(My apologies/thanks to @Potaido_, as he did a very nice write-up for the Greasy Weasel and this is cribbed almost entirely from a post in a previous adventure. It will, of course, diverge from here ;-)
You come across a tavern and raucous noise can be heard from within. On the outside of the Tavern you see a dingy sign lit unevenly by a bad enchantment. The sign reads 'The Greasy Weasel; fine Tavern, Rooms available for let; enquire within'. The Greasy Weasel Tavern is dimly lit inside, smells like dirt and sweat, and you feel like if you rubbed a white glove on any surface, the glove would no longer be white.
Over on one group of tables the patrons are playing Dragon Dice. On another table, a Goliath in guard uniform sits with a party of new adventurers, eating from 4 very large platters of what looks like chicken as he briefs the group on a patrol mission outside the wall. Each carved up bird looks like it could feed 4-5 people, and the 4 platters are enough for 14-15 people.
However this is foreshadowed by the main event; the pits.
The noise at the Greasy Weasel Tavern was almost deafening tonight and might have brought the Town Guard if it weren't for the fact that there were already several in attendance and they were cheering the loudest. At the east end of the Greasy Weasel was "the pit", a fighting ring 12 feet in diameter and 7 feet deep. On the east of the pit there are bleachers seating 3 rows high in a semicircle, where patrons could drink and watch the fights.
The proprietor is behind the bar polishing a mug. The drinkware is probably the cleanest thing in this tavern, likely owing to the fact it is the most heavily used and constantly being filled with alcohol; which appears to keep the grime from building up. As you enter, and take in the scene he places his pipe down and addresses you. "Halfroc Brandywood; get inside before you let the cold in. Sweet mercy, you're even bigger than most that stumble in here on these particular nights. You here for a room, to drink, or to do some business?" He looks unnecessarily meaningfully over at the pit. "Aw hell, you must be having a drink before getting into it! What'll ya have, big fellow?!" The innkeep is yelling to be heard over the noise.
(You can ask to see a menu, but the proprietor doesn't offer one straight up).
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Syd will accept the 25gp for his ordinary greatsword, and thank the merchant.
After entering the tavern, the large orc grins toothily down at the barkeep. "Now this looks like my kinda place!" he says, loudly. Then, more quietly, "uh... you got anything gnomish?" After paying for his drink, he will inquire about how one signs up for the "business". If the wait to participate is long, he will wander over and check out the gambling.
Halfroc initially looks puzzled, but then his face softens with a smile and a chuckle. "A gnomish drink, eh? Wouldn't have expected that, but patrons in Haven aren't like anywhere else. And if you're paying, what do I care?! Anyway, you're in luck. With those fine folks from the Burrows wandering in here on occasion, we've got two options for you. First, if you're looking for something a little sweeter, you can go with a shot of Glowglass for 2 silver. If, however, you're looking to kick it up a notch with some liquid courage before busting some skulls, we do have the infamous Crazy Al's Knockout Lager. Now as you know, with that one there is a little risk vs. reward to consider and it's a bit pricey at 15 gold a bottle, but I imagine a strapping fellow like you won't have any problem with it."
From your gnomish upbringing, you know that Glowglass is a sweet liqueur made from bioluminescent mushrooms. Drinking it will cause you to glow like a candle for the next 1d4 hours. Crazy Al's is another beast entirely. It's an infamous brew known for requiring a waiver to be signed, absolving the tavern and brewer of any damage and/or loss of life before it can be served. It tastes absolutely foul. Upon consumption, the drinker must immediately make a DC 15 Constitution save. If passed, the drinker immediately gains a temporary +2 boost to Strength and Constitution scores (maximum of 20) until the next long rest, has Advantage on Constitution saves until the next long rest, and has Resistance to Cold damage until the next long rest. The drinker is also immune to the drink's effects for 24 hours. If the drinker fails the save, but does not roll a Natural 1, the imbiber is knocked unconscious for 2d6 hours. Upon regaining consciousness, the character has Disadvantage on all ability score checks, skill rolls, and saves until two long rests have been spent. Should the drinker roll a Natural 1, he or she immediately drops to 0 Hit Points, and begins rolling Death Saves.
"So, what'll it be, Mr. Orc? And don't you worry, we'll get you in that pit as soon as you're ready. Just to have to line up someone to give you a bit of a challenge."
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Syd's eyes widen a bit at the mention of Crazy Al's. "Ah, hehe... uh, perhaps next time on that one. Won't be able to fight if I'm unconscious on the floor. Gimme the Glowglass." He thinks, I'll have to bring Ollezall with me next time and get him to give me a little juju before I drink that stuff.
He plunks down 2 silver on the bar. "How do the fights work? Does the winner get anything other than bragging rights? Can I bet on myself?"
Halfroc grabs the silver quickly off the bar and pulls up a bottle containing a glowing, greenish liquid. He grabs the first shot glass he can spot, flips it up in the air, grabs it as it's just about to hit the bar and slams exactly one and one half ounces of the luminescent liquid neatly into the glass. He narrows his eyes as he slides the shot glass toward you, eyeing you up a little more carefully.
(Upon downing the shot, your skin begins to emits a soft, greenish-yellow light, which will persist for the next 3 hours.)
"Your match will be one on one against one of the town's guard. No weapons, no magic, just fists and feet. Clean yourself up after your fight, I don't want to attract attention because you're stumbling from my tavern bruised and bloody." Halfroc gestures toward a pedestal in the middle of the tavern, upon which is mounted a one foot diameter stone, reddish brown and polished to a fine sheen. A grizzled dwarf that has just dragged himself out of the pit is staggering toward the stone and nearly collapses on it in exhaustion. As he lay against the stone, the blood, sweat, and dirt covering his body begins to quickly vanish. His cuts and bruises, however, remain.
Halfroc brings your attention back to him as he continues, "No entry fee and you get a cut of the pot if you win. That's usually about 50 gold. Depends on how much these pikers are throwing in on the fight, what odds they give you. Being a new guy, it's hard to say, but you are bloody big. Semil is no slouch, though, and he has a proven track record. If you want to wager on yourself, you can deal with me, but I'm not giving you any worse than two to one odds."
(The mechanics of the fight are your choice, either straight up combat rules, with non-lethal strikes and I'll equalize your HP, or we can use the Pit Fighting rules from XGtE 131. Let me know how you want to do it.)
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The door of the tavern opens and a towering figure enters. He removes his helmet, showing a bald head, and walks to the bar making clangy noises with his weapons and metal armour. The tall man looks around to check out the patrons, nods in satisfaction and sits on one of the stools.
"Something cheap to eat and drink, please" he orders. His coin is scarce, having invested most of it in his journey up to here.
While gobbling down his food, he finds some seconds to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and throw some words at the barman. "I won't be able to afford much more of these" he says, his right hand referring to his order. "I've heard there are ways to make gold here, though. Could you point me to one suitable for someone like me?"
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"Losing to a master is nothing to be ashamed of, unless you learn nothing from the experience."
(I'll try the rules from XGtE, I haven't used them before, will be interesting).
So, one week of downtime spent.
Athletics Check: 24
Acrobatics Check: (rules state this can be replaced by a weapon attack, I will replace with unarmed strike): 26
"Special Constitution check using bonus generated by rolling largest hit die": 7 + 1
Check for complications (d100): 13
(I guess a DM will need to roll 3 separate DCs (2d10+5) for the first three checks above, and tell me how many of the three I defeated.)
(All right, here we go! And I think it's one "workweek", so only 5 days of downtime. I'm assuming this implies that you're going to be participating in a few fights. If you want to do the side wager, with Halfroc, I'll still allow that at 2 to 1, with a reasonable bet by you (RP how confident you think Syd would be against a sizeable and clearly experienced blue dragonborn), but since you already know that your rolls were really good, I'll cap that at 50 gp if you think that's fair. Since the max DC is 25, I'll just roll the two against your 24 and 8. And so close to a complication, maybe next time ;-)
Fresh off his first bout, a resounding success, Syd freshens up his healthy aura at the bar. Halfroc is excitedly congratulatory. "Ohhh boy, that was a good one! A fine welcome to the pits. The glowglass is on the house! So, I hope you might be up for another match. The crowd really enjoyed that one and from the sound of it, a lot of money was changing hands. Always nice to have a fresh face that the good patrons can get invested in, so to speak." Halfroc chuckles and heads over to the bookie to make sure he gets his cut. After Syd downs his drink, Halfroc strolls back toward Syd. "I just spoke to the ringmaster over there, says he's got something unusual for you. There's a wood elf monk who always puts on a show. He's apparently willing to move up in weight class if you're amenable."
The orc and the wood elf put on an entertaining display of power vs. agility ... 11 ... but Syd manages to catch the wood elf mid-flying kick and convert that into a clothesline slam into the hard earthen floor of the pit. The elf is coming to amidst the dust cloud, about to spring back to his feet, but Syd plants a sturdy boot on his chest, smiles, and shakes his head. Another victory for the newcomer and the crowd goes wild!
(Sorry about the 'manipulated results', DDB was acting funky and something got out of sync. Not sure what happened, but suffice to say, you won that match.)
Halfroc approaches Syd once again after the fight. There is a keen and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Helluva fight, Mr. Orc, helluva fight! Have another glowglass on the house, keep that courage up. Seems like you've barely taken a scratch out there, hardly broken a sweat. What say you to one more fight? I've got a real challenge for you this time, if you're up for it." He places his tiny hands on Syd's shoulders and gently turns his giant body, bringing a similarly large patron into view. In the dim light of the tavern, it's difficult to know for sure, but from Syd's experience, he's pretty sure that this chiseled, gray-skinned, tattooed being is a goliath. Fiercely competitive and immensely strong, this would surely be a worthy competitor.
At this point, Syd is possibly feeling a bit of fatigue between the previous fights and the late hour. Or maybe the liquor of the glowglass is starting to have an effect? (You're now glowing for 6 more hours.) Either way, Syd's not looking quite as sharp, but he still gives it his all, matching the goliath blow for blow. There are some elaborate grapples and escapes, demonstrating surprising agility on the part of the big men. The crowd is loving every minute, but soon the decisive blow will be struck ... 22 ... and it is delivered by the goliath! Syd goes down, but the crowd is cheering both their names in appreciation, at this point too inebriated and delirious to fully appreciate their gambling losses.
"Well my boy, not bad for a debutant in ye olde pit. Two out of three ain't bad at all. Here's your cut of the pot for the night." Halfroc hands over what looks to be around 100 gold. He gives Syd a hearty slap on the back, which if it weren't for the bruises from the blows delivered by the goliath, would feel like a mere gnat's landing. "I certainly hope to see you back next week, if you haven't been dragged off on another adventure by then! I know the Exploration House likes to keep strapping fellas like you doing 'honest work'. I say, how about supply and demand? Give the people what they really want!" Halfroc lets out an enormous chuckle, clearly pleased with the night's earnings.
(Let me know if you wanted to do the side wager, if so, double that and add it to your gold w/the 100 gp from the pit fighting downtime.)
The door of the tavern opens and a towering figure enters. He removes his helmet, showing a bald head, and walks to the bar making clangy noises with his weapons and metal armour. The tall man looks around to check out the patrons, nods in satisfaction and sits on one of the stools.
"Something cheap to eat and drink, please" he orders. His coin is scarce, having invested most of it in his journey up to here.
While gobbling down his food, he finds some seconds to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and throw some words at the barman. "I won't be able to afford much more of these" he says, his right hand referring to his order. "I've heard there are ways to make gold here, though. Could you point me to one suitable for someone like me?"
(Quick question before we get into it: there are three prominent taverns in Haven, and based on Lifestyle Expenses in the PHB, I'd deem them Poor (Greasy Weasel), Modest (Copper Dragon), and Comfortable (Stumablon Inn). I'm guessing from your post that you'd be in one of the first two, but I didn't want to assume. Let me know where you see Jack being.)
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(Sorry. Let's go with the cheapest one, Jack knows all too well you've got to start from the bottom.)
(You got it, boss! Greasy Weasel it is.)
Jack has found himself in the Shadows, the first place he came across during his brief wanderings in Haven that looked compatible with his current financial situation. Unlike his coinpurse, however, the Shadows are quite full of activity, even at this time of morning. Following the scent of food, Jack winds his way to a tavern, The Greasy Weasel. It advertises itself as a fine tavern, with rooms available for let. Passing across the well-worn threshold, Jack finds that the tavern is dimly lit inside, even at this bright morning hour, and the scent of dirt and sweat cuts through the warm, welcoming smells of fried potatoes and chicken that are ever-present.
The tavern is sparsely populated at the moment, as Jack imagines that the denizens of this particular place are probably late risers. There are a few staff members scurrying lazily around you, cleaning up from the apparently raucous activities of the previous evening. At the east end of the tavern, he sees "the pit", a fighting ring twelve feet in diameter and seven feet deep. On the east end of the pit there are bleachers, three rows high in a semicircle.
The barkeep is the proprietor, a surprisingly young and rather unattractive halfling fellow, who takes a few pulls on a pipe before exhaling a delightful ring of smoke and coughing quietly. He's clearly in a very good mood this morning, in contrast to the sluggishness of the staff working to tidy the place up. "You're another big one, aren't you! Don't know what it is about this place, but if those portals keep pulling in giants like you, I'll be in business for years to come. Had another new one in just last night, even bigger than you! Ha, sorry, my name's Halfroc Brandywood and I run this place. You've experienced our delicious, affordable dining, I imagine you'll be wanting a room, since you appear to be new in town, and you're looking for work, eh? You look the type, but I shouldn't assume." Halfroc pauses and strokes his chin while taking another pull on the pipe. "Doesn't look like your first rodeo, so I imagine you know that pit over there is for some combat/entertainment for our patrons. We just had a helluva show last night, but you'll have to wait until next week to throw your hat in the ring if that's something you'd be interested in. Can't be running these too often, or the Town's Guard, lax as they are, might intervene. Besides, people only have so much money to lose gambling on the fights, am I right?" He chuckles, clearly at the expense of his more degnerate patrons, and coughs again. "Now look, I imagine people would be very interested in seeing you fight, strapping young lad that you are. How about a little arrangement, mutually beneficial? I'll front you five gold, put you up here for the week, and you get in that pit next time and give the people what they want. What do you say?" He spreads his hands in a gesture that is meant to convey a measure of beneficence on behalf of this diminutive, mealy man. Before you can answer, he finishes with, "And if you're not into that, you can rent a room all the same. You might check the Bulletin Board to see if there's anything posted there, although last I checked, there wasn't much of interest. And adventurers are always wanted by the Exploration House. You can inquire with them as well."
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Jack turns to look at the ring. That place brings him many memories, and he can't help think that's the main reason why he's here now.
"I..."
He remembers the days when he had to fight to feed his family. When he had to risk his life to make an unknown rich man even more rich. He knows what it is, and he swore he would never step inside a ring again.
"... will give those explorers a try, thank you." He tosses several coins on the bar. "For the meal. Book me a room for tonight" he says. "Name's Jack."
(Okay, Jack will check what's new at the Exploration House.)
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"Losing to a master is nothing to be ashamed of, unless you learn nothing from the experience."
Jack turns to look at the ring. That place brings him many memories, and he can't help think that's the main reason why he's here now.
"I..."
He remembers the days when he had to fight to feed his family. When he had to risk his life to make an unknown rich man even more rich. He knows what it is, and he swore he would never step inside a ring again.
"... will give those explorers a try, thank you." He tosses several coins on the bar. "For the meal. Book me a room for tonight" he says. "Name's Jack."
(Okay, Jack will check what's new at the Exploration House.)
(Sorry for the delay in responding to this; I was waiting to hear from a colleague on some questions I had. I'll get something to you tomorrow!)
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Jack turns to look at the ring. That place brings him many memories, and he can't help think that's the main reason why he's here now.
"I..."
He remembers the days when he had to fight to feed his family. When he had to risk his life to make an unknown rich man even more rich. He knows what it is, and he swore he would never step inside a ring again.
"... will give those explorers a try, thank you." He tosses several coins on the bar. "For the meal. Book me a room for tonight" he says. "Name's Jack."
(Okay, Jack will check what's new at the Exploration House.)
Halfroc gives Jack a puzzled look, catching the far off look in Jack's eyes as he paused. "Huh. Suit yourself, but if you change your mind, we'll have a spot for you. At least come take a look next week and see what you think. Anyway, I'll get that room you asked for straightened up, just ask me or whoever's at the bar for the key when you make your way back." Halfroc proceeds to describe the way through the Officials to the Exploration House.
Jack makes his way to the Exploration House without incident, passing the Town Hall and Guard House. While not exactly majestic, there is enough in the Exploration House's appearance to give you a sense of its importance to Haven. It is a two story, timbered building, roughly 60 feet wide with a wrap around porch underneath a balcony on the second story. A plainly, but precisely, painted sign hangs above the front door, confirming that you have arrived at the right place. Atop the roof are two chimneys, one on either end, and a small cupola in the middle with a classic rooster weather vane. Currently, several large ravens sit along the ridge of the roof, keeping an eye on the passersby.
Two older folks, a halfling and a dwarf, sit in rustic, wooden chairs on the front side of the porch to the left of the door. They're having a spirited conversation about how the appearance of portals around the town affects the weather, but it's hard to discern if anything they're saying could possibly be true. As they don't acknowledge you when you walk by to enter the building, you assume that adventurers must pass through these doors quite regularly.
Entering through the large double doors, you find a female tiefling speaking with a male gnome, while a kenku sits at a desk to the side of the room, head down and writing furiously. Upon noticing your presence, the kenku looks up briefly, lets out a low whistle, then looks back down and resumes writing. The tiefling turns to the kenku and appears as though she is going to issue a rebuke, but just shakes her head instead. She continues to turn to face you, smiles, and says, "Hello there, I don't believe we've met. New in town? My name is Patience, these characters are Gimbol and Scribble." Patience gestures to the gnome and the kenku respectively. Scribble continues writing, but lets out another whistle.
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(No worries. I was actually planning on writing a longer convo with Halfroc, but due to a neighbor country recently closing its borders we've had a killer series of extra shifts at work.)
Jack is not new to racial diversity - some people loved exotic races to fight for them at the pit. Here, however, it seems all statistics are meant to be broken.
"Hi, my name is Jack. Jack Goldberg." He wasn't going to mention his surname, though he feels compelled somehow. Maybe it's the solemnity the place inspires, or maybe the kindness of the tiefling - or should he say the warmth. "I've heard there are good chances here that you might need some muscle." He tries to show a nice smile, but he quickly goes back to his 'serious munchkin' pose - he's been warned several times that he looks like a psycho when he forces a grin.
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"Losing to a master is nothing to be ashamed of, unless you learn nothing from the experience."
Suddenly, a balding gnome with a soft saggy cap and a long white chin-beard rushes into the room. He is dressed in dingy tan robes criss-crossed with leather straps holding various small metal tools and vials of colored liquids, and a pair of goggles with magnifying lenses hangs around his neck. He is wringing his hands and crying "Help! Help! Please, someone, help me find them! They're lost!" He looks to be quite distraught and possibly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
He spies Jack talking to the tiefling, Patience, and runs over, grabs his hand, and starts to try and pull him out the door. "Please... please... Hurry! They can't have gone far... Oh dear oh dear..."
(Jack is invited to join our adventure-in-progress "The Amazing Teleportation Machine"if you would like. We stalled out over Thanksgiving and lost a couple PCs. PM me if you're interested).
The strange gnome answers with something between a shout and a wail, "My investors! They're gone! I've lost them! Please, come quick!"
He then scuttles out of the Exploration house deep into the neighborhood of Haven known as the Burrows, pausing occasionally like a forlorn puppy to look back and see if you are following.
(TBC via PM where I'll hook you in to the adventure)
One week after his last bout, Syd returns to the Weasel and plops down on a barstool. He lets out a long sigh. "Studying a new language is hard!" he says to no one in particular. "Gimme a glowglass..." he directs Halfroc, not even caring if someone overhears his drink order.
Cracking his neck left, then right, Syd downs the shot, savoring the sticky sweetness as it slips down the pipe. Flipping the glass over and thunking it down solidly on the bartop, he puts two silver on top.
"All right, I need a good fight or three to de-stress. What have you got lined up for tonight?"
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(My apologies/thanks to @Potaido_, as he did a very nice write-up for the Greasy Weasel and this is cribbed almost entirely from a post in a previous adventure. It will, of course, diverge from here ;-)
You come across a tavern and raucous noise can be heard from within. On the outside of the Tavern you see a dingy sign lit unevenly by a bad enchantment. The sign reads 'The Greasy Weasel; fine Tavern, Rooms available for let; enquire within'. The Greasy Weasel Tavern is dimly lit inside, smells like dirt and sweat, and you feel like if you rubbed a white glove on any surface, the glove would no longer be white.
Over on one group of tables the patrons are playing Dragon Dice. On another table, a Goliath in guard uniform sits with a party of new adventurers, eating from 4 very large platters of what looks like chicken as he briefs the group on a patrol mission outside the wall. Each carved up bird looks like it could feed 4-5 people, and the 4 platters are enough for 14-15 people.
However this is foreshadowed by the main event; the pits.
The noise at the Greasy Weasel Tavern was almost deafening tonight and might have brought the Town Guard if it weren't for the fact that there were already several in attendance and they were cheering the loudest. At the east end of the Greasy Weasel was "the pit", a fighting ring 12 feet in diameter and 7 feet deep. On the east of the pit there are bleachers seating 3 rows high in a semicircle, where patrons could drink and watch the fights.
The proprietor is behind the bar polishing a mug. The drinkware is probably the cleanest thing in this tavern, likely owing to the fact it is the most heavily used and constantly being filled with alcohol; which appears to keep the grime from building up. As you enter, and take in the scene he places his pipe down and addresses you. "Halfroc Brandywood; get inside before you let the cold in. Sweet mercy, you're even bigger than most that stumble in here on these particular nights. You here for a room, to drink, or to do some business?" He looks unnecessarily meaningfully over at the pit. "Aw hell, you must be having a drink before getting into it! What'll ya have, big fellow?!" The innkeep is yelling to be heard over the noise.
(You can ask to see a menu, but the proprietor doesn't offer one straight up).
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Syd will accept the 25gp for his ordinary greatsword, and thank the merchant.
After entering the tavern, the large orc grins toothily down at the barkeep. "Now this looks like my kinda place!" he says, loudly. Then, more quietly, "uh... you got anything gnomish?" After paying for his drink, he will inquire about how one signs up for the "business". If the wait to participate is long, he will wander over and check out the gambling.
Halfroc initially looks puzzled, but then his face softens with a smile and a chuckle. "A gnomish drink, eh? Wouldn't have expected that, but patrons in Haven aren't like anywhere else. And if you're paying, what do I care?! Anyway, you're in luck. With those fine folks from the Burrows wandering in here on occasion, we've got two options for you. First, if you're looking for something a little sweeter, you can go with a shot of Glowglass for 2 silver. If, however, you're looking to kick it up a notch with some liquid courage before busting some skulls, we do have the infamous Crazy Al's Knockout Lager. Now as you know, with that one there is a little risk vs. reward to consider and it's a bit pricey at 15 gold a bottle, but I imagine a strapping fellow like you won't have any problem with it."
From your gnomish upbringing, you know that Glowglass is a sweet liqueur made from bioluminescent mushrooms. Drinking it will cause you to glow like a candle for the next 1d4 hours. Crazy Al's is another beast entirely. It's an infamous brew known for requiring a waiver to be signed, absolving the tavern and brewer of any damage and/or loss of life before it can be served. It tastes absolutely foul. Upon consumption, the drinker must immediately make a DC 15 Constitution save. If passed, the drinker immediately gains a temporary +2 boost to Strength and Constitution scores (maximum of 20) until the next long rest, has Advantage on Constitution saves until the next long rest, and has Resistance to Cold damage until the next long rest. The drinker is also immune to the drink's effects for 24 hours. If the drinker fails the save, but does not roll a Natural 1, the imbiber is knocked unconscious for 2d6 hours. Upon regaining consciousness, the character has Disadvantage on all ability score checks, skill rolls, and saves until two long rests have been spent. Should the drinker roll a Natural 1, he or she immediately drops to 0 Hit Points, and begins rolling Death Saves.
"So, what'll it be, Mr. Orc? And don't you worry, we'll get you in that pit as soon as you're ready. Just to have to line up someone to give you a bit of a challenge."
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Syd's eyes widen a bit at the mention of Crazy Al's. "Ah, hehe... uh, perhaps next time on that one. Won't be able to fight if I'm unconscious on the floor. Gimme the Glowglass." He thinks, I'll have to bring Ollezall with me next time and get him to give me a little juju before I drink that stuff.
He plunks down 2 silver on the bar. "How do the fights work? Does the winner get anything other than bragging rights? Can I bet on myself?"
Halfroc grabs the silver quickly off the bar and pulls up a bottle containing a glowing, greenish liquid. He grabs the first shot glass he can spot, flips it up in the air, grabs it as it's just about to hit the bar and slams exactly one and one half ounces of the luminescent liquid neatly into the glass. He narrows his eyes as he slides the shot glass toward you, eyeing you up a little more carefully.
(Upon downing the shot, your skin begins to emits a soft, greenish-yellow light, which will persist for the next 3 hours.)
"Your match will be one on one against one of the town's guard. No weapons, no magic, just fists and feet. Clean yourself up after your fight, I don't want to attract attention because you're stumbling from my tavern bruised and bloody." Halfroc gestures toward a pedestal in the middle of the tavern, upon which is mounted a one foot diameter stone, reddish brown and polished to a fine sheen. A grizzled dwarf that has just dragged himself out of the pit is staggering toward the stone and nearly collapses on it in exhaustion. As he lay against the stone, the blood, sweat, and dirt covering his body begins to quickly vanish. His cuts and bruises, however, remain.
Halfroc brings your attention back to him as he continues, "No entry fee and you get a cut of the pot if you win. That's usually about 50 gold. Depends on how much these pikers are throwing in on the fight, what odds they give you. Being a new guy, it's hard to say, but you are bloody big. Semil is no slouch, though, and he has a proven track record. If you want to wager on yourself, you can deal with me, but I'm not giving you any worse than two to one odds."
(The mechanics of the fight are your choice, either straight up combat rules, with non-lethal strikes and I'll equalize your HP, or we can use the Pit Fighting rules from XGtE 131. Let me know how you want to do it.)
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(I'll try the rules from XGtE, I haven't used them before, will be interesting).
So, one week of downtime spent.
Athletics Check: 9
Acrobatics Check: (rules state this can be replaced by a weapon attack, I will replace with unarmed strike): 11
"Special Constitution check using bonus generated by rolling largest hit die": 4 + 1
Check for complications (d100): 38
(I guess a DM will need to roll 3 separate DCs (2d10+5) for the first three checks above, and tell me how many of the three I defeated.)
The door of the tavern opens and a towering figure enters. He removes his helmet, showing a bald head, and walks to the bar making clangy noises with his weapons and metal armour. The tall man looks around to check out the patrons, nods in satisfaction and sits on one of the stools.
"Something cheap to eat and drink, please" he orders. His coin is scarce, having invested most of it in his journey up to here.
While gobbling down his food, he finds some seconds to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and throw some words at the barman. "I won't be able to afford much more of these" he says, his right hand referring to his order. "I've heard there are ways to make gold here, though. Could you point me to one suitable for someone like me?"
"Losing to a master is nothing to be ashamed of, unless you learn nothing from the experience."
Master Suana.
(All right, here we go! And I think it's one "workweek", so only 5 days of downtime. I'm assuming this implies that you're going to be participating in a few fights. If you want to do the side wager, with Halfroc, I'll still allow that at 2 to 1, with a reasonable bet by you (RP how confident you think Syd would be against a sizeable and clearly experienced blue dragonborn), but since you already know that your rolls were really good, I'll cap that at 50 gp if you think that's fair. Since the max DC is 25, I'll just roll the two against your 24 and 8. And so close to a complication, maybe next time ;-)
Fresh off his first bout, a resounding success, Syd freshens up his healthy aura at the bar. Halfroc is excitedly congratulatory. "Ohhh boy, that was a good one! A fine welcome to the pits. The glowglass is on the house! So, I hope you might be up for another match. The crowd really enjoyed that one and from the sound of it, a lot of money was changing hands. Always nice to have a fresh face that the good patrons can get invested in, so to speak." Halfroc chuckles and heads over to the bookie to make sure he gets his cut. After Syd downs his drink, Halfroc strolls back toward Syd. "I just spoke to the ringmaster over there, says he's got something unusual for you. There's a wood elf monk who always puts on a show. He's apparently willing to move up in weight class if you're amenable."
The orc and the wood elf put on an entertaining display of power vs. agility ... 11 ... but Syd manages to catch the wood elf mid-flying kick and convert that into a clothesline slam into the hard earthen floor of the pit. The elf is coming to amidst the dust cloud, about to spring back to his feet, but Syd plants a sturdy boot on his chest, smiles, and shakes his head. Another victory for the newcomer and the crowd goes wild!
(Sorry about the 'manipulated results', DDB was acting funky and something got out of sync. Not sure what happened, but suffice to say, you won that match.)
Halfroc approaches Syd once again after the fight. There is a keen and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Helluva fight, Mr. Orc, helluva fight! Have another glowglass on the house, keep that courage up. Seems like you've barely taken a scratch out there, hardly broken a sweat. What say you to one more fight? I've got a real challenge for you this time, if you're up for it." He places his tiny hands on Syd's shoulders and gently turns his giant body, bringing a similarly large patron into view. In the dim light of the tavern, it's difficult to know for sure, but from Syd's experience, he's pretty sure that this chiseled, gray-skinned, tattooed being is a goliath. Fiercely competitive and immensely strong, this would surely be a worthy competitor.
At this point, Syd is possibly feeling a bit of fatigue between the previous fights and the late hour. Or maybe the liquor of the glowglass is starting to have an effect? (You're now glowing for 6 more hours.) Either way, Syd's not looking quite as sharp, but he still gives it his all, matching the goliath blow for blow. There are some elaborate grapples and escapes, demonstrating surprising agility on the part of the big men. The crowd is loving every minute, but soon the decisive blow will be struck ... 22 ... and it is delivered by the goliath! Syd goes down, but the crowd is cheering both their names in appreciation, at this point too inebriated and delirious to fully appreciate their gambling losses.
"Well my boy, not bad for a debutant in ye olde pit. Two out of three ain't bad at all. Here's your cut of the pot for the night." Halfroc hands over what looks to be around 100 gold. He gives Syd a hearty slap on the back, which if it weren't for the bruises from the blows delivered by the goliath, would feel like a mere gnat's landing. "I certainly hope to see you back next week, if you haven't been dragged off on another adventure by then! I know the Exploration House likes to keep strapping fellas like you doing 'honest work'. I say, how about supply and demand? Give the people what they really want!" Halfroc lets out an enormous chuckle, clearly pleased with the night's earnings.
(Let me know if you wanted to do the side wager, if so, double that and add it to your gold w/the 100 gp from the pit fighting downtime.)
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(Quick question before we get into it: there are three prominent taverns in Haven, and based on Lifestyle Expenses in the PHB, I'd deem them Poor (Greasy Weasel), Modest (Copper Dragon), and Comfortable (Stumablon Inn). I'm guessing from your post that you'd be in one of the first two, but I didn't want to assume. Let me know where you see Jack being.)
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(Sorry. Let's go with the cheapest one, Jack knows all too well you've got to start from the bottom.)
"Losing to a master is nothing to be ashamed of, unless you learn nothing from the experience."
Master Suana.
(You got it, boss! Greasy Weasel it is.)
Jack has found himself in the Shadows, the first place he came across during his brief wanderings in Haven that looked compatible with his current financial situation. Unlike his coinpurse, however, the Shadows are quite full of activity, even at this time of morning. Following the scent of food, Jack winds his way to a tavern, The Greasy Weasel. It advertises itself as a fine tavern, with rooms available for let. Passing across the well-worn threshold, Jack finds that the tavern is dimly lit inside, even at this bright morning hour, and the scent of dirt and sweat cuts through the warm, welcoming smells of fried potatoes and chicken that are ever-present.
The tavern is sparsely populated at the moment, as Jack imagines that the denizens of this particular place are probably late risers. There are a few staff members scurrying lazily around you, cleaning up from the apparently raucous activities of the previous evening. At the east end of the tavern, he sees "the pit", a fighting ring twelve feet in diameter and seven feet deep. On the east end of the pit there are bleachers, three rows high in a semicircle.
The barkeep is the proprietor, a surprisingly young and rather unattractive halfling fellow, who takes a few pulls on a pipe before exhaling a delightful ring of smoke and coughing quietly. He's clearly in a very good mood this morning, in contrast to the sluggishness of the staff working to tidy the place up. "You're another big one, aren't you! Don't know what it is about this place, but if those portals keep pulling in giants like you, I'll be in business for years to come. Had another new one in just last night, even bigger than you! Ha, sorry, my name's Halfroc Brandywood and I run this place. You've experienced our delicious, affordable dining, I imagine you'll be wanting a room, since you appear to be new in town, and you're looking for work, eh? You look the type, but I shouldn't assume." Halfroc pauses and strokes his chin while taking another pull on the pipe. "Doesn't look like your first rodeo, so I imagine you know that pit over there is for some combat/entertainment for our patrons. We just had a helluva show last night, but you'll have to wait until next week to throw your hat in the ring if that's something you'd be interested in. Can't be running these too often, or the Town's Guard, lax as they are, might intervene. Besides, people only have so much money to lose gambling on the fights, am I right?" He chuckles, clearly at the expense of his more degnerate patrons, and coughs again. "Now look, I imagine people would be very interested in seeing you fight, strapping young lad that you are. How about a little arrangement, mutually beneficial? I'll front you five gold, put you up here for the week, and you get in that pit next time and give the people what they want. What do you say?" He spreads his hands in a gesture that is meant to convey a measure of beneficence on behalf of this diminutive, mealy man. Before you can answer, he finishes with, "And if you're not into that, you can rent a room all the same. You might check the Bulletin Board to see if there's anything posted there, although last I checked, there wasn't much of interest. And adventurers are always wanted by the Exploration House. You can inquire with them as well."
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Jack turns to look at the ring. That place brings him many memories, and he can't help think that's the main reason why he's here now.
"I..."
He remembers the days when he had to fight to feed his family. When he had to risk his life to make an unknown rich man even more rich. He knows what it is, and he swore he would never step inside a ring again.
"... will give those explorers a try, thank you." He tosses several coins on the bar. "For the meal. Book me a room for tonight" he says. "Name's Jack."
(Okay, Jack will check what's new at the Exploration House.)
"Losing to a master is nothing to be ashamed of, unless you learn nothing from the experience."
Master Suana.
(With 20/20 hindsight, Syd will take the side wager, pocketing 200gp in total :) Thanks!)
(Sorry for the delay in responding to this; I was waiting to hear from a colleague on some questions I had. I'll get something to you tomorrow!)
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Halfroc gives Jack a puzzled look, catching the far off look in Jack's eyes as he paused. "Huh. Suit yourself, but if you change your mind, we'll have a spot for you. At least come take a look next week and see what you think. Anyway, I'll get that room you asked for straightened up, just ask me or whoever's at the bar for the key when you make your way back." Halfroc proceeds to describe the way through the Officials to the Exploration House.
Jack makes his way to the Exploration House without incident, passing the Town Hall and Guard House. While not exactly majestic, there is enough in the Exploration House's appearance to give you a sense of its importance to Haven. It is a two story, timbered building, roughly 60 feet wide with a wrap around porch underneath a balcony on the second story. A plainly, but precisely, painted sign hangs above the front door, confirming that you have arrived at the right place. Atop the roof are two chimneys, one on either end, and a small cupola in the middle with a classic rooster weather vane. Currently, several large ravens sit along the ridge of the roof, keeping an eye on the passersby.
Two older folks, a halfling and a dwarf, sit in rustic, wooden chairs on the front side of the porch to the left of the door. They're having a spirited conversation about how the appearance of portals around the town affects the weather, but it's hard to discern if anything they're saying could possibly be true. As they don't acknowledge you when you walk by to enter the building, you assume that adventurers must pass through these doors quite regularly.
Entering through the large double doors, you find a female tiefling speaking with a male gnome, while a kenku sits at a desk to the side of the room, head down and writing furiously. Upon noticing your presence, the kenku looks up briefly, lets out a low whistle, then looks back down and resumes writing. The tiefling turns to the kenku and appears as though she is going to issue a rebuke, but just shakes her head instead. She continues to turn to face you, smiles, and says, "Hello there, I don't believe we've met. New in town? My name is Patience, these characters are Gimbol and Scribble." Patience gestures to the gnome and the kenku respectively. Scribble continues writing, but lets out another whistle.
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(No worries. I was actually planning on writing a longer convo with Halfroc, but due to a neighbor country recently closing its borders we've had a killer series of extra shifts at work.)
Jack is not new to racial diversity - some people loved exotic races to fight for them at the pit. Here, however, it seems all statistics are meant to be broken.
"Hi, my name is Jack. Jack Goldberg." He wasn't going to mention his surname, though he feels compelled somehow. Maybe it's the solemnity the place inspires, or maybe the kindness of the tiefling - or should he say the warmth. "I've heard there are good chances here that you might need some muscle." He tries to show a nice smile, but he quickly goes back to his 'serious munchkin' pose - he's been warned several times that he looks like a psycho when he forces a grin.
"Losing to a master is nothing to be ashamed of, unless you learn nothing from the experience."
Master Suana.
Suddenly, a balding gnome with a soft saggy cap and a long white chin-beard rushes into the room. He is dressed in dingy tan robes criss-crossed with leather straps holding various small metal tools and vials of colored liquids, and a pair of goggles with magnifying lenses hangs around his neck. He is wringing his hands and crying "Help! Help! Please, someone, help me find them! They're lost!" He looks to be quite distraught and possibly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
He spies Jack talking to the tiefling, Patience, and runs over, grabs his hand, and starts to try and pull him out the door. "Please... please... Hurry! They can't have gone far... Oh dear oh dear..."
(Jack is invited to join our adventure-in-progress "The Amazing Teleportation Machine" if you would like. We stalled out over Thanksgiving and lost a couple PCs. PM me if you're interested).
Jack suddenly stops speaking, surprised by the gnome bursting in and talking endlessly about some lost things or persons.
"What do you mean? Who or what is lost?"
(I sure will, thank you.)
"Losing to a master is nothing to be ashamed of, unless you learn nothing from the experience."
Master Suana.
The strange gnome answers with something between a shout and a wail, "My investors! They're gone! I've lost them! Please, come quick!"
He then scuttles out of the Exploration house deep into the neighborhood of Haven known as the Burrows, pausing occasionally like a forlorn puppy to look back and see if you are following.
(TBC via PM where I'll hook you in to the adventure)
One week after his last bout, Syd returns to the Weasel and plops down on a barstool. He lets out a long sigh.
"Studying a new language is hard!" he says to no one in particular. "Gimme a glowglass..." he directs Halfroc, not even caring if someone overhears his drink order.
Cracking his neck left, then right, Syd downs the shot, savoring the sticky sweetness as it slips down the pipe. Flipping the glass over and thunking it down solidly on the bartop, he puts two silver on top.
"All right, I need a good fight or three to de-stress. What have you got lined up for tonight?"