Darian proceeded to the Laughing Dwarf to restock his supplies when a fight broke out. Not having noticed what caused the conflict, Darian doesn’t hesitate to draw his bow in defence of his new ally.
Albert was ready to wind down for the night and have a beer or whatever they serve. Then that ass starts to throw punches and call names. He as an angry pacifist will try "Whoa, son. I don't want to perform funeral rites tonight, so please leave while you are able to"
Ne'haredowell looks up after looking down in a sort of meditative state. "Huh? Oh no I was-" His eyes trail down to see that crumbs of clay scatter to the floor. He wonders if he should help clean it or let it be. He too didn't like bathes (well not in the traditional water-y type sense), but this man... was positively filthy! He doesn't like the way it makes his nose twitch. Well, if they did twitch. Instead it just makes him feel like the inner hairs burn.
Scanning around the room, following where his little mouse was going, Nare could see the empty shelves where spell components, alchemical ingredients, and relatively common magical consumables should be. 'Hmm.'
"Haha. Oh um, yes, thank you." His feet sort of shuffle as he clumsily dodges the question. "Sourced from the shadows."Yet that is what he is quick to reveal. Okay. His inner thoughts continue struggle with himself. He phrases it like he is talking about a cookbook ingredient more than about magic.
Nare takes a whiff of the beer garden smell. "Mmh?" He goes and pokes it after the dwarf explains it then gets thrown off by the nudge. He turns his head and lightly laughs which turns into an accidental snort, to which he makes a move to almost cover his mouth but then goes against it, playing it off like it didn't happen. "Haha ah! I see."
The harengon narrows his eyes as he sees the side-effects. "Oh..."He slightly frowns.
"Oh."Nare looks around the room some more and purses his lips. He inhales. Looks like he is going to have to count on his species very faint signs of sexual dimorphism. He couldn't be gladder to be heavily covered in fur. The other things he will just have to deal with.
'Only less than 24 hours.' He reminds himself. 'The price of beauty?' Huh would that saying count?' He would not know.
He casts a random shower of sparks to appear in his hand through Prestidigitation in contemplation and just for fun. And also (without making a show of it), he cleans up the crummy mess that the other guy did on the floor with his other hand.
"Okay. I shall go get it. Do you think I can grow more with it?" He wonders why he asked that aloud. Of course the guy would not want him to start his own little farm out of it, but it was too late now. He shuffles around in his pockets for the gold, "I see that you are also missing a lot of supplies. I would go and get some herbs or anything if you are- still are- interested in some. I am good at foraging." He lets his little bunny ear twitch to make a show of it. "I would still really like the vial so I am hoping to make a good deal out of it. ... Deal?"
"Okay. I shall go get it. Do you think I can grow more with it?"
Duncan hooks a thumb in his belt and offers a non-commital shrug. "Sure, ya can grow yer own mushrooms, I suppose. But yer gonna need to know how ta care for 'em. Even the Pleurotus Androgenomyces, as hardy as they are, need quite a lot of love and care ta' grow in a drought like this without it succombing to dry rot."
"I see that you are also missing a lot of supplies. I would go and get some herbs or anything if you are- still are- interested in some. I am good at foraging."
Duncan strokes his beard again and more clay crumbs sprinkle to the ground. "Foraging, ya say? Well, I'm always in the market for rare and exotic spell components I'd be willing to purchase," he raises his hand as if making an oath, "for a fair price, of course, any spell components, magical materials, or alchemical materials ya' may find on yer travels!"
He shuffles over to his desk and produces a neatly folded sheet of paper (a rare find in this region) with some neatly scribed rows and columns full of information. He places a sheet of parchment over it, then dips a quill into some shimmering blue ink, and drops a dot onto the parchment. The spot of ink begins to stretch and twist along the length of the page until it makes an exact replica of the content on the paper underneath. He then puts the paper away. and brings Nare the copy. "This here's a list of common spell components I already have price points for. They're sorted by highest to lowest value. And I'll give you the highest value fer store credit." He finishes his last sentence with a wink.
"I would still really like the vial so I am hoping to make a good deal out of it. ... Deal?"
Duncan holds his hands up defensively, "Deal? I assure you yer gettin' the best deal in Santekh. After all,in these conditions it's no snall challenge to grow her and mushroom gardens as lush and powerful as mine. That kind a' love and care takes time, and money.. Ya' wouldn't begrudge a struggling merchant the chance ta earn a profit , now would ya?"
Material Component
Purchase Value (in GP)
Store Credit (In GP)
Bejeweled Horn
1875.00
3750.00
Glass Eye
625.00
1250.00
Art Object with a dragon engraved on it
250.00
500.00
Guilded Playing Card featuring the Avater of Death
200.00
400.00
Obsidian (1 lb)
93.50
187.00
Rod of Amber, Crystal, or Glass
50.00
100.00
Diamond Dust
50.00
100.00
Arcane Focus (pending Appraisal)
25.00
50.00
Gemstone (pending Appraisal)
25.00
50.00
Gem-infused inks or chalks (2 oz)
25.00
50.00
Hand Mirror
12.50
25.00
Agate
2.50
5.00
Silver, powdered or whole (1 pound)
2.50
5.00
Hot Peppers (1 pound)
1.00
2.00
Gum Arabic (1 pound)
0.75
1.50
Coal (1 lb)
0.25
0.50
Melee weapon, any condition
0.20
0.40
Red Dragon's Scale
0.20
0.40
Clay sculpture (miniature)
0.20
0.40
Mica (1 lb)
0.20
0.40
White Rock (1 lb)
0.20
0.40
Bitumen (1 lb)
0.20
0.40
Deck of Cards
0.20
0.40
Snake's Tongue
0.20
0.40
Honeycomb
0.20
0.40
Sweet Oils
0.20
0.40
Raxorvine (15 feet)
0.20
0.40
Liquorice Root (1 lb)
0.20
0.40
Molasses (1 lb)
0.20
0.40
Nut Shells (1 lb)
0.20
0.40
Keys (any condition)
0.20
0.40
Caterpillar Caccon (5 oz container)
0.20
0.40
Giant Slug Bile (4 oz)
0.20
0.40
Small Crystal or Glass Cone
0.20
0.40
Iron, powdered or whole (1 pounds)
0.05
0.10
Salt (1 poiud)
0.03
0.05
Sugar (1 lb)
0.03
0.05
Grain (1 lb)
NONE
0.01
Back at The Laughing Dwarf Dance Hall...
Albert's threat seems to cause the mysterious attacker to hesitate, but only for a moment... long enough, at least, for his companions to steel themselves and charge into battle!
The Mysterious Attacker is Frightened! Backstabitha Darian of the Hachakee is up first! Followed by Arvos Quain, then Brian de Prime
Darian draws his bowstring back, the familiar tension steadying his breath. As the figure pauses, perhaps sensing danger, Darian releases the arrow. It slices through the air with a deadly whisper, aimed at the figure’s exposed side.
Arvos is tired, drenched in sweat, and his feet hurt from all that walking. He is sure he has several blisters ready to pop. All he wants to do is to take off his shoes and relax in a bath. He shudders at the sudden appearance of this dark figure and quickly turns around and scrambles away from the dark figure. "What?! Who are you and what are you doing here in Santekh?"
Disengage Action
Moves 30 ft West then Southwest to regroup with his companions
Bran watches the stranger and seeing Darian draw his bow and attack, he quickly moves to position behind the stranger ( down 1 south - across 4 west) while drawing his longsword and attacks with advantage:
Darian's arrow thuds hard into the attacker's side, tearing through leather armor, and causing them to wheeze out a violent puff of air and double over in pain. Coughing blood, they snap the arrow and prepare to ready themself for the next attack, but not fast enough! Bran surges across the dance floor, landing a brutal strike through the assailant's right lung and out through the front of their chest.
Shuddering and twitching, the attacker's grip on their heavy scythe loosens, and it drops to the stone floor with a reverberating echo. They turn their head towards Bran as if trying to say something, but no wind can grant sound to the words on their lips as they sink to the floor.
Over nearly as quickly as it began, most of the patrons of The Laughing Dwarf haven't even had time to get up from their seats. There is a deafening silence as Glynnis and her customers stare in shock at was has just transpired. Glynnis is the first to snap out of it. She pulls one of the permanent residents up by the shirt sleeves, "Get goin' ye! To the night watch! Tell 'em a man lays dyin'! The rest o' ye, get out o' me dance hall! We're closed," She bellows, shooshing the weary patrons out the front door.
She wheels on The Golden Company. "But not ye four. I'm no' too sure what's happened here, but ye've been targeted." She grabs a rag from the bar and kneels down to attempt to stop the mysterious figure from bleeding to death. "An' I'm thinkin' we need ta find out why."
You are out of initiative. You each receive 25 XP for the encounter.
The incident in the inn was over very quickly. Finishing the assailant, who's blood is stretching across the floor in all directions, there is only a kindness left to be done. The weapon he is holding falls to the ground. With care Bran picks it up to keep it out of other patrons reach.
Cleaning his longsword. Bran looks towards Darian to make sure he's OK, bit of a sight for the patrons experiencing a bow been drawn and used in an Inn. He nods to Darian and clasps his forearm, thanks him and confirms all is well for the moment.
Confident Darian is good he goes to assist Glynnis and readies himself to help out while also looking closely at the deceased for any clues or insight as to why we are been 'targeted'.
She wheels on The Golden Company. "But not ye four. I'm no' too sure what's happened here, but ye've been targeted." She grabs a rag from the bar and kneels down to attempt to stop the mysterious figure from bleeding to death. "An' I'm thinkin' we need ta find out why."
The harengon inhales. And every time he inhales he breathes in more of thick rank stuff that the dwarf is perpetrating. "... No I- I wouldn't."Nare frowns. He guesses in a time and place such as this that this would be hard to come by. He sure wished there was a cheaper option, but surely swindling a man right out in the open wasn't one of them. Not that he'd deserve it. Stealing for him was mostly a thing of the past... well, mostly anyways. He still liked to keep some fun. But this little witchdoctor man was honest enough. He wouldn't stoop that low.
"A deal is a deal. I will take it." He hands Doctor Duncan the money and swiftly takes the jar. It's more like he wants to smell it than anything as he quickly uncovers it and puts the jar up to his nose to take a good long whiff at it. "These truly are remarkable." Replacing back the lid, he looks over to where Duncan had left the paper copy (as he was too distracted earlier to take it).
"I hope I will find some for you then, doc." He tips his skull helmet then at the man before he hops on out. He takes another long breathe once he's out of there and into the fresh air. The sun beats against his fur. 'Now where off to now?'
Scooping up some sand, he puts some in his pocket for later. He supposes that if he has enough fire, he could have molten glass, and that with which you can sculpt loads of things. He looks over to where that kender was polishing rocks before. What was it called again? Oh yes, Amber's Gallery. Maybe he can trade with her later. He wishes he had the actual skill to blow glass things. It is possible she might be willing to teach. Art always fascinated him.
Upon walking into The Laughing Dwarf a little too late. Ne'haredowell raises his eyebrows at the retreating patrons yet still saunters on in. He sees the lying body on the floor. He feels his own inner shadows convulse. He smiles. At least the man wasn't dead yet. "Hmm. Oh yes. What did happen?" He wonders aloud.
After Bran delivers the mercy blow, Glynnis scowls at you in disapproval. "Yer a fool. Now we'll never know who sent this assassin after ye!" In frustration, she tosses the rag on the ground and attempts to pull the mask off the corpse, but it won't budge. As if the mask was fused to the person's head. Grunting in frustration, she stands up and wheels around at the sound of Nare entering her establishment. Visibly disappointed that Nare isn't the guard, she huffs and stomps back to a barstool and has a seat. "Naught ta' do now, but wait I guess."
Arvos was going to offer some healing, but Bran offed the stranger "Well we won't be getting any answers from him. He seems to be rather overdressed for the desert." he will wait for the guards to come.
After Bran delivers the mercy blow, Glynnis scowls at you in disapproval. "Yer a fool. Now we'll never know who sent this assassin after ye!" In frustration, she tosses the rag on the ground and attempts to pull the mask off the corpse, but it won't budge. As if the mask was fused to the person's head. Grunting in frustration, she stands up and wheels around at the sound of Nare entering her establishment. Visibly disappointed that Nare isn't the guard, she huffs and stomps back to a barstool and has a seat. "Naught ta' do now, but wait I guess."
Arvos was going to offer some healing, but Bran offed the stranger "Well we won't be getting any answers from him. He seems to be rather overdressed for the desert." he will wait for the guards to come.
Bran keeps quiet and returns to where he was sitting. He did what he had to do to protect everyone in the Inn. He doesn't feel great about it.
While sitting and attempting to find a reason for what happened. He begins to ponder and ruminate on what just happened. Going into a trance he gains some insight, the mask stands out, the vibe surrounding the entire camp, the overwhelming feeling of vengeance, this was not any ordinary assassin, and he realises with a sense of clarity the body on the floor is a cultist, but the the mask, the mask is saying something to him and suddenly a single name comes to the fore.... Sargonnas.
Why does that name seem familiar? Bran comes out his trance. Members of the Golden Company are in the room waiting for the Guard to come by and investigate what has happened.
Bran stands and addresses the Company; "friends, I need your collective wisdom, does the name Sargonnas, mean anything to anyone?"
OOC: as funny as it seems, your cleric is not proficient in religion :D
Albert just looks at the dead guy. One hand is stretched out a bit, because he wanted to cast spare the dying, but others were quicker. Other hand fidgets his holy symbol of Mishakal. He mutters to himself: "Sorry my lady, I was too slow. Another life lost, just because I'm getting old."
Albert gathers himself and turns to others: "Please, friends, next time do not be so rash. For me - this is another pointless death. For you this is lost possibility to ask questions. Violence is not the answer"
Bran hands Albert the hidden poison vial that was found on the assassin. Clearly a measure to be used in the advent of his capture. “This was no ordinary person blessed Albert, he wasn’t going to be allowed to be questioned”. He walks away to get some rest.
The shadows within him gripped stronger. Dead. He didn't even need to see what happened he just knew it. 'Oh. How unfortunate.' He raises an eyebrow Bran's decision why, though it was not for him to say.
Upon hearing the word 'assassin' Ne'haredowell realizes this is a much bigger deal than he had expected. Though wouldn't just one dead body be enough to send ringing any bell? 'Hm, yeah maybe.'He shrugs off any incoming thoughts.
"Sargonnas?"Nare looks up at the ceiling for a while as if that was going to give him answers. "Nah. No, I've never heard of them." He tilts his head to the side, noting that Bran was just in a trace of some sort. "Why?"He sniffs at the exchange of poison. "Guess not." He knew that trick too well. A talker? No, they off themselves. Prying eyes do not well with shut mouths.
He kneels down to take an inspection of the body. Something about the sight of the mask that had intrigued him. It was the horns, not much unlike his own ('A true man of style'). Taking off his own, he puts his hand on the face of it.
Bran sees theres trouble brewing and noting his mates also are on alert readies himself for conflict.
Bran is at the Laughing Dwarf … rolled a 15 for initiative.
Bran De Prime || Soma De Prime || Raynoir De Prime || Maxim || Ragnor Torunn ||
NoN-PbP || Pryrus (Tabby) || Plus - Family Member: Sir Drake Fireheart
3 for initiative
Arvos Initiative
17 rolled in game log
Darian Initiative 22
Darian proceeded to the Laughing Dwarf to restock his supplies when a fight broke out. Not having noticed what caused the conflict, Darian doesn’t hesitate to draw his bow in defence of his new ally.
Albert was ready to wind down for the night and have a beer or whatever they serve. Then that ass starts to throw punches and call names. He as an angry pacifist will try "Whoa, son. I don't want to perform funeral rites tonight, so please leave while you are able to"
Self guided Intimidatio 13+2+4=19
Ne'haredowell looks up after looking down in a sort of meditative state. "Huh? Oh no I was-" His eyes trail down to see that crumbs of clay scatter to the floor. He wonders if he should help clean it or let it be. He too didn't like bathes (well not in the traditional water-y type sense), but this man... was positively filthy! He doesn't like the way it makes his nose twitch. Well, if they did twitch. Instead it just makes him feel like the inner hairs burn.
Scanning around the room, following where his little mouse was going, Nare could see the empty shelves where spell components, alchemical ingredients, and relatively common magical consumables should be. 'Hmm.'
"Haha. Oh um, yes, thank you." His feet sort of shuffle as he clumsily dodges the question. "Sourced from the shadows." Yet that is what he is quick to reveal. Okay. His inner thoughts continue struggle with himself. He phrases it like he is talking about a cookbook ingredient more than about magic.
Nare takes a whiff of the beer garden smell. "Mmh?" He goes and pokes it after the dwarf explains it then gets thrown off by the nudge. He turns his head and lightly laughs which turns into an accidental snort, to which he makes a move to almost cover his mouth but then goes against it, playing it off like it didn't happen. "Haha ah! I see."
The harengon narrows his eyes as he sees the side-effects. "Oh..." He slightly frowns.
"Oh." Nare looks around the room some more and purses his lips. He inhales. Looks like he is going to have to count on his species very faint signs of sexual dimorphism. He couldn't be gladder to be heavily covered in fur. The other things he will just have to deal with.
'Only less than 24 hours.' He reminds himself. 'The price of beauty?' Huh would that saying count?' He would not know.
He casts a random shower of sparks to appear in his hand through Prestidigitation in contemplation and just for fun. And also (without making a show of it), he cleans up the crummy mess that the other guy did on the floor with his other hand.
"Okay. I shall go get it. Do you think I can grow more with it?" He wonders why he asked that aloud. Of course the guy would not want him to start his own little farm out of it, but it was too late now. He shuffles around in his pockets for the gold, "I see that you are also missing a lot of supplies. I would go and get some herbs or anything if you are- still are- interested in some. I am good at foraging." He lets his little bunny ear twitch to make a show of it. "I would still really like the vial so I am hoping to make a good deal out of it. ... Deal?"
Please be patient with me. I am a very slow writer
"getting lost on the trail for an extended period of time may result in orc-like features. hike at your own risk."
campaign idea where the pcs slowly realize they are in a game and overthrow the dm
DM: Drakkenheim Mind and Matter + Blood Secrets + What's in the Here and Now; Twimee'zah Roleplay
Player: Night Ravens; Dragonlance; 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist; LARP in Sharn; Last Chapters
Meanwhile at Witchdoctor Duncan's Apothecary...
"Okay. I shall go get it. Do you think I can grow more with it?"
Duncan hooks a thumb in his belt and offers a non-commital shrug. "Sure, ya can grow yer own mushrooms, I suppose. But yer gonna need to know how ta care for 'em. Even the Pleurotus Androgenomyces, as hardy as they are, need quite a lot of love and care ta' grow in a drought like this without it succombing to dry rot."
"I see that you are also missing a lot of supplies. I would go and get some herbs or anything if you are- still are- interested in some. I am good at foraging."
Duncan strokes his beard again and more clay crumbs sprinkle to the ground. "Foraging, ya say? Well, I'm always in the market for rare and exotic spell components I'd be willing to purchase," he raises his hand as if making an oath, "for a fair price, of course, any spell components, magical materials, or alchemical materials ya' may find on yer travels!"
He shuffles over to his desk and produces a neatly folded sheet of paper (a rare find in this region) with some neatly scribed rows and columns full of information. He places a sheet of parchment over it, then dips a quill into some shimmering blue ink, and drops a dot onto the parchment. The spot of ink begins to stretch and twist along the length of the page until it makes an exact replica of the content on the paper underneath. He then puts the paper away. and brings Nare the copy. "This here's a list of common spell components I already have price points for. They're sorted by highest to lowest value. And I'll give you the highest value fer store credit." He finishes his last sentence with a wink.
"I would still really like the vial so I am hoping to make a good deal out of it. ... Deal?"
Duncan holds his hands up defensively, "Deal? I assure you yer gettin' the best deal in Santekh. After all,in these conditions it's no snall challenge to grow her and mushroom gardens as lush and powerful as mine. That kind a' love and care takes time, and money.. Ya' wouldn't begrudge a struggling merchant the chance ta earn a profit , now would ya?"
Back at The Laughing Dwarf Dance Hall...
Albert's threat seems to cause the mysterious attacker to hesitate, but only for a moment... long enough, at least, for his companions to steel themselves and charge into battle!
The Mysterious Attacker is Frightened!
Backstabitha Darian of the Hachakee is up first!
Followed by Arvos Quain, then Brian de Prime
My DM Registry
My Characters:
Archibald Thwipp, Human/Male/Blood Hunter/L3 posting in The Tavern, DnDBeyond
Sergeant Sylvia, Half Orc/Female/Barbarian/L3 posting in A Beginner's Guide, Myth Weavers
Carric Holimion, Wood Elf/Male/Ranger/L1 posting in Lost Mines of Phandelver, Giant in the Playground
Darian draws his bowstring back, the familiar tension steadying his breath. As the figure pauses, perhaps sensing danger, Darian releases the arrow. It slices through the air with a deadly whisper, aimed at the figure’s exposed side.
Attack 17 for 5 piercing damage
Arvos is tired, drenched in sweat, and his feet hurt from all that walking. He is sure he has several blisters ready to pop. All he wants to do is to take off his shoes and relax in a bath. He shudders at the sudden appearance of this dark figure and quickly turns around and scrambles away from the dark figure. "What?! Who are you and what are you doing here in Santekh?"
Disengage Action
Moves 30 ft West then Southwest to regroup with his companions
Bran watches the stranger and seeing Darian draw his bow and attack, he quickly moves to position behind the stranger ( down 1 south - across 4 west) while drawing his longsword and attacks with advantage:
Hits with 14 and does 4 damage.
Bran De Prime || Soma De Prime || Raynoir De Prime || Maxim || Ragnor Torunn ||
NoN-PbP || Pryrus (Tabby) || Plus - Family Member: Sir Drake Fireheart
Darian's arrow thuds hard into the attacker's side, tearing through leather armor, and causing them to wheeze out a violent puff of air and double over in pain. Coughing blood, they snap the arrow and prepare to ready themself for the next attack, but not fast enough! Bran surges across the dance floor, landing a brutal strike through the assailant's right lung and out through the front of their chest.
Shuddering and twitching, the attacker's grip on their heavy scythe loosens, and it drops to the stone floor with a reverberating echo. They turn their head towards Bran as if trying to say something, but no wind can grant sound to the words on their lips as they sink to the floor.
Over nearly as quickly as it began, most of the patrons of The Laughing Dwarf haven't even had time to get up from their seats. There is a deafening silence as Glynnis and her customers stare in shock at was has just transpired. Glynnis is the first to snap out of it. She pulls one of the permanent residents up by the shirt sleeves, "Get goin' ye! To the night watch! Tell 'em a man lays dyin'! The rest o' ye, get out o' me dance hall! We're closed," She bellows, shooshing the weary patrons out the front door.
She wheels on The Golden Company. "But not ye four. I'm no' too sure what's happened here, but ye've been targeted." She grabs a rag from the bar and kneels down to attempt to stop the mysterious figure from bleeding to death. "An' I'm thinkin' we need ta find out why."
You are out of initiative. You each receive 25 XP for the encounter.
My DM Registry
My Characters:
Archibald Thwipp, Human/Male/Blood Hunter/L3 posting in The Tavern, DnDBeyond
Sergeant Sylvia, Half Orc/Female/Barbarian/L3 posting in A Beginner's Guide, Myth Weavers
Carric Holimion, Wood Elf/Male/Ranger/L1 posting in Lost Mines of Phandelver, Giant in the Playground
The incident in the inn was over very quickly. Finishing the assailant, who's blood is stretching across the floor in all directions, there is only a kindness left to be done. The weapon he is holding falls to the ground. With care Bran picks it up to keep it out of other patrons reach.
Cleaning his longsword. Bran looks towards Darian to make sure he's OK, bit of a sight for the patrons experiencing a bow been drawn and used in an Inn. He nods to Darian and clasps his forearm, thanks him and confirms all is well for the moment.
Confident Darian is good he goes to assist Glynnis and readies himself to help out while also looking closely at the deceased for any clues or insight as to why we are been 'targeted'.
She wheels on The Golden Company. "But not ye four. I'm no' too sure what's happened here, but ye've been targeted." She grabs a rag from the bar and kneels down to attempt to stop the mysterious figure from bleeding to death. "An' I'm thinkin' we need ta find out why."
Bran De Prime || Soma De Prime || Raynoir De Prime || Maxim || Ragnor Torunn ||
NoN-PbP || Pryrus (Tabby) || Plus - Family Member: Sir Drake Fireheart
The harengon inhales. And every time he inhales he breathes in more of thick rank stuff that the dwarf is perpetrating. "... No I- I wouldn't." Nare frowns. He guesses in a time and place such as this that this would be hard to come by. He sure wished there was a cheaper option, but surely swindling a man right out in the open wasn't one of them. Not that he'd deserve it. Stealing for him was mostly a thing of the past... well, mostly anyways. He still liked to keep some fun. But this little witchdoctor man was honest enough. He wouldn't stoop that low.
"A deal is a deal. I will take it." He hands Doctor Duncan the money and swiftly takes the jar. It's more like he wants to smell it than anything as he quickly uncovers it and puts the jar up to his nose to take a good long whiff at it. "These truly are remarkable." Replacing back the lid, he looks over to where Duncan had left the paper copy (as he was too distracted earlier to take it).
"I hope I will find some for you then, doc." He tips his skull helmet then at the man before he hops on out. He takes another long breathe once he's out of there and into the fresh air. The sun beats against his fur. 'Now where off to now?'
Scooping up some sand, he puts some in his pocket for later. He supposes that if he has enough fire, he could have molten glass, and that with which you can sculpt loads of things. He looks over to where that kender was polishing rocks before. What was it called again? Oh yes, Amber's Gallery. Maybe he can trade with her later. He wishes he had the actual skill to blow glass things. It is possible she might be willing to teach. Art always fascinated him.
Upon walking into The Laughing Dwarf a little too late. Ne'haredowell raises his eyebrows at the retreating patrons yet still saunters on in. He sees the lying body on the floor. He feels his own inner shadows convulse. He smiles. At least the man wasn't dead yet. "Hmm. Oh yes. What did happen?" He wonders aloud.
Please be patient with me. I am a very slow writer
"getting lost on the trail for an extended period of time may result in orc-like features. hike at your own risk."
campaign idea where the pcs slowly realize they are in a game and overthrow the dm
DM: Drakkenheim Mind and Matter + Blood Secrets + What's in the Here and Now; Twimee'zah Roleplay
Player: Night Ravens; Dragonlance; 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist; LARP in Sharn; Last Chapters
After Bran delivers the mercy blow, Glynnis scowls at you in disapproval. "Yer a fool. Now we'll never know who sent this assassin after ye!" In frustration, she tosses the rag on the ground and attempts to pull the mask off the corpse, but it won't budge. As if the mask was fused to the person's head. Grunting in frustration, she stands up and wheels around at the sound of Nare entering her establishment. Visibly disappointed that Nare isn't the guard, she huffs and stomps back to a barstool and has a seat. "Naught ta' do now, but wait I guess."
My DM Registry
My Characters:
Archibald Thwipp, Human/Male/Blood Hunter/L3 posting in The Tavern, DnDBeyond
Sergeant Sylvia, Half Orc/Female/Barbarian/L3 posting in A Beginner's Guide, Myth Weavers
Carric Holimion, Wood Elf/Male/Ranger/L1 posting in Lost Mines of Phandelver, Giant in the Playground
Arvos was going to offer some healing, but Bran offed the stranger "Well we won't be getting any answers from him. He seems to be rather overdressed for the desert." he will wait for the guards to come.
Bran keeps quiet and returns to where he was sitting. He did what he had to do to protect everyone in the Inn. He doesn't feel great about it.
While sitting and attempting to find a reason for what happened. He begins to ponder and ruminate on what just happened. Going into a trance he gains some insight, the mask stands out, the vibe surrounding the entire camp, the overwhelming feeling of vengeance, this was not any ordinary assassin, and he realises with a sense of clarity the body on the floor is a cultist, but the the mask, the mask is saying something to him and suddenly a single name comes to the fore.... Sargonnas.
Why does that name seem familiar? Bran comes out his trance. Members of the Golden Company are in the room waiting for the Guard to come by and investigate what has happened.
Bran stands and addresses the Company; "friends, I need your collective wisdom, does the name Sargonnas, mean anything to anyone?"
Bran De Prime || Soma De Prime || Raynoir De Prime || Maxim || Ragnor Torunn ||
NoN-PbP || Pryrus (Tabby) || Plus - Family Member: Sir Drake Fireheart
Those with proficiency, please roll Religion checks.
My DM Registry
My Characters:
Archibald Thwipp, Human/Male/Blood Hunter/L3 posting in The Tavern, DnDBeyond
Sergeant Sylvia, Half Orc/Female/Barbarian/L3 posting in A Beginner's Guide, Myth Weavers
Carric Holimion, Wood Elf/Male/Ranger/L1 posting in Lost Mines of Phandelver, Giant in the Playground
OOC: as funny as it seems, your cleric is not proficient in religion :D
Albert just looks at the dead guy. One hand is stretched out a bit, because he wanted to cast spare the dying, but others were quicker. Other hand fidgets his holy symbol of Mishakal. He mutters to himself: "Sorry my lady, I was too slow. Another life lost, just because I'm getting old."
Albert gathers himself and turns to others: "Please, friends, next time do not be so rash. For me - this is another pointless death. For you this is lost possibility to ask questions. Violence is not the answer"
Bran hands Albert the hidden poison vial that was found on the assassin. Clearly a measure to be used in the advent of his capture. “This was no ordinary person blessed Albert, he wasn’t going to be allowed to be questioned”. He walks away to get some rest.
Bran De Prime || Soma De Prime || Raynoir De Prime || Maxim || Ragnor Torunn ||
NoN-PbP || Pryrus (Tabby) || Plus - Family Member: Sir Drake Fireheart
The shadows within him gripped stronger. Dead. He didn't even need to see what happened he just knew it. 'Oh. How unfortunate.' He raises an eyebrow Bran's decision why, though it was not for him to say.
Upon hearing the word 'assassin' Ne'haredowell realizes this is a much bigger deal than he had expected. Though wouldn't just one dead body be enough to send ringing any bell? 'Hm, yeah maybe.' He shrugs off any incoming thoughts.
"Sargonnas?" Nare looks up at the ceiling for a while as if that was going to give him answers. "Nah. No, I've never heard of them." He tilts his head to the side, noting that Bran was just in a trace of some sort. "Why?" He sniffs at the exchange of poison. "Guess not." He knew that trick too well. A talker? No, they off themselves. Prying eyes do not well with shut mouths.
He kneels down to take an inspection of the body. Something about the sight of the mask that had intrigued him. It was the horns, not much unlike his own ('A true man of style'). Taking off his own, he puts his hand on the face of it.
((Arcana check: 7))
Please be patient with me. I am a very slow writer
"getting lost on the trail for an extended period of time may result in orc-like features. hike at your own risk."
campaign idea where the pcs slowly realize they are in a game and overthrow the dm
DM: Drakkenheim Mind and Matter + Blood Secrets + What's in the Here and Now; Twimee'zah Roleplay
Player: Night Ravens; Dragonlance; 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist; LARP in Sharn; Last Chapters