Dohrlok takes a place at the table, and slowly nurses a dark ale. He rubs the stubble beginning to sprout from his bald head, looking more relaxed than usual - but still pretty uptight.
"We need a plan."
Corvin presses up to the bar and slams two gold pieces onto the dented wood.
"Get me drunk."
“Yes …” Anarath pops a small purple berry into his mouth and chews it thoughtfully. “Our goal was to explore Grimmbold Manor and try to determine its secrets and plunder its treasures. We gained some treasure – though hardly enough for us to retire on, and hardly worth the loss of two of our companions – and are left with more questions that answers.”
He looks at Dohrlok, and glances over at Corvin at the bar. “If we are to continue in this venture, I see two avenues of approach. One is to investigate these tomes and scrolls that I found in the tower,” he reaches down to pat the bulging pack resting against his leg as he sits, “and the other is to contact an expert in locks and try to get through the door in the tower. I have little doubt that any further treasure and answers will be found in the tower rather than elsewhere in the manor.”
He takes a drink of wine, then rests back in his seat to survey the others. “The question is, do you want to continue? Does the Manor continue to test you Dohrlok? Arodwumm, you were captured in that place … do you want to return? And what of you Tsiilmas?” He looks at the other elf, who has been extremely quiet and withdrawn since being knocked out during one of the battles in the tower. Anarath eyes the magical sword he let the other take, wondering on a tactful way to ask for it back if Tsiilmas does not intend to travel with them further…
Dohrlok shrugs in acknowledgement that he's prepared to continue deeper into the tower.
Without thinking Arodwumm answers, "the Day of Darkness approaches and the demons shall march. I might as well stay with you masters."
the dwarf makes sure that Corvin does not hear the last word.
Corvin staggers back to the table with a massive jug of some clear liquid, smelling of nitre and potatoes.
"Try 'is, mates. Grows hair on yer eyeballs, an' iss good fer sterilizin' bandages."
"I like my eyeballs hair free thankyou, no," says Anarath, wrinkling his nose. "What of you Corvin? Do you intend to return to the Manor?"
"I like my eyeballs hair free thankyou, no," says Anarath, wrinkling his nose. "What of you Corvin? Do you intend to return to the Manor?"
"I'll go. Only good payin' job 'round here, eh?"
Corvin takes another swig of the foul-smelling liquor.
Dohrlok looks from Arudwum to Anarath, then finally, to Corvin. He sighs slightly, perhaps wondering how he managed to fall in with such company, but keeps his counsel to himself. He takes another sip of his beer and settles in for what he hopes will be a civil evening.
The quite man behind the bar looks at Corvin’s gold in surprise. He slowly reaches out and almost snatches the coins from the rough wood of the bar, stuffing them in a pouch and pouring Corvin a mug of moonshine. “This should do you sir.”
The other people in the small inn watch the odd group with curiosity and a little suspicion, muttering amongst themselves. After a few minutes of this, a younger man stands and approaches. He toys nervously with the cap in his hands, finally saying “You’re the ones that went to the ol’ Manor aren’t you? We thought you was goners. Did you kill them kobolds? What’s in there?” in a rush of curiosity.
The quite man behind the bar looks at Corvin’s gold in surprise. He slowly reaches out and almost snatches the coins from the rough wood of the bar, stuffing them in a pouch and pouring Corvin a mug of moonshine. “This should do you sir.”
The other people in the small inn watch the odd group with curiosity and a little suspicion, muttering amongst themselves. After a few minutes of this, a younger man stands and approaches. He toys nervously with the cap in his hands, finally saying “You’re the ones that went to the ol’ Manor aren’t you? We thought you was goners. Did you kill them kobolds? What’s in there?” in a rush of curiosity.
"Quiet, punk. Let me drink."
The young man shrinks back obviously afraid of the tall man in the blood-stained armor. "I meant no offense sir."
Hey Santinj@! I've been waiting for the current fight to end before jumping back in, since I have no idea what's happeneing.
Dohrlok looks up momentarily at the lad. "The Stone Fist was a disgrace to his discipline. I have much to learn." He then returns to nursing his beer, completely engrossed in his thoughts. He ignores any further conversation entirely.
P.S. - Tzoltan will wait patiently until the PCs seek him out. He doesn't want to seem desperate.
Arodwumm looks around the table.
"I would say that you need a locksmith for that door. If you do not mind me suggesting such?" he cringes.
Corvin shrugs and takes another massive slug of liquor.
Being a tightwad, Dohrlock will have only one drink, then sleep on the floor in someone else's room. Anarath is the lesser of three evils. His bird makes noise, but at least it doesn't smell of body funk or booze and gore.
It's not really his forte, but if no-one else is interested in going out and finding a locksmith, Dohrlok will ask around in the morning and see if he can scare up somebody willing to come with them and open the door. He'll make sure he brings the box to test the locksmith's skill.
“Danger, death, darkness, decay,” Anarath answers the young man morbidly, then turns back to his companions. “And doors. Yes, let us seek out a locksmith.”
He turns back to the young man. “Boy, do you know of anyone in town who is good with locks and traps and such?”
The young man looks out of his element now, surprised by the attitudes of the four adventurers. "That'd be Tzoltan. He's the locksmith for the town; has a workshop in the basement of the smithy." the young man says, backing away away from the table and returning to his friends.
As the man backs away, Arodwumm calls, "Is he a dwarf?"
As the man backs away, Arodwumm calls, "Is he a dwarf?"
"Why? 'Ze short?"
Corvin's just beginning to show the effects of the alcohol, even though the gallon jug is mostly empty.
"Nah, he's human, mother was Korvosan or somesuch." the young man shouts from across the room and then turns back to his friends.
The young woman at the bar comes to your table, bearing another jug of the potent liquor that Corvin drinks. With a smile she places it on the table and returns to the bar, seeming not to notice the odd composition of the group.
"Nah, he's human, mother was Korvosan or somesuch."
"Nah, he's human, mother was Korvosan or somesuch."
"Nah, he's human, mother was Korvosan or somesuch." the young man shouts from across the room and then turns back to his friends.
The young woman at the bar comes to your table, bearing another jug of the potent liquor that Corvin drinks. With a smile she places it on the table and returns to the bar, seeming not to notice the odd composition of the group.
Corvin suddenly shouts to the young man.
"HEY! You look f'miliar... Dinnint I see ya with some... people some time... There was this guy, looked like he got inna fight with a red hot poker. An' there was another guy, looked like 'Narath 'ere, 'cept no, y'know, pointy ears. Couple other, too..."
He takes another swig.
"Probably the shine talkin' anyway..."
"Nah, he's human, mother was Korvosan or somesuch."
The men at the table try to ignore Corvin's drunken ramblings, continuing their conversation about some goats that disappeared the day before.
Dohrlok clomps off to bed, grumbling about goats.
"Good" mumbles Arodwumm. He retires when Corvin starts getting rowdy.
Greenhollow is located between the Sanos forest and the Ashwood. It's very out of the way, and given very little notice be the outside world. It is marginally a holding of Korvosa.
Santinj@
Corvin slumps over in his chair. He wonders vaguely why the strange dwarf is still at the table, staring at him, but quickly waves the thought away.
He lets the alcohol take him.
"I am going to sleep. In the morning, we'll look for a locksmith."
Anarath asks the barkeep to put the word out that they are looking for someone good with locks who might be willing to brave the dangers of Grimmbold Manor. Then he heads up to bed.
I know this is the absolute worst time, but I am going on leave starting tomorrow, and I won't have internet access for two weeks. I'll post for Tzoltan, with lots of assumptions, and DM Arctaris can use whatever fits until I return.
Please talk amongst yourselves.
You walk into the cluttered basement workshop of the locksmith you were directed to, only to find him tinkering away at an old bullseye lantern. The youngish, slightly chubby man has dark hair, dark eyes, and a smudge of grease on his cheek. He's wearing a heavy leather apron with a wide tool belt, from which he has extracted a pair of tin snips. He pokes half-heartedly at the lantern one last time, then looks up when he sees you.
"Ah, gentlemen, what can I do for you this fine morning?"
Once he gets a good look at the group, he takes an involuntary step back and stutters. "Crikey! You fellows are armed to the teeth! Are you asventurers? Have you killed lots of evil creatures? I bet you're the fellows went over to Grimmbold manner like I heard about. Crikey."
Dohrlok shoves the chest in his face. "Can you pick this lock? We'll make it worth your while."
"Ooh. Nice piece of work, this is. Tiny keyhole. Very challenging. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?"
He takes out his smallest picks, sticks his tongue out the side of his mouth, squints for a while, then sets to work.
16+6=22 to find traps
3+9=12 open locks
Sorry, better luck next time.
If you go off on new adventures, Tzoltan will tag along.
The box doesn't seem to be trapped, but despite his skill, Tzoltan can't manage to manipulate the minute mechanisms.
“Hmmm… that’s not much good,” comments Anarath, stroking his beardless chin. “Would there be any benefit to trying again? And yes, I think we do intend to return to the Manor; there is a door there that we do not have the key for, and cannot open. We had hoped to engage someone to attempt to open said door for us … but I think if you cannot open this lock, we would be hesitant in paying you upfront to come with us for this other. Of course, you are welcome to come with us and try. We offer to split an equal share of the proceeds of anything we find beyond said door with you. How does that sound?”
"Oh, the lock on a door is rarely as difficult as a tiny lock of the kind on this chest. I need to study the chest for a while in order to learn its secrets, but a door should be fairly straightforward."
He hitches up his toolbelt. "So, it's a deal. Of course, I don't expect any money up front. I'll come with you, and if I can't get the door open, you don't pay a penny." His face shows clear signs of confidence and worry at the same time, and he adds. "I'm assuming that you fellows will take care of any difficulties of the monstrous sort? I don't really have much in the way of fighting expertise - none, in fact."
Tzoltan bustles around his shop, tidying up, and agrees to meet the group whenever they are ready to proceed.
"Oh, the lock on a door is rarely as difficult as a tiny lock of the kind on this chest. I need to study the chest for a while in order to learn its secrets, but a door should be fairly straightforward."
He hitches up his toolbelt. "So, it's a deal. Of course, I don't expect any money up front. I'll come with you, and if I can't get the door open, you don't pay a penny." His face shows clear signs of confidence and worry at the same time, and he adds. "I'm assuming that you fellows will take care of any difficulties of the monstrous sort? I don't really have much in the way of fighting expertise - none, in fact."
Tzoltan bustles around his shop, tidying up, and agrees to meet the group whenever they are ready to proceed.
Anarath nods, presumably indicating agreement to all that has been said. He gives the man details on where they are staying before taking his leave.
Everything you just mentioned has an arcane aura; the notebook with it in it is at home and I'm at work, so I'll get it up tomorrow morning.