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The door to the bar opens and a dirty, dust-caked human enters the bar.
As recognition registers in Mors' eyes, his eyebrows raise up. "I trust you are here just for wine, and not more trouble, today?" At Keane's barely-understandable roar for mor ale, Mors pours another mug of stout dwarven brew.
Mors nods, pouring libations for the two newcomers. "As you like, gents. Welcome to Limbo."
Okay, here is my cleric's profile. His name is Maenír - I'll be posting with him from here on out. HP roll for level 2:
Gotcha. I guess Cure Light Wounds was a bad example. I'm assuming that if I want to use a non-healing spell multiple times, I need to prepare it multiple times. For instance, if we are traveling across the desert, and I want to use Create Water three times, I would need to use all my level 1 slots for that spell?
I was planning for cleric. I must not be on the same page.
Question for Nazard:
That sounds great - I'll roll up a healer, then! I should something later today, or tomorrow.
Felmor glances at the dwarf newcomer, Perhaps he don't realize there ain't no barkeep here now.
I've already given Mors enough grief for one day…
"Yeah, Suny, as far as I know, Mors has not added a brothel to the list of monikers for Limbo..."
Mors peers in, watching the miniature monstrosity inside the upturned glass of ale. Was that a hiccup? "I do believe it’s getting drunk."
"Biter!"
She turns to Mors and asks, "Is there a room where I can sleep for the night. I am tired and need to rest, and think on things." Mors shows her to a room, and inquires if she needs anything further.
"Sir. I'm not setting up shop here - merely passing through. If you want me to leave now, I will. I don't stay where I'm not wanted... BUT this young woman may benefit from something I have here. I'd ask that you allow me to at least show her one item, if not your other patrons. The choice is yours." Mors nods tentative approval, then surreptitiously casts Detect Magic towards the gnome and his strange contraptions once Bitiborium turns away.
Perturbed by the imposition of the gnome and his... wares, Mors casts a disdainful eye across offensive contraption.
With a shake of his head, Mors sets about cleaning up the place. With the help of his Unseen Servant, Lureen, and a rather large serpent (of all things!) the work goes rather quickly. "Four dead in one day. Not exactly the best endorsement. Still, we didn't lose any more patrons, so there's that. Thank you, everyone, for your valiant work in defending Lureene. I've enough trouble around here without adding kidnapping and arson to the menu."
"Unfortunately, he will be back, his kind always come back."
"What exactly is his kind, Lureene? He seemed to be some kind of..." he glimpses at Gyldyr "well, some sort of rat-man. Very disturbing."
Mors peers into Feldus' hood, trying to get a better look at his face. It would be prudent to be able to identify him in the future - provided the odorous man leaves alive.
"Maybe now I can get away from them, he he. Good sir," He turns to the older gentleman, "Do you need some assistance?" “Leave the newcomer alone – you've caused quite enough trouble, here. It's time you were on your way.”
“I would suggest you put that weapon away. There’s already been too much killing here today – I would prefer to not add your corpse to the butcher’s bill.”
"Not sure what you were trying to do there, but I think an apology is in order...don't you?" "I most certainly do not," Mors says, defiantly. “I am offering you a chance to avoid conflict. It would appear that this is of no interest to you.”
Mors walks over to Feldus, and addresses him. His voice takes on a strange vibrance – almost a recitation of grand performance.
“Your appearance tonight seems to have caused quite a stir. I'm afraid that violence might break out – perhaps it would be safer for you to make a tactful exit, before someone does something rash?” source:
"Pardon me," he mutters to Arryn. And without taking his eyes off Feldus, he makes his way over to where Mors is and engages him in a whispered conversation. Thomdril or Perception DC 17:
“Yes, that will be most appreciated, should the need arise. I am hoping that it will not come to that. Hope for the best; prepare for the worst as they say.”
Realizing that the horrible sounds are not the pained demise of his patrons, but in fact a sad attempt at music, He looks around the crowd for Feldus' distinctive shape.
Mors shuffles quickly down the stairs, navigating through the press of wakened guests, who left their rooms to investigate the din. Peering over the heads of agitated guests, he searches frantically through the bodies to find the... "No... bodies. No blood. But, the screams..." Realizing that the horrible sounds are not the pained demise of his patrons, but in fact a sad attempt at music, He looks around the crowd for Feldus' distinctive shape.
"Good Lord! It's started!" cries Mors, upon hearing the wailing from downstairs. "The pungent thin man has gone mad, and begun slaughtering my patrons! Oh, their screams are terrible! We must stop him!" With that, Mors runs out of the room, and down the stairs to confront what must certainly be a grisly scene.
"What, do you think, would convince him to leave peacefully?"
There are no hardline rules, since it's mostly RP, but rolls and combat can come into play, so a good guildline is Level 2 characters with 25 point buy. Some people are using background traits, some people aren't. It appears to be mostly Pathfinder, but we have some 3.5 and even 4.0 people. I'd recommend Pathfinder, just to make it easier to interact with others. You don't have to fight, or even roll, some people just interact through dialogue. That being said, I would add this: "DUDE! Make a freakin' character and show up!"
"You may have noticed that Limbo has quite a few front doors, as it were. I was warned that trying to destroy one of them could... 'unmake the worlds,' I believe was the phrase that was used.""I am not saying destroy the door, but force him to leave the bar, then shift the door away from the current plane, so he no longer has access to the bar. Is that possible, Mors?" "They cannot be 'moved' per se, and the only way to safely disable it is from the point of it's creation - on the other side of the portal. With so many ways back, I doubt it would solve your dilemma anyway. Surely there is some diplomatic solution we can pursue..." Knowledge, Arcana DC 18: Limbo is the original source of the portal system, but each destination must be created at the physical location. Through magical means, the other end of the portal is 'planted,' and a connection between the two is created. The only way to safely adjust this connection without affecting the entire network, is from the destination point. Specific destinations can be targeted only from the origin portal (Limbo), by 'opening' the path through the use of spellcraft.
She turns to Mors, and asks, "Is there anyway we can lure him outside the bar, then he won't be able to re enter it, he will be forced to report to his superiors." she finishes with an evil laugh. "You may have noticed that Limbo has quite a few front doors, as it were. I was warned that trying to destroy one of them could... 'unmake the worlds,' I believe was the phrase that was used."
Biter reaches up to tug on Mors' shirt, then, behind a cupped hand asks, "Feldus is'ing being Skinny Man?" Mors looks down and nods at Biter. "That is the name he gave."
Mors eyes the goblin's serious expression with barely suppressed amusement. “What did you have in mind, Lureene? I will not see you come to harm, but he's done nothing yet. He has been acting quite suspicious, however.”
Mors enters the room, surprised to see Amber and Biter. A passing glance at the goblin reveals a slight glaze in his red eyes. “Did you need something Lureene? Is the lady Di' Glaeys finding everything to her pleasure?”
Grak looks at Mors, and says... "Ah. Well, I suppose I can ask Therena to mind the common room for a moment. If you will excuse me Master Arryn?" After speaking with Therena, Mors follows Grak upstairs to see Lureene.
"Why? What happened?" he asks as he begins taking daggers out of the sack and secreting them about his body. The one in his hand goes down the front of his trousers! Cringing as the boy shoves a dagger down his pants, Mors informs the boy of the half-orc that assaulted him, and of his rescue by the brave and unlikely duo of Biter and Praxim. “They saved my life, and it almost cost the elf his own. I'm no stranger to battle, and I don't pretend it isn't necessary, at times - but violence find us often enough; no reason to go looking for it.”
He eats for a few moments, and then yells out, "Hey!!! Where are my knives!? Who stole my knives!?" He jumps up, a small dagger in his hand. "Easy, son - I've got them here behind the counter. The big elf thought you might hurt yourself, passed out as you were." Mors collects the pile of weapons, and brings them to Arryn's table. "Please try not to stir up trouble with the other patrons. The last scuffle did not end well, and you are far too young to go getting yourself killed."
"Friend Mors, would you perchance have any elven springwine among your wondrous stores?" "Yes, of course!" says Mors, looking around for Lureene. He fetches a bottle, and pours a glass for Olivier. "Now where did that girl get off to?"
Grak, after watching closely the exchange between the starnge skinny man who smelled strongly of sewers and unpleseant odors, flies over to Mors, and hisses, "iiiiiiisssssss eeeeeyyyy" while pointing his prehensile tail towards where Lureene disappeared to. Mors casts Comprehend Languages “What's this now?”
** spoiler omitted **
"As you wish - good evening, then." Mors goes back down to the common room to tend to his other guests. That's one to watch out for, he thinks to himself.
Biter & Olivier:
"I wouldn't do anything... rash, but there is definitely something off-putting about him. I wouldn't turn my back on him, I can tell you that for certain." Mors offers to show everyone to their rooms,beginning with Feldus. "Will you require anything else this evening, sir?"
"Biter isshh'ing thinking…." his red eyes unfocus briefly, but he fights through it with a shake of his round head, "…isshh'ing thinking that Shhkinny Mann ish'ing being verrrrrry shtrange..." "Issh'ing Morrssh having any advisshe for Biter now? Occshh Okaansshsh wisdom ishh'ing being appresshhiated as well." Biter, Olivier, or Perception DC 19: Mors whispers to Biter, "Yes, the... "smelly skinny man" does seem odd. It would seem better to err on the side of caution, when dealing with strangers."
"I'm sure the offer is appreciated gentleman, but we still have many rooms available, and Biter is good for the coin."
"I think he's gonna be passed out soon, he can stay in my room tonight, I am feeling generous for some reason, he heehehe! Make sure he makes it up there, if you don't mind." "Friend Mors, I certainly do not wish to create friction where there needn't be any, but that rank and malodorous individual seems to cause in me a slight increase in bile production. It is not my wont to speak out of turn unnecessarily, so I will merely make a counter-offer. Biter can stay in my room for the evening, and I will happily proffer an honorarium on his behalf."
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