Fahim gives a small chuckle at his self-deprecating joke.

Fahim beams with his well practiced smile, both at the child's introductory recitation and at the greeting of the shopkeeper.

"And a good morning to you both, in return. I had thought, for a moment, that the young man was the proprietor of the shop, given his seasoned greeting when we walked in. I see now that he has a partner in this venture."

Fahim winks at the young boy and gives him another warm smile.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19 to befriend the shopkeeper and his son.

"My friends and I are looking to refill our supplies, and I will leave them to that business."

Fahim looks to the rest of the group to continue checking out the wares and determining what we need. Fahim then turns back to the shopkeeper to continue talking.

"While they handle that, I'm always happy to hear any interesting news, if you have any."

Fahim raises his eyebrows in interest to see if he can prompt the shopkeeper to start chatting away with his potential customers.

Well, Zaiharahel has definitely failed to do justice to the impressive stature of our ferryman. There are trolls, and then there are TROLLS. Still, if I can negotiate with a fire elemental for safe passage through the Dunes of Golden Fire, I can negotiate with an ice troll for safe passage over a muddy river. However, before every good negotiation comes good information gathering. Let's see what the town has to say about our formidably fanged ferryman.

Fahim turns to the group after assessing the troll.

"Well, we have found our means of passage, but first let's make sure we have what we need before we cross. This shop over here looks like a general store, let's see if they have what we need inside."

Fahim then leads the group into the store, to see what type of goods they sell, and what the proprietor of the shop looks like.

"As my caravan mistress used to say, 'the only people who don't care about money are the dead and the dumb.' I suspect your troll friend likes money just fine, he may just be getting paid more by someone else.'"

Fahim looks to their goblin companions who are currently playing a "game" with a rabbit, though it looks like the only way to lose that game is to be the rabbit.

"Unless someone tells me otherwise, I'm guessing we can't cross the river ourselves. We shouldn't have too much trouble moving through town with our friends, and then its just a matter of convincing the troll to let us pass. I've never negotiated with a troll before, but I do have some experience arguing with stubborn, egotistical monster-blooded individuals, so I'm willing to give it a shot."

Hopefully this troll isn't an infernalist like the last monster-blooded idiot I argued with.

"I agree as well. The brazen Saladin would have never made it to the Floating Palace of Gold, with its many skybound treasures, if he had stopped at every tent and merchant's cart on the way there. I have no need of any supplies. I will wait here with our fellow goblinoid travelers while we determine where our path will take us next."

Now to make quick work of this last wolf before one of those goblins actually succeeds at mounting it, or Mexus decides to summon a demon to "help" since his crossbow isn't working.

[Fahim is at +1 for point blank shot]
Dagger (Ranged): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19 to hit the target’s AC.

[Fahim is at +1 for point blank shot]
Piercing: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3.

Fahim looks between Zaiharahel and the forest, anticipating another group of wolves to come rushing out at them.

"Why would you even say such a thing?!?!?!"

Fahim throws another knife at the most injured wolf.

[Fahim is at +1 for point blank shot]
Dagger (Ranged): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17 to hit the target’s AC.

[Fahim is at +1 for point blank shot]
Piercing: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5.

Fahim exhasperatedly looks at the goblins as he tries to plead with them to back away while he throws another knife.

"I can't make the wolves go boom if you keep trying to ride them!"

[Fahim is at +1 for point blank shot]
Dagger (Ranged): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21 to hit the target’s AC.

[Fahim is at +1 for point blank shot]
Piercing: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3.

"Fantastic idea. I agree. Let's kill these wolves and leave the rest of the ones in forest alone."

Fahim scowls at the goblins as he readies another knife.

Fahim surveys the fight, and seeing no way to throw a bomb, slides out one of his knives and hurls it at the nearest wolf.

[Fahim is at +1 for point blank shot]
Dagger (Ranged): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17 to hit the target’s AC.

[Fahim is at +1 for point blank shot]
Piercing: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3.

Fahim then generally turns his attention to the goblins.

"Get away from the wolves! These aren't the riding kind."

Are there riding kinds?

Fahim curses and hastily chugs the mutagen set out beside his sleeping bag. He gives a longing stare to his chain shirt laying in a heap on the floor before dashing outside with his satchel in tow.

I don't know what those snarls are, but anything that can make those goblins cheer cannot be good.

Assuming the rest of the night goes uneventfully. Fahim wakes up and untangles himself from Zaiharahel's warm embrace to take the second shift of watch.

Fahim blushes at being called out for his sleeptime murmurings. He continues to finish making his bed and lays down in it in a huff.

"No, I am most concerned about spending my time with someone who uses infernal magic! I don't care that you don't think its evil, just like I don't care if you don't think fire is hot. The spell was unholy, and that is a fact. Your arrogance in thinking it's not evil because you are the one casting it just makes it all the more dangerous!"

After that exclamation, Fahim seems to have exhausted his anger. Whether it's because he has let off enough steam, or because he sees arguing with Mexus is pointless, is hard to tell.

"It's clear I'm not going to change your mind. Maybe one day you'll realize where this path is leading you. For now, I'll do what I need to do to protect myself from your inevitable corruption. That includes me telling you that you had better let me die before you cast that spell, or any other infernal magic, on me. When it is my time, I will go into the next left with a clean soul, untouched by your foul magics."

With that, Fahim seems done and begins remaking his bed so he can get some sleep before it is his turn to take watch.

Fahim lets Mexus go on his rant, but he is clearly not impressed by his verbose response. A master of negotiation and verbosity in his own right, he can see a snow job when its coming. When he finishes, Fahim's response is terse and short, in stark contract to Mexus' long speech.

"Do not lecture me on means and ends. I know what I have done and why. I have never invoked the powers of a dark god. I have never channeled evil energies for my own gain. I understand why such arts are forbidden."

Fahim stares intently at Mexus. It is clear he is trying to look past the devil he sees, and is looking for what lurks beneath.

"What I want to know is whether you understand why they are forbidden. If infernal means are acceptable to you, then I need to know that. If you are going to continue to use them in my presence, then I need to know that."

Fahim then loses composure as his face flushes with blood and he yells, "BECAUSE WHEN YOU START PERFORMING HUMAN SACRIFICE FOR THE "GREATER GOOD" I DAMN WELL DON'T WANT TO BE ANYWHERE NEAR YOU!"

Fahim begins breathing heavy in a desperate attempt to calm himself again.

Fahim looks up as Mexus enters the tent. His anger has clearly not subsided since they had last seen each other.

"I hope the invocation went well. Now what were you saying about my irrational reaction to dark magic?"

"Fine. I'll be in the other tent. You can come over after you adjourn your prayers with your dark disciples."

Fahim heads off into the other tent to wait for Mexus and his "explanation."

Fahim bristles at being called "irrational," but does make a visible effort to control his anger.

He has bigger balls than Rovagug to tell Honus and I that we are reacting "irrationally" to his use of dark magics. Still, we must work with him for now, and I must know whether he is evil, amoral, or just insane. Once I know that, I'll know how many eyes to sleep open with at night.

He speaks to Mexus through clenched teeth, and there are no smiles for Mexus as he responds.

"Be my guest. Please explain why you invoked the name of an evil power, and why our dear ally Kella awoke with unholy crimson eyes. I'm all ears."

Fahim stares in stunned silence at Mexus' ambivalence in the face of Fahim's clear concern.

"You. Used. Infernal. Magic. You invoked the name of an evil god. How can you be so calm in the face of what is obviously forbidden dark arts!"

Sarenrae's t@!!, does the devil go farther than skin deep? Have I been traveling with a fiend, and not a friend?"

Fahim jabs his meaty finger toward Mexus', all the while a mixture of horror, rage, and dread swirl across his face like reagents in a flask.

"You won't brush this one off, Lord Navarion. If there's any man beneath the monster, then answer for your crimes to your friends. Assuming there's anything inside of you capable of friendship."

Fahim bites off his next insult to give Mexus a chance to respond. It is clear he is outraged, but also that he is trying to get it under control.

Something is not right here. Those words were . . . sinister. And I do not like the symbols he has drawn on her. It looks like he anointed her in some holy ritual. And if Mexus is a priest, then Zaiharahel is an expert marksman.

Fahim frowns at Mexus and his terse response. His scowl is interrupted momentarily as Honus works his way in to the very cramped tent. Once Honus settles in, Fahim gets ready to confront Mexus and ask him what he has cast. However, before he can...

""Tell Kella more! Kella want to learn dark magics! Kella want to be powerful shaman!"

Fahim's jaw drops in astonishment and disbelief.

"Mexus, you used the dark gifts of the infernal on our charges?!?! Are you mad?! What possessed you to learn such vile magics in the first place?"

Fahim checks the potions before the group begins setting up watches, and reports that they are Alchemist Fire and a Potion of Bull Strength. Fahim keeps the Alchemist Fire potion and passes the Bull Strength potion to Honus. He also drinks his extract of Cure Light Wounds before going to sleep while Mexus takes the first watch.

After healing, Fahim settles into the cramped, cold tent to get some rest before it is his turn to take watch. It seems like Fahim will never fall asleep between the sound of the complaining goblins and the deathly chill permeating everything, but exhaustion wins out and sleep eventually comes.

Fahim pulls her body closer to his, her warmth a pleasing contrast to the chill air of the desert night. Their bodies fit together perfectly like the jeweled silverware of his palace, and she knows contentment in his firm embrace. Though he cannot see her face, he can hear the sorrow in her words as she speaks.

... What did I just say?

Fahim's eyes snap open as his slumbering mind catches up with what his ears have heard. The bitter chill invades his waking mind and reminds him that he is not in a Sultan's pavillion in the Qadiran desert, but in a cramped makeshift tent in the middle of a frozen forest. The only respite from this brutal cold is the warmth of Honus' body, which Fahim has unconsciously started spooning after they both fell asleep. Fahim noisily disengages from Honus, clearly startled from hearing Mexus' spell and from the unexpected embrace in which he awoke.

Fahim quickly throws on enough furs to not instantly die from going outside, and then runs to the goblin tent to see what caused Mexus to cast his spell. He bursts into the tent clutching a bomb in his hand and looking around for signs of danger. He then sees Kella laying on the ground, with arcane marks on her body.

"Mexus, what are you doing?"

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20 to know what spell was cast.

Fahim checks both potions they have found to see what they are.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

"Is anyone supposed to come from that longshanks town when you light the big smoke? Have you ever lit it before now? How far away is the town from here?"

How much do I trust the information he is telling me? We'll take him downstairs once we're done and ask the same questions of the other two in separate.

"Why did you attack us, and who are the Icetooth goblins working with?

Fahim gestures to the group to ask any questions they want to ask as well.

"Let me go! I cut you into twisty ribbons! I feed you to the wargs! Let me go now, so I can cuts your throat!"

Friendly little bastard, isn't he? Well, as my trade mistress used to say, no better negotiation than a hostile one. First, we try some honey.

"A tempting offer, but I think I'll have to pass. How about this for a counter offer. You tell us what we want to know, and we we will just leave you tied up, alive, downstairs."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9 to befriend the goblin.

And now for some vinegar.

"Otherwise, we'll have no choice but to, how did you put it, 'cut you into twisty ribbons.'"

Intimidation: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 = 17 to scare the goblin.

Fahim ends by giving the goblin a smile from his seemingly never ending supply of smiles. Whether the goblin thinks it is a friendly smile, or sinister one, is up to him.

Ankleknocker, and the other two goblins, are able to get halfway down the ladder before they stop at the ascending Fahim. He is red cheeked and sweaty, and large puffs of warm breath mist in the air as he exhales. He takes a moment to rest halfway up the ladder as the goblins relay Honus' request.

"Yes.... *wheeze* Rope.... *wheeze* Good idea."

Fahim finishes climbing out to the top of the tower and helps tie up the sleeping goblins. He then looks at the potions Honus gave to him.

"So, which one do we talk to first?"

Fahim charges toward the other door to help Honus break it down before the enemy goblins wake up.

"To me fellow goblins! Help mighty Honus break down the door. I will distract the enemy archers."

Quickly, think of an insult you heard the goblins say to one another. Ah yes, this one definitely offended Ankleknocker when Corpselicker said it."

"A haaklaar daan daraan or togaach rhuul ogaar ghuuraan rhuul!"

... the smell of sweat mixes with incense as their bodies lay entwined in his his satin sheets. His hand traces the curves of her naked, sun-darkened body and she squirms in appreciation. She lifts her head from his chest and stares deeply into his eyes.

The cold slaps Fahim in the face like a jilted lover. One moment he is in the warm embrace of a beautiful woman, the next he is laying in the snow, surrounded by goblins.

Rovagug’s unholy balls, what's going on? Where is my desert princess? Why am I in the snow? How much did I say out loud?

Fahim shakes his head groggily and stands up.

"Uh, yes. Thank you. What were we doing? Archers! Yes, there were archers! Quickly, up against the far side of the tower!"

Fahim then runs to the far side of the tower, and beckons the goblins to follow him.

Bomb Attack (Ranged Touch): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18 to confirm critical and hit the target’s touch AC.

Fire Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 if critical is confirmed.

"Grinning wildly, she looks up at Fahim. "No worry, Frostfur gobbos protect fat longshanks!"

You have to give them credit for bravery. I'll withhold judgment on how stupid they are for rushing toward a tower full archers, mostly because I did the same thing. Still, I can't let them die because they wanted to protect me. I have no hope of hitting the enemy from here, but maybe the archers will pull back if a bomb goes off nearby.

"Quickly my friends, around the side of the tower! Hug the wall and wait for Honus to break down the door. I'll distract them with a bomb!"

Fahim pulls a pre-made bomb from his satchel, which is attached to it by a string. As he yanks it free, the string releases a reagent that sets the imminent explosion into motion. Fahim hurls the bomb with all his might, hoping to get close to the goblin at the top of the tower and scare him away long enough for Honus to break in.

[-4 range penalty for throwing between 41 and 60 feet, +1 for Throw Anything feat]
Bomb Attack (Ranged Touch): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22 to hit the target’s touch AC.
Misdirection: 1d8 ⇒ 5 with 1 falling short and 2 through 8 rotating around the target clockwise.

Fire Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11 and 5 splash damage to anyone in the adjacent squares. Ref DC 15 to save for half of splash damage.

I thought the GM rolled our initiative for us, so we don't need to wait for everyone to roll?

Fahim's Initiative: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Fahim unceremoniously sits on the ground, accustomed to making his potions on the fly in whatever situation he may be in. He places a small, journal sized book with stained pages and significant travel wear on the ground. He flips to a page with diagrams of two identical people, except one is smaller than the other, with arrows going from the larger to the smaller. There is arcane writing in various places on the page, and what looks like an ingredient list for a recipe. The title at the top of the page says "Fahim's Wondrous Weightloss Water."

Fahim takes an empty potion bottle out of his satchel, and begins filling it with pinches of powder, grams of granules, and splashes of solution. Once the mixture looks like pureed lilacs floating in urine, Fahim draws out a small crystal, no bigger than the end of his pinky. He brings it to his lips, then forehead, and finally his heart, all the while murmuring as he does so. The crystal glows brightly for the briefest of seconds before Fahim adds it to the potion bottle and swirls it around. In seconds, the contents of the potion bottle becomes the translucent purple color common to potions of transmutation.

Fahim then places the purple potion in a loop on the strap of his satchel, opposite a honey colored potion of cure light wounds on the other strap. From the same strap he pulls an opaque vial from another loop, and downs it as Honus indicates he is ready. Fahim's body ripples as the mutagen courses through his body, elongating it and causing his skin to take on a metallic luster. He then slips the purple potion from its loop and holds it in his left hand as he walks up next to Honus. He nods to Honus that he is ready, and Honus can see the glassy haze in Fahim's eyes as the mutagen dulls his wits.

"We share the same ill feelings toward enemy archers. If need be, I will pour that healing potion into your mouth. I have one of my own in the pouch on my belt. Just in case."

Fahim's response is thick on his tongue, the mutagen slowing his witty reply. "Yes, just in case. Still, I hope the only drink we need to share is a victory drink."

The last thing we need is our charges rushing in and dying to a rain of arrows.

"Brave Kella, your offer is as generous as it is fearless. However, I would ask that you instead watch our backs. The people in the tower may merely be a diversion for a much larger foe that will sweep in from behind. If that is the case, then I will feel safer if the deadly Frostfur clan is there to protect our flank."

Fahim then gives a somewhat grim and disdainful look toward Zaiharahel when he mentions trying to "run through" the pass.

"Zaiharahel, I don't know how often you've had to face archers as they look down their arrow shafts at you, but my personal experience is that they are people to be dreaded, not dismissed. It doesn't take more than one well placed arrow to bring down any of us. I have no desire to see how 'lucky' any of us are today."

Fahim then turns to Honus, who he has come to defer to in situations of grave danger, such as this. Seeing Honus in his resplendent armor and shield fills Fahim with the kind of confidence that can only come from standing in the presence of a skilled fighter.

"Honus, how do you suggest we approach? If you give me ten minutes I can prepare a potion that makes me almost untouchable, but I will still be hit by a skillfully placed shot. I also have a potion prepared that can heal some of my injuries. As such, if anyone can risk being struck by an arrow once, its me, so use that to your advantage when coming up with a plan. That being said, I would be much obliged if you could come up with a plan that doesn't involve anyone being hit with an arrow, myself included."

Fahim flashes Honus a gallows humor smile. Honus can see it is colored with worry from the last time the group faced down enemy archers.

Fahim travels at the back of the group, with his mutagen in hand unless there would be a reason not to do so. He generally would be the "caretaker" for the goblins, and volunteer to spend the most time with them. As such, they travel at the back of the group with him. He encourages them to teach him of their culture, language, and legends. In return, he will entertain them with stories of the fabled Abdula, the outlandish Saladin, and the innumerable wicked djinn.

Per request, here are the following rolls:

Survival: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10 to aid Honus.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

(Fahim has +5 for his prior success with the goblins)
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (17) + 12 = 29

"Excellent! What a talented and strong group you are. You deserve ale, and ale you shall have! Just give me a moment to pour the drinks for each of you."

I can't drug these poor creatures, after all what would my caravan mistress say? Does her pupil take the thuggish route of sedating them? No, he walks the path of a true Qadiran merchant by getting what he wants through negotiation!

Fahim prepares four cups of ale for the goblins, dividing one bottle among the four cups and filling them up the rest of the way with his "special ale" aka water. This should make tasty drinks, since Fahim only makes the finest brews, but one not very intoxicating.

Fahim walks to Kella with the first cup.

"As promised, as the leader you drink first. And as you should, I might add, as we would not want that pretty voice of your to dry out. An amazing song to match an amazing voice. I'm sure you will protect everyone in our group, and ensure we will have a safe trip."

Fahim then moves to Corpselicker, the second to speak, with his cup of ale.

"And we mustn't let your tongue dry out either. There may be many corpses to lick along our travels, and we want you to be at your best when the time for licking comes! Only you can figure out if those corpses will have secrets that will keep us from danger."

Third to speak was Ankleknocker, so he gets the third cup.

"This is no mouse blood, but I think you'll like it none the less. I suspect you will have your chance to drink the blood of our enemies at some point in our trip, while keeping us from being harmed."

Fahim carefully, and slowly, moves to the last goblin, Dunghurler. He speaks to him in a soft voice.

"Brave dunghurler, there's nothing to be nervous about. You are with us now, and we will protect you like you will protect us. No one reads the stars and books and trees better than you. And the ability to read the snow is special indeed. Drink up and let your nervousness be washed away."

Fahim finishes by giving each goblin a smile in turn, cementing his subtle manipulations of the group.

Fahim has tried to subtly suggest to the group of goblins that Fahim, Honus, Mexus, and Zaiharahel are allies who should be protected and joined, as opposed to people who should be betrayed and escaped.

Bluff: 1d20 - 3 ⇒ (17) - 3 = 14 to convince them that the idea is theirs, and not Fahim's.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19 to make the above request of them.

While the group decides on whether, and where, to set up camp, Fahim continues to deal with his goblin charges.

"Ok, Kella, tell me what you are better at than anything else, and I will give you the ale first. Then, I'll give ale to the next one who tells me what they are best at, and so on. And NO lying. I'll know if you lie, and if you do, then no ale for you."

Bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27 to convince the goblins he will know if they are lying.

I hope they believe me when I tell them I will know if they are lying. Some days I wouldn't even know if Shax, the willful deceiver, was lying to me if I saw him outside of a binding circle with my own two eyes.

Well aren't these an amusing little bunch. They remind me of the fire imps I saw playing outside of the Oasis of Ember Light when my caravan stopped there for night. Though, I suppose the giant scorpion they slowly burned to death didn't find them so cute.

Survival: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11 to know its colder at night than during the day, any any additional dangers of traveling at night this result may yield.

"Honus, while I am eager to complete this adventure, and any adventure, as quickly as possible, our last . . . task has taught me the value in taking your time when you can. We have already had a full day of travelling and searching for our new friends. Perhaps tonight may be better spent sharing a warm fire and hot meal with our guests?

Fahim then turns to the goblins and gives them each his trademark wide, toothy smile.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21 to befriend the goblins.

"I am honored to be in the presence of such a strong and clever group of goblins. I have no doubt you will make excellent guards and help us stay safe as we travel together. Would you do me the favor of telling me what each of you is good at doing? In return, I'd be happy to give each of you some of my ale."

I just hope I don't accidentally give them the ale with the sedative in it. That would be a terrible shame. Sometimes I can be so clumsy.

So we're going with lying then. So be it. Mexus is one hell of a bluffer. Even I believe we are simple merchants. Note to self: never play Satrap in the Center with Mexus. For that matter, never play Solitaire anywhere close him. Nothing to do now but wait to see how this plays out.

There's a moment's hesitation. "Or looking for goods to transport south to Trollheim?" This last is asked almost reluctantly, as if the speaker, in believing Mexus' lie, doesn't feel it's worth the asking.

Hmmmm, these may be the contacts we have been looking for. We are in the right spot, after all. Best to handle this delicately.

Fahim looks around and, unable to locate the source of the voice, speaking in its general direction.

"As merchants we are always looking for a good deal on anything that will have value to Society, especially if its just a matter of transporting the goods from here to Trollheim. Though as you can see, we are without horses. Would these goods happen to come with transportation of their own?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21 to show the voice we are not a threat, and subtly show we are willing to confirm that each group is the one the other is looking for.

"Smart thinking about hidden dangers as well, Mexus. After that encounter with the rock slide, I am willing to suffer in this cold a bit longer to allow us a moment of caution."

Better to be cold a moment longer than have Honus suffer a near fatal wound. Again. From a trap. Hmmm, our dear friend does seem to get fatally wounded quite a bit.

Once Mexus finishes his introduction, Fahim shifts around on his bench to face Zaiharahel. This simple act turns into a task to rival one of the Fabled Abdula's ten great undertakings due to Fahim's girth and overloaded satchel. The portly merchant flashes Zaiharahel his famous smile, which helps Zaiharahel look past Fahim's crumb laden beard and overpowering scent of jasmin designed to hide the acrid smell of chemicals.

"Thank you for breaking the ice, Mexus. Although, in this part of the world, I don't see much else to break. My name is Fahim Al-Khabyyr, and I am a merchant and adventurer, but I seem to be doing more of the latter these days than the former. If danger comes up, I throw bombs at it until it stops moving, or one of us gets too close to do so safely. Otherwise, I'm mostly here to provide uplifting conversation and cheerful company."

Fahim takes a drink from a mug of beer he got from somewhere and smiles at the compliments he gave himself.

"The real hero of our group, however, is Honus, our knight in shining armor. While I will not lie and say that our last adventure did not have any losses, we would surely all be dead if not for Honus' blade, which swung true. He alone felled 3 foul ghuls, and almost killed the fourth and final one all by himself. I am pleased he has continued with our group after our harrowing adventures in Railford.”

That should cheer him up some. He has been understandably dour since Alahazra's death. Best he remembers the good he did, and not the bad he could not stop.

"The only thing that would make this more fun would be a tropical climate."

"Truer words were never spoken. Let's gather and discuss our shared affinity for warmer weather."

Fahim waddles out behind Mexus, wistfully thinking of the scorching heat of Qadira's sun baked deserts.

Fahim nods confidently as he takes all of this in. His bushy eyebrow arches at the mention of goblins, but otherwise he maintains his composure.

I swear, why can't anyone get into trouble in a desert, or a nice beach somewhere. We just came from a cold, wet swamp, and now we are marching into a cold, wet forest. Oh how I long for the days of serene extra-planar spaces controlled by religious fanatics. The temple of Korada may have been a bit stuffy, but it wasn't cold or wet, I'll give it that.

Still, did not the Fabled Abdula spent countless nights trapped in the icy palace of Valefor, the djinn of purloined breath, before he could steal its bejeweled ring of many keys and escape? Cold makes a man hearty, and there is much profit to be found where other men dare not tread.

Without fail, and with a predictability that would put a water clock to shame, Fahim flashes his award winning grin at Valsin.

"Then alive you shall have them! Are you expecting this . . . cargo to amenable to transport? Or should we plan to strap it down while in transit?"

Fahim's Day Job Check

Craft (Alchemy): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

Fahim tours the distillery with Beecher, giving all the appropriate "oohs" and "ahhhs" of someone who is very impressed with the facility he is touring. In fact, as a brewer, Fahim is genuinely interested in Beecher's unique brewing methods, and his appreciation is genuine in that regard. When the tour finishes in the still room, Fahim turns to face Beecher.

"This is truly an impressive distillery you have here. I can see why it has been so sought after by others. In fact, as a merchant myself, I can see a potential for your techniques that goes beyond the boarders of Talador. With your machines, and some ingenuity, whole new markets could be opened up beyond the refinement of spirits. Think about it. Perfumes made from the finest Andoran blossoms! Extracts from the exotic spices of the Padasha Empire! And that's just the beginning!"

Fahim beams with the potential possibilities, hoping his enthusiasm spreads to Beecher.

"And the best part is, you would have to do almost nothing to profit from it. I will drum up the investors. All you would need to do is show them how to make the machines and operate them. You'll make an easy profit to help your distillery and town, and get the added reputation that the "Railford Refinement Process" will be used around the world. I know this is all happening a bit fast, but what better way to make sure no one will try to take your distillery than getting people to invest in its continued success? What do you say?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24 to persuade Beecher to build The Exchange Faction some of his devices and teach them how to use them.