Waterdeep: Camel Heist (2020)

There is a polite way to say 'go **** yourself'

Polite way is not speek

Fair enough. It's a nice ring though.

Scupper over his shoulder...

"Don't worry, lad. If I tell ye te go feck yerself, I'll say it. I'll duck right after and hope fer the best, but I'll say it. If'n I'd pissed ye off let me know. I don't speak bird."

Ooc : sorry that was internal struggle over the desire not to be in the front line. No offense intended ! 

Varinth, Tolben the innkeeper greets you warmly as you enter the inn, and there are shouts of welcome from those villagers already there drinking in the early evening.  You are a hero in this town, and everyone knows your name; those of you who follow receive a similar welcome. There's no-one in the inn that you recognise other than the innkeeper, his wife, and other staff.

Oggor attracts alarmed glances from the few people on the street, but the townsfolk are reassured by the presence of the rest of you; he waits for confirmation from Dekhan before entering any buildings.

Quote from Nunberry >>

Ooc : sorry that was internal struggle over the desire not to be in the front line. No offense intended ! 

 Ooc: Not to worry. My fault for reading italics as dialogue. Steve. I removed the ring from mine.

Good Evening Tolben. Good Evening Folks Vaz smiles and waves at the other patrons.

Varinth puts his purse of monies on the bar;

Tolben, as you can probably see, our adventures have been... lively. Could we possibly have the same rooms as before? And I will name my First Born, boy or girl, Tolben if you would be so kind as to draw me an overly hot bath.

Varinth looks down at his blood soaked clothes, and not for the first time, hopes that it is all his.

Also Mister Tolben, could you possibly have my clothes washed while I soak? And finally, but most importantly, your largest mug of ale please. I'll let you sort the monies.

Vaz sits heavily on the nearest free chair.

Scupper walks in the inn expecting the usual distant caution of the patrons. He ducks round the side of Vaz and eyes Tolben and then Vaz's clothes and then back at Tolben.

"Would you believe we won? ...

Tolben, when yer through running the prince's bath, there's a matter o' some orcs we've managed to vanquish who've taken a shine to Dekhan and consider him their new chief. Now before the rest o' the town hears the whole story, you've always had our back so we tink you should know the surviving orcs fancy settling down and protecting instead o' raiding. 

Ye may want to introduce yourself and decide how ye feel about them. If'n ye decide it won't work, they'll respect yer wishes. Either way, I'm buying a large round o' food for the lot o' them. If ye could bring it outside. Jest tell me how much it cost after the ogre is done...did I mention an ogre? Anyway, I'm sure Dekhan will be happy te fill in the details. Cheers."

Strix stands behind Scupper, illustrating his tale by pulling dioramas from the shadow beneath the bar - Dekhan challenging the orc chief, the orcs kneeling to Dekhan, them fighting against an exaggerated horde of undead by the paladins side and a freeze frame of the party, the orcs and the ogre squishing together for big thumbs ups. He balks at pulling out the final scene of Incantis tango-dipping a coquettish Banshee. Steady on, chum. The trick to propaganda is to kill your enemies first so they can't dispute it... 

He fishes whatever charge is asked for for the rooms from the petty cash fund and looks for an empty corner to nurse an ale in. 

"I nearly forgot, Tolben. Don't worry too much about what te feed them. I'd suggest ye find a suitably large possibly sick animal, kill it, and barely cook it. Nothing fancy. I'm not made o' money...and they're orcs. Oh...and add Vaz's drink. Lad was nearly bled te death last night by giant hairless vampire bats. Here's a start on the festivities..."

He drops 15 gold on the counter, gives Vaz a friendly elbow and disappears back into the crowd (even if it's just a couple few people).

Incantis follows behind the party at a modest distance, entering the pub slightly after Strix, Scupper, and Vaz. He inclines his head slightly awkwardly at the response from the crowd, before taking up a position at a table not far from the conversation with Tolben. As Scupper and Strix tell the tale of the group's recent adventures Incantis will wordlessly augment their story through a series of minor illusion and prestidigitation casts. He adds flashes of sparks to the incarnation of Dekhan fighting the orcs chief as their shadowy weapons clash, the rest of the group appearing as small awed illusions of themselves, spectating the combat before freeze-framing. To the hoard of undead Incantis gives a series of auditory illusions of snarls and clattering bones, while the lights in the tavern flicker ominously. He heeds Strix' tact in leaving out the story of the banshee, awaiting meeting with Garaele.

Scupper, totally clueless to the display that occurred behind him as he told his story will assume any odd stares are normal and go about looking for a table, hopefully finding Incantus after circling the bar. 

"You'd tink these folks with mouths agape like salmon had never heard a feckin story..."

Varinth, Tolben replies warmly.  You are most welcome to your rooms again, of course.  And you are kind to offer coin, as we cannot really afford to lodge you all again for free.  But we will do so at cost only, so fifteen silver total for the night for the five rooms, and of course the stable for the Lady Zoria.  The bath and laundry, however, are on the house.  He sends the waitress to start preparing the rooms and bath. 

He takes the coin from Varinth, and shakes his head politely when Strix offers more.  If you folks are staying more than one night, then pay me tomorrow, Master Strix.  Your friend has already paid for this night.

Scupper, Tolben listens to your story and follows the illustration and performance playing out behind you.  The whole common room becomes silent as the story is brought to life, and people crowd round to get a better look.  Scupper, Incantis and Strix, please give me a Performance check.  If Scupper prefers to make that a Persuasion check instead, since he doesn't technically know that he's performing, that's fine too.  The result of the group check will give the overall impression of the story and illustrations.

Persuasion 7

Performance : 9

Performance: 7

"All the stories they know are old and half-forgotten. It's about time they hear some new ones."

Tolben and the assembled townsfolk watch the story in silence, with a few ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ at appropriate places. They clearly enjoy it, but there’s a bit of a mixed reception to the idea that orcs might be coming to town. There’s applause, but also some hushed conversations back at their tables, and several people disappear off into town.

Scupper, Tolben nods appreciatively to you, Incantis and Strix. Fine entertainment, to be sure. And a splendid tale, though I’m not sure I got all the finer points.   Thank you for the show.

Scupper, as you speak to Tolben, you see his response is a little hesitant. Orcs indeed. Well, there’s orcs and there’s orcs. We had a trader through a few summers ago with two orc guards for his wagon, and a pleasant pair of young fellows they were; not very chatty, but smiled at folk and stayed out of everyone’s way. On the other hand, there’s stories of raiding bands and the like – you must have seen the notice at the Townmaster’s Hall. People are wary of well-armed strangers of any description, given recent events, and orcs, well… he trails off.

Look, the town puts a lot of faith in you fellows, but they might take a bit of convincing on this. The ones who’ve just rushed out, well, they’ll be back soon enough, and likely bringing half the town with them. Barthen, of course, and Lilene. Qelline and your friend Sildar, who seems to have some wealthy backers. Our beloved townmaster, too. They’ll all want to hear the story; I hope you’ve got it in you for a repeat performance?

Eh...was jest a chat...so sure? No problem. 

(Retconning money back and move rest of my actions to now disappear into crowd and take a place next to Incantus in a reasonable minute or two if he's still there).

Vaz soaks in his bath, ale in hand, trying desperately to not think about his newfound phobia of probusci... probuscuses.. probuskies?!

After a good long soak and only a few ales, Varinth will head to bed and get an early night, poking his head into the bar on his way to say Goodnight.

Strix sips his ale, eyes lost in the dancing reflections of the tavern's torch-light on the surface of the liquid.

If you're searching for meaning in there, it's only telling you one thing - the head has dissipated : you're drinking too slowly.

Clouds mind

Yes! Yes it certainly does. That is the point. Who knows, a few more of these in us, you might be a better story teller.

Not needed. Have bard tell story.

You're not your usual optimistic not-self…

Waste time. Need find dwarf.

Come come! Every step is a step closer. We're building influence, we're building a sustainable outpost upon which we might fall back on should things go awry later. Besides, what's the rush?

Promised.

To who, metal-legs? Please. That woman's word is worth about as much as that wizard's hand you've taken a shine to. Why should a promise to her be worth anything?

'Spects me.

The hell she does. She appreciates your usefulness, it's not the same thing. Stop being useful, see how far her "spect" gets you. Oh… is that your problem? The town not showing you enough 'spect'. Grow up, man! You're not a child. You can't spend your life looking for surrogate mothers to hug you.

Strix sighs, collapsing both hands palms down on the table, sliding them up together as if praying, then pulling them apart to reveal an image of his  deformed owlish teddy.

Oh sweet Vhaeraun's impudent tongue - I thought you'd let that go! This is ridiculous, you're far too sensitive for this world. You're not even remembering it right, that stitching on it's arse is Mother's mark.

'Member.

Face it. That woman from the Lion shop is never going to accept you. That banshee is never going to accept you. That Goblin is never going to accept you and frankly some of the thoughts you've had in that regard are wholly inappropriate in this context.

His right hand shakes a little, moving slowly off the table and then crashing down on the illusion.

There now. Better. You know I don't like doing this but it's for your own good. You are not charming. You are not clever. You are not important. You are fast and you are quiet. So shut up and be quick about it! Now either go to bed or get another drink in. I'm not going another round with you sober.

Strix heeds his own advice, finishes his ale and slinks off to bed, where he spends some time contemplating the ring Scupper gave him and what it means for his future in the group (OOC : Attunement via a short rest, then a long rest - because it's an early night?) , before adopting a lotus position and exhaling, his consciousness following the breath as it leaves his body, circulates around the room and escapes through a crack in the window, rising higher past treetops and clouds to petition the stars for answers.