Oriace’s deep voice rolls out like the low note of a drum, half-chiding, half-placating: “We dance two tunes at once, Wagner, yet the floor has held firm beneath our feet so far. This errand is a short step—if we refuse, another messenger will fetch the draughts and we’ll learn nothing new. Better we carry the potions ourselves, weigh the lady in the purple cloak with our own eyes, and listen for the hush of secrets that trail in her wake. And the dead have information to share; this is a small price for the privilege.” Then Oriace buckles his cloak, checks his drum at his side, and asks who wishes to accompany him to Weirdbottle’s Concoctions.

"I understand completely, I'm sure the factions work together in all sorts of ways too. I appreciate everyone not giving me grief about not personally involving myself with the Zhents more than I can help."

“Seems we’re on our way back to the Trades Ward. I’m ready when you all are.”

A chittering emanates from behind the bar as a dissatisfied mouse runs around the counter to bark at Mana.

”Yes, yes. You can come along, too.”

Mana stoops down and lowers his arm to allow Yersinia to latch on and climb up to her “traveling” pocket.

”You have been most patient and I apologize for excluding you.”

Mana digs into a different pocket and produces a nugget of hardened cheese to offer her. Good thing she is quick to forgive.

Sterling furrowed his brow as he considered the message, and then Wagner's words. He then smiled and turned to Wagner. "I completely understand not wanting to mix the politics up too much. In fact, I tend to agree with your earlier concern... and avoiding too much trouble is never a bad thing." He then turned towards Oriace.

"I do wish to make myself available as backup, just in case there's trouble, but as I'm also not with the Zhents... I'll just tag along as a friend. While you're all at the shop, I'll check out a few other establishments in the Trades Ward. Then I can join you in visiting the Castle Ward--haven't seen that part of the city yet, and I'm a bit curious--while keeping my distance from your actual contact.

"This way, I'm not privy to your communications, and the Harpers can neither accuse me of taking part nor squeeze me for information. Neutrality maintained!"

Pleased with his compromise, the would-be jeweler fetched a few more coin from his room before rejoining the others. "Shall we?"

Oriace offers a placid shrug, bass voice a quiet rumble. “Each of us walks our own thread through this city's politics,” he says, giving Sterling and Wagner an understanding nod. “Follow at arm’s length or stride beside me—it makes no odds, so long as we work towards a common goal at day's end.” He adjusts the strap of his drum, gives Mana a small, ready smile, and falls in step behind the verdan, letting the rhythmic tap of his staff and the tiny squeaks of Yersinia set their pace toward the Trades Ward. 

Those interested make their way to find Skeemo at his shop. He hands you 4 potions in a silk lined coffer upon your arrival, with nothing more than a friendly greeting. It seems he knew who you were and was expecting you. Most of the potions he has around his shop are non-magical or cosmetic, but for Zhent's he can bring out some potions or poisons for a discounted price.

Oriace cradles the silk‑lined coffer with practiced care, its glass vials faintly clinking, and offers the gnome a respectful nod. “Our thanks, Master Skeemo,” he intones, low and cordial. His dark eyes drift over the crowded shelves—cosmetic tonics beside dubious elixirs, a hint of sharper brews tucked out of casual sight—before he adds in a softer register, “For a band that wanders into trouble more often than it seeks it, have you any discreet draughts or charms you’d recommend? Something to mend a wound in the field, mute a set of footsteps, or tip fortune just a touch in an adventurer’s favor?”

"Mending wounds is simple. Potions of healing are easy enough to make if you are interested. I have two potions of invisibility to keep you from detection. And I might have something to tip fortune in your favour but it would be more situational. I have a few potions that can help you resist certain damage types for example. And obviously these all come for a price. Prices are subject to my own opinion and therefore will only be given upon request, and might not always be the same depending on what mood I am in and how reliable you are."

(( Sterling will be simply examining nearby shops, including a coin shop, until the others leave their store. ))

Mana remains quiet and aloof from the negotiation. He feigns interest in the assortment of bottles and flasks on the various shelves and will glance infrequently at Oriace and Skeemo. Some of the bottles are quite beautiful, faceted, glinting reflected light. Or is it the contents of the poultice that is generating the light. Curious.

He flashes a quick smile if either glance in his direction and then dodgedly redirects his attention to the glassware nearby. He notices a weird scent in the air, musty, oaky, yet also ozoney fresh like after a lightning strike. There really was no deciphering the cacophony of smells, though there, yep, there was definitely a hint of witch hazel in there somewhere.

He instinctively taps the top of his “traveling” pocket, both to stroke the top of Yersinia’s nose and to encourage her to keep her head down. One never knows how a store owner will react to a mouse in their establishment, no matter how well behaved.

Oriace inclines his head, the low rumble of his voice threading through the herb‑scented air. “A fair philosophy, Master Skeemo—mood and merit both have their price,” he says with an easy, knowing smile. “To prove our reliability—and perhaps sweeten your temper—we could pin a tasteful notice for Weirdbottle’s Concoctions on the board at Trollskull Manor. Our tavern sees a steady stream of adventurers hungry for just the tinctures you craft. A bit of word‑of‑mouth from our stage, a discreet flyer on the board—such goodwill might be worth a touch off the asking price of, say, those two potions of invisibility or a pair of healing draughts. What do you think?”

"I do not sell my potions to any old adventurer, so I do not need your flyer. But you do come commended by Davil for your work in the dock ward so I will give you a one time discount. 75 dragons for two healing draughts. And/or the invisibility potions for 1500 dragons"

Oriace strokes the lacquered lid of the coffer, then glances to Mana with an open, practical smile. “Mana, you have the keenest head for supplies—wouldn't, for our coming adventures, two draughts of healing be worth the seventy-five dragons Skeemo asks?”
A heartbeat later, a quiet pulse of thought brushes Mana’s mind alone: "We’ve nowhere near fifteen-hundred for both invisibility potions—we could scrape the coin for one at half, but that seems steep for now. Your call, brother; I’d sooner save our purse unless you see a pressing need."

(OOC: While the question is aimed at Mana in game, it really is for everyone. Should we buy anything? I think we have enough healing between all of us and those who want invisibility probably already have it as a spell. I don't recall if someone of us has it prepared but even if not, do we need/want it?)

Mana takes a moment to calculate the cost/benefit ratio. His eyes go distant and his index finger wiggles out out patterns on a non-existent slate board. He then rubs his chin delaying a verbal response while he telepathically answers Oriace, Too pricy for Invisibility. Wagner can do it for free. He clears his throat and then replies,

”The healing potions might come in handy and they are at a fair discount. But all of our troupe have access to alternative healing magics that could be called upon until we each have exhausted our access to the Weave. I would say those libations would be a ‘nice to have’, certainly not a ‘must have’. Let’s hold off for now and we can deliberate more on our way during the delivery.”

Mana nods to himself as if he is settled in his own mind.

”Besides, we now have a relationship with this fine establishment and if Skeemo sees fit and we perform to his standards, perhaps the discount will be available at a future date.”

Mana smiles at Skeemo and flourishes a minor bow while maintaining eye contact, watching for any positive or negative reaction.

Quote from cyreon >>

(OOC: While the question is aimed at Mana in game, it really is for everyone. Should we buy anything? I think we have enough healing between all of us and those who want invisibility probably already have it as a spell. I don't recall if someone of us has it prepared but even if not, do we need/want it?)

(( OOC: Concerning the invisibility potions, I don't think we need them; you can't attack or cast a spell with them, so they're not really for combat. They're more for infiltration, and I'm pretty sure we have enough illusion spells among us for that. Sterling himself has Disguise Self, if we ever need it. I also think we have enough healing among us to take care of things,  so I don't think the cost of the potions are really worth it. ))

Oriace inclines his head in thanks, the corners of his mouth lifting in a calm, approving smile designated for Mana. “Your generosity—and Davil’s good word—are noted, Master Skeemo,” he rumbles, gently snapping the coffer’s clasp shut. “We’ll see these draughts safely delivered and return with further coin when need presses us.” With a small farewell gesture, he ushers Mana and any companions out into the Trades Ward’s bustle; once the door swings closed behind them, Oriace murmurs, “Best we carry this burden straight to the God Catcher without delay—fewer streets between us and the lady in purple, fewer chances for mischief.” He sets a steady pace toward the Castle Ward, keen to see their errand concluded before night falls.

You make your way to the Castle Ward, and it is easy enough to find the God Catcher. As you were expecting, you do see a lady wearing a purple hooded cloak sat in the back of a hire-coach. The hood is up and you can't see her face.

Keeping to the lee of a buttress beneath the great stone colossus, Oriace melts into the bustle like a half-seen shadow—bare feet quiet on cobbles, hood drawn low, small enough to slip behind a merchant’s parked barrow. For a slow five-count of minutes he lets the street’s rhythm wash over him, dark eyes tracking reflections in coach windows, noting passers-by who linger too long or guards who feign indifference; all the while the lady in the purple cloak waits in the hired coach. Any visible escorts? Or obvious lookouts save the driver flicking his reins idly? Signs of a tail or covert signal? Or just ordinary folk weaving through twilight and the faint hush of wind whistling round the God Catcher’s stony ankles? 

Perception: 6
Stealth: 25

As the group made their way to the Castle Ward, Sterling again parted ways and meandered around the other areas of the district, trying to remain close enough to be summoned while still keeping a discrete distance.

Mana recognizes the importance of the power of inconspicuousness and picks up on the non-verbal cues and overt partings of the fellowship. He likewise alters his initial destination to a shadowed corner of a building and stops to flop on the ground to remove his boot in order to shake out a non-existent stone and rub his foot from a feigned pain. He leans back against the wall, delaying the act of re-shodding his foot to glance around and sniff the air.

The construction of the edifices here is of notably higher quality than even the Trades Ward. And even the banners seem newer, more vibrant, and less worn than almost all other Wards combined. The evening shadows were all encompassing save for the tips of some of the buildings, shafts of yellowish orange light that illuminated long gashes on certain buildings, and of course, the head and upper reaches of the enormous frozen statue that dominated most people’s attention.

There was a hint of salt air in the autumn breeze and the temperature was certain to drop quickly. Sea birds were squawking as they were circling to find their nests, the scavenging for morsels will have to wait for morning. Scents of fresh baked bread and newly lit candles blended nicely to mostly overpower the hint of dung. Those street sweepers certainly did their level best to minimize the negative olfactory consequences of urban life.

After a minute or two, Mana slid on his boot and stood to take up a different position within the courtyard, visually ignoring the hired coach but focusing with his keen ears for expected and unexpected activity.

Perception: 23