After the Job IC

[Marlowe]

You've heard some of this before...


Your hometown is between the western hills and the eastern sea. It's neither big nor small, neither a quite a city nor a village. Neither famed nor mocked. Not a place that draws people nor one that drives them away.

Your hometown? Why do you want to know about that? You'll be lucky if you see it again.

The job seemed like a simple one. The sort you'd done scores--well, dozens--well, maybe a time or two before.

But something went a bit dodge.

Maybe some malign magic messed with your minds, maybe some malignant power meddled with your machinations, maybe it was the six pints of Leary's Triple-Strength Mildly-Hallucinogenic Black Lotus Stout you'd each had to chug on a dare right before you set out, but all you can remember is that things went a little woozy there and next thing you know, you're standing in the profaned shrine of Lirr, the Lady Poetess, the blood of the Goblin Ambassador sticky on your hands and his corpse at your feet, the shattered remains of two of the temple's really EXPENSIVE Stained Glass Golems scattered about you, and a small army of Lirrian shrine maidens, City Watch, and random passers-by howling for your blood.

You barely escaped in an elaborate chase sequence that would be super hard to describe.

"Boys, Girls. Heard about what happened", said your employer; Toby "Big T" Gutripper, picking at his left tusk. "Not the best work I've seen. Not neat. Got the whole town and several others braying for your guts. And you've only got so much to go around. Really got your heads stuck in the chamber pot this time."

"But it's going to be okay. Think I've got you a way out." He puts a massive greenish hand into the pocket of his purple silk bathrobe, and pulls out a letter. "I need this delivered to a Lady Aletha, lives in a place called Wakefulness, in the New Territories on the eastern continent. I can get you on a ship to Kesselhaven tonight, and you'll have to arrange your own way from there. Once that's delivered, she'll have something for you to do. And by the time you've done that, and get back home, maybe I'll have sorted this all out and can take care of you.

But you'll need to go tonight-" He takes a long drag of his pipe, breathing out a rich plume of smoke across the pink lacquer of the tabletop "-or you can say no; and I'll get RedHands, the Preacher, Lady Sawbones, and the Flea to come in and start chopping you boys and girls up right now. It'll save time."

He leans back in the velvet armchair, his black eyes look bored. "You take the job?"

You take the job.

What follows is an eternity of damp, churning salty hell, as the barque Jeanne DeClisson wends and rolls across the seething chaos of the ocean. Below you, fell creatures of the deep loom in your imaginations, glaring up at you with hunger and loathing. The sea tosses and lashes the ship, and by extension you, with salt and foam, wind and rain, spray and lightning, while the sun burns down in mockery and weevily ship's biscuit and almost liquidly manky salt pork chew at your innards.

You spend a lot of time in your cabin. You thought this would help. It really doesn't.

At some point after what seems like an infinity of torment, there's a knock at the cabin door. Someone opens it without waiting permission. It's Sandlock. No "Mister", no first name; just Sandlock.

You've ascertained that Sandlock is Captain Burgundy's lover. You have not worked out, thanks to the heavy blue naval coat marked with the crossed-scythes-on-crowned-skull-on-fire badge of the Royal Sharonian Navy, whether Sandlock is man or a woman. They could pass for a pretty young man or as a rather strong-shouldered woman.

You have worked out that Sandlock is a sailor, and like sailors is a deranged, sadistic madperson with an infinite supply of contempt for those inadequately sailoriffic.

"What a pleasant little weeks' sail it's been," Sandlock are saying. "We all thought you'd better know; we're there. Time to grab your things and get ready to go ashore." Smile. Glint of perfect teeth. Some gold some silver some natural. "Well, when I say THERE. I mean WE are where we're going. I know you land-rats were headed for Kesselhaven and that's STILL another half-day to the east but, well. We've got a couple of Goblin pirates under our lee; and a storm coming up from the west. So if it's all the same to you--and even if it isn't--we're putting in--and you off-- at the port of Neckstrand. It's a lovely place, compared to some. Should have no problem getting where you're going from there. If you keep you wits about you."

He or she turns back out the door. "So...will you be coming on deck under your own power or will I have someone come put you in barrels?"

OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?549465-After-the-Job-OOC&p=22791704#post22791704)

[Illven]

Heather nods wearily getting to her feet from the floor and wall she had been sitting in.

Hoc autem minor est meum votum. She chants steadily, her left hand performing a few arcane gestures as she leans heavily on her staff.

As she finishes her word, she is magically cleaned, the grime and dirt fading from Heather. The noble must be presentable after all.

Is everyone else ready? She asks still wain as she looks from person to person in the room.

[KillingAScarab]

Was ready to get off this boat after the first storm, mumbled the dwarf.

Markarn was thankful that his capabilities with incarnum were not limited to only his dwarven ancestors, or he would only be channeling a hundred generations of misery into bands around his feet. While another 'meld may have kept him less queasy, he found the cerulean sandals were the most reassuring thing aboard as the ship had tossed enough he worried he would need to walk on water or sink. He straightened his traveler's clothes, checked his armor in his bag, and hefted the haversack and his warhammer.

I'll be on the deck as soon as I can be. he said louder, and focused on those same sandals to quicken his footsteps.

1 point of essentia in the cerulean sandals to give +5 feet to speed.

[Malak'ai]

Sitting on his hammock, gently swaying while going through his prayer book, making little notes in the margins and occasionally swapping to a sheet of parchment to scribble something a bit longer, Neilathon seems to have retreated back into his own little world inside his own head until the shudder of the ship banging against the dock causes him to stab through the parchment, into his thigh. "Ow! Thhit!" he yells.

Looking up for a moment he notices Markarn picking up and settling his belongings as Heather asks if everyone was ready, "Thorry. Ready? Ready for what? Oh, ith it dinner time again? I really hope it'th not that thalt pork again. That thtuff tathtes worthe than my thithterts firtht attemptth at brewing a potion to harden oneth thkin." the tall (for an Elf) scholar exclaims, screwing his face up, his showdowy, not-fully-corpreal tongue sticking out.

"Ow! S%$t!" "Sorry. Ready? Ready for what? Oh, is it dinner time again? I really hope it's not that salt pork again. That stuff tastes worse than my sisters first attempts at brewing a potion to harden ones skin"

[Marlowe]

"Storm? FIRST storm?" Sandlock looks briefly perplexed, and then he or she seems to grasp something and his or her eyes go big and blue and unblinking. "Right. Those were Storms. That's just what storms are like. Well, if you're moving about, you might like to see Captain Burgundy on the quarterdeck."

He or she makes to leave, then sticks his or her head back in. "That's at the blunt end."

[Malak'ai]

"Tho no more thalt pork? That'th a relief."

"So no more salt pork? That's a relief."

[wkwkwkwk1]

"About damn time," Leshkin growls, sliding off the moldy bunk, and making a point of returning her clothes to a presentable state with a purple-trailing hand-wave. She retrieves her few possessions from under the covers, attaching them to her belt before slipping her black robe on top.

She struts out the cabin door and up the stairs, letting the thick fog whip across her face. She leans against the mast in an attempt not to slip and fall, and loses her gaze in the mist. "Heh. Those stained glass golems," she muses, not unlike a hungover recollecting their drunk adventures. "So pretty when they shatter," she looks at her own hand in approval. "Good job, honey. Last time I had this much fun, I made two deals with the devil. Heh."

Feeling her stomach rebel against the waves, she shuffles unsteadily towards the railing, and empties her stomach into the sea.

"Much better," she frowns.

[KillingAScarab]

Whatever souls of sailors might possibly laugh at Sandlock's joke, they weren't making their presence known to Markarn. If they had, he might not have needed the reminder about the quarterdeck.

After the comment about the pork, Markarn responded, Neilathon, my stomach will thank you not to mention food until we're off the boat. He tied his warhammer to his belt and looked to the mop bucket in the room before leaving. Good, it didn't need to be emptied.

As he left the cabin he called back, Heather, you have that letter?

Outside on the deck, he halted at the sight of Leshkin losing a meal, and tried to hold onto whatever was left in him. Maybe moving as fast as he could wasn't the best plan, yet.

[Malak'ai]

Taking his time to carefully replace his writing implements into their case, Neilathon then places them into one of the side pockets of his backpack, followed quickly by the sheet of parchment, hastely folded.

"Markarn, remind me thometime to rethearch a thpell that might releave one of the ravageth of thea voage on the humanoid form. I think it may be a boon to thouthandth." the elf says, following his companion out of the cabin.
Upon seeing Leshkin finishing her... expolsion he laughs and calls out Yeth lathth, that'th where the majority of my dinner ended up ath well!"

"Markarn, remind me sometime to research a spell that might releave one of the ravages of sea voage on the humanoid form. I think it may be a boon to thousands."
"Yes lass, that's where the majority of my dinner ended up as well"

[J-H]

Mari

"That's a storm he says. I don't much like him, and I don't think he cares for us. Still, a half-day's walk is not far." As they ascend to the deck, Mari pauses for a moment to cast a spell. "See what we can learn about this Neck-strand, and our route, please. Maybe the Captain knows someone...trustworthy."

Her cat-like krenshar follows her, climbing the ladder with relatively little difficulty, but squinting at the sudden daylight.


Detect Thoughts.
I'll be scanning the captain, and rude coat guy, depending on who's around and answering questions.

[Illven]

Heather winces at well at the sudden assault of daylight on her senses.

Yes, and since I have a copy, one of you should really hold the original, you know in case, heavens forbid I get caught in dragon fire. Heather points out.

[Marlowe]

The deck of the Jeanne DeClisson is a noisy, crowded tumult of scarred, tattooed, tight-panted and frilly shirted sailors engaged in the arcane and unholy rituals of rope and bits of machinery apparently required to get the hellishly complicated contraption that is a sailing vessel to do anything in a controlled fashion.

Captain Burgundy, a tall, hard-featured woman in a broad-brimmed hat and a blood-red long coat marked with the Three-Crucified-Gnomes (together with the motto "Who's Laughing Now?") device of the Free People's Socialist Democratic Tyranny of Debbie, is standing on the quarterdeck, shouting something arcane about lines (they need to be made fast, or something), then gives you a long, expressionless stare with inhuman golden eyes, and starts walking across the deck toward you shouting something about topsheets (they need to be tucked in, apparently).

From what you can see, as hard-driven rolls of mist drive past the ship, it is moving torward early evening. Neckstrand is a largish, untidy town of tall, timberframed buildings sprawled along the waterfront, its harbour enclosed by a rocky headland picked out with crude fortifications.

To the east, the only direction you can see open sea, a couple of tiny white specks can be made out on the gloomy horizon. To the west, beyond the loom of the headland, the sky is reddened with dusk and darkened with the oncoming storm. A finger of lighting flickers as you watch.

Welcome to the New Territories.

[wkwkwkwk1]

"Aye aye, cap'n..." Leshkin mutters, letting her gaze wander along the passing buildings. She looks for a vertical surface to lean against, but finds all of them assailed by sailors, so decides against it, and stands next to the others, waiting for the arrival of Burgundy.

"Hail, captain!" she salutes when Burgundy draws near. "Say, where's a lass to find a decent inn around town?"

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"What an adventure." Diego mutters to his companions. He easily steadies himself on shifting deck. He was absolutely furious at the notion of being dropped off early and was aiming to give the captain a piece of his considerable mind.


"I say! Captain! What is the meaning..." Diego starts to shout in anger. He narrowly dodges getting clotheslined by a rope a careless sailor was securing. He spun around on his heels to resume his lecture and noticed the terrifying storm and lightning on the horizon.


"Oh - umm - looks like its time to get off this ship. Quick as you like. " He says with a deep smile. He waves off his previous comments.


Diego's face takes on a more serious expression. "Surely there is a refund to be allotted - after all our passage wasn't booked for ..." He glanced over his shoulder at the wooden buildings.

"Poopsville? woodburg? - where ever this is. Say a gold each ?" He asked.

[Marlowe]

Burgundy gives Diego the sort of look people usually only see directed at them at the last moment of their lives, but her voice is even. "Ye' didn' pay fo' yer passage yerself, sir. Ye take wha' ye c'n ge'. This aren't a pretty ladies' pretty pleasure yach'. T' do yer bidding fo' a flash o' tin, a whisper o' silk, an' a promise ne'er kept."

She shifts her wait from one foot to the other was the ship rolls, and addresses Leshkin. "Do no' know abou' "decent", bu' there's a few no' foul. The Rogue's Hands. The Ripped Fishnet. The Troll's Guts. The Boarding Party.
The Keel Haul. Avoi' the Barrel Over; tha's gentlemen only; an' the Rum 'n Lash is fo' ladies an' gentlemen o' very specific tastes. Now; wan'ed to tell ye a couple o' things."

She steps closer, speaking quietly. "I' this town, I'd keep quie' 'bout working fo' the Big T. He aren't popular wit' those wha' run the place. Ye keep yer nose clean they'll likely be professional, bu' get i' trouble an' they find ou'...will no' help yer chances. Now-"

She takes on a slightly more relaxed tone. "I weren't tol' where yer going, bu' I know it's somewhere upcountry, o' the Great Lake o' Nightmare. I reckon ye were sent t' Kesselhaven t' take a riverboat" her lip gives a slight curl. "-up the Strangler to' Heartstop, then maybe Massacre or Boneyard, then ont' the Great Lake. Bu' I'm no' seeing ye lot being tha'...watery." She gives a long look around the group. "So ye might li' to' ask around for other ways o' getting where yer going, an' be precise about wha' tha' is. Clear?"

"Right then, we can shift the metalwork here at a decent prices, and Mandolin won't be saying no to those silks and cottons. But the wine I'd better hold onto 'til we get somewhere more appreciative. And I suppose I'll have to find someone to bribe to clean up that cabin to-WAIT,
IS SOMEONE-" And then the spell breaks off.
"Boat. Storm. Seriously. And I suppose when I said half-day to the east they think I'm talking about walking. Well, they'll be gone soon. And what's with the Goblins getting all stirred up? We were suppose to be at peac-HEY; WHAT-" Spell broken.

[Malak'ai]

Bending his neck a little to hear the captain over the din on deck Neilathon then shakes her head, "I'm thorry Captain, but could you pleathe repeat thothe directionth again? With all due rethpect, you're quite hard to underthtand."

"I'm sorry Captain, but could you please repeat those directions again? With all due respect, you're quite hard to understand."

[Marlowe]

Burgundy nods. "I recko' ye'll ha' no trouble finding a palliative fo' tha' affliction sir; bu' I'd keep quiet about contracting it fro' a farm animal." and then steps back. "Back o' course; ye coul' ge' t' Kesselhaven east along the coast road, skirting the Bog of Repugnance an' avoiding the dread Tomb o' Democracy. Or ye could head north t' Heartstop across the Dead Orc Mountains, 'cross Large Bloke With An Axe Pass, through the Forest o' Murderers-"

"They changed the name!" shouts a random sailor.

"-right. They changed the name. 'Cause one o' the Seven o' Spades killed all the murderers-"

"It were Pale Mary!" shouts a different random sailor.

"It wa' Pale Mary. Right. So it's the Forest Of The Dead now. Anyway, ye shoul' be safe either way a' long as ye don't encounter any danger." Burgundy finishes. "Anything else? Reckon we're all abou' t' ge' very busy."

[Malak'ai]

Affliction? Contracted from an animal? What on the Prime is she on about? ... Maybe she knows about the rash on the top of my foot caused by the flea bites? But how in the Abyss could she know about that?!

Note to self, get rash checked out, and ask around about the captain when we get to shore.

[J-H]

Mari

As the conversation seems to draw to a close, and as the captain seem surprised, Mari starts to look around, while resting her hand on her krenshar's back.


Spot at +1, Listen at +1, K: Local at +4

[Marlowe]

Burgundy looks around the party, a tad suspiciously. "I'm no landshark, bu' I'm tol'; ye really need a guide i' these parts; seek ou' Robert the Liar. Usually a' the Rogue's Hands". She turns away. "An' if that's really everything I've go' some anchors t' set before we ge' blown int' the Gulf o' Damnation."

[Illven]

Heather nods.

Right, wish we could have met under better circumstances. Shall we get going? The first she says to the captain, the second her comrades.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"Forrest of the dead ? Dead Orc Mountains? Bog of Repugnance ? No, These sound like terrible, terrible places." Diego mutters to himself. "Why doesn't our path every cross the 'Fields of No Worries' or the 'River of Wine'? 'The Grea Potato Plains'...'Muffin Mountain' ?" he asked no one in particular.

He looked over his companions briefly taking stock of the situation. "By the gods, what a rabble. Everyone is so short. There is literally no one to hide behind."

His eyes settled on the dwarf and smiled. "Perfect! He looks durable and more importantly, slow. Its easy to outrun a dwarf if being chased by a bear or what have you."


"Gentle folk - let's bid farewell to captain and crew." He flashed a wink and seductive smile at Sandlock. He reckoned it was a coin toss but he was a gambling man after all.


He stepped in line behind the dwarf he designated 'BearBait'. "Let us get to an inn, buy some wine and make plans." His suggestion more of a question then anything.

[Malak'ai]

"Oh, a bed that doethn't thway would be nice, and I wouldn't thay no to a decent cup of thomething" Neilathon exclaims, nodding to Diego, "I think I can thpare a few cointh for the firtht round."

"Oh, a bed that doesn't sway would be nice, and I wouldn't say no to a decent cup of something" "I think I can spare a few coins for the first round"

[J-H]

Mari

Mari follows the others down the gangplank. "This city doesn't look like a great place to stay, but a night with a bed that's not moving back and forth all the time would be welcome."

[KillingAScarab]

Well, Diego, you may not have gotten your gold, but cheer up. At least the inns Burgundy named sound decent... mostly. After the last week, Troll's Guts sounds like a pleasant place to sleep.

I wonder what Sandlock looks like with a beard.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego


"Troll guts? eww. And you thought they smelt bad on the outside." Diego says with a smile.


"Trolls.. now I've slew quite a few of those beasts in my day." Diego adds. He pokes the air as if he was stabbing some imaginary monster.



Bluff : [roll0]

Diego has never even seen a troll in his life.

[Illven]

Heather nods.

Yes, plus if we complete our objective too fast, our boss won't have time to restore our good names.... But we really out to go to the rogue's hands first. Heather remarks.

[wkwkwkwk1]

"Thanks for the advice, Captain. Safe travels and good wind!" she greets before turning to her mates. "So, I'm up for an inn. Good source of information and sleep. Gods, what I'd give just for sleeping in old hard ground."

"Next to a fireplace," she adds quickly, turning her hood to the wind.

[Marlowe]

Sandlock responds to Diego's wink with a cool, unblinking stare. Then turns away, draws a juicy-looking peach from his or her pocket, and takes a generous bite.

Somewhere between the end of the gangplank and the end of the wharf it occurs to you that a ship only one week out of port has no business being down to weevily buscuit and semi-liquid pork, and that there's a distinct possibility that you might have been trolled a little.

Neckstrand appears to be a town of wooden frame buildings and boardwalks, but although its layout is a little chaotic it is surprisingly clean. Occasionally you pass a piece of graffiti reading "MANDOLIN BURN IN HE~" ending a gruesome and fresh blood splatter but you're sure there has to be some innocent explanation. Shutters are slamming shut all over town as the sky darkens with the incoming storm. From somewhere up ahead you here a voice declaim loudly; "INNOCENT KITTEN!!! I WILL GET YOU DOWN FROM THIS TREE!!! LIKE A PALADIN!!!" followed by the sound of metal repeatedly striking wood and feline noises of protest.

Looking a different way, almost the first corner you come to reveals a sign.

THA ROGUES' HAND'S
BED, BOOZE, GRUB, COMPANY.
NAE PALADIN KEITH.
WIPE YER DAMNED FEET.

The skeletal remains of two human hands are nailed to the sign, one with a few shreds of black cloth still attached.

A tavern girl with a sour expression, a full skirt and a tight top, and an axe on her back is shrubbing away a stain from the boardwalk outside. From within the door you hear music and what might be singing.

[Illven]

Heather blushing at the attractively dressed woman, as she averts her gaze starts speaking in a few magic words.

Hoc autem minor est meum votum Heather chants her hand waving around in a circle.

Here, let me help. She pipes up to the woman.

[J-H]

Mari

Mari looks around at this very rough city, wondering why anyone chooses to stay and live here.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego


Within a minute of setting foot on dry land Diego got the weird sensation of movement, he had heard of 'land sickness' but had dismissed it as a joke. Apparently it was a real thing after all.


Diego looked up at the 'hands' nailed to the sign. "I guess I should have expected that." He was relieved they didn't go to the 'Troll guts' now. He began assessing the front of the building for climbing options and handholds. In the end, Diego abandoned the notion of possibly stealing the hands later tonight due to the nasty weather and likely hood of getting caught 'red handed' so to speak.



He looked down at the blood splattered on the boardwalk. "Looks like our kind of place." He lied.

[KillingAScarab]

To Diego, Markarn responds, Yes, it would seem they have some rather harsh views of thieves here.

After hearing the shout about a cat in a tree, Markarn says, A tree? Oh, finally land! Markarn does his best not to knock anyone over as he tries to rush from the boardwalk to solid earth, ready to kiss the first patch of it he sets foot upon.

[Marlowe]

[Malak'ai, this is officially Scarab's fault]

As Markarn rounds the next corner, he sees a small park of indifferent conifers between two of the towering wooden buildings. A tall man in full plate armour is hacking, somewhat less than effectively, at the base of one of the trees with a two handed sword while a small black kitten in one of the upper branches stares down with an expression of utter disbelief.

Several figures silhouetted in upper windows appear to be looking down at the scene. Most appear to be holding their hands to their foreheads as though the scene causes them physical pain.

The tall man is shouting; "I WILL LIBERATE THIS INNOCENT CREATURE FROM ITS DEPLORABLE PLIGHT!!! LIKE A PALADIN!!!"

[Malak'ai]

And here we have an example of one of Marlowe's NPC's from a little joke game that started with 4 players and ended up with finishing with just me after my Dwarven Fighter peed onto an army on Trogladites from halfway up a cliff face in the Underdark.... I hate this guy...................................

Following the others off the boat, Neil, yes, that's quicker and easier to say, stops abruptly, taking in the sight of this... Baffoon infront of him. Stepping forwards he says, "Excuthe me Thir, but I think you may be taking thith a little too far. You thee felineth are quite capable of exticating themthelveth from high placeth without the interference of uth... People."

"Excuse me Sir, but I think you may be taking this a little too far. You see felines are quite capable of exticating themselves from high places without the interference of us... People."

[Marlowe]

The large man continues hacking at the tree. "No!!! I DO NOT HAVE FOUR APPLES AND A PIECE OF STRING!!! I; PALADIN KEITH, MUST SUCCOUR THIS CREATURE!!! LIKE A PALADIN!!!"

And then he stops. His helm tilts to one side, and he turns to face Neil. "WAIT!!! ARE YOU ATTEMPTING TO DISTRACT A PALADIN, I PALADIN KEITH; IN HIS PALADIN DUTIES OF PALADINNESS THAT I, PALADIN KEITH; AM IN THE PALADINOUS PROCESS OF PRACTICING LIKE A PALADIN???"

The kitten jumps to another tree. Several shutters open as more townspeople lean out to watch the scene.

The tall man raises a hand at Neil. "DETECT EVIL!!! like a Paladin."

There's a bit of a buzz, and then he clasps a hand to his helmet.

"SO...MUCH...EVIL..." He raises his sword. "I MUST SMITE IT!!! LIKE A PALADIN!!!"

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn stopped short of kissing the ground as he finally felt more stable than he had in far too long. Unhinged treehackers tended to have that effect on him. Especially when they started to call things evil.

Er... Keith is it? Well met, I am also a champion of good and law. I'm afraid you are mistaken about my companion, here. Now, how about I help you get that cat out of the tree? Without the sword?

[Malak'ai]

"Thir, I would humbly beg that you that you ceathe and dethitht of what ever action you are contemplating.
I have not made an aggreththive move towardth you, and if I am remembering correctly on what I have read about the Orderth of the God'th Warriorth, one of which you have claimed to belong to, multiple timeth now, if you thtrike me, ethpecially uthing a divine ability granted to you by that which you therve, you thhall loothe thothe powerth and be deemed unfit for your dutieth by your patron." Neilathon continues calmly, looking up into the helmed face of the man before him.

"Sir, I would humbly beg that you that you cease and desist of what ever action you are contemplating.
I have not made an aggressive move towards you, and if I am remembering correctly on what I have read about the Orders of the God's Warriorth, one of which you have claimed to belong to, multiple times now, if you strike me, especially using a divine ability granted to you by that which you serve, you shall loose those powers and be deemed unfit for your duties by your patron."

[KillingAScarab]

Responding to Neilathon, They do? Wow, that seems unfair. I think it would take significantly more before the souls of the good and the lawful no longer favored me with their essence and turned into magic vestments by my will. You should listen to my companion, Keith. He reads about this stuff all the time. His name is Neilathon and I am Markarn.

[Marlowe]

As the confrontation escalates, some voices from the figures at the windows can be heard.

"Oh, bloody hell. That's torn it. They're trying to talk to him as though he was a person!"
"GIVE UP! If you makes friends with him; he'll just follow you around and YOU'll be blamed-"
"WHERE IN THE HELLS ARE THE GRIM MANDYS?"

Keith brings his two-hander up, ruddy in the dusky light, and declares "I'LL NOT LISTEN TO YOUR BLASPHEMOUS INTERPRETATION OF THE WORKS OF AYN RAND!!! I; PALADIN KEITH; WILL CHARGE LIKE A PALADIN!!!"

And then he charges Neil, sword raised to strike.

Fortunately, Steel Full Plate really slows people down a lot.

[Keith is "charging" Niel but is left 10' away. Party's turn. COMBAT!!!]

[Malak'ai]

Sighing, Neil lifts his hand before muttering a few words, his fingers twitching into positions that look like they would be painful if not for the fluid and practiced way in which they are made. Taking a step back to gain a little more distance between himself and this oaf.

Casting Ice Slick between Keith and myself, DC 16 Balance check. Also taking a 5' step back away from the metal plated moron.

[Marlowe]

Kieth staggers like a drunk as the boards beneath his feet turn cold and treacherous, but stays on his feet in a flat-footed fashion.

[KillingAScarab]

Well, this one doesn't seem too popular, Markarn muttered after hearing the people from the windows. And well-enough armored.

Markarn pulled out his shield from his haversack and pulled it on, his warhammer in the other hand.

1 move action to retrieve the dwarven buckler-axe from the handy haversack.
1 move action to don the shield.
Markarn's armor is still in the bag, so touch AC is accurate for now.

[wkwkwkwk1]

Leshkin backpedals slowly, and nonchalantly speaks an unintelligible sound, vaguely raising a hand towards the "paladin". The air rings with a fast-moving high-pitched whine.

Casting Baleful Utterance aimed at the Paladin's sword. DC 15 Will save vs. shattered sword. If the Will save fails, then DC 15 Fortitude save vs. 1 round dazed and 1 minute deafened.

[J-H]

Mari

Standing twenty feet beyond the others, Mari stares incredulously at the would-be paladin. It's Lilarcor all over again, big and strong and really foolish. I thought I'd left this behind.

She rolls her eyes, and then speaks a WORD. "Halt!"


Command, Will DC 16, targeted on Paladin Keith.
http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/command.htm

[Illven]

Heather will take away her magical aid of the tavern girl, to turn to the battle, waiting.

apparent armis. apparent armis. apparent armis.

She mutters to herself over and over.


If Keith passes the area of ice, Heather readys to cast mage armor on herself.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"What a fool" Diego says. It wasn't clear if he was talking about himself or the KittenRescuer. Likely a little of both. There seemed to be quite a few spells on their way to deal the threat, so Diego figured he would take a more 'wait and see' approach.

Diego draws his blade in a flourish. Then flourishes it again for a second time for good measure in case anyone missed it. He moves up in front of the elf, shielding him with his body. "Stand down ...ummm noble warrior." He says to the lumbering plate wearer.




Move Action : Move in front of Neil and completely interpose himself between Neil and the 'charge'

Standard action : Total Defense Action, AC = 22 (unable to make AoO)


Note: Not sure if this puts him on the ice or not :

Swift action: Activate belt to take 10 on balance check

Balance check if needed for the ice: 25

[Marlowe]

Keith's sword abruptly flies to pieces with a sound like the opening chord of a really bad horror movie soundtrack, sending little bits of metal pattering against his armour. He staggers; appears to try to snap to attention on a sickly angle, shouts; "HERE I STAND!!! LIKE A PALA-" and then falls on his back, his helmet hitting the boards with a resounding CLANG.

"-DIN!!!".

The voices from the windows above you continue their chatter.

"Now, that's why I put ranks into Balance, Lois-"
"Looks like Keith's on form today."
"He's been worse. Remember that time he jumped into a well to rescue a duck?"
"You mean yesterday? Why'd we pull him out anyway?"
"Too fat to drink around. Anyway; you's down there. Best get moving. The Grim Mandys are on their way and they've got Redstrings and the Pianist!"
"Lois, I don't think they know who those people are-"
"Well, they might not have to if they get moving."

"OY!" says a voice from behind you. The tavern girl, standing on the boardwalk, is frantically beckoning you back toward the door of the Rogue's Hands, about a block away. "Take the hint!"

Somewhere close in the evening air you hear a sinister little melody on a lute. Coming slowly closer.

The black kitten drops down from the tree and runs into the night.

[J-H]

Mari

Mari listens to the tone of their voices. "Let's go inside. Now."

Putting actions to words, she moves inside at a good speed, stepping to the side once she's through the door.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego


"The Grim Mandy? Redstrings ? Pianist ? Sounds like an evil cover band." Diego whispers to his companions.


Diego sheathes his sword also with a flourish. He looks left and right and then bravely runs away.



Runs for cover to the Inn

[KillingAScarab]

Satisfied that the cat is safe, but unsatisfied by that "paladin," Markarn takes the hint and runs towards the inn.

To Leshkin and Mari he says, Nice work, you two.

To Diego and Nielathon, Didn't get any cuts from that sword flying apart, did you?

[Illven]

Heather starts rushing into the tavern, flashing the tavern girl in question a warm smile.

Wish I prepared expeditious retreat this morning. She comments.

[Malak'ai]

Shaking his head as he watches the iron moron fall, Neil can't but help feel sorry for the wooden boards of the boardwalk, they did nothing to be treated that way. Just like in many other situations, the innocent get hurt because of the stupid.

As his companions make their way towards the Inn, he follows, answering Markarn, "No, I remain unharmed. Though friend Diego did interpothe himthelf between the oaf and mythelf, tho it may be withe to check to thee if he thuffered any injury."

"No, I remain unharmed. Though friend Diego did interpose himself between the oaf and myself, so it may be wise to check to see if he suffered any injury."

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"Nay, Tis but a scratch." Diego flicks an errant metal fragment off his chest. "Well, not even a scratch really." He yawns to feint boredom. "While I was ready to gut him like fish, I somehow feel, the fight ended in the best way possible." He thinks for a moment. "And no shrines defiled this time. Always a plus."

[Marlowe]

The tavern girl gives Heather a quick wink in response, then steps through the doorway after you and closes the door firmly. From outside, you can hear the echoes of storm-shutters banging shut.

Inside, the Rogues Hands is roomy and firelit and warm. At one table, a large group of colourfully assorted scum and villainy are inexpertly singing that old Hextarite hymn "We are impaling the unworthy upon stakes sharp and splintery", much to the annoyance of the two experienced-looking girls on the little stage, who are plainly performing a lute and flute rendition of the plainly MUCH more melodic although superficially similar "The girl with the hungry knives."

At a brightly lit solo table, a handsome man with a green cloak and a grey blond beard is quietly reading a dog-eared copy of "Rogues I have killed."

At a table just to the right of entrance, three extremely obvious ladies of the night are busy stripping and cleaning their light crossbows. The redhead (there's always one) blows Heather a kiss as she moves past.

There's others. But they lurk in shadowy corners or in curtained booths. thus politely saving the DM some largely pointless description.

An imposing woman wearing what amounts to a whale-bone golem and with forearms bigger than Diego's neck turns to you as you enter, looks you over, and says. "Group table?"

[KillingAScarab]

Remembering the sign for the Rogue's Hands, Markarn wiped his boots/magic sandals before entering.

Thinking back to what Captain Burgundy had said, he turned to Diego and said, Let's ah... let's leave that behind us. Lower, Markarn spoke, Don't know what the locals know 'bout that.

To their host Markarn responded, Yes, if you have one for six, I think that will do.

[Marlowe]

The woman guides you toward a robust table like the deck of a ship, corsets creaking and her assorted ironmongery clinking. "The "All-ye-can-eat-and-drink-of-what-we-got" Special is four silvers a person." she says slowly and clearly. "Ye want rooms? I'm hoping my single rooms will be busy tonight--" a glare at the table with the crossbow ladies. "-Assuming some people can get off their behinds and start using them."

"Shut UP, Mom!" says the darker-haired lady of the night, test-firing her weapon with a CLACK.

"But I can let ye have a ten-bed barracks with fireplace and closet for yerselfs for a flat five gold." continues the imposing woman. "That suit yers?"

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn remembers to take the shield off his arm and put it into his bag, before he pulls out 8 gold pieces.

To the host he says, I can cover the barracks and the meal. Keep the change, but... what's with the crossbows? He hopes to get the answer before handing over the payment, shuffling it around a little.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego


Diego hummed along to the chorus of the music. He wasn't too familiar with the words so he mostly mumble-sang.

"Stab the non-believers! Enslave their children! stab! stab! stab! fight in the fields! ow! ow! my eye!"


"How much for a single room?" He asked. "Wait, how much for a single room and DOUBLE occupancy." He motioned his head towards the dangerous trio by the door. "Wait, wait" he held up his hand. "How much for a single room and Quadruple occupancy ?" he preened one of his sideburns and smiled at the ladies across the room.

[Marlowe]

The landlady gives Markarn a bland look. "Ye don't expect them to be proficient in Longbows, now; do ye?" Then turns her eyes to Diego. "Two gold for a single room. Three gold for Ada, three gold for Bella, and twenty-four silvers for Charlotte, discount 'cause she likes to sharpen her knives in bed an' it tends to freak people out. Any medical issues ensue an' I talk to Mandolin about ye."

She turns away, then turns back. "But ye talk to them yerself. An' THEY say yes or no. An' be careful ye don't have eyes bigger than yer...ambition."

Of the three ladies in question, the blonde one is giggling, the black-haired one is apparently attempting to strike a langorous pose, and the redhead has put down her crossbow and is now polishing a rather serious-looking poniard with a scrimshaw hilt.

Meanwhile, it turns out that the "All-you can-eat-and-drink-of-what-we-have" Special consists of a hot, thick, seafood stew on rye bread trenchers, a plate of green apples, a brazier-and-pan thing on which you're supposed to fry up your own thinly-sliced mutton and pickled cabbage, and large jugs of cider and a dark brown ale. That tavern girl with the axe works FAST.

[Malak'ai]

"Thank you very much Markarn, remind me that our next thtay at an inn ith on me" Neil says before turning the Innkeeper and giving her a slight bow, hands pressed together in front of his chest.

On hearing Diego's inquiries, the Elf tilts his head before looking over at the taller man, "Wouldn't it be quite difficult to thleep in a bed with four occupentth? I would think with the businethth we're on, you'd want a good nightth retht."

]"Thank you very much Markarn, remind me that our next stay at an inn is on me"
"Wouldn't it be quite difficult to sleep in a bed with four occupents? I would think with the business we're on, you'd want a good nights rest."

Also just a dirty little fact; the code for the dark grey colour I use is "696969" :smalltongue:

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn waved off Neilathon. If you can come up with that spell to keep our stomachs on the sea, I will gladly pay for ten of your inn stays. Besides, can't take it with you when you die, and a suspicious number of the locals are bearing arms when they aren't wandering far and wide.

Markarn turned to Heather. Which reminds me. What was that business about making a copy in case you were consumed by dragon fire? That seemed awfully specific. Did you see something, diviner?

Markarn began to sip slowly at the dark ale.

[Illven]

Heather who had been ogling the three girls with a blush on her cheeks shakes her head upon being talked to directly.

Starting to chow down quickly for a moment to allow her thoughts to process, she eventually recalled why she was talked to.

Nothing specific. I was just worried about the possibility and went for the option that would paint in image in everyone's mind. You know?
Be prepared for all eventualities, a ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Heather replied clearly nervous.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego weighed his options and decided to hold off for now. There was likely some things to get straight for tomorrow. Maybe even a plan.


Diego artfully skewered a piece of meat and put it in the cooking vessel. " Guessing Mandolin is some sort of authority around here. " He leans in towards the table. "Legal or otherwise. Best to be on our best behavior till we are on the road. Which I think we should do post-haste"


He eyed the door with mild paranoia as if a troupe of goblins would come bursting in any moment. He barely sipped his cider.

[KillingAScarab]

To Heather, Markarn said, Well, best give that over to someone before the night's festivities. How about Neilathon? He's an elf of letters, what's one more?

Responding to Diego, Think we should look for that guide Burgundy recommended now, or first thing tomorrow?

[Malak'ai]

Still pondering the puzzle he queried Diego about, Neil sits there, head very slightly tilted, gazing a little off to the side though seeing nothing, his eyes appear just slightly glazed; a sight you've seen before when he gets lost in his own thoughts, his right elbow resting on the table, his hand which contains one of the apples half way to his mouth.

Upon hearing his name he snaps his head round, looking right at Diego, a look of almost disgust with a tinge of surprise on his face. In a low voice he hisses out slightly, "Friend Diego. I have been thinking about what I athked you jutht a few momentth ago, and I could come up with only two tholutionth for why you'd want thothe three woman to accompany you to bed.
The firtht, motht logical would be for one to thing you a lullaby while the otherth eathed your acheth and painth and helped you with certain beauty tathkth you cannot manage on your own. The liketh of rubbing your tired feet or giving your hair a good trim."
He pauses, then lowers his voice just a little, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks, "The only other tholution, which I'm thure a man of your pedigree whould not have been inthinuating, wath that you were withhing to participate in... Phythical intermacy with them For coin no lethth."

"Friend Diego. I have been thinking about what I asked you just a few moments ago, and I could come up with only two solutions for why you'd want those three woman to accompany you to bed.
The first, most logical would be for one to sing you a lullaby while the others eased your aches and pains and helped you with certain beauty tasks you cannot manage on your own. The likes of rubbing your tired feet or giving your hair a good trim."
"The only other solution, which I'm sure a man of your pedigree whould not have been insinuating, was that you were wishing to participate in... Physical intermacy with them. For coin no less"

Now I'm thinking I should have given Neilathon something like shadowy eyes instead of a tongue... Why do I torture myself like this? :smalltongue:

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"Neil, you seem to be excessively 'ruminating' on my room situations. " Diego says mildly worried. Diego switches to the elegant Elvish language for a moment.



"While I appreciate your attention. I really do and I'm flattered. Please stop thinking about what goes on in my bed chambers. Your paladin is bashing the wrong tree to get this pussycat. So to speak. Everlasting regards and salutations to thine dead ancestors."


He wasn't sure if he nailed the formal 'regard' towards the end. Elvish was tricky for humans after their 3rd cider.


Diego notices his mutton is done. He grabs at the skewer and thrusts the burning meat into his mouth. "Oooh - so good." He pulls it out after a moment. "I can't take all this in one go. So much meat." His chest heaves as he catches his breath eyeing the skewer up and down. He plunges the hot meat back in his mouth. He wipes at his chin as some greasy liquid slipped down his chin. "This meat is totally filling me up. I needed this."

"Umm, I think we should maybe try to find this guide tonight if we have nothing more to discuss amongst ourselves."

[Marlowe]

The singing at the other table gets muddled and dissolves into laughter as a lot of the singers mix up the song with that Hieronian chestnut "We are smiting the unrighteous with our shiny, shiny, swords". Which to be fair has the exact same tune.

As the musicians retune and Diego stops speaking; you overhear a snatch of conversation.

"-and then I snicked off his arms, threw him to the sharks and laughed at his screams." a pleasant-looking, freckle-faced young swordswoman in a quite fetching lace bonnet is saying.
"Wait a minute! Two years ago? Off the Flayer Coast? Wart on his nose? That was my Dad!" says a massive Half-Orc.
"Oh?" says the swordswoman, mug of cider half-raised to her mouth. "Whoops?"
"Don't worry about it. Now I can forget about getting revenge for what he did to Mum and maybe take up embroidery."
"I hear that's all the rage right now" says a young necromancer, touching up her mascara with a handmirror.
"So I heard, from a colleague back in the Old Country-" says a amiable-looking young man in black and red clerics robes covered in skulls, "-that the reason the Goblins are so stirred up is that some pack of morons murdered their ambassador! In the Temple of Lirr, no less!"
"Wow. Those guys are deader than the chain mail bikini-"
"And I also heard they took ship out this way! They should be due in Kesselhaven maybe tomorrow,
maybe in a few days what with this storm-"
"That place is going to be crawling with hunters then. Poor dumb dead gits."
"Pity we can't make it. After this storm the coast road's going to be washed out for a week. And with the Goblins out there we won't be able to take ship until we can put a proper convoy together-"
"I have a Zombie Hydra" says the Necromancer. "I can take three of you."
"Ooo! That does suggest a plan-"

And then the musicians strike up that old ballad "Night of the Gazebo" and you miss the rest.

EDIT: Diego swordsaged me.

[Illven]

Heather walks over. She was a formally trained wizard. She could totally tell who necromancers were.

They were the ones in total goth makeup... Unless they were an illusionist disguised as a necromancer.

Either way!

Spell buddies. Heather interposed herself between the necromancer and whoever she was sitting next. She heard about their tales of her actions, but they didn't know who she was.

Over the duclet tones of night of the gazebo she smiled.

I'm a wizard too! But I never studied necromancy, what's that like!? And what schools did you never study? She asked only barely being distracted by the swordswoman, but never actually handing anyone else the original note, or copy.

[Marlowe]

The necromancer turns to Heather with a raised eyebrow. The make-up doesn't quite cover up the ravages that the young woman's career have made on a once pretty face, but it does make it look like more of a fashion statement than a condition.

"Specks? Good to see you! No seriously, who ARE you? And I'm sorry I'm not a Wizard. I'm an Induced Spontaneous Black Channeler. It's got it's points, but it means I spent a lot of my teenage years floating naked in jars having assorted unholy rituals performed on my body to alter the workings of my very life force. Very invasive.
I don't recommend it. Stick to your books. So; you. Who are you?"

[Malak'ai]

Neilathon looks shocked at Diego's words, his mouth stuttering open and closed wordlessly for a moment before getting a grip on his vocalcords again. His words coming out in his mather tongue of Elvish, slightly more cultured than Diego's attempt.
"I can aththure you thir, that ith certainly not what I was inthinuating! I am an Elf of the Mind. I do not theek the dirty, thweaty," he shudders slightly before continuing, "Mathhing together of the flethh."

Returning to the common language, "Though there ith one thing I can never find mythelf thaying no to. Ahh for the pleathure of having my head maththaged while being engroththed in a good book." Tapping his temple so there is no confusion in what he is meaning.

Finally taking a bite of the apple he's been holding since he sat down he finishes, "And jutht for future reference, that ith the cuthtomary fairwell of my peopleth lethth... Civilithed couthinth."

Finishing his bite of apple, Neil's eyes follow Heather as she walks over to the crowded table across the room, "Oh, where'th thhe off to thith time?"


"I can assure you sir, that is certainly not what I was insinuating! I am an Elf of the Mind. I do not seek the dirty, sweaty,"
"Mashing together of the flesh."
"Though there is one thing I can never find myself saying no to. Ahh for the pleasure of having my head massaged while being engrossed in a good book."
"And just for future reference, that is the customary fairwell of my peoples less... Civilised cousins."
"Oh, where's she off to this time?"

[Illven]

The necromancer turns to Heather with a raised eyebrow. The make-up doesn't quite cover up the ravages that the young woman's career have made on a once pretty face, but it does make it look like more of a fashion statement than a condition.

"Specks? Good to see you! No seriously, who ARE you? And I'm sorry I'm not a Wizard. I'm an Induced Spontaneous Black Channeler. It's got it's points, but it means I spent a lot of my teenage years floating naked in jars having assorted unholy rituals performed on my body to alter the workings of my very life force. Very invasive.
I don't recommend it. Stick to your books. So; you. Who are you?"

Oh! A dread necromancer! I've never met one in real life! Heather said brightly trying to look for a chair to sit down in.

I've heard that you can only make dread necromancers consistently with really young children, by exposing them to powerful nearby negative energy. It's thought that the child's brain is better able to adapt to the influx of negative energy, and that adults rarely possess the adaptability to take the powers of a dread necromancer. What are your thoughts on that? Were you part of a class? How many other dread necromancers do you know?

[Marlowe]

Things seem to go a bit quiet. The amiable young man and the swordswoman are not-casually leaning back, innocently looking over your group's table. The Half-Orcette-now seen from the front she's quite obviously a woman-is glaring at Heather with seething black eyes.

The necromancer's black lips curl back, revealing a gleam of teeth. Her eyes don't blink at all. "Young Scholar. Around here manners are based around a certain give and take," she says.

"I believe I answered your question fairly. Now answer mine: who are you?"

[Illven]

Oh. My apologies. Heather comments blushing as she shrunk back abit in shyness.

I'm Heather. I'm a diviner that recently finished her apprenticeship at Covlington academy. Heather continues. Is there um... anything else you want to know? Heather questioned.

[Marlowe]

"Covlington" says the gothy young lady tonelessly. "Heather"

There's a pause, and then she speaks a little more animatedly. "Well, Specks. In answer to one of your question; anyone with innate magical potential can practice Dread Necromancy. It is not fundamental different from Sorcery, or Warlockery, or even Bardery. However it's a bit chancy and dangerous without being Functionally Negatively Vital. Anyone can be Non-Functionally Negatively Vital, it just means dead. And being dead it's extremely hard to practice anything. So the trick is to condition someone to be Negatively Vital while still having them able to walk, talk,
drink, and chase boys and for THAT; yes it helps to start someone young."

[Illven]

"Covlington" says the gothy young lady tonelessly. "Heather"

There's a pause, and then she speaks a little more animatedly. "Well, Specks. In answer to one of your question; anyone with innate magical potential can practice Dread Necromancy. It is not fundamental different from Sorcery, or Warlockery, or even Bardery. However it's a bit chancy and dangerous without being Functionally Negatively Vital. Anyone can be Non-Functionally Negatively Vital, it just means dead. And being dead it's extremely hard to practice anything. So the trick is to condition someone to be Negatively Vital while still having them able to walk, talk,
drink, and chase boys and for THAT; yes it helps to start someone young."

Heather takes out some parchment to copy this all down.

But... hmm. She says rising the edge of the feather quill to her lips. I thought anyone could learn bardery....
It's just like anything else in that some people don't have the talent for music... Like you know sword fighting.... Ha. ha. ha Heather added the last part dark in tone.

[Marlowe]

"Heh". All her teeth are showing now. "Heh. Heh. Heh. Anyone can learn Bardery? I take it you never read "He Had It Coming: The Sordid Career and Unspeakable Fate of Veren". Well, don't. The first half's maddening and the second-half's all torture porn-"

"Trust me though, he did have it coming." pipes up the Swordswoman.

"-you knew him. Right. Anyway, Specks, if you're suggesting that Bardery is easier than those other things, well. True. In the sense that it's easier to be a terrible Bard and still function as one than it is to be terrible Sorceror or whatnot. Being a good Bard, on the other hand, requires a lot of different sorts of moxie I couldn't attempt to summon so I'm not going to throw stones at the cat-gut commandos."

[Illven]

What did he do? Heather pipes up before wincing. I probably don't want to know. She realizes.

I thought all it took to be a good bard was to be attractive, and flirt with anything of your preferred genders. Heather pipes up.

[Marlowe]

The necromancer stares for a short moment, then leans forward into Heather's space. Still grinning. "You know what's attractive to everyone; Specks? Dignity. Power. Chicks or Sticks, those'll get you a lot further with either than a pretty face and good teeth."

She leans back. "Although good teeth don't hurt. You're new in town." It wasn't a question. "What brings you and yours to Neckstrand, the city that sleeps with it's eyes open?"

[Illven]

The necromancer stares for a short moment, then leans forward into Heather's space. Still grinning. "You know what's attractive to everyone; Specks? Dignity. Power. Chicks or Sticks, those'll get you a lot further with either than a pretty face and good teeth."

She leans back. "Although good teeth don't hurt. You're new in town." It wasn't a question. "What brings you and yours to Neckstrand, the city that sleeps with it's eyes open?"

Heather leans back shyly.

We got kinda pinched in. Captain didn't want to go any further with all the storms and danger about. Heather admits.

What brings you and yours to Neckstrand? Magical study? Or something more mundane? Heather asks directing this towards all the females in the group.

[Marlowe]

"Jobs to see. People to do. Favours to collect." the Swordswoman cuts in brightly, standing up in a glory of golden hair, green shirt awash with snowy lace, gleaming corsetry, striped breeches and high boots. She's quite a bit taller than she looked sitting down. "Sorry, we don't live by telling everyone and everyone what and who we've done, precisely.

"Captain put in? That's Burgundy if'n I don't miss my tell. I know the Jeanne DeClisson when I see her, so, if'n you don't mind me asking; where were you going?"

[Malak'ai]

Hoping to back his companion up a little and divert some of the eyes away from her, Neil places his half eaten apple down, stands and makes his way over, "Heather, if you dawdle over here too much longer, there ithn't going to be any food left for you." he says, tapping Heather on the shoulder.
Looking over at the 'Swordswoman' he smiles and makes the same little bow that he made to the Innkeeper, including with his hands pressed together in front of his chest, "I applogithe if thhe inturrupted you. Thometimes thcholars like uth tend to forget bathic thocial nicetieth when we get a thniff of knowledge we have not heard before.
My name ith Neilathon. Thcholar, rethearcher and general collector of factth and learning. My fellowth and I have been travelling for a while and hope to get a night of quiet retht before we go on our way. I had heard that there are a number of Templeth in Heartthtop that may be dedicated to Deitieth that are unheard of in the Old Country and having a thomewhat paththing knowledge of the divine beingth, I would immenthely like to make my way there to learn what I can before returning home. Though with the thtorm frontth coming in, I'm under the aththumption that travel via the uthual route of thkimming the coast to Keththelhaven and voaging up The Thtrangler theems to be off the table, tho to thay.
Now I have heard that the treck along the coatht can be quite dangerouth due to the The Boggy Brotherhood and that paththage up through the mountainth ith as treacherouth as getting a thhave from a drunken, blind barber with a nerve affliction. Tho if we get the chance to talk again, mayhapth you could give uth an idea of where to find thomeone who can help uth in our journey.

Now, ath I thtated to my friend jutht a moment ago, our dinner is diththapearing quite rapidly without uth even being there to eat it. I bid you all a pleathent evening" He bows again, a slight lower this time before motioning to Heather, "Come along Heather, you've been complaining all day about wanting thomething that at leatht rethembeth food to eat, and if you don't hurry what ith left will all be gone."

"Heather, if you dawdle over here too much longer, there isn't going to be any food left for you."
"I applogise if she inturrupted you. Sometimes scholars like us tend to forget basic social niceties when we get a sniff of knowledge we have not heard before.
My name is Neilathon. Scholar, researcher and general collector of facts and learning. My fellows and I have been travelling for a while and hope to get a night of quiet rest before we go on our way. I had heard that there are a number of Temples in Heartstop that may be dedicated to Deities that are unheard of in the Old Country and having a somewhat passing knowledge of the divine beings, I would immensely like to make my way there to learn what I can before returning home. Though with the storm fronts coming in, I'm under the assumption that travel via the usual route of skimming the coast to Kesselhaven and voaging up The Strangler seems to be off the table, so to say.
Now I have heard that the treck along the coast can be quite dangerous due to the The Boggy Brotherhood and that passage up through the mountains is as treacherous as getting a shave from a drunken, blind barber with a nerve affliction. So if we get the chance to talk again, mayhaps you could give us an idea of where to find someone who can help us in our journey.

Now, as I stated to my friend just a moment ago, our dinner is dissapearing quite rapidly without us even being there to eat it. I bid you all a pleasent evening"
"Come along Heather, you've been complaining all day about wanting something at least resembles food to eat, if you don't hurry what is left will all be gone."

Hoping that all out rambling will distract them enough to think we're just a bunch of randoms and beneath their notice. In the nicest way I can manage.

Diplo: [roll0]

Hmmm... not too bad.

[Marlowe]

The others at the table exchange glances. Then they exchange glances again.

"I'm sorry, what did you say about the works of Ian MacDonald?" says the Necromancer.
"I'm pretty sure my ass does NOT look fat in these pants! I mean, I'm pretty good about that sort of thing-" says the Swordswoman.
"I'm not entirely sure what the accuracy of the Severhold-forged rapier as opposed to Xingstadt-type has to do with anything-" says the amiable young man.

The Half-Orc slams her fist down. "Can't you understand basic speech impediment? He's asking where to find Robert the Liar". And then she points a thumb at a brightly lit solo table, where a handsome man with a green cloak and a grey blond beard is quietly reading a dog-eared copy of "Rogues I have killed."

"He's over there."

[Malak'ai]

"Thank you very much, and once again, have a pleathant evening."

"Thank you very much, and once again, have a pleasant evening."

[Illven]

Heather as she gets up, hears herself say to the swordswoman. Oh no, no. Trust me you look totally amazing! She starts before blushing beet red, and locking her lips tight.

[KillingAScarab]

After hearing the bits about bounty hunters heading to Kesselhaven, Markarn did his best to not look over at the other table. It was a good thing he no longer felt fear to a great degree when he saw Heather head straight over there, but he did still have to try to conceal his surprise behind his mug.

Mari, he said, you're good with curses. Can you tell if Heather is under one?

He tried to focus on "Night of the Gazebo." He couldn't help but look over when the half-orc slammed the table and pointed out Robert the Liar across the room.

I suppose that problem is solved, though I wonder if his rates have gone up.

[J-H]

Mari

"It's called "cabin fever" - spend long enough cooped up in a small space and you make...bad choices. We should probably wait a little
while before approaching him."

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn chuckled a bit at Mari's response. You would never see a dwarf making bad choices after being in cramped surroundings.

[J-H]

Mari
"It's more the lack of variety, like being stuck in a small cabin with your whole family for two weeks during a bad blizzard."

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"Ah." Diego says quietly at Mari. "Hence all the Dwarven inbreeding..."

[Marlowe]

The conversation at the Hunter's table resumes in a more subdued manner. Now and then there's a sidelong glance from the necromancer, or the Cleric, or the Swordswoman over to your table. They've plainly noticed you now, and will remember.

From outside, the howling of the storm builds in intensity, becoming audible over the music as the musicians seque smoothly into that up-and-coming classic "The Devil went down to complain". Now and then there's a roll of thunder, and once the lanterns start swinging.

The girl with the Axe keeps shooting back and forth between the tables and the kitchens. Replacing your stewpot, stacking new trenchers, topping up the jugs and demonstrating, with her perpetual expression of clenched-teeth annoyance, how to lay out the sliced mutton and the cabbage on the hot plate so that the juices from the one nicely roast the other.

The redheaded young Lady of Gentleman's Convenience has taken the time to slaunter over to the handsome man's table and spend a few minutes chatting to him quietly, leaning over his table in a way scarcely indicative of much modesty. As she slinks back the serving girl grabs her by the shoulder.

"Charlotte", murmurs the serving girl. "You know he's gay, don't you."

"Oh, it's all right. I go both ways" smiles the other. The servant girl looks briefly cross-eyed and hisses; "That's not how it WORKS.".

The redhead giggles away back to her own the table. The serving girl can be heard to mutter; "I just wish they'd order something" as she strides back toward the kitchens.

The storm underscores all sound now. The musicians, as if to compensate, switch into a spirited rendition of "Morally ambiguous services performed at reasonable rates."

[Illven]

Heather giggles and blushes as Charlotte mentioned going both ways, taking it as hope for the night.

So um... Sorry about that, actually. She comments to the rest of the group twiddling her fingers and looking down.

[wkwkwkwk1]

Seeming to drift back from the clouds, Leshkin interjects, "So, should we talk to this Rob before or after the night? A lad's gonna need some decent sleep. That, and he might have gotten a new job by the morrow. So, what say you?"

[Malak'ai]

"I think it would be prudent to thpeak to him when we have frethh headth, and have had a chance to clean up a little. Although there ith nothing wrong with letting him know that we are interethted in dithcuththing a poththible contract ahead of time." Neilathon says, returning to his seat and beginning to actually take part in the food.

"I think it would be prudent to speak to him when we have fresh heads, and have had a chance to clean up a little. Although there is nothing wrong with letting him know that we are interested in discussing a possible contract ahead of time."

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn looked a little relieved once Heather and Neilathon were back at the table, though he said nothing of it.

We could use the room we rented to freshen up before speaking to Robert. If we're leaving any bags there, we might want one of us to stay in to watch them. I'm not much for negotiating, so I could do it. Markarn decided to leave out the part about wanting to sleep in his armor tonight.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego nodded at Leshkin and Neilathon. "Well, I got rained on today, so that counts as cleaned up right ? " He giggles as he leaves the table.


Diego saunters causally over to center table. "Excuse me? Would it be possible for me to buy you a drink ?" He flashes a smile at Robert.

[Marlowe]

The handsome man looks up at Diego, his smile as bright as the lies of Angels. "Why no!"; he says. "It's not possible in the slightest! Everyone knows there's been no potables in this town since the invasion of the Expressionist Zombies! Why, we've all died of thirst years ago!"

Between a pause in the music and a lull in the conversation and the underlying tremble of the storm, you catch a faint glugglugglug as Bella and Charlotte have a competition on who can get rid of a pint of cider the fastest.

"But sit down anyway, whoever you are; and tell me why Whatsername-with-the-tusks is absolutely not jerking thumbs in my general direction." There's three free chairs at his table. He pulls one aside with a foot, and with a gesture and a nod of the nod, invites Diego to sit down.

The door to the outside slams open, and the howl of the storm keens in your ears. Something that looks like a drowned rat in a heavy cloak slinks in, slams the door behind it, and casts its hood off to reveal a young woman who looks a bit Goblin around the ears.

The three ladies of the evening at the table near the door are on their feet; crossbows pointed. "Zoe!", growls Charlotte; the redheaded one. "Our turf!"

"It's my day off!", says the newcomer.

"You want us to shoot you? We'll shoot you in the leg. You don't need to be able to stand up to do your job" growls Bella, the black-haired one.

The newcomer just smiles and waggles a finger. "Day. Off."

Ada, Bella, and Charlotte lower their weapons and sink back to their seats, with an impressive display of curled lips, hair-flips, and various other gestures of indifference. "...frelling rules!" you hear Bella mutter.

The newcomer-Zoe, apparently-looks around the place, looks briefly at the Hunter's table, finds herself meeting a set-jawed cold-eyed smile from the Swordswoman, thinks better of it, and sits down at your groups table.

"All you can eat o' what they got, is it?" she sets a stack of silvers on the table. "I'm in. You're new."

She pours herself an ale, drains it. Pours herself another. "You, you that lot what messed with Keith? Clever that. You don't know much. What else don't you know?"

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn looked at this "Zoe" in surprise, recovering sometime around the second ale and being called ignorant. Why they, he thumbed over to the trio, want to point weapons at you, for one. How likely they are to point them at you again, and us, for another. But, let's start with what we should call you other than "soaked." Something else came to mind, but Markarn kept it to himself and opted for dwarven politeness, which meant looking grumpy.

[Marlowe]

The newcomer darts dark eyes at Markarn. "Those three are annoyed with me 'cause I'm with the Boarding Party. And it's m' day off, so I don't have to be there-" She grabs a fresh trencher and fills it with stew. "-and they're not likely to do it again 'cause Mandolin would get annoyed-you know, they used to have a male whore in this place only he started an "apprenticeship program" among the local urchins and Mandolin found out; now you might find bits of him if you checked the right middens-"

"You won't find anything", says Ada, the blonde one at the other table, staring off into a darkness that isn't there. "The Pianist got put onto him."

"-So you won't" says the newcomer, without a blink. "Not without a real good net. Anyway. My name is Zoe. And I know better than to have anything to do with Paladin Keith, an' I'm hungry.". And then she proceeds to devour half her stew in a couple of spoonfuls, and pours out more.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego sits down, momentarily distracted by the goblin-like newcomer. "Expressionist Zombies? We dealt with a similar issue with some nihilistic gnomes notably notorious for negligent necromancy. Very inconvenient"

He gave Robert a smile. "I assume you are Robert. My name is Diego. We are new to these parts and its come to our attention you may be able to guide to where we need to go."

"We would be willing to pay you of course. While I don't think we are in a rush per se, I get the impression the longer we remain here, the more trouble my companions are likely to get in."


Diego was suddenly filled with a deep doubt about the direction the conversation could likely take. If Robert said 'yes', was he actually lying? If he said 'turn east', could that be trusted ? Given Diego's proclivity to avoiding the truth himself, he wondered if they were going to be able to communicate at all. He could imagine not-not-hiring Robert to lead them to the wrong-wrong city in the right-wrong direction. After a few moments, it again occurred to him that if they didn't have confidence where they were going it was hard for anyone hunting them to find them too. Philosophically, perhaps Diego should mislead Robert about where they were going or wait, tell the truth.

Diego sipped his ale. He figured he would play it by ear, maybe Robert would say 'yes' and they wouldn't be able to hire him afterall.




Bluff: [roll0]

Diego lied about the gnome situation obviously.

[Marlowe]

The handsome man eyes Diego over the rim of his mug. "So. I get the idea. You don't want to go anywhere." He puts the mug down with a precise click "If I might open this up; where is it that you ain't going?"

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego looks at the man and smiles "I think we are on the same page. We were looking to 'not' go to a place called Wakefulness. " Diego lowers his voice just in case.

"Just let me know what your rates are. Likely look to leave sometime in the morning if that's even possible." Diego thought back to some mention about a road being out or some such.

[Marlowe]

The man slowly swallows his mouthful of ale and gives Diego a long, unreadable stare. "Wakefulness", he says tonelessly. And then he leans forward, speaking quickly and quietly. "I absolutely honest and for true can get you to Wakfulness; and I most definitely won't be giving you the slip at Heartstop and vanishing. Because I really, really, like having dealings with the Seven of Spades."

[J-H]

Mari

Mari looks at the young woman of negotiable virtue. "Keith seemed to be quite ready to attack almost anyone. People like that usually aren't welcome to stay around."

[Marlowe]

Zoe inhales the rest of her stew, takes a huge bite out of her trencher, and swallows almost without chewing. "Oh no. 'e gets worse. Sometimes he decides he like people and follows them around, an' then they get into trouble when he behaves in the predictable manner what you have just described. It's bes' to have nothing to do wit' 'im. You see him, go somewhere else. Leave 'im to the Grim Mandys. It's a pity he cannot die."

She stands up at her seat, sweeps the browned mutton and cabbage on the hotplate onto what's left of her trencher, and starts laying out a fresh batch.

[KillingAScarab]

What do you mean he cannot die? Is he cursed somehow? Markarn thought for a moment on whether Keith seemed like anything he had heard of before.

knowledge: arcana check
[roll0]
Markarn might be considering if Keith could be one of The Lost, noted in Magic of Incarnum, given his extreme emotions

[Marlowe]

Zoe sips her ale a little more sedately than before. "Dunno. Ask someone what's clever. I do know that everytime you kill him he just comes back, maybe not the next day, maybe not for a year, but soon and he doesn't get any better."

"First time he came to town; Mandolin gutted him like a fish. Second time he was staked,
decapitated and burned, just to be sure. Third time he was impaled, flayed, skin nailed back on the wrong way, dipped in brine, and fed his own intestines. After he came back after THAT everyone just decided to avoid 'im. You using that apple?"

[Illven]

.... I know alot of things as an adept diviner. Heather comments brightly.

Besides maybe how to talk to girls.... She adds as an afterthought.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego leans in even closer to the Liar. "Good thing I'll be paying you all up front." He chuckles. "Whats a seven of spades ? a gang ? How long do you think it would take to get where we are going? Would you be willing to throw in a rough map for a few gold more ? Anything you think we ought to shop for in terms of gear to make a safe journey ? "

[Malak'ai]

"Grim Mandyth. Mandolin. Redthtring'th and the Pianitht. Thethe are nameth I've heard bandied about thince entering thith town, and I am remithth to admit, I don't have the foggietht idea on who thethe people might be, would you care to elaborate for me?"

"Grim Mandy's. Mandolin. Redstring's and the Pianist. These are names I've heard bandied about since entering this town, and I am remiss to admit, I don't have the foggiest idea on who these people might be, would you care to elaborate for me?"

[Marlowe]

Robert chuckles. "Of course I shouldn't have expected you to know who the Seven of Spades are, what with them being so obscure and unimportant...people, and what with you heading for the tower of the...person who most definitely not Number Four. Well, they are fine, fine...people. Wouldn't hear a word against them."

He takes a quick, hard gulp and swallow of his ale.

"Here to Heartstop, over the Dead Orc Mountain and through the Forest of...whatever's there now? Maybe three days if everything goes swimmingly? Maybe a week if the weathers bad? Maybe forever if we get attacked by three million Black Dragons riding Dire Hummingbirds and all get killed, raped and eaten like happened to me last time."

Over at the main table; Zoe looks at Niel for a few seconds, then leans in and rasps; "Mandolin runs this town.
Completely respectable businesswoman. The Grim Mandys are the people what work for her. They're the Mandys 'cause they work for Mandolin and they're Grim because...well, Redstrings and The Pianist are two of the grimmest. Bit o' loose canvas flapping in the top-hamper on both of 'em. They don't call her The Pianist because she plays, mind. They call her The Pianist because she likes the wire. It cuts through bone and flesh so well."

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"Killed, raped and eaten." Diego repeated back. "Long as its in that order otherwise its too inconvenient." He mulled over the brief directions that Robert provided, if that was his real name.

"forrest of murders... erm wait...forrest of the dead?" Diego ventured. "never heard of it."


"It sounds like we have an accord. We'll see you downstairs tomorrow morning if you don't want the job and if you do want the job just don't show up. On the way out of town just swing us by any store you think we ought to avoid buying supplies from.I suspect we may not need some food and water, maybe a horse or mule or two. We'll pay you 20% up front and 180% on the backend of the exorbitantly outrageous price you are going to quote us of which we will totally pay all of. Assuming the agreed on terms are met of course - void where prohibited, excluding regional taxes and levies et spiritu sancti, stamp! stamp! can't erase it. "

Diego gentlely bangs his fist on the table twice mimicking a stamping motion. Diego pulls out two gold coins and slips them across the table. "For services rendered thus far." he whispers

[Marlowe]

Robert's eyes flicker over to the main table. "Seven-no, that's Zoe the Lamprey--six of you plus myself. It would be a somewhat small group for safety in the Forest, but with the Murderers dead or scattered...well.
Pale Mary normally doesn't bother honest travellers which, of course, is what you are." He drops a wink.

[Malak'ai]

Sitting back and raising his hand to his chin, Neilathon starts tapping his cheek, "Tell me. Ith thith Mandolin lady a tall blonde with blue eyeth, burn thcarth covering approximately half her body, including the right thide of her face, thpeakth in an accent and thmoketh cigarth like the chimney of a foundry?"

Know: local: [roll0]
Know: History: [roll1]
Know: Nobs & Snobs: [roll2]
Know: Religion: [roll3]

"Tell me. Is this Mandolin lady a tall blonde with blue eyes, burn scars covering approximately half her body, including the right side of her face, speaks in an accent and smokes cigars like the chimney of a foundry?"

[Marlowe]

Zoe squints at Neil. "Oh. You have heard of her then?"

[Malak'ai]

"No. Jutht a thought that came to me."

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn considered the exchange between Zoe and Neilathon, but also Heather's comment. Markarn remembered what Mari said about "cabin fever," earlier. He thought it might be best to do something about it now. He stood up as best he could from a chair sized for taller folk.

Heather, could I talk to you alone? He waits to see if Heather will walk away from their table with him.

You seem like you need to unwind. The erm... innkeeper... made it clear she expects to earn a fair bit of coin from at least one daughter tonight. I can't say I approve of that sort of family business, and unless I'm blind, you seemed sweeter on the serving girl with the axe... who might not have armed herself to collect a bounty.

You could spend the night with one of that trio, but what if I were to compensate the innkeeper enough to give that maid the night off? The innkeep's going to have our gold one way or the other, this way you might get a date out of it. You just said you need to talk to women more. Worst thing that happens... probably... is that she says no, and you still pay to find out if you can stand Charlotte's knife sharpening. The sure thing's still there if you want to try the adventure.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego tips his hat at Robert, if that is his real name. He returns to the table where most of his companions are gathered.

"I may or may not have secured his services. Though I'm reasonably confident, we'll find out in the morning. " Diego says in a hushed tone. " He is indeed quite the liar."


Diego yawned and eyed the door (?) / stairs where the room they rented might be. The day's excitement was catching up him.

[J-H]

Mari
Mari silently wishes for days when people were at least more honest and less cryptic in their offers, threats, and goals. If we stay here any longer, I will have to use Detect Thoughts again to keep up.

[Illven]

You mean the maid with the forearms bigger then my head.... She could crush me if I said one wrong thing. Heather questions.

[Marlowe]

Zoe is still talking randomly about Redstrings and The Pianist. "...and they only ever found his nose. Well, those two were wandering about with Johnny Sensible and Reaperbell earlier, and Reaperbell doesn't like the rain. Suppose I wouldn't either if I was eight inches tall. So I'm guessing those guys are already somewhere snug and warm and we wouldn't be seein' 'em tonigh-"

The door crashes open.

And in stagger four very obvious Goblin pirates. They are soaked. They are soaked in the sense that their magnificent pink, green, orange and purple silks are dripping wet, their colourful hat plumes sad and sodden. They are also soaked in the sense that they are having trouble walking in a straight line.

"Bloody hell," mutters Zoe. "There's a storm, so put into harbour. The same harbour you're supposed to be blockading. What could go wrong? Typical Goblin logic." She raises a hand to her own slightly Gobliny ear. "Wonder how Grandad's getting on."

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn shook his head at Heather. The woman with the girthy forearms is the one I would need to talk to. That is, if you do want to ask her, Markarn pointed briefly towards the tavern maid, the one with the axe, out on a date. Well... I suppose it might be best to spend the night in with her, with this weather. What say you?

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego


Diego took note of the new comers and did his best not to panic. "oh look, more goblins." he mumbled under his breath. He took a shallow sip of his drink. An image popped into the head of Diego for some reason, almost a hazy memory or mis-remembered dream. He was standing over the body of a goblin and was laughing and cheering as he juggled its eyes. He put the thought out of his mind, it must have been a bad dream he had last week but he couldn't remember the details. Just a dream.

[Illven]

Markarn shook his head at Heather. The woman with the girthy forearms is the one I would need to talk to. That is, if you do want to ask her, Markarn pointed briefly towards the tavern maid, the one with the axe, out on a date. Well... I suppose it might be best to spend the night in with her, with this weather. What say you?

She is rather cute..... Would you be willing to do that? Heather asked hopefully.

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn nodded at Heather. Certainly. I shall go find our host, then. He set off to do that very thing.

[Marlowe]

The massive lady is busy corralling the Goblins to a table. "Gentlemen? Gentlemen! I run a house of dignity here-" One of the Goblins staggers, falls, and lies there giggling. "A gold piece f'all you can eat, drink, and keep down; and extras are up to your own negotiation!"

A fine, commanding speech, slightly undercut by Bella, who appears to be the chattiest of the three ladies of the evening, remonstrating to one of the more coherent Goblins; "-no, we we NOT be giving you discounts 'cause you're Small-Sized. I started doing that for YOU I'd have to do it for Thirty-Seven-Point-Six percent of the men in town-"

"Point-SIX?" breaks in Ada, eyes narrowing. "Show me your notes. You always forget to carry the ones-"

Charlotte just hefts her crossbow and looks at the Goblin on the floor appraisingly. The landlady, scowling like a thunderstorm, turns away ponderously and finds herself facing Markarn. She smiles like a shark. "Sir, she says, "Are you ladies and gentlemen comfortable? Is there any way we could improve the entertainment?"

*CLACK*

The Goblin on the floor shudders and goes still, a crossbow bolt driven neatly through his left eye.

"Whoops," says Charlotte. "Went off while I was cleaning it."

There's a pause, then Ada and Bella laugh. Then the Goblins laugh too. "Dibs on his stuff!"calls one.

"No" say Ada, Bella, and Charlotte together. Charlotte's somehow managed to reload already.

The Landlady hasn't even turned around.

"The entertainment, sir?"

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn looked up from the freshly dead goblin and addressed the innkeeper. The music is quite fine he began, but I have a proposition for you about one of your other employees. If you would come this way, madam? He began to lead the innkeeper out of earshot of her daughter(s?) as he pointed out the tavern maid with the axe. You see, my friend seems to have taken a liking to your serving girl. She would like the chance to ask her to a date tonight, but obviously she's quite occupied at the moment. What might I pay to persuade you to give her the night off... and just that? Now... I'm aware if the date occurred, this might deprive you of some of my friend's other business tonight, and I'm willing to compensate you for that. If the date doesn't, she might be paying you anyway. But, we're likely setting out into one form of wilderness or other, and she could use a chance at some companionship, first.

[Marlowe]

The landlady glowers at Markarn, darts a glance to where the axe-girl is dragging the Goblin corpse towards an ominous-looking closet, look back at Markarn, and says; more quietly than before. "She's one of my best workers. Can't spare her tonight. She's not on the menu in that way anyway. How exactly to you mean "compensate" me? Also-" she leans closer, "what's her name?"

[KillingAScarab]

My friend's name? That would be Heather. Markarn pointed over towards her. And she's very much in need of some social practice. To the point I think she could offend the wrong people and our little band might end up running from the next town. I know your maid's not doing the same sort of work as those three, Markarn nodded back to the ABCs. That's why I say I want her to have the chance at a date. Heather's not going to learn anything if there's no chance for failure. Are you certain there isn't someone who could fill your maid's place tonight? The job can't be that difficult, and I could pay you 40 gold pieces to relieve her.

[Marlowe]

The landlady's eye twitches at "Heather" and at "40 gold" but continues to glower. "I meant; what's my girl's name? That was what we might call an indirect way of asking "have you or "Heather" approached her?", "have you asked HER opinion?", because until you HAVE then we are talking not of what we might call a HYPOTHETICAL, but of the shadow of the shadow of a possibility of a hypothetical. My girl don't do that sort of work. And I don't ask her."

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn held up his hands and lowered them. You're right, we haven't asked her, and I don't know her name, yet. But I think you misunderstand me. I only want to pay you and her what she might have earned waiting tables and some extra, so as to give her the night off. That is all.

Markarn shook his head. She wouldn't be "working" for us. What she does with her time would be her business. I want her to be free to say, "No," to Heather. I would prefer she didn't even know Heather has anything to do with this.

He rested his chin (or the beard around it, at least) in his hand as he considered. I guess it would look better if there were someone offering to take her place... He looked back up, So what if I do that? What if I take her place, just for tonight? We're stuck in because of the storm and I'm a bored traveler. We'll be gone as soon as the storm lets us, no doubt about that, so I'm not a threat to her employment. Just a dwarf who wanted to get something done while stuck inside, and I don't think you keep a forge in the back of the inn.

Markarn turned to look at the goblin pirates for a moment. Besides, how hard could it be? Well, does that sound more agreeable to you? My name's Markarn. May I have yours and your employee's?

[Marlowe]

The landlady shifts her weight, and boards creak. "Let me be sure of this. You are asking that you, yourself sir, being a paying guest what has already been drinking and whom I do not know from a bar of soap, could take over for a long night on yer feet of serving several tables full of hardened killers what have paid to be taken care of by practiced workers-"

The Swordswoman at the hunter's table gives a little wave.

"-and keeping 'em supplied with booze and grub, and cleaning up the mess-"

From the closet comes some squishy, choppy sounds, and a hiss that might be acid meeting flesh. There's a sudden acrid scent in the air.

"-and being given access to the kitchens and stores and other areas of the establishment what are open only to staff, and being responsible for the reputation and good name and whatnot of this establishment that I owe my livelihood to? And all so your friend "Heather" can try to take a poke at my hardest worker who, if I might reiterate again, is not available in that way?"

She glowers down at Markarn, brows thunderous. "This some Rogue's trick?""

There's a certain still in the air, beneath the howl of the storm. Everyone seems to be very deliberately not looking at Markarn. A couple of curtains closing off the side-booths have been parted so the shadowed occupants can avoid looking at him more obviously.

The lute player audibly growls. "Oh, Nine Hells-" plays a few short, savage chords, and the two of them burst into a driving rendition of "Die, die, die, while guarding."

[KillingAScarab]

Madam, I have had a tankard, at best, of the ale so far. I didn't miss the sign outside with the remains of someone's hands attached, and I haven't had enough to forget about it. If you don't wish to trust me with your good name, or your stores, that's fair. But my offer was not a ploy. I'm no thief.

Markarn lowered his voice a bit. And I really thought I saw your employee winking at Heather, so I'm going to feel foolish if you're saying I misread that. It was right after we came in.

[Marlowe]

"Oh! A wink! A wink! That's different then. We must start planning the wedding immediately! What'll I wear?" says the Landlady over the intervening noise. "No. That's what we call a joke. Sir; have you any idea what it would do to the reputation of this establishment--MY reputation--if it were prated about that I let some random gentleman take over a good girl's job for a laugh? Assuming this isn't some kind of cunnin' plan to get closer to me cashbox, assume you do a decent job--which you won't--I'd be losing money over it for years."

"And what Mandolin would say if she heard--and she would--that I was disposing of Delia's time without her permission--" The lady's hand is drifting closer to her cleaver.

And then the black-haired working girl--Bella--drifts in between the two of you. "I see what's going on here, Mum. I see some tired travellers who maybe don't know where they are yet, and maybe have had a bit too much,
and maybe need be shown their room. Maybe by one such as my own pretty self." She gives Markarn a...wink. "That's right. Isn't it, sir?

[KillingAScarab]

Defeated, Markarn says, Aye. I think I'll retire early tonight.

On the way, he shrugged at Heather.

Thanks for your help. At the door he asked Bella, Things seem so upside-down here, I don't know if I should tip the maid for the trouble. Does no good deed truly go unpunished?

[Marlowe]

Markarn.

...UP THREE FLIGHTS OF CREAKING WOODEN FLOORS, ILLUMINATED BY THE LIGHT OF THE LANTERN BELLA PICKED UP FROM THE FOOT OF THE STAIR, THE HOWL OF THE STORM ALL AROUND, AT A DOOR MARKED "3B..."

...Bella raises an eyebrow as she produces a key. "I really couldn't say, Sir. Maybe it depends on who counts it a "good deed", who doesn't, and which of them has the bigger stick?" She unlocks the door and steps inside.

The room is long, well-swept. A fireplace in one wall has no fire yet, but a updraft of hot air--from the kitchen fires, you're guessing--is spilling from it. Keeping it warm and dry. There's ten beds set out in two rows, a pair of firmly shuttered windows on the wall opposite the fireplace, and a massive, oaken closet carved in the ornate repeating-gallows motif characteristic of the fallen empire of the Free People's Commonwealth of Suzanne sitting next to the door you've just entered.

The howl of the storm comes through over everything.

Bella produces some sort of lighting-things stick from somewhere and sets light to the three lanterns hanging from the wall, illuminating the place, then moves to rattle the door of the closet. "If you really want to do a good turn, this thing has been locked and jammed shut for months now. Everyone's getting sick of apologizing for it but nobody's really done anything.... No good with opening things are you sir?"

Everyone else...Back in the main room...

Zoe has remained every quiet through the previous scene, but now her mouth switches on again. "You guys are performers? You're performers, right? Avant-Prop street theatre types? You're very good. Everyone's going to be talking about you for months-"

And then the most coherent of the goblins stands up on his groups table, a flask of ale in his hand and his foot in the stewpot.

"-unless these guys are even funnier."

The goblin launches into a speech in Common. "Friends, Goblins, Brothers, that one of us that just died! You've heard me say it! You've heard me say it again! And you'll hear me say it now!"

"Yeaaah!" say the other two. Then "What?"

"That I solemnly swear, by my immaculate pink and green spotted silks! By my orange and purple scarves! By my really, really, stylish and sexy feather in my big hat! I swear that I; or maybe one of my thirty-seven brood-brothers and twenty-eight brood-sisters shall be the one to hunt and and slay those who killed our father!"

"Yeeaaah!"

"Who was ambassador to the Old Country!"

"Yeeehah!"

"And who was slain in the temple of Lirr, for all the Stained-Glass Golems could do-"

"Yeeah."

"And I shall say to them. Hello. My name is Beauford Snodgrass-Featherstonehaugh. You killed my father. Prepare to-"

"Take your foot out of the damn pot!" Says the axe-girl, just out of the ominous-looking closet. Her hands and axe-blade look wet. "We're not serving you THAT now you've been stomping in it! And that'll be another two gold for another batch!"

As the goblin climbs off the table, looking abashed, Zoe turns to anyone who'll listen. "Nope.
Just standard Goblin stuff. So; where did you all say you were going?"

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn looked around the room as the lights were lit. When asked about the closet he shook his head. As smiths go, I'm more weapon and armor, not so much lock. There might be someone else in my group who could take a look at it. Under the circumstances, maybe we should find you in the morning, first. Wouldn't want your mother thinking we were trying to plunder it. I'm not certain I got your name earlier. Mine's Markarn.

[Marlowe]

"They call me Bella. Black Bella" she says, and attempts a smoldering look.

Which winds up looking awkward very fast because it seems she's practiced her smolder looking up at people, and she has a few inches of height on Markarn. So after some fluttery eyelid-work so she flips her hair to regain her businesslikiness. "At least they used to call me that until some bright spark pointed out it was potentially offensive to Bella of the South over at The Troll's Guts with her black skin and all and some girl over at the Rum and Lash who helps provide the lash and who apparently wears leather underwear and not much else, so now they're voting on Bella of the Night, Bella the Buxom, and Bella Who Isn't Interestingly Exotic Or Inclined To Whip People. We're a clever lot around here."

She sets her lantern on the floor. "But I still like Black Bella." She sets her feet and pulls hard on the closet handle. "I am sick of this thing--all the trouble getting it up the stairs and the thing just locks itself up--I'm tempted just to throw it out but you know what Mum would say; "That was looted honestly of a Suzannian-""

There's a *Snap* and the door springs open. A skeleton in a musty black cloak seems to lunge out of the interior, nearly falls on top of Markarn, and scatters with a clatter on the floor.

"And I just swept in here today" says Bella disgustedly.

[J-H]

Mari

"It's been a long day. Perhaps we should retire for the night." Mari trys not to obviously eye the goblins, in a room full of people who would draw blades if they knew who the group was.

[KillingAScarab]

By Moradin's elbow! Markarn didn't take his eyes off the heap while circling over toward Bella and her lantern. Erm. Perhaps you should go tell your mother there's a skeleton in her closet. I'll stay here and hope this thing isn't undead. Could you ask my friends to come here, just in case?

[Marlowe]

Markarn

Bella nods, picking up the lantern. "Think I recognize the black cloak. Looks like Clever Jim. Could always spot him a mile away by his black cloak. Wondered where he got to. He never was much good with locks. Or with his hands, in general..." her voice trails off as she leaves the room...

Everyone else.

...and turns up two minutes later at the group table. "Sorry; Ladies and Gents. Seems there's a skeleton in your closet. Don't worry, no extra charge, and we'll have it out soon. But your Dwarf would like some company."

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego


Diego was relieved it wasn't him that was coming out of the closet. "Hmm I don't think it was my turn to watch the dwarf. But I shall check up on the little troublemaker none the less."


He turns to Zoe, "I'm not sure we said where we were going. " He says with a hopefully disarming smile." As for preforming, you obviously have an eye for talent!" Diego says excitedly. He gets up from his seat, drains his drink, bows deeply and tips his cap to the table.


He dances/Jigs his way across the room heading for the stairs up. He boisterously claps his hands to the music as he stomps across the room, twirling and spinning. He sings along to the music as best he can for someone completely unfamiliar with the song being played.



Perform Dance : [roll0]





With a final bow, and infectious smile he leaves the room to retire for the night or at least trade insulting barbs with the dwarf.

[Illven]

That's not a dance! Heather remarks indigent. This is a dance! As she sweeps up the girl she assumes would be most willing, and starts to waltz.


Sense motive [roll0]
Perform dance [roll1]

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego shakes his fist at Heather as he begins climbing the stairs, two at a time. Perhaps next time they would have a proper dance-off to settle the matter once and for all.


Diego switched to taking the stairs one at a time, and paused twice to catch his breath. Stairs were a young man's game he decided. "Feh!" he exhaled. He poked his head in the reasonably large room.

"By Moradin's ruffled beard. We leave you alone for one minute and you up and kill a guy." He motions at the skeleton with mock incredulousness."What did you do ? talk him to death ? "


Diego searches the Bones/closet for anything of value. He toss his cap on one of the bottom bunks near the fire as a way of claiming it.




Are the hands missing by chance ?

Take 20 on search for : 29 - full minute.

[Marlowe]

Heather finds herself, to her surprise, grappling with Ada, the blonde, who lacks the murderous glint in Charlotte's eyes.

Aforesaid young lady takes the opportunity, after a few circles, to whisper ""I don't normally...but since you're so...I'll slot you in for an extra gold; and you pay for the room?"

Meanwhile, in the dormitory with the skeleton, Diego finds:

On the skeleton:

2x daggers, somewhat tarnished.
Severely decayed and crumbling leather armour and travellers clothes under the cloak.
1x set thieves tools, broken.
1x remains of a hemp rope and grapple set. The rope has almost rotted away.
1x Copy of "Open Lock for Dummies", yellowed and crumbling.
1x Copy of "Open Lock for Utter Dummies", slightly less so.
17 silver and 3 coppers.

In the Closet:

Some dust and lint.
Some signs of someone fiddling with the lock from within.
1x creepy feeling of unease.

In the room:

Under one bed, a copy of a woodcut broadsheet entitled "Swords & Arrows". It's about personal weaponry.
Under the mattress of another, a copy of another called "Shafts & Scabbards III: Eager Experts". It isn't about personal weaponry.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"If memory serves, you paid for the room for all of us. Apparently the great wheel has turned." Diego hands the money and the Creeping Sense of Unease[tm] to Markarn.


Diego sticks one of the daggers in his boot. He took a few cautionary steps and shoke his head. He pulls out the dagger and puts it in belt. He puts the other dagger under his pillow. Diego then removed the rotting rope from the grappling hook and stuck the hook in his pack. The rope he piled up near the fireplace to be burned.

He stuck ALL the reading material in his pack as well, along with the broken thieves' tools. He left the clothes and armor as they smelled of putrified dead guy.


"I think we should do a normal watch rotation. There seems to be enough danger and intrigue around here to warrant it. When the other's arrive I'll brief them on what Robert said exactly and see who wants what. "Diego spoke quietly as possible to Markarn.



Diego being paranoid will run through the following things if he has time. Don't need any specific answers on these at all - just noting that Diego is thinking about these sorts of things.


- Diego kept his hand on his sword hilt in case of sudden attack.

- He also starts assessing if there is another exit on this floor or if the hallway ends with a deadend etc.

- He'll briefly look out the window to check for any handholds in case he needs to climb down or up the side of the building.

- Is the roof flat or slanted etc

- Check how far it is too the ground in case he needs to jump etc.

- Check if there are any other roof tops in jumping, throwing distance he could reach.

[Illven]

Don't normally, what? Heather whispers in her ear confused.

[Marlowe]

"I don't normally "dance" with girls but if you like "dancing" we could go off together and practice our "dancing" in private" says Ada, looking innocent. "Six gold and your dark and terrible secret is safe."

Diego:

There's no "corridor" as such. The stairs are laid out in a repeated "Z" pattern like a fire-escape, only enclosed. You went up past 2 landings facing doors labled "1b" and "2b" and your prepared to hazard a guess that the next flight leads to a landing with a door labled "4b".

The windows are shuttered TIGHT against the storm. Unshuttering them looks like it's going to require a wrench or something. Thanks to your Awesome PC sense of direction and what you saw of the building from outside you sense that they would overlook the front of the building, meaning a two-story drop to a severely slanted roof over the front half of the common room.

[Illven]

It's not safe. My parents already know, they knew since that paladiness beat me up. Heather remarks back to her tourney days at home.

[Marlowe]

"Ah, Paladins. I can always spot a Paladin. They're the ones that keep trying to avoid paying. And some of them want to do some really icky things." Ada giggles. "Well, six gold and you can spend the night not telling your secrets and I can tell you mine..."

At the table, Zoe inhales another mug of cider. "To this song..I dunno; shouldn't they be...moshing a little?" She shakes her head. "Never mind itdoesn'tmatter. So; if you guys are about to retire you don't mind if I stay and finish up?"

[Malak'ai]

"Well Mithth, theeing ath it'th been a long day, and you've jutht eaten what wath going to be my dinner, I don't thee why not." Neilathon says to Zoe, looking up at her from the the empty space in front of him where the trencher she had just finished wolfing down had once sat.
"Ath for me, I'm going to thettle down with a good book... I think I packed one."

Heading across the room, past Heather and Ada, he smiles and nods at his companion and continues up the stairs.

"Well Miss, seeing as it's been a long day, and you've just eaten what was going to be my dinner, I don't see why not."

"As for me, I'm going to settle down with a good book... I think I packed one."

[Illven]

"Ah, Paladins. I can always spot a Paladin. They're the ones that keep trying to avoid paying. And some of them want to do some really icky things." Ada giggles. "Well, six gold and you can spend the night not telling your secrets and I can tell you mine..."

At the table, Zoe inhales another mug of cider. "To this song..I dunno; shouldn't they be...moshing a little?" She shakes her head. "Never mind itdoesn'tmatter. So; if you guys are about to retire you don't mind if I stay and finish up?"

Like what? Heather asked curious as to what the paladiness may be interested in, as she slips Ada six gold.

[Marlowe]

Zoe looks a bit bemused. "Hey , Elf-chappy! You know you paid for "all you can eat", right? Okay, fine then-" and proceeds to tilt what's left of the seafood stew over a fresh trencher.

Ada puts a hand to the small of Heather's back and proceeds to guide her toward a different doorway than the one leading up to the barracks stairs. "Oh, you know. There was one who liked things involving peacock feathers, and another one who liked furs--but he didn't last long here--anyway; I believe you opted for some privacy?" she says, and gives a little giggle.

If anyone's looking, the Swordswoman at the hunter's table can be seen to flick a silver over to the necromancer, who catches it in a gaunt hand.

[Marlowe]

[I'm not putting anything in spoilers because I'm assuming you'll pass things along.]

The more squishy details of Heather's night will forever be shrouded in lacy, gentle, wafting curtains; however at some point Ada does turn from topics the likes of which are too trashy and scandalous to be of interest to the heightened sensibilities of this forum, and turns the run of her mouth onto things that might be of more general interest.

"-so, all the five major cities have to constantly watch their economic hinterland-like areas from raiders and scalliwags and other naughties, and none of 'em really have much of a regular military, so's there's always these exciting mercenary and adventurous sorts running around being hired to deal with whatever whatnot's come along most recently-

"What sort of whatnot? Well; in these parts we've got to bother about the Goblins and other servants of the Tusked Throne, but they're actually pretty sporting most of the time...the real issue are the Snow Elves of Mount Genocide, who apparently want to kill everything in the world that isn't an Elf; and they don't really have the numbers to DO that but it's really difficult to stop them trying one raid at a time...

"Now, over on the other side there's the nomads of the Steppes of Atrocity. They're divided into four tribes. There's The Ones, who put all their captives to what they call The Fate, followed by The Death. Then there's The Other Ones,
who put all their captives to The Horrible Fate, followed by The Horrible Death. There's The Other Other Ones, who put all their captives to The Really Horrible Fate, followed by The Really Horrible Death. Then there's the Vakar,
also known as The Ones That Stole All The Proper Nouns, who just think the other three are completely nuts.

"Then there's the Fey of the Forest of Screams. Now a lot of them are actually really reasonable and the other cities what have river access to the great Lake make a good thing out of trading with them, but the one's that aren't alright make up for it by being really...well, you know what they say, "When one is sick of the Forest of Screams, one is sick of the constant risk of impalement. So, you wanna see how far I can bend my leg back?"

As for the rest of you, the night passes uneventfully. Bella and Delia remove the skeleton and sweep up the dust without further fuss. The closet fails to start disgorging horrible monsters no matter how long you leave it open. The storm screams and howls through the night, the lightning crashes, but you only hear two bloodcurdlingly screams all night, with, just before the dawn, something like a thundering explosion.

There's light just showing through cracks in the shutters when Delia, the girl with the axe, opens the door and stick her head through. "Oy? You lot? Breakfast. You can sleep in if you want but it's only on for the next hour or so so...coming down?"

[Illven]

Heather pats the area of the bed next to her, sleepily.

Are you coming? Heather asks Ada with a soft smile on her face.

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn was sitting on his lower bunk wearing his breastplate with his eyes closed, mumbling a bit to himself while he reshaped his soulmeld of the past week into one to keep him a little more wary. He opened his gold eyes to watch as the blue bands around his boots changed to almost another pair of boots fitting around them.

The dwarf got up and walked over to Diego. Sorry I wasn't too talkative last night. ...I felt I had said enough by that point. Do you think Robert will be sticking around here for the meal?

Markarn shaped Impulse Boots and invested his essentia into his sapphire smite feat for the day.

[J-H]

Mari

Mari smooths the wrinkles out of her clothes and heads down for an early start at the breakfast. The sooner we can get going, the better.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego shrugs at Markarn. "Not sure to be honest, maybe." Diego was pleasantly surprised they weren't attacked in the night by 30 goblins assassins. His stomach growled. "Food" he mumbled as he gathered his gear and headed down stairs.

[Marlowe]

Ada sits up a little too fast, snakes a hand down next to the bed as if to grab something, then seems to recognize Heather and slumps back down. "You can go. I don't have to be on duty 'til noon." she mumbles lazily and turns her face toward the wall. Then twists her head back around. "Get the kipper or the smoked herring. Avoid the eel. You don't know who it's had. I mean, it's not like we've ever had incidents but some of those creepy-cannibal diseases have an incubation period measured in decades..." And then she starts snoring.

The common room is bathed in the golden light of just-after-dawn, the shutters thrown wide to let in the cool air that comes after a storm. A couple of the Goblins from last night are sitting by a window, wolfing down their breakfast. Bella is casually dragging the corpse of a third past them, his throat a mess of dark brown that once was bright red.

"Another two servings of eel, good sirs? Coming right up! Oh, this? Ogre Ninjas. Tragic." you hear her say.

"Alas; when will they be brought to justice? Oh well..." quoth Beauford Snodgrass-Featherstonehaugh, shoving more anguilliforme down his gullet.

The landlady and Zoe are sitting together at the same table you were at the previous night, chatting in low voices. Robert the Liar is sitting alone at the sunniest table, casually eating a plate of smoked herring and reading what looks like a freshly-printed broadsheet. He looks up at you when you enter, and gives a pleasant smile.

[Illven]

Heather comes down the stairs already clean from prestidigitation.

Are we good to talk to Mr.Liar? She asks her teammates.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego smiled and nodded at Heather. "I would probably wait until we are underway. ". He eyed the goblins warily.

He sat down at a table, and flagged down the nearest server. "Smoke me a kipper!" He beamed.

[Marlowe]

"...You're back for breakfast?" says Bella as she shoves a dead Goblin into the ominous closet to the left of the entrance, her eyebrow raised. "Give us two minutes!"

[Malak'ai]

Brushing out his robes as he walks down the stairs after doing his morning routine and going through his prayerbook, Neilathon looks around the common room and then proceeds over to the table Diego is at and asks the serving girl for serving of herring.

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn took one last look at the disturbing dresser as he put his traveler's cloak on over his armor, then headed downstairs to breakfast, trying not to make much eye contact with anyone already in the common room.

[Marlowe]

As various plates of herring and kipper and breakfast ale dark and thick enough to eat with a spoon get delivered; Robert the Liar picks up his plate and wanders over to your table.

"Seems we had a bit of stir in the harbour last night, as the storm was dying down, and the dawn started showing it's rosy fingers" he says, pulling forth a stool and sitting down. "Seems a party of Ogre Ninjas came paddling out of the night, slaughtered the crew of the Goblin brigantine in harbour what weren't out enjoying the amenities o' the town, ran it aground, set a torch to it, caused it to explode through detonation of it's brandy reserves--what a waste--and disappeared into the night before any witnesses could recover from their surprise. All 97 men and woman and Mittens the cat of Captain Burgundy's crew agree this is what happened, and submitted a signed joint statement to Mandolin to this effect. Within five minutes of the explosion."

Robert's eyes look around the table with the round, clear, innocent eyes of the expert liar. "Alas, these Ogre Ninjas. How can we o'ercome such deadly, cold, cunning? Why; that's the third Goblin vessel they've wrecked this month! Still; efficient lady, that Captain Burgundy, to have her statement organised so punctually. And what a shame and disgrace, in Mandolin's town. Mandolin shall be chagrined. And shall write a letter to the Tusked Emperor, telling him how chagrined she is. So--"

He turns to Diego. "A little hunch I have tells me you ladies and gentlemen have forty gold you don't need. I've no need for such petty material concerns such as money, but somesuch a sum could well make my current coins feel a lot less lonely. And I feel for the feelings of my coins. I really do."

He takes a mouthful of herring and spends some time savouring it.

"And for that, I can get you as far as I feel like taking you; and I most certainly have no curiousity as to your business with Aletha Soul-Drinker."

A brigantine is a two-masted sailing vessel with a four-and-aft rig on the mainmast and a square rig on the foremast. All these nautical terms come down to fore-and-aft rigs verses square rigs.

Fore-and-aft rigs come in multiple styles, but are less labour-intensive and better for working against the wind or for changing course quickly. Square rigs have better speed in a straight line with a favourable wind. Ocean-going vessels with big government-funded crews like square rigs and coastal people with tight budgets like fore-and-aft.

3 square-rigged masts=A Ship.
2 square-rigged mast + 1 fore and aft mast=A Barque.
1 square-rigged + 2 fore-and-aft=A Barquentine.
2 square-rigged masts=A Brig.
1 square-rigged + 1 fore and aft=A Brigantine.
2 Fore-and-aft masts=A Schooner or Lugger or Yawl or whatever.
1 Fore-and-aft mast=A Sloop or Yacht or Dhow.
1 Square rigged mast=A suicide machine no-one would take to water with unless they're planning on doing most of their propulsion by oar anyway.

The fore-and-aft masts always go at the back. Also, remember that the Mainmast is always the second mast on a vessel. The front one is the foremast and the third one, if you have it, is the mizzen.

This is all doubtless horribly inaccurate.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego was confused about a good many things this morning. Orges, Ninjas, Ogre Ninjas, goblin brigantines on fire, dead goblins, someone purposely ordering herring.


"Who could have predicted Ogre-Ninjas? " he asks no one in particular. He leans over to Neilathon and whisphers "What do you call a goblin slop with 1 square-rigged + 2 fore-and-aft when her crew is doused in Brandy? A BBQ-entine. Get it? Like a Barquentine ? BBQ-entine ?" Diego giggles.


"Too soon?" he asks.


"Despite the glowing recommendation your fee seems high. For 40 gold you really ought to be taking us as far as we would like not as far as you would like. I thought that is how things worked. " Diego shrugged.


"I'll forgo any further negotiations where I try to low ball you and waste your time, good sir. I'll pay you up to 40 gold, the closer you get us to our destination. I believe that sounds fair. The more you feel like doing the job we are hiring you for, the more I feel like paying you to do it." Diego offers.

[Marlowe]

Robert the Liar looks at Diego, with a twitch in his lips. "I take it you've never read Mervyn Peake, sir, else your comments are rather tasteless." He drums his fingers for a bit. Then lifts up his head. "To deal with agents of the Seven, this is my first, last, and only offer. I am not lying. Discuss it as you will."

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"Not going to pay you 40 gold, then have you disappear literally 10 minutes later because that's as far as you 'feel' like going. I've no issue with the amount, I'm quite happy to pay it. Its the terms you offer. I'm not expecting you to fight on our behalf or stick around if things get dicey - I'm fine with that. I'm just not giving you free money and have you immediately run off and give us nothing."

"You came highly recommended - from someone who took advantage of us and didn't get us to where we were supposed to be going. " Diego shrugs. "Not an auspicious start." Diego grinned. "If you aren't interested in getting paid as we go, I understand, maybe one of my friends is more reasonable."

Diego leaned forward and looked down the table to encourage any one else to speak up. Diego finished his Kipper and stood up and left the table. He eyed the goblins and their eel with interest. "Hmm maybe I should have ordered the eel. " He ordered a drink and another kipper before returning to the table.

[Marlowe]

Robert downs an ale without a flutter in the throat. "For forty gold, I'll get ye' to Heartstop.
To Massacre, maybe. Although that depends on boats" And then he looks at Diego hard. "Wakefulness, now. Aletha the Fourth of the Seven. That's a mission. None of mine."

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn considered what Diego had said of Robert the previous night as he ate. This seemed far more straightforward. He wasn't sure whether he liked it, but he was sure he liked their chances with a guide to Heartstop better than without. I think we'll be glad for your services, Robert. I'm ready to agree to the offer. Would you have suggestions on supplies?

[Marlowe]

[Goodness, guys. Sorry about the wait. For some reason I missed the last post and thought I was waiting on you.:smalleek:]

Robert sucks down some herring. Chews, savouring it for the longest time. Then speaks low; "Travel rations. At least a week's worth each. Dangerous to trust to living off the land up there. Winter blankets,
cold weather gear. Can't trust a fire to keep you warm. I mean there's obviously nothing dangerous in a place called the Dead Orc Mountains or the Forest of the Dead, but safe's safe.

"Do not take tents. You want to see what might be sneaking up in the night to deliver milk and cookies. You need shelter I know where there's shelter. You might want some basic mountaineering and forestry tools-rope, grapples, pitons, hammer, axes and saws-if you don't have those things already. I can carry such on my mule, but you might want one of your own. I absolutely love to linger in those places, but you'll want to move sharpish. I can direct you to some suitable retailers to whom I absolutely am not connected with businesslike this morning."

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn especially noted the need for warmer clothing. He wondered if any of his companions had magic to cover such a need, but guessed it wouldn't hurt. Axes and saws, hmm. Do fallen trees tend to become roadblocks in that forest? Still, as you say, safe is safe. If there aren't any other objections then, I would say you're hired. If we want a pack animal, would that be procured further on the way out of town?

[Marlowe]

Robert clasps his hands together. "Many and most times parties get through the Mountains and the Forest without encountering murderer ambushes and barricades, sudden blizzards, flooded streams, downpours, deadfalls, Pale Mary, wyverns, manticore riders, snarks, grumkins, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, paladins, Sylvan agents, Hobgoblin tourists, dromites, sodomites, bushwhackers, blackguards, hornswogglers, toad-botherers, landsharks, Girl Scouts, dogmaticists, sheep-squeezers, Steel Brothers, the Agents of the Seven, or the Lollipop Guild." He says in measured tones. "But as the wise say; never play cards with a man named "Ace", and plan not for many and most times; but for the times when everyone and the Mother-in-Law turns up at once."

He stands up. "If you're all ready, shall we all sit around here for a few more hours seeing what other colourful locals drop in and pay attention to you? Or shall we get started?"

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"I'm ready... " Diego said " to shop! Rest of you should make sure you have enough food to." He suggested.





Diego will likely buy :

Winter blanket
Rope
2 empty sacks
bedroll
hand axe

(I'll update my sheet tonight - and subtract the gold)

[Malak'ai]

"I have ten thquare feet of canvath if we need to make a thhelter from the rain, and theeing ath I'm not much of an... Outdoorthman or the paragon of phythical prowethth, I thhall be needing directionth to thomeone who can provide a hale and hearty mule for the treak.
Have any of uth have a way of rethtoring ourthelveth or each other thhould the wortht happen and we run into a confrontation? I believe I have enough gold to purchathe thome healing thupplieth if needed." Neil says, standing, getting ready to head back upstairs to collect his belongings.

"I have ten square feet of canvas if we need to make a shelter from the rain, and seeing as I'm not much of an... Outdoorsman or the paragon of physical prowess, I shall be needing directions to someone who can provide a hale and hearty mule for the treak.
Have any of us have a way of restoring ourselves or each other should the worst happen and we run into a confrontation? I believe I have enough gold to purchase some healing supplies if needed."

[Marlowe]

[Just let me know what you wanted to get and I'll let you know if there were any problems]

You finish your breakfast and depart. As you exit Bella gives a merry wave and a; "Fair winds, Boys and Girls! Try not to wind up flat on your back covered in body fluids!"

"'Less you're getting paid for it", you hear Zoe mutter.

You notice, as their innocent laughter rings in your ears, that the inn's signboard has a new pair of hands. Robert briefly disappears around the back of the establishment and re-emerges with a well-cared for mule and a heavy repeating crossbow embossed with the name "Goatslayer".

There's little of note happening around town. Things often aren't when the DM is in a hurry to move things along. A muffled shouting and repeated clanging from around the corner turns out to be Paladin Keith. It seems some people have thoughtfully buried him up to his neck and now some local urchins are playing Orcish Football* with his head as he bellows incoherently. By the beach, a group of a few dozen goblins are dolefully contemplating the beached, burned, wrecked and exploded remains of their vessel. At one point you have to step over a pool of blood and a neatly-severed set of goblin limbs on the boardwalk but you're sure someone will be along to clean it up soon enough. It just feels like that sort of town.

You don't see any tall blonde cigar-chomping women with scarred faces watching you at any point but then again, you wouldn't.

Robert takes you around a few assorted chandlers and retailers. Haggling goes swiftly with things going up and down and then you wind up paying the listed price for everything anyway. The only moment of note (unless someone wants something really outlandish, like a zebra-striped Pleasure Golem) is when the severe-looking young lady at the Shiny Stuff Shop (that's what it's called) asks Neilathon to sign for the wand. Whatever he winds up writing, she looks at the scrawl with a bored expression and says "Thank you for your custom...Ms Snideley Converse."

The town has a stone and timber stockade. There is a gate. The gate has guards. The guards consist of a handsome young man absently picking a melancholy tune on a lute. He is dressed in what looks like a stereotypically colourful bard's outfit except that it's all the colour of dried blood. There's a beautiful young woman with a fixed stare and unblinking eyes, in a white dress with a slight wet leather apron and gloves. There's an armoured figure with a glaive who looks like a half-elf except for the totally black eyes. There's a Petal, buzzing back and forth officiously, in a severe dark grey uniform with red tabs on the arms and miniature black jackboots. Whoever these people are, Robert goes straight past them and doesn't make eye contact. So should you.**

The road ahead goes straight like a long, straight thing. In the near distance the Dead Orc mountains loom grey and frosted with white. In between is scrubby sheep-country and a few farm compounds with a fortified look to them.

You have just escaped from Neckstrand with your lives.

You can't help but wonder what Heartstop is like.

*Orcish Football is like regular football only it doesn't matter where the ball goes as long as you kick it as hard and as often as you can.

**No, seriously. Don't talk to these guys.

[Illven]

Heather very emphatically does not make eye contact with the beautiful woman in the white dress.

So..... So that was a very lively town.... Are they all like that? Heather asks Robert.

[Marlowe]

Robert gives Heather a glance. "Why, not at all, young lady. Some of them can be dangerous!"

He walks on for a bit. His mule scans the horizon keenly for signs of dragons riding dire hummingbirds. "Mandolin, you see--she doesn't stand for any nonsense. And if you get up to any nonsense, you don;t stand for very long either. Now, Heartstop. That's a republic! There's an election only days away! It's Bruc de Ironstauche; who stands for improved investment in city infrastructure and the building of mutual defense arrangements with other cities so to reduce dependence upon third-party forces such as the Seven, the Bad Guys, the Girl Scouts, and the Candymen; verses Snivily MacTraitor; who stand for the burning of the poor districts with the residents still inside, the selling off of the city's maidens as slaves to The Other Other Ones, and the building of a roof over the city to keep out birds."

"They say it's too close to call."

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego ignored the high level NPCs as best he could and absolutely didn't talk to them as it wasn't level appropriate.

Diego knew deep down that burning poor people was bad. Though, he couldn't help but think if they were all burnt, poverty would be abolished - which would be a good thing(?) He mulled over the paradox.

"If you rob from the rich and give to the poor, then no one is poor, assuming you don't rob them of everything. When no one is poor then we could light anyone we wanted on fire - they wouldn't have to be poor. " Diego arrives at his conclusion eventually. "Conversely, if you rob someone of everything, its best to light them on fire. Which should even up the morality ledger. I call that a Win/Win. The net increase of poor people is zero. Equality or I guess parity one fire at a time."

It was hard to tell if he was serious.

[Marlowe]

"Light a man a fire and he's warm for the stay. Set a man on fire and he's warm for the rest of his life" nods Robert sagely. Then; "You talk about burning people a lot. Has that got something to do with why you're here?"

[KillingAScarab]

Markarn responded to Robert's inquiry only with a Hmph. A harumph would have been too impolite. He considered replying with something about burning himself in his forge, but felt he didn't know the guide well enough. Instead, he thought back to something else Robert had said.

Mutual defense... What city might be close enough to Heartstop that they could offer timely aid? the dwarf wondered aloud.

[Marlowe]

Robert gives a slight smile to the Hrmph. Evidently some things communicate quite a lot without intending to. "Well, none of my business. But you should...work on your denials. You sound like a slutty schoolgirl being asked if she's still a virgin."

His eyes raise to the horizon. The country is already getting getting more vertical. The road more windy. More like goat country then. "Massacre and Boneyard are only about a day away from Heartstop by water.
Kesselshaven, maybe a little longer."

[J-H]

Mari

"Well, at least we're on the open road again. This is much nicer than being at sea."

[Illven]

Why was the climbing gear so expensive!? Heather complains vocally.

What was it made of pure platinum. She grumbles.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego smiled at Heather. "Why would you need climbing gear? I thought angels could fly?" Diego tried his best NOT to sound like some creepy old man and clearly meant it in jest. Had he been 20 years younger and a woman, much like his father, perhaps his tone would have been different.

[Illven]

I don't know. I know half angels can... But the angels a wizard summons don't. Heather remarks not seeming to notice the come on.

In any case, I don't have any celestial blood, and I cannot fly.

[Marlowe]

Robert chuckles. "Be glad you didn't need a spyglass. Those these get priced to the roof 'cause it's only sea captains that have them; and sea captains-" he suddenly stops, both speaking and walking, and holds up a hand. "Stop. Quiet"

The road--now more or less just a rocky trail, is skirting the edge a short, quartz-white cliff on your right. On the left the grass climbs gently up to a wooded ridgeline, its slopes cloaked in shrubbery down to within twenty yards of you.

Robert twists his body, bringing the repeating crossbow into his hands, and speaks low. "Anyone hear something? I think I heard something."

[Listen checks please, just for the sake of form.]

[Illven]

Heather's ears. [roll0]

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego stops for a moment and listens. He quietly draws his weapon.




Listen : [roll0]

[Marlowe]

From the shrubbery, you initially hear just the normal sounds of the wind. You know; branches rustling, twigs cracking, a muted cry of "aaaaaaargh! Prickles!" You know, just the usual sound wind makes. Then then you hear actual sentences.

"-alright, so Pale Mary kicked our arses-"
"If it WERE Pale Mary! We never seed her! I didn't see her? You see her?"
"Nobodys' seen Pale Mary! We don't even know if she's actually real or a woman or even called "Mary!"
"So how does anyone know she's called Pale Mary?"
"She PUBLISHES, Thorndike."
"Look, anyway. So she kicked our arses and kicked us out of the forest. So what? There's still nine of us left-"
"'cause the other 267 died. And they're dead. 'Cause she killed them."
"Exactly! So if you think about it; she kicked THEIR arses! Not ours"
"Because we ran for it."
"Exactly! Survival of the fittest, that there is. We're not going to beat the Third of the Seven, so we ran for it! Nowt to be ashamed of. So, I'M thinking, maybe we should just make the best of it, hey?"
"Best of what?"
"Well, maybe that whole "Murderers of the Forest of Murderers" thing was getting a bit passe ANYWAY, so maybe we should start again. Make a fresh start."
"But we're wanted in-"
"I'm thinking; "Murderers of the SHRUBBERY of Murderers". How does that sound?"

The voices are coming closer and closer. Through the shrubbery. Down the hill. Carried on the wind and straight towards you.

DM gets bored and writes in free verse sometimes.

[J-H]

Mari


Listen [roll0]

[Marlowe]

https://i.imgur.com/zrRHhXt.png

Good going is the light green stuff. Shrubbery (bad going) is the DARK green stuff. The track is the brown line and the cliff (it's only about 20 feet) is the grey stuff.

The sounds are coming from the RED rectangle. The party (including Robert) are in the BLUE rectangle. Please post your co-ordinates.

[Illven]

Heather will start in D13.

I could try a glitterdust, but I doubt they are invisible. Heather remarks.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

"Maybe they are friendly" Diego whispers doubtfully.





Diego will be around I12 towards the front

[Malak'ai]

With his eyes gazing all over, taking in the views of the forest beyond, the cliff and even the ear on the track they're following, especially after the rain that had been through not that long before, Neilathon isn't really paying too much attantion to the conversation happening between the rest in the party. He's more concerned with keeping his newly purchased mule plodding along in the mud.

Just as everyone stops however, he snaps out of his revary before walking into the backs of his companions. "Umm... What have we all halted?"

Neil will be right at the back in B12 with the mule behind him

[J-H]

Mari

Turning towards the sounds, Mari steps off the road to B14.

[Marlowe]

[s]Suddenly, 20-meter tall cyclops-eyed metal warmachines spring from ambush with 120mm autocannons!!!
https://i.imgur.com/WQA96VH.png

[Okay, no. Really. Our opponents will be represented by Zeonic Industries MS-06 Zaku IIs, because I have the sprites.]

Suddenly, yet not too surprisingly, a group of seven individuals come slouching out of the shrubbery, not really paying much attention to their surroundings. Most of them are probably men, although a couple might be just not very attractive woman. They are armed with battleaxes, dirty studded leather, and heavy wooden shields except for one, who is talking up a storm and wearing a mail shirt and wielding a pair of handaxes.

Each of them has a dirty red rag tied around their right arm.

"So, what I think" says talky-guy. "Is that we should start by finding someone to murder. Like...like-" He turns around and notices you. "Like these guys."

And then he notices your weapons and seems to breath something under his breath. "Did I say; "murder?", I meant; spend some quality time with and get to know better. It's a, you know, speech impeditditdit...impediteditient...imped...Oh, never mind." He waves his axes around dangerously. "Let's CH-"

Party has initiative!

[And guys, if each of you could find and post some sort of image or icon or sprite to represent themselves in future; that might be nice.]

[Illven]

Okay, time for the reason 2 of glitterdust. Heather remarks.

Waving her quarterstaff, she intones a few magic words.

Be blind. She finishes.


Casting Glitterdust centered on R5 to S6, which should get all of them. They must make Will saves DC 16 or be blind.

[Marlowe]

[10' radius spread, Dude. So you get 4 of them.]

Q6
R7 [roll1]
S6 [roll 1d20+2
T5 [roll2]

[Marlowe]

Meh.

S6 [roll0]

The sparkles descend like bright, brutal glimmery things, but only one of the newcomers is unable to cover his eyes in time.

S6, the leader, shouts; "Dammit; guys! Stop turning into vampires!". Q6 points a trembling finger at T5, who is now stumbling around blindly, and moans; "Ooooh...they're makin' her sparkle. And then they're gonna make me sparkle! OOOOOH GAAAWWD!"

[Illven]

I suddenly regret my choice of spell.... Heather comments.

[J-H]

Mari

Mari's hand dips into the pouch at her belt, pulling out a small bone fragment. She mutters a word, and a dark miasma seems to swirl around two of the attackers.


http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/scare.htm
Scare, Will DC 17, targeted on the talky guy. Only hits him because Mari isn't high enough level.

[Marlowe]

Will save [roll0]

Talky-guy (in orange) quails and screams; "OOH NO! It's Rainbow Brite! Run!".

He turns to flee, flailing a little, then screams. "It's RAINBOW BRITE! And it's not even my turn!"

One of the others just looks at him and inquires; "what."

[Malak'ai]

Finally noticing that the group has walked into a (sort of) ambush, Neilathon sighs and starts encanting, moving his hands in an inward gripping motion. All of a sudden, the grass and shrubs around the attackers starts to grow wildly, snaking and writhing around the figures, clutching at them.

Casting Entangle centered on S6, 40' radius spread, DC 16 Reflex to not be caught in the spells effect.

[Marlowe]

o5-Barbara [roll0]
q6-Thorndyke [roll1]
r7-Smithers [roll2]
s6-Kalebbe [roll3]
t5-Naomi [roll4]
v5- Trev [roll5]

All but the leftmost and rightmost of the ruffians are grappled by the unnaturally clutching roots and vines.

"Guys, could we not do the hentai stuff NOW? Weebs." the leftmost can be heard to say.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego really wanted to charge in and swing his flashy sword at the trouble makers. However, he saw everyone was casting spells and it looked like so much fun, he didn't want to get left out. He watched the wave of glitter puff and cover a portion of the clearing with awe.

"Truly, truly outrageous!"



He pointed a finger at the center of the group and yelled some ancient runewords of power he read in a book once, long ago " Pew Pew Pew"




Diego will cast 'Sleep' Centered on the orange guy.

Its a 10 ft radius burst.


(DC 15 will save or sleep for 4 minutes. Up to 4HD of bad guy)

Sleep spell (SRD) (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/sleep.htm)

[Marlowe]

[I guess you all really hate orange?[roll0]]

Mr Guy with the two axes, already grappled, terrified, and covered in glitter, now slumps into unconsciousness.

From somewhere to the right of his position can be heard a voice saying; "Well, that's today borked for a start."

[Marlowe]

The ruffians caught in the mess of feverishly gouging, grappling, entwining and badtouching roots struggle ineffectively. Robert, his crossbow in his hands, steps passed Diego with a satisfied expression, but seems content to stand ready for now.

Two of the enemy manage to swipe their way through the deranged vegetation. One breaking into the clear not far from you, the other looking to vanish back into the shrubbery.
https://i.imgur.com/MRjfVEC.png

[OOC: DAMMIT MARLOWE! ALWAYS lay on transparencies BEFORE applying fills!!!

Results of the strength tests were 11, 3, 7, 4 if anyone's curious. They needed 17.]

[J-H]

Mari

Mari watches the entire bandit attack fall apart in shambles after a few spells. "I think we're done here. Leave them and let them delay some other poor sods later."

[Malak'ai]

"I would tend to agree with you Mari, but I think perhapth we could thtrike a deal with them, if the retht of you are willing to hear my idea out."

"I would tend to agree with you Mari, but I think perhaps we could strike a deal with them, if the rest of you are willing to hear my idea out."

[Marlowe]

Robert the liar strokes Goatslayer and doesn't take his eyes off the mass of entangling entanglements what are entangling the entangled enemy. "You mean; leave them for some other poor pack of travellers who they might actually be able to kill? Capital idea. Very public-spirited. Sort of decision that'll make you very popular."

She shades his eyes with a hand. "Wonder if any of them have bounties?"

[Illven]

Heather rolls her eyes. Transporting them to town would be annoying, and we'd need to listen to them. Better to kill them all and let the gods sort them out.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego

Diego pondered for a moment. "Drop your weapons and flee, otherwise die!" he announces to the bad guys [tm] "If they aren't armed they can't waylay other travelers right ? " He shrugs trying to address Robert's concern.

Diego sashays over in front of Robert with a verbal "hrumpt"





Move action : Move to I-10 10 ft

Standard action : Ready action to attack first bad guy that gets too close

He'll use combat expertise for -2 points to hit and +2 AC.

Diego will also use an inspiration point to improve his defense IF he gets attacked.


AC: 20 (24 vs first attack of the round, will cost 1 inspiration if attacked)
HP: 44/44

[Marlowe]

The bandit at Y1 vanishes into the shrubbery with a rustle of twigs and a shout of; "Fight hard;
guys! I'm rooting for you!"

"Yeah. Cheers, Trev." mutters the bandit at I5. A stocky woman with a pug nose, brushing dirty blonde hair out of her face. She looks thoughtful at Diego's words, seeming to waver. Then one of the entangled ones shouts; "Don't fall for it Babs! They'll hand you over to HER!"

"They can just kill you--OW, THAT DOESN'T GO THERE-Mandoline can...uh-"

"SHE'LL BE CHATTY ABOUT IT! AND SMOKE!"

"Babs" shifts her footing, holding her sword on guard. "Fair go. 'ow 'bout this then?" She looks right at Diego. "'ow 'bout I lead ye t' our treasure an' you let me go?"

"Treasure? We had treasure?"

"STONE the BLEEDING crows, Thorndyke!" shouts "Babs" with a roll of her eyes, and then screaming a battle cry born of desperation and fell resolve, she turns and runs away. Straight off the map, and into the greenery.

F5, ensnarled in roots and covered in glitter, remarks "What's going on? Are we winning?
I hope we're winning."

"We're not winning, Naomi.", says R7.

"Oh well. This feels nice."

[Malak'ai]

"How about before we come to the thhedding of vital bodily fluidth, you all be quiet and lithten to my propothal" Neilathon exclaims.

"How about before we come to the shedding of vital bodily fluids, you all be quiet and listen to my proposal"

[Marlowe]

"NO! I do not want to buy a cow! I don't if it does have a cute silver bell! And this is a very strange time--HEY THAT TICKLES--to ask!"

[Marlowe]

Following this clear declaration of intent, the three bandits within the entangle apparently find new reserves of strength, breaking the vines entwining them in a stalwart display of rippling masculinity (or, in Naomi's case, the other thing) they begin to slash their way away from the party, into the cover of the shrubbery. The blinded Naomi apparently following the muttered curses of the other two as she swings her longsword blindly back and forth.

Still wrapped in the vines, Mister Orange Guy snores.

Robert the Liar looks at this, looks at you, looks at them again, strokes his chin and says; "So,
I'm guessing now we're building a little campfire and singing kum-by-yah? Is that about what we're at?"

[Holy...they all made their strength tests. Of course, they'll probably all get entangled next turn.]

[Anyone want to do something?]

[Illven]

If they aren't dropping their weapons. Heather's firing.

Apparently. Heather mutters disdainfully.


Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]

[Marlowe]

Heather's crossbow bolt sticks in a vine with a wet *thunk*.

From somewhere in the shifting, writhing, entangling shrubbery; you hear the words. "Guys;
next time? Instead of this useless longsword and shield garbage? Spears and javelins!"

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Diego



Not sure who's turn it is. Diego is avoiding walking on the entangled area for now. He'll repeat his last turn's action.

Readied action to attack any enemy that closes.




"Feel free to shoot anyone with a weapon" Diego says to Robert. He pauses. "Errr one of them I mean, don't shoot me."

[Illven]

No need to tell me twice! Heather comments reloading and firing again.


Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]

[Marlowe]

Smithers, the central one of the three strugglers, is able to avoid being tangled anew and fights his way into the cover of the shrubbery, but Naomi and Thorndyke are pinned again. The figure in orange snores loudly as the vines wrap around him.

Heather's bolt, flying truer this time, bites into Thorndyke's shoulder and elicits a high-pitched yelp of pain.