You all meet in a tavern. The Tavern of Laom, to be specific. It’s small- what can you expect from a tiny hamlet of barely triple digits?- but has been kept in immaculate form. It’s rather crowded, and you aren’t the only fledgling adventurers here. You’re not here because you’re about to be drawn into a bar fight (probably), or because you are about to meet a mysterious benefactor (you already have). Taross of Eldewick has sponsored you, fledgling dungeoneers, and he needs to send you a few documents.
Waiting for you at the tavern’s entrance is a young Tiefling woman. She trends a bit towards the shorter side, and wears light robes. “Ah! Hello,”she says, “I’m Rieta. I was sent here to see your group by the Lord of Eldewick, your sponsor. We’ve a bit to talk about before you all go off dungeoneering.”
An ooze-like creature walks up. A quipper swims around inside of its aquarium-like ribcage, which is visible through its translucent skin. He is on the smaller side, but still large enough to have use a weapon.
"H-hello. I am... Blexelglab. A hunter. Th-this is my friend... Clirec. A fish."
He speaks as though talking is difficult for him. Clirec, the fish in question, snaps, revealing razor sharp rows of teeth.
<Couldn't find a fitting photo so just imagine a black pudding mixed with a Geleton>
A blond wood-elf woman walks in, possibly overdressed in a red dress, yellow shawl and orange leggings.
“I’m Faewynn Nistaea, a follower of Lliira, the Lady of Joy.You may have heard of her as the Party Princess, but she’s also a life giver and I expect we’ll need healing.”
Bek shifts uncomfortably. He can't help staring at the ooze. "And, uh, I'm Bek," he says, now distracted by the weird fish. He wants to try to poke it so bad, but instead he stuffs his hands in his pockets to stop himself.
Trying to redirect his attention, Bek turns to smile goofily up at Faewynn. "I, uh, like parties,"he says, blushing slightly before looking away awkwardly."Um, yeah, so, uh, where's the food?"he asks Rieta.
"It can be- used for... healing, but I use it for... nutrition. Because it doesn't heal... well. And... no, I only eat... enemies. Bad people."
He drops it into her hand. It's slightly wet, but is otherwise still clean.
<OOC: First off, this is usually how I structure OOC, with the <>. Second, yes, it is Goodberry, but Goodberry also provides enough nourishment to sustain a creature for one day, which is what Blexelglab usually uses it for.>
Bek heads toward the counter in search of food. As he goes, he giggles to himself. "Blex," he repeats, making the name sound like someone vomiting. "Blex!" he laughs louder, enjoying his juvenile joke, completely unconcerned whether anyone else is listening. "Bleh- bleh- blehhhhx!"
Let me know if I need to dial down the rudeness. But I'm trying to play Bek as immature, uncouth, and basically low charisma. He's not trying to be mean, he's just a bit . . . socially irresponsible.
Bek reaches the counter while Rieta is collecting filled bowls. "Oh! Bek, was it?', she says, "Would you mind taking a few bowls for me back to the table? I can take the rest."
Bek casts a sideways glance at Rieta. "So, what? I'm the wait staff now?" he says, and it isn't clear if he's joking or genuinely resentful. Nevertheless, he picks up the bowls and carries them back to the table. Before he sets them down, he performs another "Blehx" into one of them, then sits and happily digs in to eat, smiling as he thinks about his clever bit of humor.
Bek displays no proper table manners, as he hunches over his bowl, shoveling his mouth full. He doesn't pause between bites, either, so when he speaks small flecks of spittle and food casually fall onto the table before him. "So, uh, are we just gonna eat?" he asks, looking around as if waiting for something else to happen.
Then, he shrugs, "Oh? Well, I like to eat," he concludes contentedly, scraping clean the bottom of his now-empty bowl.
"So. Now that we're all together," Rieta starts, pointedly ignoring Bek, "I've got three things to discuss with you before you all go dungeoneering. The first are your contracts."
Rieta pulls papers from a bag nestled under the table. She sets one before each of you.
"Contracts are like "if-then" agreements backed by some kind of power. For instance, a contract might read "We promise to give someone an item they want from the dungeon or he'll send the law after us"
Faewynn (and anyone else who reads the contract) can surmise this:
At a cursory glance, the contract is fairly simple: you agree to all the risks associated with dungeoneering, cannot sue, et cetera. The juicy part is near the bottom.
As an adventurer taking on a dangerous job, you'll be paid both a salary and will be paid on commission. Daily, you will be paid 3GP (gold pieces), enough to support a comfortable lifestyle with 1GP left over. The commission part, though, is where the money is at.
A rubbing or transcription of text in the dungeon will be valued at 1GP/page
Even just bringing a trinket out of the dungeon will net you 10GP
Common magic items will usually be 25GP
Uncommon magic items will earn you a commission of 100GP
Rare magic items are worth 1000GP
Additionally, providing context for a magic item's discovery will be worth 10GP. The contract is not specific on what context means.
The Lord of Eldewick may ask you to guard him or one of his agents should he wish to enter the dungeon. You will be reimbursed 5GP per person protected per day in exchange, with bonuses (not specified) for any encounters.
The contract mentions even rarer or unique magic items may be worth more, but are usually individually appraised, and that consumable items are worth half the usual commission. It also notes that you can buy a magic item by foregoing the commission and paying twice the commission's cast (OOC: This is basically a 25% discount).
Near the bottom of the contract, it states several requirements.
You must maintain daily contact with your agent, unless you give them advance notice or can explain why you didn't contact them in retrospect.
You must hand over any artifacts you find in the dungeon.
If you hand over no artifacts or otherwise fail to earn any commission for a month, your contract may be terminated.
In exchange for this, you are granted several things.
You will be given a 50GP bonus for signing the contract.
The Lord of Eldewick will sponsor your otherwise very costly Dungeoneering Licence.
You can take on other, short-term jobs in a dungeon as long as it does not involve you acquiring artifacts- though accompanying others to an artifact upon their request is permitted
You all meet in a tavern. The Tavern of Laom, to be specific. It’s small- what can you expect from a tiny hamlet of barely triple digits?- but has been kept in immaculate form. It’s rather crowded, and you aren’t the only fledgling adventurers here. You’re not here because you’re about to be drawn into a bar fight (probably), or because you are about to meet a mysterious benefactor (you already have). Taross of Eldewick has sponsored you, fledgling dungeoneers, and he needs to send you a few documents.
Waiting for you at the tavern’s entrance is a young Tiefling woman. She trends a bit towards the shorter side, and wears light robes. “Ah! Hello,” she says, “I’m Rieta. I was sent here to see your group by the Lord of Eldewick, your sponsor. We’ve a bit to talk about before you all go off dungeoneering.”
The girl pulls back her hood, revealing a cascade of burning ginger hair and fierce amber eyes. She lifts a hand as she speaks to the Tiefling woman.
"Before we talk, could you get us some food and drink? I've been walking all day, and I'm starving — and dying of thirst. Oh, and by the way..."
She adds with a grin,
"I'm Cathy. And I'm a sorceress."
With a casual flick of her left hand, a small flame flares to life on her index finger, dancing playfully around her fingertips.
An ooze-like creature walks up. A quipper swims around inside of its aquarium-like ribcage, which is visible through its translucent skin. He is on the smaller side, but still large enough to have use a weapon.
"H-hello. I am... Blexelglab. A hunter. Th-this is my friend... Clirec. A fish."
He speaks as though talking is difficult for him. Clirec, the fish in question, snaps, revealing razor sharp rows of teeth.
<Couldn't find a fitting photo so just imagine a black pudding mixed with a Geleton>
Roll for Initiative: [roll]1d20+7[/roll]
Proud member of the EVIL JEFF CULT! PRAISE JEFF!
Homebrew Races: HERE Homebrew Spells: HERE Homebrew Monsters: HERE
MORE OF ME! (And platypodes/platypi/platypuses) (Extended signature)
A blond wood-elf woman walks in, possibly overdressed in a red dress, yellow shawl and orange leggings.
“I’m Faewynn Nistaea, a follower of Lliira, the Lady of Joy. You may have heard of her as the Party Princess, but she’s also a life giver and I expect we’ll need healing.”
(illustration is for the mood)
Bek shifts uncomfortably. He can't help staring at the ooze. "And, uh, I'm Bek," he says, now distracted by the weird fish. He wants to try to poke it so bad, but instead he stuffs his hands in his pockets to stop himself.
Trying to redirect his attention, Bek turns to smile goofily up at Faewynn. "I, uh, like parties," he says, blushing slightly before looking away awkwardly. "Um, yeah, so, uh, where's the food?" he asks Rieta.
Blexelglab notices him staring, and literally shrinks away.
"I-uh... also... heal. If you get... hurt."
Roll for Initiative: [roll]1d20+7[/roll]
Proud member of the EVIL JEFF CULT! PRAISE JEFF!
Homebrew Races: HERE Homebrew Spells: HERE Homebrew Monsters: HERE
MORE OF ME! (And platypodes/platypi/platypuses) (Extended signature)
Faywynn raises an eyebrow.
"Oooh! How do you heal? Do you have Divine power or something else?"
"I... use earthen magic. Plants, simple incantations. Clirec- Clirec helps. "
As if on cue, Clirec snaps his teeth and starts swimming in circles, making a cluster of... sea grapes? He plucks one out and offers it to Faywynn.
Roll for Initiative: [roll]1d20+7[/roll]
Proud member of the EVIL JEFF CULT! PRAISE JEFF!
Homebrew Races: HERE Homebrew Spells: HERE Homebrew Monsters: HERE
MORE OF ME! (And platypodes/platypi/platypuses) (Extended signature)
"Cathy, Bek," Rieta answers, "There's a small counter in the back. I'd be more than happy to get you all some food, if you'd like."
"Well that's cool. Is that a "Goodberry"? Should I wait to eat it till I'm injured? Is it OK to touch you? I won't get slimed and digested will I? "
Faewynn waits with her fingers outstretched, waiting for the answer before she takes the berry.
"It can be- used for... healing, but I use it for... nutrition. Because it doesn't heal... well. And... no, I only eat... enemies. Bad people."
He drops it into her hand. It's slightly wet, but is otherwise still clean.
<OOC: First off, this is usually how I structure OOC, with the <>. Second, yes, it is Goodberry, but Goodberry also provides enough nourishment to sustain a creature for one day, which is what Blexelglab usually uses it for.>
Roll for Initiative: [roll]1d20+7[/roll]
Proud member of the EVIL JEFF CULT! PRAISE JEFF!
Homebrew Races: HERE Homebrew Spells: HERE Homebrew Monsters: HERE
MORE OF ME! (And platypodes/platypi/platypuses) (Extended signature)
“Fair enough Blexelglab…”
(she pops the berry in her mouth. How does it taste?)
“Do you mind if we call you “Blex” as a nickname?” C'mon, lets join the others before we miss anything."
She puts her hand ohn his (?) back and heads for the back table.
Bek heads toward the counter in search of food. As he goes, he giggles to himself. "Blex," he repeats, making the name sound like someone vomiting. "Blex!" he laughs louder, enjoying his juvenile joke, completely unconcerned whether anyone else is listening. "Bleh- bleh- blehhhhx!"
Let me know if I need to dial down the rudeness. But I'm trying to play Bek as immature, uncouth, and basically low charisma. He's not trying to be mean, he's just a bit . . . socially irresponsible.
Bek reaches the counter while Rieta is collecting filled bowls. "Oh! Bek, was it?', she says, "Would you mind taking a few bowls for me back to the table? I can take the rest."
<It tastes mildly salty, like the ocean. It doesn't taste bad, per se, but it doesn't really taste bad either.>
He recoils at first, as though not used to being touched, then follows her.
"B-blex is... fine."
While he doesn't really "glare" at Bek, Clirec bares his teeth menacingly.
Roll for Initiative: [roll]1d20+7[/roll]
Proud member of the EVIL JEFF CULT! PRAISE JEFF!
Homebrew Races: HERE Homebrew Spells: HERE Homebrew Monsters: HERE
MORE OF ME! (And platypodes/platypi/platypuses) (Extended signature)
Bek casts a sideways glance at Rieta. "So, what? I'm the wait staff now?" he says, and it isn't clear if he's joking or genuinely resentful. Nevertheless, he picks up the bowls and carries them back to the table. Before he sets them down, he performs another "Blehx" into one of them, then sits and happily digs in to eat, smiling as he thinks about his clever bit of humor.
Bek displays no proper table manners, as he hunches over his bowl, shoveling his mouth full. He doesn't pause between bites, either, so when he speaks small flecks of spittle and food casually fall onto the table before him. "So, uh, are we just gonna eat?" he asks, looking around as if waiting for something else to happen.
Then, he shrugs, "Oh? Well, I like to eat," he concludes contentedly, scraping clean the bottom of his now-empty bowl.
"So. Now that we're all together," Rieta starts, pointedly ignoring Bek, "I've got three things to discuss with you before you all go dungeoneering. The first are your contracts."
Rieta pulls papers from a bag nestled under the table. She sets one before each of you.
Blexelglab unceremoniously shoves the bowl into his stomach, dissolving its contents (but leaving some for Clirec), then puts it back on the table.
"C-contracts? Wh-what are they... for?"
He inspects his contract closely.
Roll for Initiative: [roll]1d20+7[/roll]
Proud member of the EVIL JEFF CULT! PRAISE JEFF!
Homebrew Races: HERE Homebrew Spells: HERE Homebrew Monsters: HERE
MORE OF ME! (And platypodes/platypi/platypuses) (Extended signature)
"Contracts are like "if-then" agreements backed by some kind of power. For instance, a contract might read "We promise to give someone an item they want from the dungeon or he'll send the law after us"
Faewynn beams a smile. That sort of thing,""
She reads her contract carefully.
Faewynn (and anyone else who reads the contract) can surmise this:
At a cursory glance, the contract is fairly simple: you agree to all the risks associated with dungeoneering, cannot sue, et cetera. The juicy part is near the bottom.
As an adventurer taking on a dangerous job, you'll be paid both a salary and will be paid on commission. Daily, you will be paid 3GP (gold pieces), enough to support a comfortable lifestyle with 1GP left over. The commission part, though, is where the money is at.
The contract mentions even rarer or unique magic items may be worth more, but are usually individually appraised, and that consumable items are worth half the usual commission. It also notes that you can buy a magic item by foregoing the commission and paying twice the commission's cast (OOC: This is basically a 25% discount).
Near the bottom of the contract, it states several requirements.
In exchange for this, you are granted several things.