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"Purple Patch" continues flailing...
...to no avail whatsoever, while the other two dither in place for a moment; it seems Walks with Giants' scroll have had some effect after all!
Rosla (blessed, Studious), Timinic (alter self, shield, blessed), Tempestas (blessed, HUGE!), Cara (20/25, blessed), Walks with Giants (17/19, blessed)
Cara's mushroom-dicing spree comes to an abrupt halt; who would've guessed that Sarenrae and whatever patrons Walks with Giants looks to weren't on the best of terms??? They seem to agree a more with Tempestas, though - as the sudden twisting of his flesh was about to make him miss his mark, an anomalous breeze directs his sword to shave a nice slice off the cap of the one nearest him. Rosla recalls the chiding looks she got back home for dealing in crossbows to begin with, and adapts her tactics with a flourish. Timinic uses the bog to his advantage, churning his way toward and behind the faltering fungus, pointing his spear at its...back...??? Tempestas considers his options; somewhere at the back of his mind, he is nagged by a vague memory of his brother claiming this is exactly what would happen to him if he ate strange mushrooms....
Rosla (blessed, Studious), Timinic (alter self, shield, blessed), Tempestas (blessed, HUGE!), Cara (20/25, blessed, "Fortunate"), Walks with Giants (17/19, blessed)
Sarenrae's light shines upon Cara even down here, it would seem, and the crawling, stinking sensation on her skin passes as quickly as it came - in return, she deals the increasingly-lacerated mushroom a nasty whack to the stem!!! Timinic finishes his spell - the fool has made the entire place tiny, Tempestas thinks as the ceiling hits his head! No, wait, that's not it.... The other two mushrooms finally cease their slog, and what happens next...well, suffice it to say that Cara and Walks with Giants will likely both be put off vermicelli for years to come....
...maybe the mushrooms simply envy their armor???
Timinic turns about and zaps Cara's scratching-post with another eerie green ray...
...causing it to visibly wilt! It's still standing, but it looks like it's starting to collapse...!
Rosla (blessed, Studious), Timinic (alter self, shield, blessed), Tempestas (blessed, HUGE!, Fortunate...?), Cara (20/25, blessed), Walks with Giants (17/19, blessed)
Whatever that thing had been carrying, the holy-man manages to fight off - and so much the better, too, because it appears the fungi have finally overcome their torpor from the chilly water, and are starting to move with noticeably more verve! To make matters worse, Walks's scroll appears to accomplish nothing. Rosla does indeed miss her mark again , and Cara scores another visible nick (but nothing more) on the first fungoid's cap. While the other two continue their bog-slog like Chelaxian soldiers in some far-flung rice-paddy, the one at the fore finally seems to notice where the harm's been coming from, and retaliates against Cara, and...oh dear, it has more of those tendrils than was first apparent, enough for her AND Walks with Giants!
The spirits (and more importantly, his tanner) spare Walks with Giants another strike, but Cara takes one painful score to the arm, which begins to feel strangely 'fizzy'... Timinic recovers from his distraction, and with the help of his new form braves the water to begin an enchantment upon Tempestas, who starts to feel an odd stretching sensation...
Rosla (blessed, Studious), Timinic (alter self, shield, blessed, casting a spell), Tempestas (blessed), Cara (20/25, blessed, ROLL FORTITUDE!), Walks with Giants (17/19, blessed)
It begins to dawn on the party as to why these things might like this environment so much, as darkness and water prove more effective than steel. Speaking of 'dawn', however, the one exception is Carah, who slices another notch down one's cap! The other two continue their trudge through the murk - the one nearer Tempestas and Rosla leaving them behind as it goes to converge with the others! - while the injured one waves a long, sluggish tendril past Carah and at Walks with Giants...
...who feels a stinging slap as it manages to strike his exposed face, followed by a much more worrisome sensation... Timinic strikes back, reaching out in his unfamiliar form with another electrified pseudopod...
...to retrieve the rare and valuable doll-head he just spotted floating in the water for his collection!!!
Rosla (blessed, Studious), Timinic (alter self, shield, blessed), Tempestas (blessed), Cara (blessed), Walks with Giants (17/19, blessed, ROLL FORTITUDE!)
AGAIN, I apologize for disappearing longer than intended, there was an acute spate of prior engagements, road-travel, and associated difficulties.
IHiYC, please reach out to one of us (the PbP VO team) for help. Chronicle repair like this is best done with such help. Well that's...effectively what I'm presently doing; you've got me a little confused.
Right, the duplicate chronicle on the same character is a no-no. But since it is a GM credit I would think that you could somehow shift it to another character retroactively.Agree with Miteke, just change it in the chronicle sheet and the reporting on Paizo? OK, geez, this could be a major can of worms. So here's what happened and why: Waaay back before I came to Flaxseed and I still had a live group to play with, my Witch whom I'm sure you all know and revere had embarked upon a 2-parter adventure ("Wonders In The Weave") - trouble was, I realized in the nick of time that if I did part II, I'd miss out on the all-important opportunity to play "The Sanos Abduction" to earn him a certain Improved Familiar whom I'm sure you all know and revere (I'd initially played that with my Summoner, talk about the wrong Boon for the wrong character, but no problem, I'd been wanting to DM, and that was my first time!) - SO, we halted the "Wonders" arc and I ran "The Sanos Abduction" just in time for him to hit 7th level. We never did finish the other arc, though... ...fast-forward to that group dissolving and my coming here: Someone else was running, or proposing to run, the "Wonders" arc, which of course I'd never completed and wanted the full Boon for (without knowing exactly what it was). I seem to recall being under the impression that I couldn't get it unless the two parts were played consecutively, SO I DM'd Part I and stepped in as a player for Part II. Vladek is now my highest-level character, at precisely 42 XP/freshly-level 15. If he has to lose that one deeply-buried Chronicle...what happens???
Rosla drops her leafblade, draws her light crossbow and loads it.
Rosla attempts a shot. Walks with Giants displays admirable form hucking a flagon of lemonade he picked up at the Dripping Wall. Sarenrae's-Withering-Gaze-Made-Flesh-Upon-The-World trudges forward in a murder-trance and...carves a hunk of mushroom-cap, but nothing all that major, really. It's a nice, visible nick. Tempestas, meanwhile, delivers a mighty swing...but to no avail as his blade cleaves water rather than mushflesh. *TRUDGE**TRUDGE**TRUDGE* go the fungi as they continue to silently close in on the party, slowly slogging through the chill waters; they repay Cara and Tempestas's attacks by...heading right past them???
Meanwhile, Timinic transforms into...what might be a Sea-Elf, and takes to the water!
Rosla (blessed, still has last round's attack to roll), Timinic (alter self, shield, blessed), Tempestas (blessed), Cara (blessed), Walks with Giants (blessed)
As the fungi slowly trudge through the bog toward you...you suddenly hear a muffled voice from out of the darkness at the further side of the chamber: "Who's there?! Go away! NOW!!!" Timinic gives a start at the outcry, but says nothing beyond a personal warding incantation.
Rosla, Timinic (shield), Tempestas, Cara, Walks with Giants
Whoopsy-daisy...: Tempestas: Without training in Knowledge (or extenuating assets like Bardic Knowledge, Breadth of Experience, or the Grand Lodge's Reward), the best you can manage is DC 10, which Walkies has already covered. FTFMs!
The party certainly recognizes giant ambulatory mushrooms when they see them (whether they want to believe it is another matter) - regrettably, that appears to be the extent of what you know.
"I never made it this far," Timinic admits with a certain quaver in his voice. However, he gathers his courage and approaches the nearest fungus, which he zaps with a sickly green ray from his fingers!
Despite his trembling hands, these things make for an easy target, and it flinches a bit at the beam's touch.
Rosla, Timinic, Tempestas, Cara, Walks with Giants
No recording needed, I usually handle that in my characters' profiles.Same for me. That's what I do myself, just thought I'd ask. Tempestas: Without training in Knowledge (or extenuating assets like Bardic Knowledge, Breadth of Experience, or the Grand Lodge's Well-Prepared Reward), the best you can manage is DC 10, which Walkies has already covered.
DM Screen:
Walks with Giants has the right hunch (even if he's regrettably unfamiliar with these things) - scarcely sooner does his spear light up than long, deep-violet tendrils start to emerge from the fissures in their caps, and they slowly stagger out of the cistern and toward you!
Rosla, Timinic, Tempestas, Cara, Walks with Giants
Proceed to Slide 5 for the final showdown...! Between Pemak's reconnaissance and Timinic's cartography, finding where to descend proves a simple matter, and after a short descent down a cramped passageway, you find yourselves amid the aged masonry walls, slippery flagstones, and otherworldly fumes of Daggermark's sewer-system.
The sound of rushing water echoes throughout this dank cistern as sleet-filled runoff pours in from northern, eastern, and southern channels before emptying through an outlet in the northeast corner. Stone walkways line the walls, with a large platform jutting out into the center of the room. Seven coffin-sized crates float on the water, tethered to the platform’s railings by short chains. Perception DC 12 ONCE LIGHT IS PROVIDED: Barely breaching the water's surface are what appear to be a scattering of large purple mushroom-caps.
Again, I'm sorry for the slow pace, I was just about to get around to it (and you may or may not recall that yesterday was a national holiday for some of us, so that's been the slowdown this week). Of course, things SHOULD start picking up now, now that we've finally gotten past the especially-tricky-on-my-end part. BTW, looking forward, should I record your purchases on your Chronicle, or do you not handle it that way (I don't, personally)?
"Of course. To the asylum, then...!" The rest of you might notice the sudden tightening of Pemak's lips as she stares toward her front door with a disciplined expression.
"Where would we find Guildmaster 'Rigor-Mortis Rick'? And should we meet him before of after we go after the Ghostknives?" It's kind of weird to watch, but Pemak somehow manages to fold her arms over her chest (or at least give the impression of doing so) without changing her counter-gripping posture. "Job first, rewards if you come back successful."
"Where would I go to buy high quality padded armor parts used to protect knees and elbows while tumbling?" "Well, there's the asylum out by the city-limits we're all mighty proud of, they've probably got all kinds of spare padding..." To make a long story short, Pemak skillfully directs you to the best place to buy whatever you may need.
Yeah, very sorry, just spread a little thin, I guess.
DM Screen:
APs: 0 + 2 + 1 - 1 + 1 + 1 + 0 + 0 + 1 + 0 = 5!!!!!
Pemak looks as if she is about to issue a quibble as Rosla lists the ingredients she is familiar with, but freezes as she continues, and gives a grim nod when she concludes, and looks ruefully at her shelves. "Sounds like my little girl, alright...." "Unfortunately, yes - he died the same way as Istivil Bosk. We found his body, still warm." Pemak is mute in response to this, but her sagging posture indicates anything but satisfaction with the news. "Yeah, we managed to protect him until now. To make sure he stays safe, we need to end the threat, though." She nods, and a fraction of her grin returns. "Well, I've heard a lot of about the Pathfinder Society in my time, but I see you take care of your own." Rosla absently draws one of her Elven Leafblades, looks at it and starts to polish it while answering..."Does that answer you question?" Pemak seems more entertained than properly cowed by Rosla's hokey intimidation attempt, but winces at the implications of the term "near death experience", and a bit more at her final retort. "Well, not really...but..." Then she starts looking around at nothing and snapping at the air, and you can almost imagine the snaps being the sound of the gearworks clicking in her head as she pieces something together. "...ILCHOK!" She finally declares, somehow managing to synthesize a bellow and a hiss into a single noise. "Who else?" She chuckles and shakes her head. "Enrolled in the Guild a year ago, LOTS of promise, of course...but by all accounts a lazy bastard who couldn't be bothered to cover his tracks or clean up his own messes like proper Assassin; why bother when he could just transform his way out of trouble? Well the Guild gave him a reason, but what they don't give is second chances. Kicked him out even quicker than they let him in." She looks back up at Rosla, pointing a finger in a 'you know what?' kind of way. "Last I'd heard, he'd shacked up with a cabal of 'defectors' from the Guild, but up until now I had no idea what they were up to!" She leans over her counter, arms heavily against its surface like two green columns supporting a Taldan victory-arch, and looks at you with a freshly-intensified expression. "You? You're specialist material, or at least you could be with a bit of work. Tell ya' what: I can point you to where these 'Ghostknives' have been popping up. If your buddy out there's maps are any good - and considering the trouble they got him and the others in, they must be - it shouldn't be too hard to narrow down their hideout. Take 'em out. Especially if they're treating guys like Brandur, that's a bridge too far...far enough, in fact, that if you can take good care of them, my affiliates and I could see our way to special amenities for your affiliates' future stays here in Daggermark." She opens a drawer and pulls out a knife of her own; you can't tell what's on the blade, but it looks unpleasant and Pemak is handling it very gingerly. "Our Guild's closed to newcomers, ol' Guildmaster 'Rigor-Mortis Rick' sees to that, but on the other hand, he's nearly as generous with his brandy to visitors as he is to himself. Nearly. If present company were to drop by for a toast, well, he might fall asleep with his rollbook open...." She winks.
"Oh. Need anything before you head out? If I don't have it, I can point you to someone who might...."
DM Screen:
APs: 0 + 2 + 1 - 1 + 1 + 1 = 4 Pemak's solicitous grin softens into something more ambivalent as Rosla lays out her cards, and briefly flirts with mild annoyance at Walks's brusqueness, but when Cara speaks her piece... As Rosla said..we just need a little help...and our discretion is assured..no one will say anything... ...she nearly bursts out laughing, compromising with a wide-mouthed, strained-wheezing laugh. "You and your pointy friend are a bit late for that!" She finally manages. That out of the way, she looks back at Rosla shrewdly. "Still, I guess Pointy-heads are good for something, aren't they? Those eyes, too, you'd think you were all blind, but nooooo," She says with a slight shudder, along with a nod of approval.
She snatches the list when offered and looks it over, her professional glaze starting to reassert itself. Upon seeing the first name on the list, her eyes widen and she leans her head and torso back, seemingly as much for show as from any heartfelt reaction. "'Oathbreaker Istivil Bosk', is it??? That's about as foul a curse as you can hurl around these parts, short of being some sort of Witch-King, and even then. I am surprised; people around here liked the man, he always kept to his own business as one should. A formal contract against him? Nah...so these 'Ghostknives' you're talking about, that'd say something about them."[b] She looks back up at you. [b]"Mind telling me how he died?"
Looking further down the list, Pemak's expression shifts a bit (never more than a bit, you notice; is it that damned Orcish jaw-structure? A few too many toxic fumes or ill-advised experimental cosmetics? Who the hell knows???) from performative surprise to something a bit more authentic. "Sergeant Clovesh, why I never...you're not telling me he's seen a specialist...?" Upon your affirmation of the fact, her face FINALLY collapses into a full and proper frown. "The Clan Clovesh have nothing if not left their stamp on our militia; why, Jallor Clovesh is the top commander of the Daggermark Infantry...and if *his cousin* Brandur's received treatment unbefitting an officer, why, the shockwaves from that might put a whole regiment of Dwarven sappers to shame! No way that was sanctioned; I HAVE heard some rumors about some cabal of defectors skulking where the sun don't shine, so now you've given them a name...'Ghostknives'? Well, if you want to investigate the sewers, I'd suggest you ask one of your own (or so I've heard); a funny litl..." Pemak stops abruptly, nostrils and ears perked, and she leans to look past you, out her door and through her crowded window, and much of her garish grin returns. "Pardon me, I see you already have. Too good to come in and visit ol' Pemak, eh? Or maybe he just prefers the dark and damp. Pfaugh!" She glances over the mention of Ramyla without much comment. "Never been to her place, but I'd heard good things; too bad." She looks back up at you, particularly Rosla. "You say you've already treated your specialist?" She rubs her hands. "Please do tell...!"
So you're back! Great! Please allow me a bit more time, things have gotten extra-busy over here recently.
Has anyone "seen" or "heard" from kaervek78 recently? His character has been missing from my game since the 1st of the month, and his primary avatar has not posted since the 11th.
OK, I've allowed this all to take WAY too long; it is chiefly my own fault, of course. This encounter is important, but I will need to cut it short and move on if you can't make anymore progress with it sooner; it seems like Rosla's the one with an idea. My question to the 3 of you, therefore: How much longer should we wait for Rosla? Her player's most recent post appears to have been on the 11th, which of course is concerning in its own right. I shall try an off-site E-mail.
You see a wide array of beakers and bottles bearing cryptic labels or imagery involving such things as snails, shellfish, snakes, rabbits, dolphins, melons, cucumbers, walnuts, roses, orchids, arrows, lances, and scabbards, a barrel marked "Backke-Zcratchrs" that hardly look like they could reach anywhere on your back that your own arms couldn't, and an entire row of glass bottles all molded into the likeness of a male humanoid with an eerie rictus.
"Would you like to see yours?" Pemak's grin turns, shall one say, a different sort of solicitous as she slowly turns to look at Walks with Giants. "Was that an invitation? I think you might have the wrong Guild, buut if you look on those purple shelves way over there...."
Hmm, are we waiting on me, or on Rosla at this moment? Once again, all of your patience is TREMENDOUSLY appreciated in any case.
Wow! Yes! A long time ago that I GMed that. And remember this run of yours? Oh yes, I'm proud of that one for sure.
The twists and turns of your exchange with Pemak may be calling to mind for some of you things you'd learned some time ago, yet didn't quite "get" until now...
DC 15+:
Any Daggermark citizen can hire an Assassin’s Guild apprentice once per year for a nominal fee, but members of the city’s military cannot be targeted by these trainee contracts. This rule has led to a high rate of military enlistment. DC 20+:
The Poisoner’s Guild is closely allied with the Assassin’s Guild, though the poisoners’ interests are more academic in nature. Poisoner’s Guild members often serve as contractors, brokering assassinations as a means of testing their newest concoctions.
Openly discussing assassinations makes locals jumpy, so Guild contractors use coded language to discuss targets. Guild contacts typically refer to assassins as “specialists” related to whatever job they use as a public front. Pemak listens patiently to Rosla; her eyes widen a bit when she hears her name is on a death-list, but her solicitous grin doesn't shrink. "Well, what more do you want to know? That does sound like an interesting list...then again, wish-lists are simply good policy, who hasn't made one if only as a personal exercise? I, for one, would be interested to know where you found such a thing, and who'd take such an interest in little old me."
Rosla and Cara: Given what you know, it's not hard to deduce what else was missing from those shelves, and what that tells you about Pemak's affiliations; making it clear to her that you know might help to "break the ice".
Part of the delay on my end (in addition to external impediments/distractions) has been that this particular scene is much more complicated than it appears from where you're sitting; my wanting to make sure I get it right while being fair to you in doing so appears to have helped short the game out entirely. I'll see if I can't get a move-on.
True enough, unfortunately, BUT ALSO I was kind of under the impression that I was still waiting for more of you to chime in. EDIT: Don't get too schmalzy on me, though: I went with the term "less easy" for a reason, e.g. the reason I didn't post yesterday was for not worse reason than that I was out of town all day making purchases for 3 other people's birthdays! i could likely get by there... Incidentally, this was more meant as a dubious-taste joke about the relative state of that place.
i could get by if you drop me off in the middle of Montreal or Paris... ...Port-au-Prince, maybe not so much, huh?
"Used to be"??? What happened? I didn't know that was something you could lose....
I'm not a native English speaker, so I hope my use of "better" was still gramatically correct. It's an incredibly broad term (one almost may as well say "up" or "plus"), so yes. Keep in mind you're talking about a language that is not only of Frankenstein-esque composition to begin with, but also is mostly spoken by people who suck at doing so to start with, and currently seems to be dead-set on devouring itself alive. Try to learn Chinese and/or Russian, is my advice; I just wish I were better at learning languages. Spanish and Arabic aren't bad investments, either, I suppose - and trust me, I don't know if Latin and Classical Greek get as little respect in Austria as they do in the Anglophone world, but anyone who thinks "dead"/static languages aren't worth learning is a fool! Etymology is one of the most valuable things I ever learned (someone at a live Pathfinder table I once sat at once mentioned to others that I have "real-life Linguistics ranks"!).
I hope next week will be better for you. :-/ When I say "less easy", I don't necessarily mean in a "feel-bad" way (though it's not like there's been none of that), but also just busier/more complicated than normal. I meant "less easy" literally, not euphemistically.
DM Screen:
APs: 0 + 2 + 1 - 1 = 2. "'Special medical care', huh? My blades are capable enough to 'take care' of 'loved ones'. I think we can drop the euphemisms and talk plainly as we're all professionals here. Right?" "Wrong, Pointy; little vials have big ears," She says with a folding of her arms that comes across as both defensive and judgmental.
"Could it have been Dark reaver powder and aconite root? Or perhaps your signature brew, the one that smells like vinegar? In either case, it seems we have a common enemy." Pemak looks from Rosla over to Walks with Giants, and her toothy grin returns partway. "Ah, so you're the smart one? I never would've guessed!" "Dark reaver and wolvesbane? Interesting, a good mixture, but no stock of mine; as for the other, I see you're familiar with my Arcane Amplex. Yeah, that one's mine," She says in the tone of a mother simultaneously proud of and embarrassed by her child. "I worked hard to do something about its...distinctive characteristics, but no luck so far. I figured no self-respecting poisoner would want to use such a thing...but then I got robbed. Whoever did it tried to make it look like a common plundering, but it wasn't too hard to figure out what they were REALLY after." With a sweep of her arm toward her shelves she adds, "Whoever it was was smart enough to grab at least a few things from my top-shelf and not just whatever sum of silver I'd taken that day for dispensing bachelor-snuff, viper-liniment, and nose of blaspheming Gnome," As she looks back at her top-shelf, she pauses awkwardly and takes another puff or two of her cigarette... Sense Motive DC 15:
...as if she'd just noticed something that might've made her uncertain about something she'd already said. ...before continuing, "but the simple fact that they bothered to take the Amplex suggests they knew just what they wanted...question is, 'how'd they hear about it?' It certainly doesn't LOOK like anything valuable, just white grit, like maybe something you'd scrub floors with." I wonder if your potions follow the same basic formula as the ones the alchemists make back at the abbey... Cara ponders aloud. "I wouldn't know - nor should I. If their guild is anything like the ones around here, they take protecting their members's secrets VERY seriously...which brings us back to how these burglars found out about mine. All I know is, I've been asking around, and there've been rumors of some defectors running around and doing things without the Guilds' sanction."
Sorry; it's been another less-easy week for me.
As you drink from your mugs, so does she (although she makes a bit of a face after doing so. That is indeed interesting ma'am. It reminds me of a herbal 'pick-me-up' back home. How much of that are you willing to sell? "Haugh!?" She half-laughs, half boggles at Tempestas's eagerness. After a moment's consideration, she gives him the whole cauldron. "Here, enjoy it while it lasts." She looks back at the page containing the recipe for whatever-it-is in rough, crabbed script. "Bah! Who'd want to drink something black and bubbly that isn't even magical?!" She says as she tears the page out of her notebook, lays a line of dried herbs down the middle of it, rolls it up, puts one end in her mouth, and sets the other alight with her oil-lamp. After a couple of puffs, she continues: "So as I was saying, you didn't come here for that; oftentimes people come to me for specialized medical care for a loved one? Could that be it?" She looks down at her impromptu cigarette, then back at you. "Helps keep that dratted smell at bay," She explains, immediately reminding you of the pervasive vinegar odor. "I've been thinking of hiring some private security specialists ever since I was burgled." Sense Motive DC 15 #1:
"Specialized medical care for a loved one" is a local innuendo for targeting someone for assassination. Sense Motive DC 15 #2:
"Private security specialists" is local code; she is insinuating that she wants someone to find and kill her burglar.
I was just thinking: A Necromancer of some sort could make this adventure very interesting...!
"I'm not good with scrolls , but the tanglefoot bags I can throw quite accurately." Timinic cheerfully tosses Rosla all three tanglefoot bags before looking over his scrolls again. "Well, I guess I'll hold onto them then; just thought I'd offer."
Much as Timinic alluded to before, Pemak is a formidable-looking Half-Orc woman with an exceptional set of tusks. She is presently poring over a small cauldron and a few books of recipes and formulae. She looks up at Tempestas with an extra-toothy smile. Sense Motive DC 15:
That smile is more of the "service with a smile" sort than anything sincere. "Well that all depends, stranger: Just what are you looking for? Specialized medical care for a loved one, perhaps?" She looks back down at her little cauldron. "Oh, you mean this? Give it a try, it's sort of an experiment, I got a shipment of weird tropical fruits, nuts, and leaves a while back and I'd been trying to figure out what to do with them, and some excess roots and herbs I'd had lying around...." She takes three wooden mugs and ladles some kind of thin, dark-brown syrup out of the cauldron into each; despite being room-temperature, it still has some bubbles in it somehow. She gives one each to Tempestas and Cara, and keeps the other for herself (presumably to prove she's willing to drink it). Do you try it?:
Well that's...strange. You've never had anything like it. It's like citrus combined with cinnamon, with notes of vanilla, nutmeg, and coriander, and...something else? There's a complementary bitterness, too, and wow, you feel a lot more awake than you did a second ago! Do you have any antiplague or antitoxin? Pemak responds to this with a dismissive wave of her arm to a huge stack of thick canisters on the floor in the corner.
Again, I apologize for being so slow to get back around to you, but this time, I also THANK YOU for being so patient and understanding yourselves. I've had several things going on right now, and the fact another player and I in a couple of other games seem to have just sparked some sort of personality-conflict hasn't exactly been good for morale either.
It's a brisk 15-minute walk from the Dripping Wall to Pemak's Tinctures; hidden among some ramshackle tenements, a wooden sign depicting a flask of blue liquid hangs over the door of this cramped building. A faint aroma of burning vinegar wafts from the windows, which remain open despite the sleet. Timinic concludes the trek by slumping down on the raised stone around the well just outside the shop. "As I said before, I'd not turn my back on her; in fact, personally I'd rather not even turn my front to her. I'll wait right here!" He says as he pulls out his doll-head collection to amuse himself with. "Who's there!?" Barks a voice, aggressive but not unfriendly, from somewhere in the shop. "You don't smell local, come on in - I just made something new!"
The dwarf emits some sort of bizarre, gutteral yelp as he finally staggers out of his seat. "I...I...I know NOTHING! I SAW NOTHING!" He jabbers as he crab-sidles to the bar and clumsily helps himself to a whiskey-bottle or two while never taking his eyes off you. "I was not HERE! I did not even GET UP THIS MORNING!!!" He concludes before finally dashing out the door at a speed that should not be Dwarvenly possible. You hear a troubled sigh from behind you. "That must've been old Hans Rothering, don't mind him," Says Timinic. "but YES, let's go to Pemak's! I can take you right there! But first, I think you should have a few things..." Timinic rifles through his truly excessive number of pockets and pouches until coming up with two magical scrolls and 3 bags of tanglefoot goop. "This one's a protection-trick ," He explains pointing to one scroll, then points to the other. "and this one's a snare in time and space . You can have 'em if you want."
As stated many times, I am very sorry for the mollassian pace of this.
Ilchok's face implodes in upon itself like a rotten pumpkin under the sheer internal forces of shock, relief, shame, and terror. "I'm GONE!" It sputters as it tries to take to its feet (a slow and painful-to-watch process given its injuries), looks over at the backroom, then half-lurches, half-charges out the front door, leaving behind only a few trails and pools of silvery ichor. With Ilchok's departure, there is a minute of awkward silence...until it is broken by a voice from the far side of the room. "Well, SHEEEE-IT!" Declares the thirsty dwarf in the corner.
Ball's in your court, adventurers.
Oh, well that makes sense (I keep track of my characters' base stats by just leaving them on the "character sheet" portion). Would you object terribly to removing them for the time being? They kind of bug me somehow.
Ilchok hesitates...a moment stretches out to what practically feels like a week...but with something resembling a sigh, it finally speaks. "When you put it that way...yes. There were never very many, we were just getting started, she had BIG PLANS...! Just please let me go, I'll never come back to Daggermark again...couldn't now...."
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