[PF] Golden Scales BLUE group IC

[Dread Angel]

The Town of Aurin
Welcome to Aurin, a medium-sized town of very nondescript description. Whatever your story may be, few ask questions here, and those who do, don't really expect an answer.

Outside the Town Hall is a large bulletin board, used mostly for those offering things for sale, looking to find lost property, needing a service done, et cetera. Each of you has noticed a rather small post there, which reads:

If you are brave and strong, cunning and willing to take risks, meet me in the Gilded Goatherd tavern in the evening, at the farthest table in the corner by the fire.

Following this curious request, you arrive at the Gilded Goatherd that evening, trickling in individually.

The Old Man

An old man in a rather fine cloak and clothes awaits you. As you all take your seats, he allows you a moment to take a look at the other adventurers who have likewise answered his summons, before explaining himself without preamble.

"For a long time, I have dedicated myself to recovering a family heirloom that belonged to my grandfather. Finally, I discovered its location - an old ruin a few days' travel from here. Unfortunately, my old bones are not what they once were, and I find myself unable to venture very far at all, so this is where you come in. I offer you a substantial reward if you will retrieve the sword of my grandfather for me."

At this, as if by sleight of hand or magic, he produces a handful of gems. After displaying them cautiously, he passes a ruby to each of you.

"This is but a taste of what I will give you, if you can bring me back the sword. You will know it by its decor - its blade is fine and wrought with golden runes, and its hilt resembles a dragon's body - the grip as the torso, crossguard forms the wings and the pommel its head. Of course you are also welcome to anything you may find in the ruin - I have no interest in plunder, only the sword."

[pyrocide]

"I have to assume this journey is at least somewhat dangerous." the fair skinned elf sitting to the left of the old man says without accent as he stares into the ruby in his hand.

"Because despite the fact you haven't said so up front, the poster did request only people willing to take risks. Don't get me wrong; I'd love to help reunite you with your grand-daddy's dragon sword of goldenocisty, but we'll all need a bit more information than "It's out in some ruins some days away".

The elf stops himself rather abruptly. He looks with his sky blue eyes down to his left hand, seemingly realizing just then he still had a tankard of ale being held there. A moment before pulling the tankard to his lips, he smirks. The silence from the short pause during which the elf takes a swing seems to be multiplied by the coincidental timing of the rest of the tavern's patrons getting somewhat quieter.

The raising of the elf's arm and the slightly exaggerated arching of the elf's back in order to consume every last drop of ale gives the most visible shot of the patron so far. If it were not for the pointed ears poking out of his long blond hair, it would be very hard to tell him from a human. His clothing style is that of the local human culture, his common speech bearing no elven accent, and his mannerisms.... definitely human. Seemingly to mark the end of the silence, the elf sets the tankard down on the table with a hard thud, followed by a refreshed sigh which felt as exaggerated as his prior back-arched drinking motion.

"Forgive my previous outburst, I could have easily worded that better. My name is Tim. I am equally intrigued and excited at your proposition to give us more gems in return for your grand-pop's sword. Please, tell us anything you can about the sword, the location of the ruins, the possible danger, and anything else you can think of so we can make this happen for you."

Feeling as though he may have spoken a bit too long, Tim slinks back in his chair a bit and raises his tankard back to his mouth without thinking. after touching the tankard to his lips and realizing he is trying to drink from an empty container, he slowly puts the tankard back on the table, trying to not draw any more attention to himself.


Couple of things, none of which would affect how my character acts.

Appraise check on the ruby:
1d20+9

Perception check to see if rubies were sleight of handed:
1d20+10

Spellcraft check to see if the rubies were magically conjured:
1d20+9

....dice roller not wanting to work for me. May I take ten for these rolls?

[Dread Angel]

Yeah, just take 10. Dice roller is wacky sometimes.

"Fair enough. The ruins are three days' travel from the west gate. Follow the road for the first two days, and on the third day keep an eye to the north. You'll see an exceptionally tall oak tree in the distance. Leave the road and head towards it, and you'll soon reach the ruin. The soldiers keep the roads quite safe, and I can't imagine that you'll have too much trouble through the woods, either. Most local creatures have learned to avoid strange noises. As for the ruins themselves, well, I didn't see too much of them myself. But rumor has it that a dragon has left part of its horde concealed there. And you can be certain that it would not have left it unguarded, though why a dragon would split its horde like that I cannot imagine. That rumor will likely draw raiders, though - you might run into some."

The old man raised a glass to his lips. "Thank you, Tim. My name is Gorgol."

[Road_Runner]

Standing nonchalantly with his arms crossed, the monk has been watching the whole conversation intently with his gray eyes. Raising his eyebrows at the mention of the dragon, "A dragon left his horde? Are you sure he isn't lurking nearby? I don't want to end up getting spit-roasted for dinner."

The monks stops to examine the ruby, turning it over in his hands and admiring the way it refracts the light. "If the dragon won't be a problem, I will gladly help you recover your family's relic. By the way, my name is Ramiel."

[Dread Angel]

"It's unlikely that any dragon would venture too far out from its horde, but I wouldn't worry about it too much. I spent some time observing the ruin, and saw nothing that would concern me. I wouldn't ask you to walk straight into a dragon's den if I thought that the rumor was true." Gorgol smiled, his teeth brilliant white. "I wouldn't worry overmuch about that. From what I know of dragons, an evil dragon would be far too greedy to allow anyone any chance of getting near its horde, so even if the rumor is true, the odds are favorable that it is not an evil dragon's horde."

"Thank you, Ramiel. It is greatly appreciated, I assure you, and you will be well-rewarded."

[pyrocide]

Taking ten on the previous rolls would give me:
Appraise the ruby: 19
Perception to see if old man used sleight of hand to produce the rubies: 20 (yay for elf eyes)
Spellcraft instead if it was a magical effect: 19


"Woah," Tim said as he looked surprisingly up at Ramiel, "And here I was thinking you were either the bouncer or asking for donations. Please have a seat with us good sir... You make me a bit nervous standing."

In an attempt to become more comfortable, Tim then pushed on the back two legs of the chair, letting the front two come off the ground. He leaned back so that the front of the chair came high enough to have his legs touch the underside of the table, and thus stop him from falling backwards. After achieving this small balancing act, Tim tipped his tankard towards himself, looking down into the still empty glass. He sighed.

"Mr. Ramiel has a point. However, it interests me more now that I know we're going to the site of a dragon hoard. This is a unique opportunity to obtain some very rare materials I've been wanting to get my hands on." Tim smirks, "Between the possibility of rare alchemical components, a pile of treasure, and doing a good deed in returning your family's sword, I must gladly accept your proposition. That is, so long as you can reassure me that the dragon won't be visiting on the day we go on our little quest."

Tim looked down at his empty mug once more. While still focused on the tankard, he says out loud to no one in particular, "I'm not really from around these parts. Does anyone know of a good spirit to call for in this establishment? I mean... Alcohol is alcohol, but that last drink of ale was not really something I'd wish to pay for twice, if you get my meaning.... As well, How can one go on a noble quest without first having a fine drink?"

[Road_Runner]

Ramiel pulls back a chair and lowers himself into it. He watches Tim chug his beer and teeter precariously in his chair, "You like ale huh? Can't say I've ever tried the stuff. Not allowed at the temple."

Ramiel glances over at some of the rowdier patrons of the tavern, then turns his attention back to the table. "So, I don't believe we've really had a chance to meet. Where exactly are you from? And you mentioned something about.... alchemical components?"

[Dread Angel]

Yet another glittering smile, and he raised his hand. Despite that the tavern had grown somewhat crowded, one of the harried-looking serving girls immediately came over. "I happen to know that there is a fine, aged bottle of Tamren goldwine secured in the back office. Bring it to us, along with five glasses. Proper ones, mind you. This should cover it." He produced another pair of rubies, and handed them to the dumbfounded waitress, who hurried off.

Just a few moments later, she returned at speed with a platter. Distributing the glasses - fine crystal - she opened the wine and carefully poured a measure into each glass. The wine was a deep burgundy, laced through with golden-hued strands.

The old man raised his glass. "To a successful quest, my friends."

Sorry, forgot to post this.

A quick appraisal of the rubies had shown Tim that they were genuine, though he couldn't tell just how Gorgol had produced the rubies so smoothly.

[pyrocide]

"You, my friend, are working for the wrong deity if you are forbidden from enjoying their greatest of creations," Tim replied as he watched Gorgol raise his hand to hail over a waitress

"I am from Tamren, brother. I have lived and moved among the peoples all throughout this wonderful nation. But I call no province home. There is too much to see and do to anchor myself at any location longer than my welcome is kept well." Tim then leaned back a bit farther than before, enough to tilt his head all the way back. He saw, upside-down, that a waitress was indeed now coming. Tim brought his head back up at the same time she began talking to Gorgol. Tim gave the waitress a bright smile, but was mostly ignored by the girl. Tim noted the disinterest mentally, and continued with the conversation without another thought of the waitress.

"Ah, yes. I guess I should have explained myself a bit better before. When I am not on quests for shiny golden swords guarded by dragons, I am usually known as an Alchemist. I create a variety of various alchemical items that can do anything from allowing a person to see in the dark, to healing the injured, all the way to swift and certain death of any who would be foolish enough to try and do you harm." Tim paused, and chuckled a bit to himself.

"Sorry about that, I just about devolved into my merchant mentality for a moment there. But yeah, if you need anything during our time together, ask me and I should have something to help you out. If not I can probably make it, given a day or two."

That was about the time the waitress returned with the bottle of wine and the crystal glasses, all of which looked to be of amazing quality.

Tim stared deeply into the color of the wine as it was poured into his glass. He was mesmerized by the way the golden strands swirled and danced through the dark maroon of the wine. the pouring of the wine held his attention so hard he didn't notice he was leaning forward, to the point his chair's front legs came back down, planting the chair back firmly on all four legs. When Tim was finally passed his glass, it was then he realized at some point he had stopped leaning back in the chair.

Tim raised his glass up with Gorgol. "To a successful quest it is then," and with that Tim slowly enjoyed what he figured was the best wine in all of Tamren.

"I've got to tell you Gorgol, I am not normally a wine person. However, this drink may have just changed my mind on the matter," Tim said, and continued while looking at Ramiel, "I know you are not normally allowed a drink and all that, but you must consider taking a small drink of this Tamren Goldwine. A drink like this doesn't come around often enough to refuse." Tim paused only for a moment.

"Speaking of which, may I have one more taste of that incredible beverage?"

[Road_Runner]

"I see. Well, most of my life I have spent in the Palace of Prophets, a temple somewhere to the north of here. I got kicked out, once the temple became exclusive to only those with 'the sight'," Ramiel bitterly grabs one of the mugs. Peering into the dark liquid, he sniffs it cautiously. He brings it to his mouth and tentatively takes a sip. Making a face, he passes it to Tim.

"That's strong stuff. Anyways, enough about my past." He watches Tim chug another glass of alcohol, and wonders when he will fall out of his chair. "You sure you'll be able to fight after all of that?" he asks half-jokingly.

[Dread Angel]

"Of course you may, Tim. The bottle is paid for." Gorgol raises his glass to his lips once more, sighing in contentment as he sips. Turning his gaze upon Ramiel, his brows furrow. "May I inquire what "the sight" may be? I understand if you don't wish to speak of it, of course, but an order's doctrine changing so drastically and suddenly seems ... odd, to say the least."

[Road_Runner]

Ramiel drums his fingers on the table, thinking pensively. "It's a long story, but I will recount it briefly. When I was a child, I lived by my own in the streets of the city. One day, I was taken in as an apprentice by an old elf named Ellaron at a temple known as the Palace of Prophets. The temple order was mostly comprised of oracles; I was one of the few who lacked magical talent, and so trained as a martial artist instead. However, years passed, and a new High Elder was appointed who took the clandestine nature of the temple to new extremes. He believed in order to protect the secrecy of the temple and its mission: to predict the future and prevent apocalypse, it should be exclusive to only those who shared "the sight", or talent of oracles and seers. A few of the elders argued over this, but eventually I was forced to leave. Now I wander on my own."

Ramiel breaks his narration as if suddenly becoming conscious of his rambling. "But enough of my past, it is not relevent to your request."

[pyrocide]

"You're really too kind Ramiel," replies Tim as the monk passed his glass towards Tim's side of the table. At the same time, Gorgol passed the bottle toward him as well. Tim gleefully poured the drink into his empty glass, and topped off the new glass given to him by the monk. After setting the bottle down, Tim grabbed a cup in each hand, intermittently sipping between each glass.

"Fight? Good sir I am no fighter," Tim said between long sips on his interchanging glasses, "I am a craftsman, that happens to on occasion drink amazing wine," pausing to take another drink, "and retrieve lost items of value. If someone has a problem with me or my goals, then I allow my works of art do the fighting for me." With that, Tim set down the glass in his right hand and retrieved a catalyst vile from his pocket.

"See this? Totally safe. However, with the addition of a few mundane ingredients and the right application of velocity, any would-be evil doer is suddenly covered in a wonderful cascade of consuming fire." Tim retrieved his glass, holding the glass with his thumb and forefinger, while holding the vial between his last two fingers. Tim listened intently to the monk's history, gaining a certain level of respect for him.

"Birds of a feather my friend. Journeymen by circumstance, it would seem. I too never got the knack for supernatural gifts, as much as my family wished I had. But these are events of the past," Tim paused, and while sliding a glass back to Ramiel, "To the future!" then, a bit softer with a grin towards Ramiel, "I promise, it gets better the more you drink it."

[Road_Runner]

Ramiel listened as Tim showed him the vial, getting the feeling that despite his outward lackadaisical disposition, he could be quite dangerous if he wanted.

"To the future!" he agrees, raising the glass and taking another sip.