"A charm and a pair of knee high boots if you please," Khloemar asks of Lydia. "And I will take a look at the plans and maps I suspect you keep of the Temple - if we learn things that will help us and the Lady you will be both well contented and rewarded."
Lydia shakes her head, and answers Zagnar. "Our inventory is so small right now, I'm afraid I can't give you a discount." Shortly, you're brought out a suit of leather armor, pristine and unblemished, that fits the stout frame of a dwarf.
* * * * *
<Malutassial>: "Miss Bagot, what can you tell me about the Good Luck Charm? To be honest, I was hoping to acquire an ordinaire staff - can I take it that you have nothing of the sort in stock?"
"I'm afraid we don't have any staves at all, sir. But some are expected on the shipment that's coming in. The Good Luck charms were brought in by a merchant last week. He claimed they were crafted by leprechauns and, thus, grant the wearer good luck." The charms are made of a cheap metal made to resemble gold, but they're definitely not gold. They're fashioned in the design of a four-leaf clover.
* * * * *
<Random>"I will take a fine suit of leather armor, as well." ... It wasn't Random's wont to relay depressing information, but he had to tell her. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mz. Bagot, but I don't think you'll be getting that shipment. There was a storm out at sea, and we picked up a couple of survivors from the shipwreck. It was a merchant ship, The Gnome's Purse. I'm afraid they lost everything."
After he gets his armor, he'll venture out amidst the throng, clear his throat, and hope to make a few gold singing a rousing rendition of an old Darksmoke fable he learned in the pubs of northern Tumbaria. [GM: Ok? Per Bard's abilities?]
Another suit of leather armor is brought out, this one for Random. Pristine and unblemished, it fits the svelte frame of an elf. Hearing the news of the storm at sea, and that the ship, The Gnome's Purse, was involved, Lydia's face betrays the devastation she feels. "No, it can't be!" It becomes apparent it isn't so much the merchandise and subsequent lost sales that make her distraught, but the crewmen she knows aboard the ship
[Sure. Go for it. Make any necessary roll you need.]
* * * * *
<Winip>will go for the delver's package, 3 day's worth of provisions and 2 good luck charms. Winip does not know if the charms will help him but he is buying them in the hope that they have some magical qualities. "These good luck charms look better than the last charms I saw, they looked as though they had made from the cheapest wood available that morning."
Lydia has no comment about their magical value, preferring to keep quiet on that topic. A delver's package, one days provisions and two charms are given to Winip.
* * * * *
"A charm and a pair of knee high boots if you please," <Khloemar> asks of Lydia. "And I will take a look at the plans and maps I suspect you keep of the Temple - if we learn things that will help us and the Lady you will be both well contented and rewarded."
Knee-high boots and a charm are given to Khloemar. Lydia looks at you oddly. "Plans and maps of the Temple? The Temple of Darksmoke down the street? We don't have anything like that, but I can tell you it's just one small room, attended by the priests you see ringing the bells."
* * * * *
A short time later Runkild arrives at the shop, having gotten sick before departing the ship. The looks on the faces of captain and crew were priceless when he walked down the gangway. After some time roaming in the village, he finally finds his party mates and looks at the available gear, taking his time to consider what to take. After putting some thought into it, he settles on a kukri and an open face helm.
Lydia brings you a kukri and an open faced helm.
Still clearly devastated at the news of the disaster involving The Gnome's Purse, Lydia nonetheless manages a smile. "Is that all, gentlemen?"
Post by marionarsis on Dec 19, 2015 18:27:56 GMT -5
After getting his gear, Random McBride immediately headed out into the street (and thus missed Zagnar's advice).
Finding the largest crowd of people, he stood in their midst and drew a circle in the dirt. Standing in the center of the crude circle drawn, he began to sing a song, utilizing the vast vocal mechanizations his robust and sturdy vocal chords allowed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please," he shouted above the clamor of a thousand-conversations. "My name is Random McBride, a bard that studied under the great instructors of voice, Horatio Windpipes and Melvin Melodies. Today, I bring to you a song about the wondrous Darksmoke, written and composed in the Conservatory of the Everlasting Rhythms on the Isthmus of the Muses in the Upper Peninsula of the Mirabella Coasts with additional comments and regards by Billows the Wandering Bard of the Dozen-or-So-Lakes, and his sidekick Igor the Irrefutable-But-Only-On-Matters-of-Certain-Heretofore-Unmentioned-Techniques-In-Song."
Clearing his throat, he hummed the scales for a moment, then began:
<It was a stunning song, clearly impressing the locals. Its magnificance to such a degree that the written word cannot give it its due justice.>
After your stirring opening monologue, a dozen passersby break apart from the brooding crowd and approach your circle, lending you a receptive ear...for now. You know if you perform poorly things could turn ugly. Such is the temperament of modern-day music lovers.
You begin. The first few notes roll off your tongue, flawlessly. Each subsequent note is met with growing approval. Faces twisted cynically as you began soften into smiles of contentment, surprise, even, yes, even adoration. The small, intense crowd surges closer to you, pleased at the sound of your honey-smooth vocals, cultivated by such luminaries as Horatio Windpipes and Melvin Melodies.
You sing a song of Darksmoke, and easily see in the expressions of those that lingered and listened, total captivation! With a flourish of lyricism and a bow, you complete the song. The applause that follows is long and loud...for twelve people.
Afterward, ten gold coins are tossed into your circle along with a few words of thanks. (SR needed=4; rolled=9. Difference of 5 multiplied by your level (2)= 10 gold earned. Also, give yourself 25 adventure points).
As Random gathers his coins...Winip and Runkild remain behind at Hyprix's Supplies, mulling over their options.
Zagnar, Malutassial, and Khloemar cross the street before Random completes his song, toward the impressive two-story structure that is The Tavern of the Seven Curses.
Pushing past the stout, wooden double-doors, the trio is greeted by a cacophony of a hundred voices, and the clinging, rattling, and slamming of drinking jacks on tables. The common room is at total capacity, and there appears to be nowhere to sit or even stand.
That is until a young human girl, about 15 years of age by the looks of her, appears out of nowhere. She wears the uniform of a serving girl, and quickly grabs Zagnar by the hand. "Quickly, come with me, all of you. There's only one table left and we haven't much time." She leads you through the pushing, shoving, spitting, cursing masses to a single, lonely table at the far end of the room. A few seconds later, a second waitress comes over with two men, sees the table now occupied and casts a hateful look at her colleague, and gives a not-so-lady-like gesture toward the young serving girl before storming off.
Smiling, the girl introduces herself. "I'm Alexa. What we have is right there." She points to a small plaque standing upright on the table.
Menu The Tavern of the Seven Curses
Ale 1 g.p.
All Wines: 1.5 gp -Red -White -Raisin -Applejack -Peach Brandy
Meal 2 g.p. (Bread, cheese, assorted fruit, one slice of roast ox)
Runkild takes the kukri, wears the helm and goes out to check what the clapping is all about. Seeing Random counting his coins he approaches. "Hey there, mate! It seems you made quite an impression here. You might want me to organize one or two shows for you in a proper venue -- at least better than the middle of the street. Try to think about it..." He accompanies him to the tavern to join the others there.
Post by marionarsis on Dec 21, 2015 10:04:00 GMT -5
Random is ecstatic. He gathers his coins, and accepts the small gatherings praise, with deep bows, and grand waves, as if he's waving to an amphitheater filled with 3,000 people. He listens to Runkild, then says, "It seems the others have finding our guide under control. I'm gonna check out the Temple down the road and try to pick up a clue or two." With that the bard trundles off toward the Temple of Darksmoke, humming a tune under his breath.
<Zagnar, Malutassial, Khloemar> Alexa furrows her eyebrows. "Soubriquet? I've never heard of him. There's lots of man-orcs here, though, working as security." She points in the general direction of the front door, but there's such a crush of bodies everywhere, it makes seeing anything impossible.
"Perhaps I should get the owner, Pookas. I call him Pookey. He knows everyone. In the meantime, you wish to order something, right?"
She waits for a reply.
<Random> You walk to the northern extreme of the tiny little dirt road. Here, where it ends, is the small building calling itself the Temple of Darksmoke. Two Red Robed Priests relentlessly toll the bells they hold, its jarring, brain-rattling sound echoing throughout the small village. In their other hand they each hold a rune-covered staff. Their bald heads are covered by the cowl of their robe.
Seeing you, they smile, and one of them says, "Hello, friend. Venturing inside Darksmoke Mountain? For the sacrifice of two gold pieces, we'll offer our prayers, for your sake, to our deity, Darksmoke, that he may have mercy on you in your endeavors within the mount."
<Runkild> Runkild pushes through the double-doors of The Tavern of the Seven Curses and is stopped by the press of bodies in front of him. It seems everyone in the village has crammed their way into the pub. The din inside the tavern is near deafening. How will he ever find his friends amidst this chaos?