Uncertainty clouds the tieflings fair face, "Well... I mean... " Doubtfully she prods at the innards staining her counter top. A subtly but obvious wink from Serak seems to change her mind, "... well my Alchemy supplier IS due this afternoon.... I'm sure he'll take these off my hands. Shall we say.... what.... 130 gold for the claws, horns, tongue and whatever these are... eyes?" With a slight retch she gently slides the organs to the side into a pile, barely able to look at them any longer. For a moment she disappears, reemerging with a small cloth bag of coins, and begins counting them out onto the table top. "Is that enough?"
Serak: Glad to be rid of the mess and wanting to keep on Astaro's good side, Serak replies, "Yes, that should do just fine. Thank you once again. Until next time, my dear!" He bows as he scoops up the gold pieces, separating them between the four adventurers as he leaves.
Once outside the magic shop, the bard asks, "Before we depart the city, shall we return to the Smith to place your order, Syna?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Syna replies to Serek, "Yes, let us go and see if he can make a only a shirt of scale from these scales. We have been lucky in gold, and I hope it is enough. Though doubtless we will find more."
With the warbling Aramil still in tow, the companions make their way back towards the bustling marketplace a short distance along the river. The steadily thickening crowds slow their progress to a crawl as trade reaches its peak - customers and traders wandering aimlessly blinded by sales. A few hundred yards later, they arrive back at Ruriks storefront, the ginger bearded dwarf hard at work at the forge. Glancing up he catches sight of the company.
”Well now! That didn’t take you too long! How are ye Aramil you drunken goat?!” Rurik slaps a huge hand onto Aramils back, almost sending the elf toppling over. “I see he’s up to his old tricks again anyway.... ah well. He’ll come round soon enough! You’ve decided on your order then? Dragon Scale Mail shirt was it?” The dwarf strokes his beard thoughtfully for a moment, “Now.... it won’t be cheap.... You’re talking 450 gold.... but it’ll be the finest armour you’ll see on the whole coast. Reckon we could have it done in 10 weeks.... sooner if you fancy hiring some of my lads here?” He thrusts a thumb back deeper into the shop towards his two assistants, “Artemis and Boron.... fine craftsmen in their own right.”
"That doesn't sound like a bad price for fine dragon scale craftsmanship, but surely you can do a bit better...." Beetle chimes in...."We are providing the scales."
Persuasion : 20
He continues...."Plus my smith friend, if the work does come out that well I will definitely be back to be measured for some plate armor when the time comes..."
For a moment, Rurik falls silent, quietly grumbling to himself. To be honest, he hadn’t expected his prices to be challenged, and from the paladin no less! “Hmm.... I tell your what lad. I’ll knock off another 200 gold... provided ye hand over the rest of those scales. Good material is hard to come by ye know.” The dwarf holds out his hand towards Beetle, “I’m not the bartering sort my boy. 250 gold and the scales. Final offer and you’ll have yer armour in 10 weeks.”
Serak: The bard smooths his goatee as he smiles down at the smith, saying "Fair enough, master Dwarf. The scales are yours. We'll hire the two lads as well. My gift to you, stalwart druidical companion!" Serak dumps the extra coin onto Ruriks counter, smiling awkwardly as a few coins spill onto the floor.
OOC: Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Busy time of year, but I'm ready now to take on the Cragmaw. It should be fun infiltrating a Castle, under cover of night on a rescue mission!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"ARTY! BORE! GET THE FORGE STOKED! YE'VE WORK TO DO!" Rurik calls back to the others gathering the dragon scales into his thick muscled arms, "Pleasure doing business with you gentlemen. Come back in three weeks. We'll have yer armour sorted by then!" Without wasting a second the dwarf, hands a scale to the bewildered young human at the rear of the workshop, "GET THAT INTO THE VICE. STRAIGHTEN IT OUT, BUT BY THE GODS BE CAREFUL!"
Satisfied with their purchase, the party return to the busy street. Noon is upon them, the market still packed with traders. Beside them, Aramil leans sleepily against the smiths doorway, his eyes barely open. The old elfs hums a soft tune to himself as he drifts off to sleep.
OOC: No worries guys, where are you off to? The nearest of the three castles that the Cragmaw could be hiding in is about a days march south. Serak, I know you were looking to leave the city sharpish. You'll have Aramil with you as well so the going is likely to be slow if you take him south with you...
I'll update the coin totals for the last few transactions
Serak: Shaking the Dwarf's hand to seal the agreement, Serak says, "Thank you again, I'm sure the armor shall be of the finest craftsmanship!"
Hecollects Aramil as he begins to head for the door, waving goodbye to the Smith and his apprentices. He says to the party, "If that's everything, shall we hit the road?"
(OOC: I'm hoping when Aramil sobers up he has some idea which Castle is the most likely. We'll take him to Thundertree where he'll be safe and then travel into the woods. I suppose we'd search the closest Castle first, unless Aramil suggests otherwise?)
"I believe we are ready to adventure once again. I am done in the city, how about everyone else?" Beetle says to his companions. He turns to the master smith..."Thank you again for the very fair price. Once I get more gold saved up I will return to be measured for a suit of plate armor."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Serak: Making his with the party toward the city gate, Serak keeps the others in sight as he again stays back. On the lookout for anyone that may be following them, he makes his way through the city and its throngs of people, marking each face he passes.
Perception: 8
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Held firmly in Arkhans arms, Aramil trudges forwards, aimlessly leading the way to Neverwinters SouthWestern gate. The old elf’s head hangs low, each step heavier than the last.
Creeping a short distance behind, in what little shadows the daylight offers, Serak does his best to analyse the crowds as they pass through. Though he sees nothing unusual he can’t shake the feeling that they are being watched.
As they pass beneath the city gates, the twisted streets open out into grassland. A fresh breeze gently caresses their faces. The air cooler now they have broken free from the stifling maze of the city.
The now all too familiar trek to Thundertree is quiet and uneventful. Afternoon turns to evening, which in turn darkens as nightfall surrounds them. Only Aramil breaks the silence of the night - the old adventurers moans becoming more frequent as the march continues. Just before midnight, the elf collapses into a heap on the floor growling in pain, merely three miles to Thundertree, “UGH! BY THE GODS..... NO... urp.... MORE.........”
"Alright then, calm down. We'll stop for the night... I'll take Hew to collect some wood for a fire." Arkhan lets the man fall to the ground and looks to find some nearby branches to make some good starter wood.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Gash- Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
A little tired from the journey Beetle begins to prepare an area for the campfire so it is ready when Arkan gets back with the wood. While working he also keeps a close watch for anything happening around them, remembering the many little stick creatures, twig blights, they have fought off in this area.
A slight breeze rustles the branches high above them as unease begins to seep into Beetles bones. Being this close to the forest, maybe a few hundred metres, brings back fresh memories of the ordeal the party faced in Thundertree just a few days earlier. This far east though, there is little activity on the river, save for a lone heron they passed a mile or two ago.
Aramil squints at Arkhan as he lies on the ground, his eyes reddened and unfocused. A vague thought crawls painfully from his mind, before he grabs at his head in agony, “.... where’s?.... Urp.... Oh no....” Carefully he folds himself into a half-comfortable position barely able to move a length from where he fell.
Serak: Serak quickly rolls out his bedroll near the campfire, saying quietly, "Let the old man use my bedroll... I needed a new one anyway."
The bard sighs dramatically, huddles in close, and quietly continues, "I fear I'll not be getting much sleep tonight anyway... It seems my suspicions concerning our darling Miss Halia Thronton were correct, but so much worse than I could have feared."
Once everyone is settled, Serak clears his throat and relates to the party his encounter the previous evening. He whispers, "Last evening I sought out the Neverwinter chapter, looking to sell the glands. They sent me to met none other than my lovely nemesis herself. She wants me to remove Harbin as Town Master of Phandalin, by whatever means necessary."
"This is highly suspicious to me. Someone as well connected as Halia doesn't need the Brotherhood's help, for one. Also, the way she reacted to my affiliation... I can't imagine she would then seek out their aid. I now question whether the contact I spoke to truly represented the Guild at all. No one in the city knows us... yet those Zhents knew right where to find Zyltris. Only Halia knew..."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
"Originally I wasn't 100% sold on you suspicions of Halia, however, now that I hear you lay it all out," Beetle turns to Serak, "I agree with you conclusions, this does all seem suspicious, very suspicious."
Serak: Nodding his head gravely, Serak says, "I fear Halia may be trying to get me to do her dirty work. I'll fulfill my duty and remove Harbin - I was planning to anyway - but we'll make sure our own candidate wins the election."
As the sun slowly begins to set in the west, Serak grows uneasy. As darkness falls, he says quietly, "I'm going to make sure we're not being followed. I'll return if I find anything, but if I require aid I will signal in the western sky."
Pulling his dark hood over his head, the Half-Elf slips silently into the forest. He stays behind cover just off the road as he backtracks the route they've just taken, on the lookout for any tracks or clues that someone gives pursuit.
Perception: 18
Stealth: 21
Survival: 19
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"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
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Uncertainty clouds the tieflings fair face, "Well... I mean... " Doubtfully she prods at the innards staining her counter top. A subtly but obvious wink from Serak seems to change her mind, "... well my Alchemy supplier IS due this afternoon.... I'm sure he'll take these off my hands. Shall we say.... what.... 130 gold for the claws, horns, tongue and whatever these are... eyes?" With a slight retch she gently slides the organs to the side into a pile, barely able to look at them any longer. For a moment she disappears, reemerging with a small cloth bag of coins, and begins counting them out onto the table top. "Is that enough?"
Serak: Glad to be rid of the mess and wanting to keep on Astaro's good side, Serak replies, "Yes, that should do just fine. Thank you once again. Until next time, my dear!" He bows as he scoops up the gold pieces, separating them between the four adventurers as he leaves.
Once outside the magic shop, the bard asks, "Before we depart the city, shall we return to the Smith to place your order, Syna?"
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Syna replies to Serek, "Yes, let us go and see if he can make a only a shirt of scale from these scales. We have been lucky in gold, and I hope it is enough. Though doubtless we will find more."
"ALWAYS GIVE A MONSTER AN EVEN BREAK!"
1st Edition DMG
With the warbling Aramil still in tow, the companions make their way back towards the bustling marketplace a short distance along the river. The steadily thickening crowds slow their progress to a crawl as trade reaches its peak - customers and traders wandering aimlessly blinded by sales. A few hundred yards later, they arrive back at Ruriks storefront, the ginger bearded dwarf hard at work at the forge. Glancing up he catches sight of the company.
”Well now! That didn’t take you too long! How are ye Aramil you drunken goat?!” Rurik slaps a huge hand onto Aramils back, almost sending the elf toppling over. “I see he’s up to his old tricks again anyway.... ah well. He’ll come round soon enough! You’ve decided on your order then? Dragon Scale Mail shirt was it?” The dwarf strokes his beard thoughtfully for a moment, “Now.... it won’t be cheap.... You’re talking 450 gold.... but it’ll be the finest armour you’ll see on the whole coast. Reckon we could have it done in 10 weeks.... sooner if you fancy hiring some of my lads here?” He thrusts a thumb back deeper into the shop towards his two assistants, “Artemis and Boron.... fine craftsmen in their own right.”
"That doesn't sound like a bad price for fine dragon scale craftsmanship, but surely you can do a bit better...." Beetle chimes in...."We are providing the scales."Persuasion : 20
He continues...."Plus my smith friend, if the work does come out that well I will definitely be back to be measured for some plate armor when the time comes..."
For a moment, Rurik falls silent, quietly grumbling to himself. To be honest, he hadn’t expected his prices to be challenged, and from the paladin no less! “Hmm.... I tell your what lad. I’ll knock off another 200 gold... provided ye hand over the rest of those scales. Good material is hard to come by ye know.” The dwarf holds out his hand towards Beetle, “I’m not the bartering sort my boy. 250 gold and the scales. Final offer and you’ll have yer armour in 10 weeks.”
"Thank you good smith, that does sound like a very fair deal..." Beetle looks to see if his companions are all agreeable to the price.
Serak: The bard smooths his goatee as he smiles down at the smith, saying "Fair enough, master Dwarf. The scales are yours. We'll hire the two lads as well. My gift to you, stalwart druidical companion!" Serak dumps the extra coin onto Ruriks counter, smiling awkwardly as a few coins spill onto the floor.
OOC: Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Busy time of year, but I'm ready now to take on the Cragmaw. It should be fun infiltrating a Castle, under cover of night on a rescue mission!
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
"ARTY! BORE! GET THE FORGE STOKED! YE'VE WORK TO DO!" Rurik calls back to the others gathering the dragon scales into his thick muscled arms, "Pleasure doing business with you gentlemen. Come back in three weeks. We'll have yer armour sorted by then!" Without wasting a second the dwarf, hands a scale to the bewildered young human at the rear of the workshop, "GET THAT INTO THE VICE. STRAIGHTEN IT OUT, BUT BY THE GODS BE CAREFUL!"
Satisfied with their purchase, the party return to the busy street. Noon is upon them, the market still packed with traders. Beside them, Aramil leans sleepily against the smiths doorway, his eyes barely open. The old elfs hums a soft tune to himself as he drifts off to sleep.
OOC: No worries guys, where are you off to? The nearest of the three castles that the Cragmaw could be hiding in is about a days march south. Serak, I know you were looking to leave the city sharpish. You'll have Aramil with you as well so the going is likely to be slow if you take him south with you...
I'll update the coin totals for the last few transactions
85, 3
Serak: Shaking the Dwarf's hand to seal the agreement, Serak says, "Thank you again, I'm sure the armor shall be of the finest craftsmanship!"
He collects Aramil as he begins to head for the door, waving goodbye to the Smith and his apprentices. He says to the party, "If that's everything, shall we hit the road?"
(OOC: I'm hoping when Aramil sobers up he has some idea which Castle is the most likely. We'll take him to Thundertree where he'll be safe and then travel into the woods. I suppose we'd search the closest Castle first, unless Aramil suggests otherwise?)
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
"I believe we are ready to adventure once again. I am done in the city, how about everyone else?" Beetle says to his companions. He turns to the master smith..."Thank you again for the very fair price. Once I get more gold saved up I will return to be measured for a suit of plate armor."
Arkhan nods, ready to move out.
Gash - Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
Serak: Making his with the party toward the city gate, Serak keeps the others in sight as he again stays back. On the lookout for anyone that may be following them, he makes his way through the city and its throngs of people, marking each face he passes.
Perception: 8
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
OOC: Back to Thundertree then?
Held firmly in Arkhans arms, Aramil trudges forwards, aimlessly leading the way to Neverwinters SouthWestern gate. The old elf’s head hangs low, each step heavier than the last.
Creeping a short distance behind, in what little shadows the daylight offers, Serak does his best to analyse the crowds as they pass through. Though he sees nothing unusual he can’t shake the feeling that they are being watched.
As they pass beneath the city gates, the twisted streets open out into grassland. A fresh breeze gently caresses their faces. The air cooler now they have broken free from the stifling maze of the city.
The now all too familiar trek to Thundertree is quiet and uneventful. Afternoon turns to evening, which in turn darkens as nightfall surrounds them. Only Aramil breaks the silence of the night - the old adventurers moans becoming more frequent as the march continues. Just before midnight, the elf collapses into a heap on the floor growling in pain, merely three miles to Thundertree, “UGH! BY THE GODS..... NO... urp.... MORE.........”
"Alright then, calm down. We'll stop for the night... I'll take Hew to collect some wood for a fire." Arkhan lets the man fall to the ground and looks to find some nearby branches to make some good starter wood.
Gash - Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
A little tired from the journey Beetle begins to prepare an area for the campfire so it is ready when Arkan gets back with the wood. While working he also keeps a close watch for anything happening around them, remembering the many little stick creatures, twig blights, they have fought off in this area.
A slight breeze rustles the branches high above them as unease begins to seep into Beetles bones. Being this close to the forest, maybe a few hundred metres, brings back fresh memories of the ordeal the party faced in Thundertree just a few days earlier. This far east though, there is little activity on the river, save for a lone heron they passed a mile or two ago.
Aramil squints at Arkhan as he lies on the ground, his eyes reddened and unfocused. A vague thought crawls painfully from his mind, before he grabs at his head in agony, “.... where’s?.... Urp.... Oh no....” Carefully he folds himself into a half-comfortable position barely able to move a length from where he fell.
Serak: Serak quickly rolls out his bedroll near the campfire, saying quietly, "Let the old man use my bedroll... I needed a new one anyway."
The bard sighs dramatically, huddles in close, and quietly continues, "I fear I'll not be getting much sleep tonight anyway... It seems my suspicions concerning our darling Miss Halia Thronton were correct, but so much worse than I could have feared."
Once everyone is settled, Serak clears his throat and relates to the party his encounter the previous evening. He whispers, "Last evening I sought out the Neverwinter chapter, looking to sell the glands. They sent me to met none other than my lovely nemesis herself. She wants me to remove Harbin as Town Master of Phandalin, by whatever means necessary."
"This is highly suspicious to me. Someone as well connected as Halia doesn't need the Brotherhood's help, for one. Also, the way she reacted to my affiliation... I can't imagine she would then seek out their aid. I now question whether the contact I spoke to truly represented the Guild at all. No one in the city knows us... yet those Zhents knew right where to find Zyltris. Only Halia knew..."
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
"Originally I wasn't 100% sold on you suspicions of Halia, however, now that I hear you lay it all out," Beetle turns to Serak, "I agree with you conclusions, this does all seem suspicious, very suspicious."
Serak: Nodding his head gravely, Serak says, "I fear Halia may be trying to get me to do her dirty work. I'll fulfill my duty and remove Harbin - I was planning to anyway - but we'll make sure our own candidate wins the election."
As the sun slowly begins to set in the west, Serak grows uneasy. As darkness falls, he says quietly, "I'm going to make sure we're not being followed. I'll return if I find anything, but if I require aid I will signal in the western sky."
Pulling his dark hood over his head, the Half-Elf slips silently into the forest. He stays behind cover just off the road as he backtracks the route they've just taken, on the lookout for any tracks or clues that someone gives pursuit.
Perception: 18
Stealth: 21
Survival: 19
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien