The dwarf agrees to any plan that involves getting money. He hasn't any.
Arodwumm pays attention when the table is loaded with treasure.
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.
The sword is a +1 longsword as stated.
The three scrolls are Sleep, True Strike, and Vampiric Touch.
The bloodstained tome is full of complex diagrams, glyphs, and pages upon pages of cramped text in an unfamiliar, spiky text. Under his arcane sight, the book radiates an intense, light consuming darkness.
The sheaf of yellowed parchment is covered in more diagrams and drawings, many of the anatomy of various creatures. It radiates a moderate transmutation aura.
The black iron rod has a moderate enchantment aura.
The small box itself does not register as being magical, but something inside possesses an extraordinarily strong aura of transmutation and necromancy.
Also, I believe there was talk of switching to the Pathfinder rules when you leveled up. What's the consensus on that?
Ok, no real rush; it seems like everyone's been pretty busy, and anything I do to move things along in the next week probably won't require a playable character.
I'll ask Tzoltan if he might know.
Dohrlok shrugs when the suggestion is made that the magic longsword be sold. He clearly has no opinion on the matter.
Tzoltan considers for a moment (Knowledge:Local=17). He will then expound on his best information as to where they might sell a magic weapon around here.
Tzoltan
Sorry, I was waiting for Arctaris to let us know we were starting back up. My bad.
"Umm. That's a lot of money. Marcin Torvus maybe could take it and sell it in a big city, but I don't think anyone around here could afford a magic sword. I don't know if you want to do business with Marcin, though." Tzoltan lowers his voice and whispers, "He's Varisian." Thinking perhaps he needs to explain further, he pushes the tip of his nose sideways and continues to whisper, "Scarni...but you didn't hear it from me."
"Scarni...but you didn't hear it from me."
"F!$~ it, we can take 'em."
“Who or what is a Scarni?” asks Anarath, who, despite having lived in Korvosa for several years, does not know that much about the culture of the native Varisians.
“Nevertheless, let us go and see this person.”
“Who or what is a Scarni?” asks Anarath, who, despite having lived in Korvosa for several years, does not know that much about the culture of the native Varisians.“Nevertheless, let us go and see this person.”
"Hot damn, finally."
Tzoltan
With Tzoltan leading the way, you exit the basement workshop into the cold morning sun and make your way down the muddy main street towards the southern gate of the village. The streets are mostly empty; and the few people you do pass rarely meet your eyes and only ocassionally acknowledge you with mumbled greetings.
Soon you arrive at the door of Torvus' Fine Wares, a tidy looking little shop with various merchandise displayed in the windows. You try the door, which is painted a bright red, but it seems to be latched.
Corvin motions to Anarath.
"Hey, boss, you want I should kick the door in?"
"I don't think that would start negotiations off on the right foot," says Anarath, reaching out and knocking at the door.
Tzoltan leans forward as Anarath knocks on the door. "Be careful when you negotiate with this guy. Remember...Sczarni." He touches the side of his nose again, and raises his eyebrows meaningfully.
Dohrlok shakes his head from side to side slightly, and sighs.
For a long time there's no sign of movement within the shop. Eventually though, a man makes his way unhurriedly from a set of stairs in the back of the shop to the door. He fiddles with the latch for a moment before opening it enough for him to look out at you.
The man, who Tzoltan recognizes as Marcini, is of Varisian decent with jet black hair, grey eyes and a faintly arrogant bearing.
He looks at you for a moment for smiling slightly "Ah, the brave fools who went to explore the old Manor. To what do I owe the privilege of having fine gentlemen such as yourselves visit my humble shop?"
Corvin cracks his knuckles and spits on the ground.
"Umm. Mister Marcini, these men have something they'd like to sell." He lowers his voice and looks around, "They got it from the Manor. I told them you were the only merchant in town who might be interested."
Anarath nods. “We have in our possession a magical sword. We would like to sell it. It has value to at least 2300 gold pieces … would you be interested in buying?”
Marcini raises his eyebrows slightly and opens the door a little more, stepping aside to allow you in.
"And what makes you think I have that kind of money? I'm a merchant, not a mint."
Marcini raises his eyebrows slightly and opens the door a little more, stepping aside to allow you in.
"And what makes you think I have that kind of money? I'm a merchant, not a mint."
Marcini raises his eyebrows slightly and opens the door a little more, stepping aside to allow you in.
"And what makes you think I have that kind of money? I'm a merchant, not a mint."
Corvin unnervingly holds the Sczarni's gaze, and speaks softly in his gravelly voice.
"You don't want to f&!# with us."
Marcini holds Corvin's gaze for a moment before finally nodding. "Come in, please." he says with a thin smile. "I met a man in Absalom a long while ago who might have the coin and the interest in such a sword. 2300 though. That's a lot of gold to spend on one weapon, no matter the quality."
Marcini holds Corvin's gaze for a moment before finally nodding. "Come in, please." he says with a thin smile. "I met a man in Absalom a long while ago who might have the coin and the interest in such a sword. 2300 though. That's a lot of gold to spend on one weapon, no matter the quality."
"Good to know that you care."
Corvin pushes past Marcini, through the door.
Horrified by Corvin's manners, Tzoltan stands fidgeting on the stoop unsure whether to enter or not. Finally deciding he has no dog in this fight, he stays just oustide, looking around nervously but also trying to eavesdrop on what's going on inside.
“Excuse my companion,” says Anarath, entering the room. “I’m certain a skilled merchant could get that much for it, but I did not suggest that’s what we were asking for it. I believe the standard rate for middle-men such as ourselves is roughly half the object’s value.”
"And who says I'm a middle man?" Torvus says, drawing himself up and looking a little offended. "I am a business man, not some other man's lackey. If you came to do business, then do business, but if you came to insult my character, you can leave. Now."
Perception 21
Anarath blinks in surprise.
"Perhaps you misunderstood me. I meant that we," indicating himself and Corvin, "were the middle men, not you. The unfortunate wretch we aquired the sword from being on one side, you on the other, and us in the middle. What happens to this sword once it is in your possession is not of our concern."
Corvin cracks his neck.
Torvus calms down slightly. "Perhaps I overreacted."
He pauses, considering for a long time before saying "Maybe we can do business. Give me a four days to see if I can find a buyer, and then come back here with your sword."