Mariondeals some fire damage to the troll, the wounds staying open. This is followed up by Xaulcarefully placing himself to only hit the troll, who fails the save. This is enough to push the troll down the well, dead, as well as destroying quite a few chairs and a couple of tables. Durnan looks around at you all. "You fought well". There seems to be a hint of surprise and also possibly impressed. He doesn't seem overly concerned about the damage to the inn. Some of the workers immediately start to tidy up.
A figure pushes his way through the crowds to meet you all. “You be adventurers, am I right? I could use your help. Let’s find a table to talk, shall we?”and he goes and sits down. He strokes his moustache, adjusts his floppy hat, and tightens his scarf.“Volothamp Geddarm, chronicler, wizard, and celebrity, at your service. I trust you’ve noted the violence in our fair city these past tendays. I haven’t seen so much blood since my last visit to Baldur’s Gate! But now I fear I have misplaced a friend amid this odious malevolence. My friend’s name is Floon Blagmaar. He’s got more beauty than brains, and I worry he took a bad way home a couple nights ago and was kidnapped — or worse. If you agree to track him down with all due haste, I can offer you ten dragons apiece now, and I can give you each ten times that when you find Floon. May I prevail upon you in my hour of need?”
In the bustling, somewhat chaotic aftermath of the troll's untimely dispatch down the well of The Yawning Portal, where chairs were now kindling and tables sported new, avant-garde angles, Boo found herself caught between the realms of practical heroics and eccentric theatrical musings.
As Volothamp Geddarm, the self-proclaimed chronicler, wizard, and celebrity, made his flamboyant entrance, winding through the tavern with the flair of a man both hunted by creditors and followed by fans, Boo's attention snapped not to the promise of gold but to the jaunty hat perched atop his head.
"Alas, poor Floon... Floon the Loon, of which he is lovingly called! Oh yes, indeed... I knew him, dear Volothampie," Boo declared, her voice a dramatic crescendo that borrowed from the theatrics of a poorly trained minstrel rather than the whispers of a beggar. "A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times. And now, how abhorred in my imagination it is that he has departed this mortal coil at such a young age!"
She paced a small circle, her hand theatrically pressed to her forehead as if the weight of grief was too much to bear standing still. "My gorge she does rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft until he cast me aside for another. Where be your gibes now, my dear sweet loon? Your gambols? Your songs of jest and mirth, your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?"
Pausing, she eyed Volothamp's hat with a mix of covetousness and calculated mischief. "I know exactly where to find your Floon the Loon, but look at me, Vollie—I am a woman of means with no need for the vulgarity of gold. But I'll tell you what, I'll be happy to undertake your task in exchange for that beautiful, wandering, incredibly magnificent chapeau... up front, and you can keep your ten gold payment where I at least am concerned!"
Her proposition hung in the air, a playful yet earnest barter in contrast to her dark almost ghoulish appearance, as she finished with a flourish, "So what do you say, Vollie, do we have a deal?"
Boo's eyes twinkled with the thrill of her proposed bargain, her stance bold and expectant, waiting for Volothamp's response to her audacious request. The tavern, still echoing with the residual chaos of the battle, seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see if the wizard's love for his hat could rival his need for her help.
"I can help you with this." Kismet replied, answering Volothamp's inquiry.
The tiefling arched a sable eyebrow at the street urchin's bargaining tactics. The Calimshan-born woman was no stranger to haggling, the teeming bazaars of her southern homeland being famously raucous. Haggling to lower one's price, however, was not a tactic seen everyday.
"In exchange for the gold though." She clarified, adding quickly, indicating that the only items she desired from the wizard's outfit were currently in his coin pouch.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Whew! That was a rush! Hey Boss, mind if I snag a little bonus?"
Marion swiftly grabs a bottle of spirits from an abandoned table. She pops the cork with her teeth, pouring the liquor over her wounded shoulder before taking a well-deserved sip. "Who's up for a drink?" she called out to her companions.
@Volothamp Geddarm
Even as she enjoyed the banter of the urchin girl, Marion's attention, however, remained fixed on Volothamp Geddarm, the self-proclaimed wizard. She knows all too well their standing in the city and how they were perceive. It is usua her role to keep a vigilant eye on those who sought to exploit them.
Insight: 21 to see if Volo is lying.
" Like my friends, I could do your job. And I don't need the fancy pants of yours! " Says the girl with grinning face. "Got any portraits of your missing friend? And while we're at it, tell us more about Master Floon please– his height, weight, and the last whereabouts"
Xaul apologises to Durnan and the staff for the mess he made in defeating the troll, and then turns his attention to Volothamp. He raises an eyebrow at his get-up and scoffs at his announcement of being a 'celebrity'. He then is frankly gobsmacked by Boo's proposition to take the job for just Volo's hat; clearly she is also indulging him in his flamboyant nature. 'I'll happily take your gold of your hands but only if you give us more info on where to find this friend of yours and what danger we might face. And cut the fancy talk, I don't want any of it getting mixed in with important facts.', he growls, showing his teeth slightly. One of Xaul's flaws is that he despises over-eloquence and poetry; words were there to convey information but that doesn't mean they have to get all frilly. He liked sentences that were brief, matter-of-fact and cut to the chase, anything else reminded him of the insufferable elves he had to spend his loathsome childhood with.
Amid the clamor of negotiations and recuperations swirling within the Yawning Portal, Boo remained delightfully unswayed by the shiny lure of gold. With her gaze fixed on Volothamp's flamboyant hat, her voice rose with a playful timbre, matching the chaos of the room with her own brand of whimsy.
"Well, dear Vollie, while my compatriots here might fancy your gold—and a sturdy drink," she nodded towards Marion with a mischievous twinkle, "I find myself still singularly enchanted by the rakish tilt of your hat. It's quite the remarkable specimen, isn't it? Nearly as full of character as its owner, I'd wager!"
She swirled around to face the rest of her newfound allies, spreading her arms as if to include them in her theatrics. "And truly, what is gold to a hat such as that? A hat not only adorns the head but, in cases such as these, clearly adorns the very soul of our esteemed wizard here."
Turning back to Volothamp her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning closer to Volothamp, her interest in the hat momentarily forgotten in the genuine concern for Floon's plight she continued, "Rest assured, we shall sally forth with all due haste, not just for the promise of dragons—or delightful hats—but to right the wrongs of this capricious city!"Her voice suddenly rose again midway through as she spoke, filled with the dramatic flair of a seasoned thespian, ready to embark on yet another perilous, and undoubtedly peculiar, adventure.
He takes his hat off and hold it out."If this is the payment you want, then you may have it. I have more hats I can wear, and more can always be made. If you know where to find him as you claim, then I better go and start gathering the rest of the payment. I hope you won't be wanting me to remove the rest of my clothes instead of the payment on completion.
I have no portraits, but Floon is a handsome human male in his early thirties with wavy red-blond hair. He was dressed in princely garb when I last saw him two nights ago. He and I were drinking and merrymaking at the Skewered Dragon in the Dock Ward."
Marion, you get the sense that he is being honest, but possibly stretching the truth about how much he can afford.
Xaul chuckles and scoffs as Volo describes Floon. No wonder he got kidnapped if he was out late in expensive clothes, probably stumbling about drunk. People ought to have more caution these days. ‘Alright then, we’ll find him for you, and thanks for the description. Hopefully it won’t be too much trouble, we’ll try to get him back as soon as we can.’
As Volothamp Geddarm extended his hat towards her, Boo’s eyes lit up with a joy unbound by the mere confines of monetary wealth. With a flourish befitting a queen in a court of fools, she snatched the hat from his grasp and perched it atop her head, tilting it just so, to capture the exact degree of rakish charm she felt it conveyed.
“Oh, Vollie, you do me a great honor!”Boo exclaimed, her voice bubbling with mirth the filthy little beggar girl spun on her heel to present herself to Marion. “Marion, my darling new friend, do tell me—does this hat not suit me to absolute perfection? Does it not add a certain, oh, what shall we call it—an eldritch elegance to my humble visage?”
With the hat now securely on her head, she turned her attention back to Volothamp, still beaming. “And you say the last you saw of dear Floon was at the Screwed Dragon? Ah, so off we go to that most dragon-like of dens no matter how oddly and inappropriately named!”she chuckled. “Fear not, Vollie, we shall find your handsome friend amidst the docks’ delightful disarray. And worry not about your attire; your generosity with your haberdashery has already won you more allies than your gold ever could!”
With a conspiratorial wink and a mock salute with the edge of her newly acquired hat gave the wizard a wide knowing grin, “Rest assured, we shall locate your dear Floon in due course, and not a stitch more of your wardrobe shall we require! At least, not until our return with Floon in tow, and then, perhaps, we might discuss that fetching scarf,” she said with a flourish, her fingers absentmindedly playing at the stitches at the corners of her mouth.
The beggar girl’s words carried the light-hearted promise of further adventures, her spirit undampened by the gravity of their quest, as she prepared to lead her motley crew into the heart of Waterdeep's mysteries. "The game's afoot,"she said merrily!
"That hat suits you perfectly, looks great on you,Boo. You've gained a solid friend today. By the time we're done with this job, you might have enough hats to out-tower even Durnan if you wear them all at once"
Marion glances at her companions, noting slightly, telling that this man wasn't just blowing smoke. It is a promising sign. She didn't expect total honesty. That was as rare as finding a red diamond, especially in Waterdeep.
"Hm, a dashing redhead in his thirties, you say? He might not still be in those clothes, but it's a good lead. Let's head to the Skewered Dragon and do some asking around. Oh, and Master Volo," Marion turned to the well-dressed wizard with a serious look on her face. "Since you're a resident here, you must know. When people vanish in the night, chances are slim they'll be found alive. Are you prepared for that reality?"
OOC: By the way, I believe we should take a short rest to recover and replenish our spells and abilities. After we leav the tavern, of course. It's important to maintain a professional image in the eyes of our client.
OOC: By the way, I believe we should take a short rest to recover and replenish our spells and abilities. After we leav the tavern, of course. It's important to maintain a professional image in the eyes of our client.
[That would be good since I've already exhausted a lot of spell slots in that last fight]
OOC: Sounds good, definitely short rest. Since Boo was injured she casts Cure Wounds on herself before the short rest (even though she'll need a long rest to get it back). Rolled a 7 from Boo's Character sheet so she recovers all her lost hitpoints.
As Marion praised Boo’s newfound flair with the hat and discussed the serious matters at hand, Boo couldn’t help but beam under the brim of her newly acquired headpiece. The tavern, bustling with whispers and the clinks of tankards, seemed almost a backdrop to their colorful conversation.
"Oh, Marion, you do have an eye for style,"Boo chirped merrily, adjusting the hat with a playful tilt. "And imagine, a tower of hats! Why, I'd be the talk of Waterdeep, a walking milliner's dream!"
Her laughter, light and tinkling, filled the air as she considered Marion's more somber words about their forthcoming quest. "Fear not, for we shall scour every corner of the Screwed Dragon!"
Turning her attention to her own wounds, Boo's demeanor sobered just a touch. She whispered a gentle incantation, her hands glowing with a soft, healing light. As the magic of her spell wove through her, mending the bruises and cuts of the day’s earlier scuffles, she felt her spirits lift alongside her health.
"Well, my dear friends, let us take a moment to gather ourselves. A short rest here under the watchful eyes of Durnan and his ale," she suggested with a wink. "We must be at our best, after all, if we're to unravel this tangled skein."
She glanced around at the familiar confines of the Yawning Portal, her eyes twinkling with mischief and mirth. "And Vollie, my good wizard, do keep your wardrobe ready, for who knows? The adventures ahead may yet demand another hat—or perhaps something even more stylish from your collection!"
With that, Boo settled back, her fingers lightly drumming on the table as she planned their next moves, her heart light and her resolve unshaken by the dangers that might lurk in their path.
You all have a short rest while planning your first move, taking this time to properly introduce yourselves to each other if you haven't done so yet. You then head out towards the Dock Ward. Tall, densely packed tenements leave most of the neighborhood in shadow at ground level. Most of the streetlamps have had their glass smashed and their candles stolen, and the smells of salt air and excrement linger as you pass by rows of run-down buildings.
As you turn a corner, you find yourselves on a street that has been cordoned off by the City Watch. Lying on the cobblestones are a half-dozen corpses, seemingly the victims of some terrible skirmish. Watch officers have disarmed and arrested three blood-drenched humans and are in the midst of questioning witnesses. One of the officers sees you. “Get on,” she says. “Nothing to see here.”
As the motley crew ventured into the salty, sordid air of the Dock Ward, Boo couldn’t help but revel in the odorous orchestra that was Waterdeep’s less savory underbelly. With a grin spreading beneath the brim of her flamboyantly acquired hat, she inhaled deeply, her voice lilting with mischievous mirth. “I love the smells of salt air and excrement in the morning,” Boo declared with theatrical flair, sweeping her arm across the dismal view. “It smells like opportunity!”
Her companions might have wrinkled their noses at the pervasive pungency, but Boo found a certain candid charm in it—the unmistakable aroma of adventure and, perhaps, profitable misadventure. The streets might have been filthy, the lamps shattered and dark, but for Boo, each shadowed alley and stinking breeze whispered secrets of hidden treasures and clandestine escapades.
As they rounded the corner to the grim tableau laid out by the City Watch, Boo’s heart seemed to skip not out of fear, but from an instinctive pull towards the theater of sorrow—and most importantly—opportunity. She saw not just bodies, but a stage set for a play of tragic proportions.
Under the heavy gaze of the City Watch, Boo’s slender four-foot-tall, petite, and child-like form wove through the somber scene, each step measured, her face a mask of contrived sorrow. Her eyes, wide and shimmering with unshed tears, scanned the cold, still faces of the dead laid out on the cobblestones like the final act of a tragic play. Her voice, when she spoke, was a soft, trembling whisper that carried the weight of orchestrated grief.
“Oh dear brother... my sweet, sweet Sneaky Pete, what cruel fate has befallen you?”she wailed, gently touching the rough, lifeless hand of one who could have been a brother in another life. “And Uncle Baldric, trusted mentor and guardian to the young naive, and fatuous Petey, now both strewn here in death’s embrace!”
Around her, the murmur of the crowd swelled, a backdrop to her mournful soliloquy. Boo moved from one body to the next, her expression a canvas of anguish. “And here lie my cousins, Merry and Pippin, their jests and laughter forever silenced. How shall I tell our mother of this woe? How shall she and I feed the eight little ones in our charge... who have been awaiting their return to pay our landlord his rent, to meet the family's financial obligations and put food on the table for those innocent starving children?”
As Boo wailed like a banshee, her nimble fingers, while ostensibly seeking some memento to carry back to her fictional family, subtly sifted through pockets, her touch as light as a pickpocket’s, seeking not just for valuables but for any clue that might whisper the story of what befell these unfortunate souls.
“Kind sirs,”she addressed the City Watch through her sobs, “may I take just a token... or two, and precious coins to pay our family's mounting debts, something to remember them by, to bring solace to our poor mother?” Her plea, laden with the heavy sorrow of the destitute and desperate, was designed to tug at the heartstrings of any onlooker, to distract from her true intent.
As she continued her lamentations, her search was not just for the tangible. Each pocket searched, each seemingly random object she fingered, was part of a deeper, more cunning investigation into the circumstances of the brutal encounter that had led to these deaths. What secret alliances, what hidden enemies had converged in this grim finale?
With every plaintive cry, every tear that coursed down her cheeks, Boo wove a narrative of loss and despair, while her mind remained sharply focused on the dual purpose of her actions: to glean both profit and information from the tragedy sprawled before her in the shadowed streets of Waterdeep.
Xaul stares shocked once again at the audacity of Boo. Surely she wouldn't be trying to pick the pockets of these poor unfortunates, just after she had turned down 10 dragons at the inn? No, surely she must have a deeper motive and he thinks it best to lean into it. He crouches down and pretends to comfort Boo, saying to her 'There, there, we will cope with these losses. This means that there will be less mouths to feed back home, and maybe we might be able to scrape just a few more nibs together for your siblings. Without the care of Uncle Baldric however, I fear we won't be able to cover the apothecary costs for Grandnan, and her flu is getting ever worse! I'll have to put in a few more hours at the thimble factory to make up for the lost assistance, but we shall make it through!' he then straightens up and says to the Watchmen. 'Please, good sirs and madams, would you be able to glean even a smallest glint of light on how these people died. I want to be able to tell our family the truth on how they died, as their good souls deserve better than this!'
Deception Check to try and make Boo and Xaul's story sound believable: 5 Persuasion Check to try and get the guards to tell us what happened: 10
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Marion sighs, her eyes sweeping over the debris-strewn street. The chances of finding Floon alive feels dwindling with each passing moment. The sight of the corpses doesn't help her mood,at all.
@Boo
Having known Boo longer than Xual, Marion can (partially) understand the girl's peculiar behavior. She gently tapped the beggar girl's shoulder, whispering, "Save your energy, Boo. We have a bigger hunt and better games ahead. Don't waste your time on these unfortunate souls."
Turning to the officer, Marion offers an apologetic smile, presenting a bottle of spirits she had picked from the tavern.
"Forgive my companions, sir. They had rather potent liquor after an encounter with monsters at the Yawning Portal. I, myself, was bitten by a Troll. Had to have fair mount of drinking to numb the pain"
She reveals the wound on her shoulder as evidence, then slips a shiny silver coin from her sleeve.
"By the way,"Marion continues, "we're in search of a man named Floon Blagmaar—a handsome fellow with wavy red hair, likely in his early thirties. He was last seen at the Skewered Dragon tavern, wearing princely garb. If anyone can provide information on his whereabouts, I'd be happy to buy them a drink." With a sly grin, she produces another coin. "And for whoever can explain the situation here, I'll happily treat them to another round."
Persuasion:21, 23
If the DM accepts the bribe as an advantage, I'll choose the bigger number.
You do see that there is multiple races in the corpses. You also notice the guards look around at each other, and move closer to you with hands on their weapons. They also prevent you from getting close enough to actually touch the corpses (therefore, unfortunately not getting anything from them), with the whole area blocked off. "So which of these two "families" are you are part of? Zhentarim or Xanathars? I think you should come with us to the cells to... give a statement on your exact relationship with these criminals
(Editing to add a response to Marionas that hadn't loaded when I opened the thread) "We have not seen someone matching that description, however thank you for reporting it to the watch. You can leave it to us to handle. And I would suggest you try and sober your friends up, before they go incriminating themselves further by pretending to be part of one of the criminal gangs again. As for the drink, I will let you off with a warning this time, and a copy of the Code Legal as a reminder for you that bribery is not permitted."
'Guess I'm a public drunkard now too', Xaul thinks to himself as he grits his teeth, 'That'll for sure be the last time I try to play along with Boo' He then decides it's best he doesn't publicly embarrass himself any further, and thinks that it would be best to go look for this Floon fella and make some actual cash rather than play the fool with the city guard. He makes off further into the Dock Wards, feigning the stagger of a drunk person, and muttering some incomprehensible drivel to the rest of the party that would sound like just drunken mutterings to the public but would hopefully be picked up as a signal to the rest of the party follow him.
Marion deals some fire damage to the troll, the wounds staying open. This is followed up by Xaul carefully placing himself to only hit the troll, who fails the save. This is enough to push the troll down the well, dead, as well as destroying quite a few chairs and a couple of tables. Durnan looks around at you all. "You fought well". There seems to be a hint of surprise and also possibly impressed. He doesn't seem overly concerned about the damage to the inn. Some of the workers immediately start to tidy up.
A figure pushes his way through the crowds to meet you all. “You be adventurers, am I right? I could use your help. Let’s find a table to talk, shall we?” and he goes and sits down. He strokes his moustache, adjusts his floppy hat, and tightens his scarf. “Volothamp Geddarm, chronicler, wizard, and celebrity, at your service. I trust you’ve noted the violence in our fair city these past tendays. I haven’t seen so much blood since my last visit to Baldur’s Gate! But now I fear I have misplaced a friend amid this odious malevolence. My friend’s name is Floon Blagmaar. He’s got more beauty than brains, and I worry he took a bad way home a couple nights ago and was kidnapped — or worse. If you agree to track him down with all due haste, I can offer you ten dragons apiece now, and I can give you each ten times that when you find Floon. May I prevail upon you in my hour of need?”
(A dragon is 1gp is Waterdeep currency)
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
In the bustling, somewhat chaotic aftermath of the troll's untimely dispatch down the well of The Yawning Portal, where chairs were now kindling and tables sported new, avant-garde angles, Boo found herself caught between the realms of practical heroics and eccentric theatrical musings.
As Volothamp Geddarm, the self-proclaimed chronicler, wizard, and celebrity, made his flamboyant entrance, winding through the tavern with the flair of a man both hunted by creditors and followed by fans, Boo's attention snapped not to the promise of gold but to the jaunty hat perched atop his head.
"Alas, poor Floon... Floon the Loon, of which he is lovingly called! Oh yes, indeed... I knew him, dear Volothampie," Boo declared, her voice a dramatic crescendo that borrowed from the theatrics of a poorly trained minstrel rather than the whispers of a beggar. "A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times. And now, how abhorred in my imagination it is that he has departed this mortal coil at such a young age!"
She paced a small circle, her hand theatrically pressed to her forehead as if the weight of grief was too much to bear standing still. "My gorge she does rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft until he cast me aside for another. Where be your gibes now, my dear sweet loon? Your gambols? Your songs of jest and mirth, your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?"
Pausing, she eyed Volothamp's hat with a mix of covetousness and calculated mischief. "I know exactly where to find your Floon the Loon, but look at me, Vollie—I am a woman of means with no need for the vulgarity of gold. But I'll tell you what, I'll be happy to undertake your task in exchange for that beautiful, wandering, incredibly magnificent chapeau... up front, and you can keep your ten gold payment where I at least am concerned!"
Her proposition hung in the air, a playful yet earnest barter in contrast to her dark almost ghoulish appearance, as she finished with a flourish, "So what do you say, Vollie, do we have a deal?"
Boo's eyes twinkled with the thrill of her proposed bargain, her stance bold and expectant, waiting for Volothamp's response to her audacious request. The tavern, still echoing with the residual chaos of the battle, seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see if the wizard's love for his hat could rival his need for her help.
"I can help you with this." Kismet replied, answering Volothamp's inquiry.
The tiefling arched a sable eyebrow at the street urchin's bargaining tactics. The Calimshan-born woman was no stranger to haggling, the teeming bazaars of her southern homeland being famously raucous. Haggling to lower one's price, however, was not a tactic seen everyday.
"In exchange for the gold though." She clarified, adding quickly, indicating that the only items she desired from the wizard's outfit were currently in his coin pouch.
"Whew! That was a rush! Hey Boss, mind if I snag a little bonus?"
Marion swiftly grabs a bottle of spirits from an abandoned table. She pops the cork with her teeth, pouring the liquor over her wounded shoulder before taking a well-deserved sip. "Who's up for a drink?" she called out to her companions.
@Volothamp Geddarm
Even as she enjoyed the banter of the urchin girl, Marion's attention, however, remained fixed on Volothamp Geddarm, the self-proclaimed wizard. She knows all too well their standing in the city and how they were perceive. It is usua her role to keep a vigilant eye on those who sought to exploit them.
Insight : 21 to see if Volo is lying.
" Like my friends, I could do your job. And I don't need the fancy pants of yours! " Says the girl with grinning face. "Got any portraits of your missing friend? And while we're at it, tell us more about Master Floon please– his height, weight, and the last whereabouts"
Xaul apologises to Durnan and the staff for the mess he made in defeating the troll, and then turns his attention to Volothamp. He raises an eyebrow at his get-up and scoffs at his announcement of being a 'celebrity'. He then is frankly gobsmacked by Boo's proposition to take the job for just Volo's hat; clearly she is also indulging him in his flamboyant nature. 'I'll happily take your gold of your hands but only if you give us more info on where to find this friend of yours and what danger we might face. And cut the fancy talk, I don't want any of it getting mixed in with important facts.', he growls, showing his teeth slightly. One of Xaul's flaws is that he despises over-eloquence and poetry; words were there to convey information but that doesn't mean they have to get all frilly. He liked sentences that were brief, matter-of-fact and cut to the chase, anything else reminded him of the insufferable elves he had to spend his loathsome childhood with.
Xaul Lackluster: Half-Orc Fathomless Warlock: Warlock Dragon Heist
Borvnir Chelvnich: Black Dragonborn Barbarian: Dragons of Stormwreck Isle
Sparkles: Aasimar Monk: Drakkenheim: What's in the Here and Now
Lith Ja’mas: Githyanki Sorcerer: Ghosts Of Saltmarsh
Pushover Gerilwitz: Tiefling Wizard: Acquisitions Incorporated
DMing The 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist! and The Hunt for the Balowang!
Killer Queen has already extended this signature, though not by much!
Amid the clamor of negotiations and recuperations swirling within the Yawning Portal, Boo remained delightfully unswayed by the shiny lure of gold. With her gaze fixed on Volothamp's flamboyant hat, her voice rose with a playful timbre, matching the chaos of the room with her own brand of whimsy.
"Well, dear Vollie, while my compatriots here might fancy your gold—and a sturdy drink," she nodded towards Marion with a mischievous twinkle, "I find myself still singularly enchanted by the rakish tilt of your hat. It's quite the remarkable specimen, isn't it? Nearly as full of character as its owner, I'd wager!"
She swirled around to face the rest of her newfound allies, spreading her arms as if to include them in her theatrics. "And truly, what is gold to a hat such as that? A hat not only adorns the head but, in cases such as these, clearly adorns the very soul of our esteemed wizard here."
Turning back to Volothamp her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning closer to Volothamp, her interest in the hat momentarily forgotten in the genuine concern for Floon's plight she continued, "Rest assured, we shall sally forth with all due haste, not just for the promise of dragons—or delightful hats—but to right the wrongs of this capricious city!" Her voice suddenly rose again midway through as she spoke, filled with the dramatic flair of a seasoned thespian, ready to embark on yet another perilous, and undoubtedly peculiar, adventure.
He takes his hat off and hold it out. "If this is the payment you want, then you may have it. I have more hats I can wear, and more can always be made. If you know where to find him as you claim, then I better go and start gathering the rest of the payment. I hope you won't be wanting me to remove the rest of my clothes instead of the payment on completion.
I have no portraits, but Floon is a handsome human male in his early thirties with wavy red-blond hair. He was dressed in princely garb when I last saw him two nights ago. He and I were drinking and merrymaking at the Skewered Dragon in the Dock Ward."
Marion, you get the sense that he is being honest, but possibly stretching the truth about how much he can afford.
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Xaul chuckles and scoffs as Volo describes Floon. No wonder he got kidnapped if he was out late in expensive clothes, probably stumbling about drunk. People ought to have more caution these days. ‘Alright then, we’ll find him for you, and thanks for the description. Hopefully it won’t be too much trouble, we’ll try to get him back as soon as we can.’
Xaul Lackluster: Half-Orc Fathomless Warlock: Warlock Dragon Heist
Borvnir Chelvnich: Black Dragonborn Barbarian: Dragons of Stormwreck Isle
Sparkles: Aasimar Monk: Drakkenheim: What's in the Here and Now
Lith Ja’mas: Githyanki Sorcerer: Ghosts Of Saltmarsh
Pushover Gerilwitz: Tiefling Wizard: Acquisitions Incorporated
DMing The 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist! and The Hunt for the Balowang!
Killer Queen has already extended this signature, though not by much!
As Volothamp Geddarm extended his hat towards her, Boo’s eyes lit up with a joy unbound by the mere confines of monetary wealth. With a flourish befitting a queen in a court of fools, she snatched the hat from his grasp and perched it atop her head, tilting it just so, to capture the exact degree of rakish charm she felt it conveyed.
“Oh, Vollie, you do me a great honor!” Boo exclaimed, her voice bubbling with mirth the filthy little beggar girl spun on her heel to present herself to Marion. “Marion, my darling new friend, do tell me—does this hat not suit me to absolute perfection? Does it not add a certain, oh, what shall we call it—an eldritch elegance to my humble visage?”
With the hat now securely on her head, she turned her attention back to Volothamp, still beaming. “And you say the last you saw of dear Floon was at the Screwed Dragon? Ah, so off we go to that most dragon-like of dens no matter how oddly and inappropriately named!” she chuckled. “Fear not, Vollie, we shall find your handsome friend amidst the docks’ delightful disarray. And worry not about your attire; your generosity with your haberdashery has already won you more allies than your gold ever could!”
With a conspiratorial wink and a mock salute with the edge of her newly acquired hat gave the wizard a wide knowing grin, “Rest assured, we shall locate your dear Floon in due course, and not a stitch more of your wardrobe shall we require! At least, not until our return with Floon in tow, and then, perhaps, we might discuss that fetching scarf,” she said with a flourish, her fingers absentmindedly playing at the stitches at the corners of her mouth.
The beggar girl’s words carried the light-hearted promise of further adventures, her spirit undampened by the gravity of their quest, as she prepared to lead her motley crew into the heart of Waterdeep's mysteries. "The game's afoot," she said merrily!
"That hat suits you perfectly, looks great on you,Boo. You've gained a solid friend today. By the time we're done with this job, you might have enough hats to out-tower even Durnan if you wear them all at once"
Marion glances at her companions, noting slightly, telling that this man wasn't just blowing smoke. It is a promising sign. She didn't expect total honesty. That was as rare as finding a red diamond, especially in Waterdeep.
"Hm, a dashing redhead in his thirties, you say? He might not still be in those clothes, but it's a good lead. Let's head to the Skewered Dragon and do some asking around. Oh, and Master Volo," Marion turned to the well-dressed wizard with a serious look on her face. "Since you're a resident here, you must know. When people vanish in the night, chances are slim they'll be found alive. Are you prepared for that reality?"
OOC: By the way, I believe we should take a short rest to recover and replenish our spells and abilities. After we leav the tavern, of course. It's important to maintain a professional image in the eyes of our client.
[That would be good since I've already exhausted a lot of spell slots in that last fight]
Xaul Lackluster: Half-Orc Fathomless Warlock: Warlock Dragon Heist
Borvnir Chelvnich: Black Dragonborn Barbarian: Dragons of Stormwreck Isle
Sparkles: Aasimar Monk: Drakkenheim: What's in the Here and Now
Lith Ja’mas: Githyanki Sorcerer: Ghosts Of Saltmarsh
Pushover Gerilwitz: Tiefling Wizard: Acquisitions Incorporated
DMing The 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist! and The Hunt for the Balowang!
Killer Queen has already extended this signature, though not by much!
OOC: Sounds good, definitely short rest. Since Boo was injured she casts Cure Wounds on herself before the short rest (even though she'll need a long rest to get it back). Rolled a 7 from Boo's Character sheet so she recovers all her lost hitpoints.
As Marion praised Boo’s newfound flair with the hat and discussed the serious matters at hand, Boo couldn’t help but beam under the brim of her newly acquired headpiece. The tavern, bustling with whispers and the clinks of tankards, seemed almost a backdrop to their colorful conversation.
"Oh, Marion, you do have an eye for style," Boo chirped merrily, adjusting the hat with a playful tilt. "And imagine, a tower of hats! Why, I'd be the talk of Waterdeep, a walking milliner's dream!"
Her laughter, light and tinkling, filled the air as she considered Marion's more somber words about their forthcoming quest. "Fear not, for we shall scour every corner of the Screwed Dragon!"
Turning her attention to her own wounds, Boo's demeanor sobered just a touch. She whispered a gentle incantation, her hands glowing with a soft, healing light. As the magic of her spell wove through her, mending the bruises and cuts of the day’s earlier scuffles, she felt her spirits lift alongside her health.
"Well, my dear friends, let us take a moment to gather ourselves. A short rest here under the watchful eyes of Durnan and his ale," she suggested with a wink. "We must be at our best, after all, if we're to unravel this tangled skein."
She glanced around at the familiar confines of the Yawning Portal, her eyes twinkling with mischief and mirth. "And Vollie, my good wizard, do keep your wardrobe ready, for who knows? The adventures ahead may yet demand another hat—or perhaps something even more stylish from your collection!"
With that, Boo settled back, her fingers lightly drumming on the table as she planned their next moves, her heart light and her resolve unshaken by the dangers that might lurk in their path.
You all have a short rest while planning your first move, taking this time to properly introduce yourselves to each other if you haven't done so yet. You then head out towards the Dock Ward. Tall, densely packed tenements leave most of the neighborhood in shadow at ground level. Most of the streetlamps have had their glass smashed and their candles stolen, and the smells of salt air and excrement linger as you pass by rows of run-down buildings.
As you turn a corner, you find yourselves on a street that has been cordoned off by the City Watch. Lying on the cobblestones are a half-dozen corpses, seemingly the victims of some terrible skirmish. Watch officers have disarmed and arrested three blood-drenched humans and are in the midst of questioning witnesses. One of the officers sees you. “Get on,” she says. “Nothing to see here.”
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
As the motley crew ventured into the salty, sordid air of the Dock Ward, Boo couldn’t help but revel in the odorous orchestra that was Waterdeep’s less savory underbelly. With a grin spreading beneath the brim of her flamboyantly acquired hat, she inhaled deeply, her voice lilting with mischievous mirth. “I love the smells of salt air and excrement in the morning,” Boo declared with theatrical flair, sweeping her arm across the dismal view. “It smells like opportunity!”
Her companions might have wrinkled their noses at the pervasive pungency, but Boo found a certain candid charm in it—the unmistakable aroma of adventure and, perhaps, profitable misadventure. The streets might have been filthy, the lamps shattered and dark, but for Boo, each shadowed alley and stinking breeze whispered secrets of hidden treasures and clandestine escapades.
As they rounded the corner to the grim tableau laid out by the City Watch, Boo’s heart seemed to skip not out of fear, but from an instinctive pull towards the theater of sorrow—and most importantly—opportunity. She saw not just bodies, but a stage set for a play of tragic proportions.
Under the heavy gaze of the City Watch, Boo’s slender four-foot-tall, petite, and child-like form wove through the somber scene, each step measured, her face a mask of contrived sorrow. Her eyes, wide and shimmering with unshed tears, scanned the cold, still faces of the dead laid out on the cobblestones like the final act of a tragic play. Her voice, when she spoke, was a soft, trembling whisper that carried the weight of orchestrated grief.
“Oh dear brother... my sweet, sweet Sneaky Pete, what cruel fate has befallen you?” she wailed, gently touching the rough, lifeless hand of one who could have been a brother in another life. “And Uncle Baldric, trusted mentor and guardian to the young naive, and fatuous Petey, now both strewn here in death’s embrace!”
Around her, the murmur of the crowd swelled, a backdrop to her mournful soliloquy. Boo moved from one body to the next, her expression a canvas of anguish. “And here lie my cousins, Merry and Pippin, their jests and laughter forever silenced. How shall I tell our mother of this woe? How shall she and I feed the eight little ones in our charge... who have been awaiting their return to pay our landlord his rent, to meet the family's financial obligations and put food on the table for those innocent starving children?”
As Boo wailed like a banshee, her nimble fingers, while ostensibly seeking some memento to carry back to her fictional family, subtly sifted through pockets, her touch as light as a pickpocket’s, seeking not just for valuables but for any clue that might whisper the story of what befell these unfortunate souls.
“Kind sirs,” she addressed the City Watch through her sobs, “may I take just a token... or two, and precious coins to pay our family's mounting debts, something to remember them by, to bring solace to our poor mother?” Her plea, laden with the heavy sorrow of the destitute and desperate, was designed to tug at the heartstrings of any onlooker, to distract from her true intent.
As she continued her lamentations, her search was not just for the tangible. Each pocket searched, each seemingly random object she fingered, was part of a deeper, more cunning investigation into the circumstances of the brutal encounter that had led to these deaths. What secret alliances, what hidden enemies had converged in this grim finale?
With every plaintive cry, every tear that coursed down her cheeks, Boo wove a narrative of loss and despair, while her mind remained sharply focused on the dual purpose of her actions: to glean both profit and information from the tragedy sprawled before her in the shadowed streets of Waterdeep.
Xaul stares shocked once again at the audacity of Boo. Surely she wouldn't be trying to pick the pockets of these poor unfortunates, just after she had turned down 10 dragons at the inn? No, surely she must have a deeper motive and he thinks it best to lean into it. He crouches down and pretends to comfort Boo, saying to her 'There, there, we will cope with these losses. This means that there will be less mouths to feed back home, and maybe we might be able to scrape just a few more nibs together for your siblings. Without the care of Uncle Baldric however, I fear we won't be able to cover the apothecary costs for Grandnan, and her flu is getting ever worse! I'll have to put in a few more hours at the thimble factory to make up for the lost assistance, but we shall make it through!' he then straightens up and says to the Watchmen. 'Please, good sirs and madams, would you be able to glean even a smallest glint of light on how these people died. I want to be able to tell our family the truth on how they died, as their good souls deserve better than this!'
Deception Check to try and make Boo and Xaul's story sound believable: 5
Persuasion Check to try and get the guards to tell us what happened: 10
Xaul Lackluster: Half-Orc Fathomless Warlock: Warlock Dragon Heist
Borvnir Chelvnich: Black Dragonborn Barbarian: Dragons of Stormwreck Isle
Sparkles: Aasimar Monk: Drakkenheim: What's in the Here and Now
Lith Ja’mas: Githyanki Sorcerer: Ghosts Of Saltmarsh
Pushover Gerilwitz: Tiefling Wizard: Acquisitions Incorporated
DMing The 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist! and The Hunt for the Balowang!
Killer Queen has already extended this signature, though not by much!
Hit Dice: 4
I will post my reaction later.
Marion sighs, her eyes sweeping over the debris-strewn street. The chances of finding Floon alive feels dwindling with each passing moment. The sight of the corpses doesn't help her mood,at all.
@Boo
Having known Boo longer than Xual, Marion can (partially) understand the girl's peculiar behavior. She gently tapped the beggar girl's shoulder, whispering, "Save your energy, Boo. We have a bigger hunt and better games ahead. Don't waste your time on these unfortunate souls."
Turning to the officer, Marion offers an apologetic smile, presenting a bottle of spirits she had picked from the tavern.
"Forgive my companions, sir. They had rather potent liquor after an encounter with monsters at the Yawning Portal. I, myself, was bitten by a Troll. Had to have fair mount of drinking to numb the pain"
She reveals the wound on her shoulder as evidence, then slips a shiny silver coin from her sleeve.
"By the way," Marion continues, "we're in search of a man named Floon Blagmaar—a handsome fellow with wavy red hair, likely in his early thirties. He was last seen at the Skewered Dragon tavern, wearing princely garb. If anyone can provide information on his whereabouts, I'd be happy to buy them a drink." With a sly grin, she produces another coin. "And for whoever can explain the situation here, I'll happily treat them to another round."
Persuasion:21, 23
If the DM accepts the bribe as an advantage, I'll choose the bigger number.
You do see that there is multiple races in the corpses. You also notice the guards look around at each other, and move closer to you with hands on their weapons. They also prevent you from getting close enough to actually touch the corpses (therefore, unfortunately not getting anything from them), with the whole area blocked off. "So which of these two "families" are you are part of? Zhentarim or Xanathars? I think you should come with us to the cells to... give a statement on your exact relationship with these criminals
(Editing to add a response to Marion as that hadn't loaded when I opened the thread) "We have not seen someone matching that description, however thank you for reporting it to the watch. You can leave it to us to handle. And I would suggest you try and sober your friends up, before they go incriminating themselves further by pretending to be part of one of the criminal gangs again. As for the drink, I will let you off with a warning this time, and a copy of the Code Legal as a reminder for you that bribery is not permitted."
Code legal:
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
'Guess I'm a public drunkard now too', Xaul thinks to himself as he grits his teeth, 'That'll for sure be the last time I try to play along with Boo' He then decides it's best he doesn't publicly embarrass himself any further, and thinks that it would be best to go look for this Floon fella and make some actual cash rather than play the fool with the city guard. He makes off further into the Dock Wards, feigning the stagger of a drunk person, and muttering some incomprehensible drivel to the rest of the party that would sound like just drunken mutterings to the public but would hopefully be picked up as a signal to the rest of the party follow him.
Xaul Lackluster: Half-Orc Fathomless Warlock: Warlock Dragon Heist
Borvnir Chelvnich: Black Dragonborn Barbarian: Dragons of Stormwreck Isle
Sparkles: Aasimar Monk: Drakkenheim: What's in the Here and Now
Lith Ja’mas: Githyanki Sorcerer: Ghosts Of Saltmarsh
Pushover Gerilwitz: Tiefling Wizard: Acquisitions Incorporated
DMing The 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist! and The Hunt for the Balowang!
Killer Queen has already extended this signature, though not by much!