CotCT 5e IC

[3SecondCultist]

Shadi, Who Was Skoan-Quah Human Stone Sorcerer HP: 18/18, AC: 13 PP: 14, PI: 14 Active Effects: None Conditions: None Concentrating: —

Even she has to concede that the throne room is beautiful, yet it is somehow colder to her than the snowy expanse outside. Where are the friends of the dead king, other members of his family? She cannot imagine laughter here even on a better day, and for a moment she is struck with something like sentiment for the woman sitting on the black spiky chair ahead of them. How lonely must it feel, to be trapped here for days on end while one's people ranted and raved and called for your head?

Yet it would be a betrayal to bow before an invader queen - even a mourning one - so Shadi does not. Instead she meets Ileosa's gaze and speaks the truth plainly and in an unvarnished way.

"We hunted a man named Gaedren Lamm, who used children to steal from people and sold drugs down at the docks with no resistance. Together we killed him and burned his fishery to the ground. The brooch was with a lot of other stolen things in his camp. We thought we might get a reward for returning it to you."

[Amnestic]

"There is a charm to one who does not...what's the phrase, beat around the bush? It's a quality I see too little of." There's the hint of an affectionate glance shared between Queen and Knight, but it could just as well be a trick of the flickering firelight. If she holds any opinions about the Shoanti - and no doubt she does, everyone holds some opinion in Korvosa - she keeps it to herself. There's no glare of hatred or gaze of approval at the so-called 'savage', she observes Shadi as she does the rest of you, with the measured neutrality that comes from years of being queen and years more being a noble. "If what you've said is true, and I have no reason to doubt it, then you have done the city a great service in ridding it of this Gaedren Lamm. A vile creature such as that pollutes our city. I love Korvosa, as my..." She holds again, just for a moment, "...husband did before me. To see his death tear the people apart as it did last night is the last thing he or I would have wanted. Korvosa now stands at the precipice of disaster wrought by the riots, and I hope that with the aid of stalwart citizens we might avoid more death and destruction. Of course, I would not expect you to go unrewarded, for the return of my most precious heirloom, nor any future service."

Ileosa nods at Sabina, who taps her gauntlet and mouths some words. Another door in the throne room opens a few moments later, and two plain servants usher themselves in, carrying a silver-inlaid chest between them which they set down in front of you, open, and then immediately leave without a word. Inside the red-velvet lined container are fifteen small gold ingots, each imprinted with the royal seal of Korvosa. Pogdan is all too familiar with these, and knows that each ingot on its own carries the equivalent value of 100 gold coins on its own. The chest itself is likely worth perhaps fifty gold coins on its own, should you wish to part with that also. The Queen graciously allows herself to stop speaking for a moment to observe your reactions to the reward.

[RandomWombat]

Loric the Tanner Human Monk/Ranger AC: 16 HP: 18/18 PP: 13 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 Conditions: -- Brought before the monarch of this diseased city, Loric lowers his head and displays token reverence. Then he regards them both with tired, wary eyes. When Shadi speaks openly of their vigilantism, he tenses somewhat, but the Queen's reaction is not what he would expect of the Chelish woman. The Hellknights' brutal traditions being his foremost knowledge of that land and its people. The understanding and the honeyed words do not soothe him, but he lets the tension drain out of him. She wants something from them, and so they are safe for now. A ruler can always benefit from those who can be made to do the dirty work, then be discarded after all is said and done. Something he knows very well. Spoiler: Rolls Show Insight on the Queen (1d20+3)[19] Nothing about the man's stance or eyes shifts as the chest of gold is brought out before them. Even one of these bars is more gold than he has possessed in his lifetime. Neither his life in his home village, his military service, nor his time here at the tannery have been great sources of wealth. But this god of commerce that men have made, this gold, has never held his fascination. His share will supply him with his needs for a long time, however. So far be it from him to complain.

[purepolarpanzer]

Creissus "Crease" Walrun Ornetto IV Human Bard AC: 14 HP: 17/17 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 12 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: Bardic Inspiration- 1d6 3/3 2 / 2 d8 HD Crease's eyes bulge in a frog-like manner as Shadi relays to the Queen EXACTLY how they came across her brooch, and a bit of red floods into his cheeks, but after a moment's breath his features go back to a honored, gracious smile. Inwardly, he is screaming and ranting at the savage woman's lack of decorum and good sense, but outwardly he is simply silent. When the Queen seems to respond well to this uncouth description of their dirty deeds, he assumes a look that quietly states "this was my idea all along." Similarly, when the chest full of gold ingots comes out, Crease's eyes stay on the Queen, no matter how much he wishes to run his fingers over the gold and cackle. It simply wouldn't be proper to gloat. Instead he speaks up, feeling his silence only hampers their cause. My Queen, we are honored by your generosity and your desire to reward us for what I'm sure any of us would have done for free. Still, it would be unbecoming to turn down your reward, as it was hard fought. But tell me, as I am intrigued by your wording- you mentioned potential future services? Is there some other way we can assist the crown? He fidgeted with his signet ring with one hand before continuing. If further tasks could restore some of the honor lost by House Ornetto, I would risk my very life to raise mine and my sister's esteem in the eyes of the Court and prove that not all Ornettos are... deviants most foul.

[Zero Prime]

Aubin D'Ambrosio, Hellknight deserter AC: 15 | HIT POINTS: 20 | CURRENT 20 | HIT DIE: 2d10 | CURRENT: 2d10 INITIATIVE: +4 | PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 11 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 13 ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. The cavernous throne room threatened to swallow Aubin whole, it's austere nature, highlighting the opulent nature of it's furnishings, and the throne itself, such a majestic, intimidating structure, housing so beatific, and fragile, a creature as the Queen herself. Once introduced, the former Hellknight bowed low, with a practised grace, used to the etiquette of the court, and he held his position until given leave to rise. He was, in fact, grateful, for the low position of the bow, when Shadi, in typical fashion, did not honey her words in an attempt to curry favor, and quickly admitted to the Queen, that they had, in fact, committed grievous sin and crime, which could well be punished by death or imprisonment. This admission, however, was uncharacteristically ignored, even praised as duty, a fact which Aubin had argued with Scipio himself, prior to setting the rotten fishery alight. He watched as the chest was brought out, and while his eyes flickered back and forth, calculating the value of the reward, he realized, the rich do not get rich by giving away wealth, the brooch was surely worth twice the reward, and this all display. He sighed, as his assumption was proven correct, the Queen indicating further work, further reward, for their continued service. Unlike Shadi's, these words were honeyed, for she could easily have demanded service, even as repayment to avoid imprisonment for the crimes committed night's previous. She was a dangerous woman, more so than the witch she kept in her employ, and so Aubin remained silent, respectful, allowing his foppish companion, to fall over himself in an attempt to elevate the status of his fallen house.

[Amnestic]

The Queen's lips turn into a slight smile at the offer, though it's hard to call it a warm smile. 'Relieved' is likely the closer term for it. "As I said, the city - we - sit upon a precipice. Should we stumble and fall, all of Korvosa may burn. Untold numbers will perish, and we are in need of those who can and will help. The Korvosan Guard are stretched perilously thin. Their leader, Field Marshal Cressida Kroft, will know more about the state of the city and how you can assist, if you wish to." She pauses for a moment, before continuing. "This isn't a Royal order. Though it is...now within my power to do so I would rather those serving the city do so of their own will. Be it for gold, prestige, a powerful friend, or simply love of our city, however, I will ensure that those who serve receive the rewards they deserve in this difficult time. Be assured that if you do aid the city, I will watch your actions with great interest." Each word seems chosen as if she knew exactly how the conversation would flow before you even walked in, though perhaps that is simply the air she projects as a defense mechanism. Chelish politics are cutthroat (often literally), and Korvosa is little different in that regard.

Spoiler: Loric Insight

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Ileosa's posture is perfect, and she leaves nothing to be picked up upon. There's no nervousness, no twitches or telltale signs of deception. Her movements are that of someone tired, but nevertheless deliberate. What fatigue she displays appears more emotional than physical.

Spoiler: Cressida Kroft, Int (History)

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Spoiler: DC9

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Field Marshal Cressida Kroft is a guardsman through-and-through, rather than someone who got their position through bloodline or monetary donations. If Sabina has the respects of the guards for her fighting prowess, Cressida has it for her keen sense for the flow of criminality and knowledge of the streets.

Spoiler: DC12

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Alongside her Guard duties, she was - until her promotion to Field Marshal 6 months go - a part time adventurer, which has given her a reputation among some as being willing to stretch the law or skirt regulations (which, ironically, she now sets) when the needs are great. She's also not afraid or concerned with hiring adventurers, being well familiar with their habits and styles.

Spoiler: DC15

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Her promotion 6 months ago came as a reward by the King himself, in recognition of her service in singlehandedly uncovering a plot to poison hundreds of guests at a feast, and being the spearhead that drove the criminal cultists from Korvosa. Though originally she planned to decline the position, she decided she could do more good if had the reins of the Guard. The increase in duties has meant that she spends far more time stuck behind a desk though, and has essentially had to put all her time into the Guard, and no longer adventuring.

[Bunny Commando]

Scipio Arquetius - HP: 17/17 - Conditions: None - Active Effects: None - Harrow Points: 1

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Scipio grimaces at the Shoanti's admission of their collective crime, but the Queen's response make him frown in confusion. They acted like vigilantes, yet were praised and rewarded; and the reward is being eyed by the former watchman with anticipation - that gold would carry him through the harsh winter of Korvosa without having to go hungry even for a day.

But as he said earlier in the morning, there's was a good chance the Queen would ask them to act so that her rule would be strengthened; worst of all, she asked them to report to Marshal Kroft - a woman he knows all too well and he's not so keen to meet again. But he's wise enough to keep his mouth shut, doesn't make any kind of promise to the Queen and leave Crease to perform the customary bootlicking every time one meets a royal.

[RandomWombat]

Loric the Tanner Human Monk/Ranger AC: 16 HP: 18/18 PP: 13 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 Conditions: -- Looking upon the Queen, in her perfect posture and stone face, Loric can see the strain beneath. Like all who lead, she wears a mask. To appear at once more and less than mortal. To appear to be an inviolable truth. This is what it takes to make men follow, to make them die for you. To make them kill for you. Loric's mask broke a long time ago. All that's left is the tiredness he sees lurking behind her eyes. Can she see it in mine? At once, he feels both respect and sharpened caution. This is a dangerous woman. He takes care not to make any pledges or oaths to her cause. While her strength is clear, her rightness is yet to be seen. Raising a hand towards the chest of gold bars, he looks aside at the others in his group. "Fifteen. There are six of us. They do not divide evenly," he points out.

[3SecondCultist]

Shadi, Who Was Skoan-Quah Human Stone Sorcerer HP: 18/18, AC: 13 PP: 14, PI: 14 Active Effects: None Conditions: None Concentrating: —

Shadi nearly blinks in surprise when the Queen of Korvosa does not throw them all in the dungeons for stepping up to clean out her gutters of oathbreakers, murderers, and thieves. It wasn't exactly what she expected the royal would do, but she'd assumed some ill-graced display of ingratitude was in store for them. So to not only be paid a compliment but also literally paid in gold has the Shoanti stepping back to reconsider the grieving woman before them.

To make them feel like they owe the crown… it is a clever move, so she must have some plan in store for them. Maybe her Merrin witch has seen them coming and cast a spell on the bars so that they can be tracked? Or she is reading their minds right now? Or maybe this Ileosa is what she seems? The Queen is absolutely impossible to read, which is distressing in and of itself. Sparing a glance at the others, she notes their shared bewilderment at the development, and stifles a laugh when Loric asks to divide up the metal.

"Payment is payment. We can trade these in for coin; I will then accept my sixth of the gold and be on my way." There is no mention of any 'future service', for Shadi has no desire to do one thing more for the monarch sitting on this crimson throne. In fact, she has given serious thought to where she even wants to reopen Plates and Plateaus when she’s been paid. Certainly she will have the coin, but with the city tearing itself apart she might be better off finding a less chaotic place to try a second hand at destiny.

[purepolarpanzer]

Creissus "Crease" Walrun Ornetto IV Human Bard AC: 14 HP: 17/17 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 12 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: Bardic Inspiration- 1d6 3/3 2 / 2 d8 HD Crease nearly died on the spot as the others began speaking of breaking up these lovely ingots and changing them in in front of the very Queen who was beneficent enough to give them to them in the first place. Well, not literally, but he always favored the metaphorical to the literal. He did take a moment lo look away and roll his eyes at the gall of these peasants and barbarians, covering his face as he does so. When the moment passed, he returned his view to the forward position. Bowing low, he said Thank you for your generosity, my Queen. I feel we may have overstayed our welcome, but in parting I hope you know that your wellness is in my thoughts, and I feel flattered that ours is on your mind as well. Are we dismissed, your Majesty? He turned to the others. Would one of you be so kind as to carry our prize? I know a place where it is likely we can... make change... He shivered, recognizing the necessity of it but dreading the actual practice.

[RandomWombat]

Loric the Tanner Human Monk/Ranger AC: 16 HP: 18/18 PP: 13 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 Conditions: -- "I think some should be donated to the orphanage. It will be a hard winter with new mouths to feed," Loric speaks again, with a suggestion this time. Slowly, he turns to look at Crease with eyes sparked with mild irritation. "Gold is heavy. Each should carry their two at least. Those who carry the difference should have more say in where it goes," he explains slowly how weight and merit works, his tone a jab at Crease's laziness without actively insulting or demeaning him in front of the Queen. There is more fire in his words than there was the other night, more than the hollow echoing voice that rarely spoke. Once given leave, Loric empties his bag of the more delicate of its meager contents and carefully slides his two gold ingots inside, spreading the weight so as not to tear a hole in his bag. Wanting to ensure the orphans get back something of what Lamm took for them, he silently 'volunteers' to carry a third ingot. Then he replaces the rest of his things and holds the bag from the bottom to further guard it against tears and damage.

[purepolarpanzer]

Creissus "Crease" Walrun Ornetto IV Human Bard AC: 14 HP: 17/17 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 12 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: Bardic Inspiration- 1d6 3/3 2 / 2 d8 HD Crease, all smiles, speaks quietly, his voice expertly pitched so as NOT to carry much further than the group. Far be it that I would argue bread out of the mouths of orphans, but I do deign to disagree with you as to the value of the act of schlepping the ingots. But it is not proper to have a disagreement in front of nobility, let alone royalty, so let us leave it at that for now. We can discuss how the gold is parsed when we visit the money changer. Crease then picks up an ingot in each hand, carefully stacking them in his bag, before pointedly taking a third while glancing in Loric's direction and adding it to his bag as well. He struggles for balance for a moment when he straps the bag on and stands, but adjusts his center of balance after but a moment.

[Amnestic]

The Queen nods at Creissus, though her eyes haven't stopped watching your reactions to the gold. Nor have Sabina's, though her gaze is more of a wary hawk than Ileosa's scrutinising assessment. "I bid you good day then, Shadi who was Skoan-Quah, Creissus Walrun Ornetto, Loric, Factor Podgan, Viscount Marcillus Praecus Aquillonius and Scipio Arquetius. I hope to hear more of your names in the future." There's no stumbling over the names, nor hesitation. She perfectly repeats them back to you - though she omits the full length of Creissus' introduction, it seems unlikely she hasn't already committed it to memory as well. "Sabina, I will retire to my chambers. My grief has...drained me. See our guests out." Her final direction is softer than how she spoke with you, though it's not clear if she's doing so because of the topic, or because of the person it's directed towards.

Sabina gestures towards the door you came from, and you're lead out with your reward. The knight again taps her wrist and silently mouths some words, before guiding you back down the stairs you came from. All in all your meeting with the queen lasted but a few minutes, and the journey there was far more time spent than the actual interaction. You don't need to ask for an escort from the castle back to the city proper, one is provided for you, with a fresh six guards waiting alongside the dozen already expected at the gate. Why it's provided goes unstated, and if asked for Sabina waves it off the question as standard procedure.

Spoiler: DC16 Insight

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Though she gives little away here, the abruptness of her answer indicates that's not the only reason you're being given an escort, though she simply ignores any further questions about it even if pressed.

The guards take you as far as the base of the pyramid, before turning right back around and heading back up. If they have any complaints they don't vocalise them, at least not to a ragtag group like yourselves. They have enough discipline to keep their complaints away from prying eyes and ears, even as their clanking forms march back up the pyramid's snow-swept slopes.

Creissus' moneychanger, the closest one that has the facilities and funds to deal with 1500 coins worth of royal-seal-stamped ingots, is located in the Gold Market, a short journey southeast back the way you came. Helpfully this will likely also be a place you can offload your myriad of treasures and trinkets. Even in this weather, people still need to do trade. Perhaps coincidentally this puts you also on the road towards the Guard's citadel. You don't get far however. Barely a few minutes after you start your path towards the market hear a loud voice break through the windy snow. Off the (mostly deserted) main road, down an even quieter sideroad, is a small assembly of people. On the ground, peering up at the crowd, is a young man in his mid-20s. His unshaven, stubbly face and tussled short auburn hair indicate he's not taking the best care of himself, though his manner of dress tell you he's probably a nobleman of some sort. Spots of blood drip from the man's nose, dripping down onto his burgundy-coloured doublet.

The six, all on their feet surrounding him, are a far cry from the slim and trim form on the ground. They all have the muscles and dress of those who have lived and bled hard physical labour. In their hands are a variety of 'weapons', if they can be called that - chunks of wood as improvised clubs, shovels, and chair legs. The voice you overheard belongs to that of a burly young woman with greasy strings for hair framing her round face. She jeers, her booming voice cutting through the cold. "Bet’cha never worked an honest day’s wage in your life, eh, Queen’s Man? M’brother had his arm crushed," she holds out one arm, pointing the shovel directly at the young man's face, for emphasis. "by a barrel on the docks when he was younger than you. Never raised a mug with that wrist again. Wanna know what that feels like?" Her question is met with encouraging shouts. Even so close to the Castle they don't seem to fear any repudiation from the guard or Hellknights. At least not currently.

[RandomWombat]

Loric the Tanner Human Monk/Ranger AC: 16 HP: 18/18 PP: 13 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 Conditions: -- Trudging down the heavy slope with the weight of the gold in his bag is no easy task, but nor is there any easier way. So Loric carries it down in silence, apart from a few grunts of effort when he has to stop from tumbling down the dangerous slip and slide. Coming to the mouth of the alley, Loric looks aside at the scene, and the wealthy man being beaten in the street. He has no particular affection for the rich. Indeed, the appearance of these working class tormentors inclines him to believe that he is some good for nothing who deserves no less. He observes quietly out of morbid curiosity, making no move to interfere.

[purepolarpanzer]

Creissus "Crease" Walrun Ornetto IV Human Bard AC: 14 HP: 17/17 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 12 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: Bardic Inspiration- 1d6 3/3 2 / 2 d8 HD Crease makes sure to bow before turning to leave the Queen's chamber, showing all necessary reverence to the leader of the city. When it comes time to descend the pyramid, he sincerely regrets letting his pride goad him into carrying three ingots. By the time they have made it to the bottom he is sweating, panting, and felt more at risk on the descent than he did with arrows flying in his direction in Lamm's fishery. He requests a brief break, but eventually gets moving again. When he sees a band of ruffians assaulting a man in clear noble garb, he makes a snap decision. If he lets the rabble get away with this, he invites this behavior to propagate. Who knows? Maybe next time it would be him. Or Anoria. No, this ended now. "What are you vandals meaning to do to this man? Has he wronged you in some way, or are you merely venting your rage on a vulnerable target?" Crease stepped forward and put his hand on his rapier. "Answer true, or you may find yourselves dealing with more capable quarry."

Spoiler: OOC

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Intimidation at (1d20+4)[23]. Even if no one else will help, Crease is standing at the lead of a group of armed and armored folk. Until someone contradicts him, he has a measure of threat to deal with as currency.

[Bunny Commando]

Scipio Arquetius - HP: 17/17 - Conditions: None - Active Effects: None - Harrow Points: 1

---------------

Scipio has made pretty clear he doesn't have much love for Crease and he certainly doesn't look like someone who lives surrounded by wealth and privilege; yet when the so-called "noble" intervenes to avoid an assault against one of his peers, Scipio steps in wielding his crossbow - still not loaded, not pointing at the lowlives - but sending the message he's willing to employ violence and giving more weight to Crease's words.
Sure, he might not have love for Crease or any folk with a title, but the former watchman doesn't seem to tolerate such lawlessness, such blatant defiance of the social contract that should keep Korvosa's streets safe for everyone, not just the ones with the most weapons.

[Zero Prime]

Aubin D'Ambrosio, Hellknight deserter AC: 15 | HIT POINTS: 20 | CURRENT 20 | HIT DIE: 2d10 | CURRENT: 2d10 INITIATIVE: +4 | PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 11 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 13 ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. Aubin had been numbed into silence during the audience with the Queen herself, certainly farther than he thought Creissus' ambition would take them. However, the Queen's acceptance of their capital offences, and subsequent offer of aid caused the former Hellknight much concern. Was the city, truly, in such desperate need of ... he looked to his companions, to himself, covered in soot and ash, and back to the Queen ... unsavory enforcers? Her Korvosa's guard must surely be hard pressed, and Hellknights already walked the streets. Given what the man endured the previous night, having faced his personal demon, in Lamm, only to come, fully, to the understanding that one's demons cannot be slain by a nights work of blood, fire and ash, then what, truly, was he doing here? What did he hope to gain from his allies ambitious plot to extort money from the Korvosan coffers, and yet, when the chest arrived, the golden glow of wealth and reparations his breath caught in his throat, his mind raced at the possibility. Still, slowly, he walked forward, selecting a humble two ingots to place into the leather satchels meant to carry smokepowder and cartridges, sturdy, well stitched things. Bowing, numbly, he backed away, cursing his own greed, he should decline the gold, he had no need of it, it would not fill the chasm that threatened to tear him in twain. Meek, mouselike, a cowardly addict, he hovered at the periphery of his group, slowly as they retreated, under guard, exiting the flickering, torch lit corridors of the Castle, only to face the numbing winds, sleet, and snow. Carefully they descended, securing his arms as they passed, again, beneath the gates. As they walked the streets, to a money lender their esteemed, and ambitious ally, claimed to know well, they came across a scene of violence and confrontation. Itself a symptom of the powderkeg that Korvosa had become with the death of it's Patriarch, King Arabasti II. It was a fire that threatened to explode, and acts such as these were sparks that could well cause the end of the city he had come to call home. Cressius did an admirable job of projecting his voice, Aubin merely stepped shoulder to shoulder with the shorter man, opened his great cloak, and placed a hand on the butt of his pistol. "Listen to the fat man, you've got beds to get home to, better than the Pharasmins taking you to the Cathedral in the mornin', yea?" He looked to the burly woman, "And you? You sure you want to continue on this path, leave a brother with a lame wrist to fend for himself in the storm that's comin'? Go home, and go in peace." An inhale, "But do it quick."

[TriciaOso]

Factor Podgan, Deep Gnome Cleric of Abadar Level 2 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 18 PP: 14 | PIv: 13 | PIn: 14 Concentration: No | Active Effects: No

As they make their way to the moneychanger, Podgan finds his moment to speak quietly to Loric.

"I quite agree that the reward should be used to support the children. Someone must take responsibility for them, and this windfall came from the same act that freed them... it seems fit to me. But we must remember that each of us have our own reasons to be here, and our own conceptions of honor." He looks around at the disparate group. "All that binds us together is a crime. But the same crime. We must not judge each other too harshly."

Other than that he is quiet, as quiet as he was through the audience. His heart goes out to the fragile young queen, but he is not an adventurer by trade, and he can see more than one of their group is reluctant to get involved in any further work on her behalf, so what is there to say?

When the violence breaks out in public, Podgan is dismayed, but not nearly as shocked as he would've been a day or two ago. It seems as if the good order of the whole world has broken down at the same time as he succumbed to revenge. This, he knows, is called the pathetic fallacy; the belief that you are the main character of the world, and everything that happens happens for your moral edification or reproach. Priests are especially vulnerable, they warned him. But a cleric must remember that he is just a moment in another person's story, again and again, and rise to that moment, not try to weave their needs together into a cloak to fit himself.

Podgan ignores the attackers; he is armored and possessed of supernatural gifts from his god, accompanied by a host of warriors, and they are poor and confused and adrift. There is an injured man here, and he has a job to do. He moves to kneel beside the nobleman and check the extent of his injuries.

Spoiler: OOC

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Medicine check: (1d20+6)[19]

[RandomWombat]

Loric the Tanner Human Monk/Ranger AC: 16 HP: 18/18 PP: 13 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 Conditions: -- The gnome's words do not have any outward effect on Loric's demeanor, as they walk through the frozen street. His face itself seems frozen, set in an expression that looks like cinders. An anger struggling to break out of the apathy of the ashes. But the gnome's words do reach him. And for all his hot air, the nobleman carries three ingots down the pyramid. No easy task. A task he foolishly underestimated. A task he has completed nonetheless. It is enough to earn Loric considering Crease's opinion come the time to decide where the money shall go. Only when Podgan steps forward to examine the victim's injuries does Loric walk alongside him, prepared to defend the cleric should it come to violence.

[Amnestic]

The loud woman at the head of the group turns to your group as you approach, immediately focusing on Creissus. It only takes a moment for her to grasp the situation though - you're better armed and armoured than any of them. "Fethin' bluebloods." She spits in disgust, in an impressive feat of salival projection, at Creissus' feet a fair distance away. The globule lands mere inches from his shoes, but the splatter is already freezing over. "See how quick they are to 'elp each other, but want us unhear' and unseen. Outta sight, outta mind, ain't it? Come on lads, lets go before milords change their minds."

There's little for Pogdan to do with the young nobleman. When the labourers leave, muttering curses under their breath, it becomes clear that the worst the man has is a bloodied nose, likely from a single strike. Nothing a cold cloth and time won't fix. With the aid of the rockgnome he pulls himself to his feet, stumbling only slightly before righting himself. Bloodied nose aside, his posture is fine. Prim and proper even. His hands lack the delicate waifness of a typical noble, instead being crisscrossed with scars, and even at a glance you can see the calloused palms that mark him as someone likely used to wielding weapons. "Thank you for your intervention," he says earnestly, pressing a head to his heart and bowing unreserved at your group. "I fear matters may have taken to the worse had you not arrived. I'm glad you were able to usher them away without needless bloodshed." He dabs a finger to his nose and it comes away bloody, but just smiles jovially instead of seeming concerned at the injury. "Well, mostly. Amin Jalento." He gives a second, shorter bow, at his introduction.

Spoiler: Jalento Family, Int History

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Spoiler: DC1

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Jalentos are a type of pepper right? Are they pepper traders?

Spoiler: DC7

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They're a small noble family.

Spoiler: DC12

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The Jalentos are an offshoot of the far more notable Zenderholm family following a particularly notable falling out between the man who became then-head of the Jalentos and the then-head of the Zenderholms some 50 years past. They lack notable capital, influence or connections, and are in essence nobility in name only, propped up by memories of a bloodline.

Spoiler: DC17

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Amin Jalento is the sole scion of the Jalento family. Though his parents have tried to conceive additional children, such attempts have failed. Word is that Amin himself is notable solely for his sword skills, having trained under the swordmaster Vencarlo Orsini for a time, and that his lack of acumen for political maneuvering will see what little holdings the Jalento have either absorbed or destroyed within a decade. Though they aren't the subject of much gossip, it seems Amin doesn't particularly care if the family 'line' dies with him, and he apparently has actively distanced himself from anything to do with nobility, which may be part of why his parents were so desperate for a second child.

[TriciaOso]

Factor Podgan, Deep Gnome Cleric of Abadar Level 2 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 18 PP: 14 | PIv: 13 | PIn: 14 Concentration: No | Active Effects: No

Podgan relaxes when he sees the man is largely unhurt. Just a scuffle, and it looks like the laborers will not suffer for it either. Altogether satisfactory. "I am glad we were here, for everyone's sake," Podgan says. "I am sure the poor souls would've regretted it, if things had gone further."

There's a tinge of irony to that remark, given that he recognizes the name.

[3SecondCultist]

Shadi, Who Was Skoan-Quah Human Stone Sorcerer HP: 18/18, AC: 13 PP: 14, PI: 14 Active Effects: None Conditions: None Concentrating: —

Shadi continues her trend of keeping to herself as the group wanders through the Korvosan streets. The two ingots she picked up for herself do not give her any strain, comfortable as she is in carrying heavy burdens. She muses darkly that perhaps she should have carried the whole sum of the treasure's weight, befitting the nature of the Harrow card given to her by a damned ghost. None of it is worth bringing up now, as she has already suffered enough wasted breath for one day.

Of course, the quiet doesn't last. They aren't even to the lordling's money changer - why such a role would even exist is entirely beyond her - when they come across yet another scene of burgeoning violence. Shadi is quick to step aside with Loric when the tanner moves away, her scorn for Crease readily apparent on her face but she contributes absolutely nothing to save the man on the ground. It is only when she takes note of his hands and complete lack of a fuss at the sight of blood that Shadi even looks at him twice. Her thick brows furrow at the name of his family, as she exchanges a confused look with Loric.

"Why did your parents name you after a pepper?"

[Bunny Commando]

Scipio Arquetius - HP: 17/17 - Conditions: None - Active Effects: None - Harrow Points: 1

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Scipio frowns at Shadi's comment, most probably not making immediately the connection between the noble's name and a spice; then he shares what he knows about Amin "We're talking with the lone scion of the Jalento - by the way, it's not a type of pepper - and student of the famous swordmaster Vencarlo Orisini. Word on the street says the fellow doesn't get along with his family and the Jalento are most probably due a hostile takeover soon enough."

[RandomWombat]

Loric the Tanner Human Monk/Ranger AC: 16 HP: 18/18 PP: 13 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 Conditions: -- "That is a family name- I believe they are pepper traders," Loric answers when he turns and meets a similarly confused look from Shadi. Until Scipio corrects him, with the man's true identity. "Ah... I see." Whether the man has been in war or is simply a practiced duelist, Loric regards him with a bit more respect than before. The scarred hands mark him as a man not unfamiliar with hardship and effort. "Why did they attack you?" he asks, rather bluntly.

[purepolarpanzer]

Creissus "Crease" Walrun Ornetto IV Human Bard AC: 14 HP: 17/17 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 12 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: Bardic Inspiration- 1d6 3/3 2 / 2 d8 HD Crease releases the grip of his rapier and lets it drop into it's sheath. Turning to Amin, he offers a small bow in return, not inclining quite as low as the "noble" with the bloodied nose. Creissus Walrun Ornetto the Fourth. But you may call me Crease. Formalities done, he extends his hand to shake the hand of the Jalento. You seem to have made an impression upon those small folk. I am glad they stepped down. Combat against misguided, untrained hooligans would be... unseemly. I trust you are all right? Crease gives Amin a quick up and down with his eyes, admiring him with something more than cold formality.

[Amnestic]

Amin tilts his head slightly at the question of his name, clearly confused, but once clarified by Scipio he laughs, the good nature of it clear. It's unclear if he thinks you're joking, or if he just finds the absurdity of the sincere questions funny, but regardless he's taking it well in stride. "That's a somewhat concerningly accurate summary of my life. It's nice to know I have a fan." He takes Creissus' hand warmly. It's a strong grip, but one that he doesn't press for supremacy or dominance as some might, instead matching its force to Creissus' own. "No permanent damage I expect, certainly nothing a lecture from Father and bedrest won't 'solve'." Loric's question doesn't disarm him at all, but his tone is more pensive than amused. "Heritage, I expect. I was just on my way back from the markets after arranging some purchases, and they jumped me. Luckily they liked to spend their time talking instead of getting straight to the pain." He sighs, somewhat apologetically. "It's my own fault for going out without my blade, but I'd hoped that staying unarmed would be a sign of good faith."

"Still, I won't have my rescuers go unrewarded. You've saved me from injuries, and it seems only right I do the same." He digs in a bag at his belt and tugs out two potion vials filled with a reddish-pink liquid, gives them a once-over to ensure they're undamaged, before handing them over. "They'd just get used to clear up scrapes and cuts from sparring. Hopefully you won't need them, but better safe than sorry!"

Spoiler: OOC

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Assuming the gift/reward/generous donation is accepted, the party acquires two Potions of Healing (2d4+2).

[Bunny Commando]

Scipio Arquetius - HP: 17/17 - Conditions: None - Active Effects: None - Harrow Points: 1

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"In my line of work, information is hard currency, sir." Scipio just shrugs like knowing so much about someone he met by chance on the streets isn't such a big deal for him; he doesn't seem so interested in the conversation, happily leaving Crease in charge of talking, but when a reward is on the table the detective's eyes gleam and he quickly comes up beside the nobleman so he could talk with Amin as well "That's very kind of you, sir." he somberly nods "But I would rather train with Master Orisini, so if you could put a good word for me that would be really appreciated."

[3SecondCultist]

Shadi, Who Was Skoan-Quah Human Stone Sorcerer HP: 18/18, AC: 13 PP: 14, PI: 14 Active Effects: None Conditions: None Concentrating: —

"Walking around unarmed is foolish," agrees Shadi, "so it is your fault. You are lucky that they stepped in to save you when they did." The fact that she has just offered Crease even roundabout praise nearly causes the warrior to stop talking, but she muscles through the flash of nausea.

"Potions are useful, but there are only two here and six of us. I am no learner, but that does not add up. How will you pay the rest of what you owe?"

[TriciaOso]

Factor Podgan, Deep Gnome Cleric of Abadar Level 2 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 18 PP: 14 | PIv: 13 | PIn: 14 Concentration: No | Active Effects: No

"He does not owe anything," Podgan says wearily. "A gift in return for kindness done is not the same as a payment for services rendered."

"As a healer, I have the most use for these potions. I can provide a share of gold equal to their value to each of you. Does that satisfy?"

He looks apologetically up at the nobleman.

[RandomWombat]

Loric the Tanner Human Monk/Ranger AC: 16 HP: 18/18 PP: 13 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 Conditions: -- "The Factor is correct," Loric agrees. And as his intent was never to help the man, he turns away to continue walking - the thanks is not his to take or to share in. "Greed is unbecoming. We have places to go, as does he." Only coming to the corner turning back onto the main street does he stop and look back expectantly, remembering that Crease is the one with the directions.