Everbright IC - Roscoe

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

EverBright

Midday - Spring


The slow grinding noise of the cart's wheel made a higher pitched grumble. Roscoe reflexively kick the center of the wheel to keep it from coming off. It had become a habit, once every three or four blocks he would have to kick the wheel. The dog's ears fluttered and rotated slightly at the noise but even he had ceased being surprised by the sudden noise. A few passersby had turned their head but most people ignored the halfling. The streets were half full with people going about their business - shuffling along. It was another sunny day in EverBright. A great day to be alive.





Can you copy your background information into your characters sheet for future reference ?

[Sgt. Suitable]

Roscoe pushes on, almost at his destination. "The four corners" he grumbles soft. It's what the guard had said. Four stone buildings around a central plaza, and amongst them would be the city's watch and those devout to Pelor.
It sounded like a good spot to Roscoe, and he had thanked the guard and made his way there.
"Come on Ogre, almost there." He says to the dog.
Ogre, who had stopped somewhere to smell the aromas of city life in a particular nasty looking ditch looks up and catches up with Roscoe. Not a particular hard feat since Roscoe is going quite slow leaving Ogre with ample time to inspect the next wet spot.
The dog is large, black and scruffy looking. His regiment saved the dog from a burning building. When they met, the dog couldn't stop growling at Roscoe. Three whole days the dog went: "Grrrrrrrrr" at Roscoe. Until Roscoe got fed up with it and stood up and walked straight up to the mangy dog, grabbed it by the throat and looked it straight in the eye and shouted: Oh!?! Grrrrrrr!!!, right in its face. Since then the dog listens to Ogre and has followed Roscoe around ever since.

Turning the corner Roscoe arrives at his destination. He parks the cart out of the way for pedestrians and looks around. He rubs his shoulders and neck a bit, releasing the tension from pushing the cart around. He smiles, happy to have made it. He also a bit excited to finally be in the Capitol. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out some beef jerky and gives it to Ogre while scratching behind his ear.

Roscoe takes a deep breath of fresh air and looks around, taking in the sights and the people.. but most of all to determine a good location to set up shop.

Of course, totally. Sorry.. I thought I had already.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Roscoe finds a great location to set up his cart. It was just off one of the side roads that dumped a stream of pedestrians into the square but was out of the way enough that people could stop to shop. A few people even were waiting around for Roscoe to set up 'shop' before he was ready.

After 20 minutes of great success, a very large half-orc cuts to the front of the line. A few people protest but he turns back towards them and pulls aside his cloak. A massive longsword was on his hip.

"Push off!" he says. The small crowd starts to disperse. Some walked away and others just back off several paces. Turning fully towards Roscoe and making eye contact, he was certain this was one of the ugliest half-orcs he had ever seen. The half-orc was wearing a chain shirt and had heavy leather boots. He was almost topping out at 7 feet tall and 300 lbs if Roscoe had to guess. A black cape circled his body and Roscoe could glimpse more than one weapon hilt through the front v-shaped opening in his cloak. A bright red tattoo of a hand was on on his forearm.


"Who gave you permission to sell food this close to the square?" he asked in very broken common. The half-orc didn't wait for a response. "You need to move four blocks that way or pay... tax.... ta stay here. 3 gold" he whispered. He pointed off in the direction Roscoe had come from earlier in the day.


Roscoe surmised the way the half-orc said the word 'tax' that this was not a regional tax collector. The dog growled at the Half-orc.





How would rate your prices ?

cheap ? Medium ? Expensive ?

[Sgt. Suitable]

I'd say medium priced and as good a quality as he can produce. He's not in it to get rich, he genuinely cares about his profession.

He sees the half-Orc coming and prepares himself. The brutes words fail to impress and Roscoe is sure to keep his poker face straight as he listens to the demands. He nods once and gives a quick wink to the ugly sod to indicate he's following along.
He answers loud and clear. "That's three honey-buns you say? Coming right up." If any bystanders are still listening in or trying to see what's going to happen he keeps on pretending like it's just another customer.
As he packs in the buns, lukewarm from the part of the hot plate where the goods ready to sell lie, he keeps talking. Partly because he wants to keep up appearances to the others and partly to keep the half-Orc distracted.
"Next time I'd appreciate it if you wait your turn, big man. But I suppose someone important looking like you has places to be and people to see. I get that."

Roscoe scans the crowd to see if the man has back-up somewhere.
spot: [roll0]

Roscoe gives the man his honey-buns, takes his money and gives him his change including three gold pieces which he slips in there. He's sure to set the money aside that he receives from the brute. It will come in handy this evening.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

"What huney-buns?" he mumbles "What are huney-buns?" He scratches his head twice in confusion. Any objections the half-orc was composing died as the warm tasty buns were handed over. He sniffs at the buns experimentally and takes a big bite of one. He nods enthusiastically. "Huny bunz" he says finally with his mouth full.

He pauses for a moment to count his change. He nods and smiles revealing his wicked underbite and yellowed teeth. "I see you tomorrow!" he says excitedly. The dog continued to growl at the half-orc.


Roscoe keeps an eye out but didn't notice any backup. The street was busy though so anything was possible. Roscoe lost sight of the half-orc in the big crowd in front of the 'Keep's Inn'.

[Sgt. Suitable]

After the last people seem to have gone Roscoe cleans his knives and let's the hot plate cool down He throws Ogre a piece of meatpie and takes the rest for himself. He organizes everything and packs up his cart. It's all very methodical but slow. He's savoring the moment, as it were.
A good location. That's for sure.
He doesn't bother with counting his profit, since he knows he's light. The half-Orc was an unpleasant moment but to be expected. He knew enough to know that spilling blood on the streets, at his cart, was bad for business. He also knew that if the half-orcs tattoo was anything of an indication he wasn't alone and they would make sure they destroyed his business or worse if he didn't play their game. He knew the type.
Roscoe smiles warmly, catching himself thinking back of his brothers. They would have been much smoother than this meathead. He chuckles but shakes off his melancholic mood. He would have to make short work of this shakedown before it got out of hand.

He takes up the cart and walks over to the Keep's Inn. Ogre stays on top of the cart as Roscoe walks in.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

The inside of the building was well lit. While there weren't any windows on the first floor, there were numerous torch along the ceiling that glowed white. Thick worked stone columns held up the ceiling about 15 feet above Roscoe's head. The place seemed reasonably busy, about one third of the tables were occupied. The bar area was in the center of the large room. Stairs going up were beside the bar with a big sign overhead - 'Inn'. Two large bouncers seemed to be stationed on the stairs, chatting to each other. No one seemed to take notice of Roscoe as he entered.


There was a few waitresses but most people seemed content to go to the bar to order their drinks and make their way back.

[Sgt. Suitable]

Roscoe walks up to the bar and orders a beer, along with a room. He specifically asks for some space to safely park his cart out back. He casts alarm (silent) on it and makes it comfortable for Ogre. If all goes well he takes a seat in the corner and sips his beer slowly while keeping an eye on the crowd.

[hes going to wait until it's a bit later, then he plans to use the change from the half-Orc with his scent ability to find out where he's at. In scanning the crowd he's particularly interested in red hand tattoos.]

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

The bouncer guarding the Inn stairs checks his little book before reaching behind the counter and handing Roscoe a key. Arrangements are made to put the cart into the stables behind the building and get ogre fresh water and hay. Standing at the bar, Roscoe can see around the back end of the stairs which are blocked off with a heavy locked door. Roscoe surmises these are stairs going down based on the fact the door is directly under the stairs going up. As far as Roscoe could tell the smell of the half-orc seems to lead under the door and down.

The bartender hands Roscoe a large ale. The ale has an amazing taste, likely one of the best ales Roscoe has had in a long time. Glancing around the bar, he notices that fully one in five people who's wrist he can see has a similar tattoo to the half-orc. All the bartenders and the bouncers as well seem to be similarly marked.

[Sgt. Suitable]

Holy crap. Roscoe takes a big sip of his ale when he realizes he's walked straight into the lions den. They must use this in as a front for whatever it is they're into, but they aren't exactly shy about their operation either.
At least the ale is good.. He thinks, while he tries to sort some things out.

3 gold per day, and add to that the room and evening ale.. How much could I be losing daily by keeping this up?

He figures he's not going to budge, they won't scare him away. And he's going to make sure he's getting the money back.
Might as well sleep here and observe what he can. Roscoe figures he pays enough for the so called protection. He can stand to pay a bit more for a bed.

Roscoe sinks back into his chair observing casually the goings-on of the place. He orders his second and last ale and takes his sweet time drinking it.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

The crowd ebbs and flows, people leave and people come. Overall the place seems to stay steady through out. A few people seem to retire to the upstairs Inn. A few people use the locked door, coming and going. Nothing seems to stand out except the tattoo on their arms, the same tan color cloaks and matching backpacks.


Roscoe over hears someone mention that the bar area was open 24 hours a day / 7 days a week. Eventually the barstaff ends their shift and new barkeeps come on for the overnight shift. After a while a pair of guardsman drift in. The smell of dust and sweat. They sit down at the table next to Roscoe and order a large dinner. After a few minutes one of them starts to tell the other a series of bawdy jokes that weren't particularly funny.







Despite paying out 3 gold, Roscoe is slightly ahead on the day including the room, and two ales.

Likely up 2-3 silver.

[Sgt. Suitable]

Roscoe heartily laughs at one of the jokes and turns to the men. "Sorry, I apologize. Couldn't help but overhear and that-was-funny!" He quickly checks to see if they're annoyed by him, but if they give the slightest opening he seizes it.
"Reminds me of one in the army, if I may?" He says and without skipping a beat he tells the most downright disgusting and borderline offensive joke he can think of.

Mind if I join you guys?
Diplomacy: [roll0]

(If they don't mind ->)
He orders three beers for the table and laughs at their jokes, tells some more himself and finally introduces himself. He tells them he's new in town and asks about the do's and dont's, he ask about their life in the guard and what their names are and invites them to swing by tomorrow for a free sample of his famous honey-bun.
He asks about the weather and about women, and he shoots them a off handed query about the red tattoos. Almost like an afterthought, as if it hasn't been his most burning question of the evening.

Gather info: [roll1]

He keeps them entertained by actively listening to their conversations, acting impressed with their life and by answering any of their questions in a funny but semi-mysterious and a oh-but-you-guys-know-how-it-is way that makes them want to be his friend.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

The weary guards welcome the drinks and jokes. Apparently a life in the guards is boring and they are free with their tongues. Their lives consist of three hours of combat drilling and another six patrolling the streets and then 15 hours off - 6 days a week. It seems to Roscoe they spend most of their off-time getting drunk and telling tall tales. Stories of far off dragons being slain and epic military conquests. Roscoe having some experience, doesn't fall for any of the romantic tales of military life.


It turns out the red tattoos indicate membership in the 'Adventurer's guild' based out of this particular building. One of the guard seems to suggest they are a gang or a thieves's guild - the other laughs it off and that they are legitimate group with just a few bad apples. Either way - they apparently exercise significant political strength.

The guard seem eager to eat your honey buns and make plans to stop by your cart tomorrow. After about two hours of drinking and hanging around, they make their polite goodbyes and leave for the night.

[Sgt. Suitable]

Roscoe has had a long day and decides to sleep on his problem. He retires for the night and wakes up an hour before sunrise like usual. It was the old routine he couldn't shake off.

He makes a round past the harbor and the market to get the supplies he needs. Fish, vegetables and meat. Some herbs and fruits. He makes sure to take the time and chat with the sellers, he makes sure they remember his face and is warm to the people but won't be easy on the quality of their products. He doesn't mind paying what it's worth, but makes sure they know he wants his things top-notch.
He asks about rumors and pokes and prods here and there to see what's keeping the people busy these days.

Coming back with almost too many bags to carry he starts heating up his hotplate and gets to work. It's routinized work, the preparations, and he has time to look around and get to learn his corner. He takes in every detail about the plaza and the people walking it.

While he's working he keeps an eye out for people interested in him and his goings-on. He makes sure to chat with them without coming off as pushy and expresses genuine interest in their day to day lives.

All in all, he's making the best of a beautiful day. He's got a sneaky suspicion that a solution to his problem with the adventuring guild won't present itself out of the blue, but he wants to do some more research before he messes with them too much.

Gather info for general chit-chat of the day:
[roll0]

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Roscoe makes his rounds buying supplies and pressing palms. One merchant tries unsuccessfully to rip him off but otherwise the morning goes smooth.


Through out the day Roscoe hears a bunch of rumors about skirmishes and border incursions on the Eastern Frontier. It sounded like war might be eminent. Just before the afternoon rush the two guardsman from the previous night make an appearance. Since they were on duty they insisted on paying for their honeybuns, to avoid any appearance of malfeasance.

"Afternoon! I hope your head is better than mine" One of them says referring to his hangover. "I hope we have a nice quiet shift and that you don't." he motions to the line that was starting to form.


After a few minutes Roscoe spots the half-orc from the previous day get into line. He looks both ways down the street as if he is looking for someone or trying to avoiding someone. One of the guardsman notices him but after a second goes back to his honeybun. "that guy is acting odd" he says to his partner.

[Sgt. Suitable]

Roscoe politely doesn't press them on the matter and let's them pay for the honeybuns. He slips two pecanrolls in the bag though, for them to find later on.

"Afternoon boys!" He says with a smile. "That was fun last night. I've had worse hangovers, and it's nothing the hustle and bustle of this city can't cure. What a great place!"

When Roscoe spots the half-Orc he sighs. "It's one of those adventurers club members. Yesterday he caused a bit of a ruckus when he cut in line, but I don't blame him. My buns are to kill for." Roscoe makes sure to point clearly and at length towards the half-Orc for the two guardsmen hoping that from a distance it looks like he's informing them of yesterday's business.
"At least he's getting in line this time. You have to be tough on those types you know? Ah.. What am I saying. You guys know how to handle that sort of thing better than I do." He helps another customer and continues the conversation with the guards at the same time, keeping them talking and standing at his counter. "Anything special planned for the day?" He asks.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Both guards shake their heads negative regarding special plans. They peer over to the half-orc to make note of the troublemaker. One of the guards practically inhales a whole bun in one go. "Mmsust issa goooooot !" he proclaims. The other guard continues to stare at the half-orc and gives him an appraising glare.

"If he gives you any trouble just let us or another patrol know. You definitely don't want to get into a shoving match with the likes of him. Looks like a bit of a trouble maker that one."