With everyone electing to stay clear of the body (and the smell) the group moves across the square with Captain Franick. Following the head of the militia in Jepistra are half a dozen black leather clad spear wielders. All are sweating in the early afternoon heat and covering their noses from the smell.
You can hear the assigned militia on clean up duty are having a rough time. The retching can be heard from fifty feet away...
One of the militia overhears Klarrrrchur and comments. "She...? You mean that bonny lass come down the stairs past us? Right eyeful but probably knows how ta swing that sword."
"She can swing my..."
"Shut it!" hisses the militiaman with a glare at one of the militia following. There was some snickering but they kept quiet. "She went into one of the other inns on the square looking fer work. She doesn't know where she's stayin', just gave her name as Morgan Ironwolf. Met that Petrik guy at the edge of town. He led her ta th' town square she said, then them sailors got fruity wi' 'er an' started th' scrap. You lot sorted them out though they was a scurvy bunch ta b' sure. Some of the hard nutters you'd not wanna run inta wi'out backup."
"Aye." grumbled the assenting Militia as they followed.
To the side Firdle examined the fork end of Petriks' weapon.
It was as it looked, a pitchfork used to move hay (and in Petriks' hands a not very deadly weapon. Assuming there is or was a real Petrik). The broken haft is well worn. There's nothing fancy or magical about this weapon - it's a rough made pitchfork and that's it.
Makes you wonder where the original owner is...
OOC Klarrrrchur can use the pitchfork but its clumsy and unbalanced being a large fork and rough made. Its' stats in its current state are:
2D6 Damage Str 6 Dex 9 (unbalanced and clumsy) weight 25.
Firdle gets 9AP and is now on 291APFranick stops up ahead with a Militiaman - Jines beside him. A couple of black garbed Militia are stood with an old fella in rags. He has a barrow full of fruit, veg and nuts, not all looking that fresh. Scowling, the man (who looks to be about 60-70 and is weathered like an old leather boot after decades in the sun) squints at Franick and the party with him.
"I ain't done nowt!" he declares, indignant. He looks more frightened than he sounds though.
Franick turns to Jines and unwraps a cloth with the nuts in. "Sell these?"
The man squints. "Aye.
Oika nuts. Want some?"
Jines frowns. "Oika...?" he starts.
"Aye." says the seller. "Pick 'em from th' jungle. Tasty if ya cook 'em. Too 'ard fer human teeth ta get through an' really bitter till they're boiled. Make a good soup but ta be honest I'd rather eat dog sh..."
"Alright." growled Franick. "Sell some lately?"
"I sells me stuff all th' time! Comin' an' goin' people are, buyin' me wares an' makin' th' world go..." said the seller on some kind of rambling sales pitch.
"Corporal!" barks Franick, interrupting him. "Take this man down to the docks and dunk him in the sea where the sewers feed in until he starts talking sense!"
"Yes SIR!" said the Corporal who Klarrrrchur had been chatting to as he steps forward.
"Eeep!" squeals the seller. "Yes! Alright! I sold a bag ta this cloaked type earlier! Didn't get a look! Smelled... sour. Off. Breath ta knock a mule out. Paid in old coin but it's good."
Franick held out a hand.
"It's mine! I won't..."
The Corporal stepped closer and the seller gaped, fishing in his pockets and examining what he pulled forth.
It was a Khazan coin, albeit slightly different coloured from the gold, silver and copper used by that city.
"Wasn't sure what it were worth so I just give 'em some gold an' a few silver. They didn't say nowt th' whole time just pointed. Need th' nails cutting mind. Long an' pointy they was. Need some sun too. They was an un'ealthy shade o green an' a bit scaley but I don't judge. I just takes th' money. This one time there was..."
Franick glanced and the seller shut up. He fished into his pouch and dropped a couple of gold into the mans' hand.
"Ey! This ain't what that coin is worth an' th' information!" yells the seller.
Franick turns to the Corporal who grabs the seller by the ear. "Right you, **** bath it is. Come on lads. Leave his barrow here for the street kids."
"No! No! It's a good trade! Thank you, thank you!" squealed the seller. Franick nodded and the Corporal turned to the seller. "**** off." he growled which the seller duly did.
Franick squinted at the coin then as an afterthought passed it to Firdle for him and the party to look at.
OOC Open Ended IQ check for each. No Level target, let's see what you get.
apn rolls 2d6 = 1 +2=3 FIRDLE FUMBLES and drops the penny. The Militia moves in as the kids in the shadows wait like feral cats ready to pounce. Will reaches down to pick it up.
apn rolls 2d6 = 5 +4=9+IQ12 (21) WILL thinks the coin is old. No date but the stamped picture is odd, like a coat of arms. This coin is more than a thousand years old, came from Khazan and is made of some odd mix of gold, silver and copper. 10AP earned. Will is on 147AP
apn rolls 2d6 = 2 +4=6+IQ10 (16) KLARRRRRCHUR thinks it's a coin but there are that many tinpot dictator would be warlock world rulers over the centuries it could be any one of 'em. 6AP earned Klarrrrchur on 143 APFranick takes the coin back and puts it in the cloth the shells are wrapped in. "Let's go see the Sergeant." he says to the Corporal. "lead on."
The group moves from the town square down fish street, the buildings listing over the street in an alarming manner. Wood and stone mixed, they have withstood storm, fire, magical attack and who knew what else over the decades Jepistra has been its own place. It was a town for survivors and strays and whilst hardly anyone called it a permanent home the inhabitants seemed to follow a certain code and defend the place if needed.
10 minutes later
(Firdle is on 5/19 Wiz now) and after going down several other streets and side streets the party is near a jetty where the buildings are ramshackle and mostly tacked together bits of wood and cloth, any rubbish that had been lying about and probably a bit of spit and some luck.
Franick frowns. "You brought Rathmere here?" he says casting his eye over the squalor. Even for Jepistra this place is for those who hit rock bottom and kept going.
The Corporal nodded. "Old lady says her place or sort yassen out sir. Sarge said ee was a surgeon an' Rathmeres' poison is one he's not seen 'afore Sir."
With a sigh Franick nodded. "Lead on Corp."
The group walked around, over and through the flotsam and jetsam around the jetty. The boards creaked, stray dogs were disturbed and growled before an iron boot shoo'ed them off and the place stank of discarded trash. The water around and under the jetty floated with bits of... rubbish? Best not to ask.
The Corporal led to a large 'hut' made of several scabby smaller huts and tents.
"To enter there is a price!" squealed a voice from behind a leather curtain before Franick touched it.
"Are you willing to pay it?" cackled the voice again. "Janil Franick third son of the Earl, fallen Knight of the Jade Order? 'Hero'... *cackle* of the siege of Cordreck Castle?"
Franick bristled and stifled a curse. He pursed his lips and called out "Will coin do?"
There was a pause then the Crone answered. "Aye it will fer you. You've climbed inta th' pit wi' the rest o us but you're still clean Captain o'er th' Militia. You've only one stain on your honour an' that one is takin' some shiftin'..." cackles the Crone.
Taking a deep breath Franick reaches for the leather doorway cover. The Corporal looks pale. "I'll guard out 'ere sir." he says with a wave to the others to guard around the tent. There is a glimpse of the Crone inside the tent...
Franick turns to the party...
OOC Ok think something up that your character might have done in the past that they are shamed of or don't want to be reminded of for some reason. it might be a crime they committed, someone they wronged, something they stole or some cowardly act. Anything really. Everyones' got some dirt on'em!
