"I supposed I'll get some breakfast going if we're to have so many patrons so early. Volo, are you more a bacon or a sausage man?" Gregor says resignedly, heading for the kitchen.
A bewhiskered and bespectacled gnome stands in the doorway. There are papers in his hands, and at his belt hang a variety of hammers, levels, squares, and other tools of unknown name or purpose.
"Bruno Bidziil!" he declares. "Carpenters’, Roofers’, and Plaisterers’ Guild. Here to take measurements. May I come in?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Ian gives a polite bow and says,
”Welcome Master Bidziil. We have some business being conducted in the lower areas of the mansion for the first part of the morning. If it wouldn’t be a bother, do you mind starting from the top floor and work your way down?”
"Yes yes yes, fine fine fine, I'll see myself upstairs, I know my way around."
The gnome bustles in with nary a glance at the assembled, and heads straight for the stairs.
Volo is writing like mad, though what he could possibly be recording is hardly obvious.
Yagra has already swilled down the mug she was handed, and is drooping in her seat in the corner.
"I smell breakfast!" she bawls suddenly. "What about some breakfast then? I'm famished! Where's Horsa? What's going on, anyway?" She gawks at the party one by one. "Say, don't I know you mooks from somewhere?"
The party's diminutive spellcaster responds to the familiar voice. "Kahah! Good, you remember Akai, and Akai remembers you! You fought blaggards in Yawning Portal inn, first night Akai graced Waterdeep! Many foes and one of you, but you showed no fear at all! Even turned down hammer-man's help! Kahah!" With a crafty gleam in his eye, Akai curls his lips back in a toothy grin. "Strong spirit and sharp mind - rare gifts! Akai may have use for them 'fore long!"
Akai narrows his eyes at Yagra's drunken slumber. "Tch! Need to hold liquor better if you work for Akai in future!" The sound of yet another visitor does nothing to soothe his frustration. "Krrr! Downside of fame, no moment to rest. Too many fools seek Akai's graces!" He makes his way to the door and opens it boldly. "Yes? What business have you with Akai this day?"
“Morning, fellows. How’s business? Got a moment to spare? Hate to impose at this gods-blessed hour, but it’s just that some friends of mine, some very sharp friends you understand, they’ve turned up a little curiosity I thought you might be interested in. Brought it straight here when it came into my hands, thought you’d like to be the first to see it, don't you know. Floon sends his regards by the way. And I say, Volo, my dear fabulist, what are you doing here?”
Upstairs, Ian finds that the gnomish carpenter has opened the door to one of the privies on the third floor, apparently used as a broom closet by the previous owner, and let loose an avalanche of janitorial bric-a-brac. He appears unharmed.
Meanwhile, Irma has laid the snoring half-orc out on a dusty cot in the spare room on the second floor. She chuckles and gropes him lewdly in her sleep.
With a mistrustful glance at Volo, Renaer gestures Akai and Falshen to a table at the other end of the room from the industrious wordsmith. Leaning close, he says,
“My friends are...musicians. The musicians, you might say. If that means nothing to you, pass it over, it matters not. What matters - at least, I think, to you - is that one of them found something I believe you are looking for. A mechanical manservant, the sort employed by the odd noble house - strangely abandoned in an alley, thoroughly busted up by somebody who must have held quite a grudge. A curiosity. Few people bother venting their spleen on nimblewrights, who are known to be quite, quite harmless. Except, apparently, for one that visited your neighborhood the other day. Well, among the odds and bits my friend found...this.”
And he shows them a small scrap of paper, a map of the city in miniature. On the map there is an X over the neighborhood of Mistshore, in the Dock Ward, and beside it is written “Grinda Garloth.”
Renaer leans back.
“I suspect,” he says, “that this pertains to my own family matters - the sort of family matters I would really prefer to let alone. You, however, may find it to be of interest. So might certain other parties. I came to you because I owe you fellows - and because I’m frankly curious to see what you might do.”
With a friendly (though knowing) grin, Falshen nods. "I think this is a problem for which we are well-suited. That said, I think we may need to involve our entire troop." With a raised brow aimed at Akai, the young rogue inquires, "What say you, mighty fire-hurler?"
At this time, Gregor comes back with plate piled perhaps higher than is wise with bacon, "Ah, hello Master Neverember. You didn't happen to see anyone following you, did you? Potatoes are in the pan, kettle is almost hot... please make yourself comfortable."
He looks around, a little alarmed, "Where did Yagra go?"
With a friendly (though knowing) grin, Falshen nods. "I think this is a problem for which we are well-suited. That said, I think we may need to involve our entire troop." With a raised brow aimed at Akai, the young rogue inquires, "What say you, mighty fire-hurler?"
Pleased at the appellation of "mighty," Akai growls thoughtfully. "Krrr, would be tedious to listen twice, better to have everyone here to listen all at once. Very well! We hear details of new proposal once others gather!"
"I supposed I'll get some breakfast going if we're to have so many patrons so early. Volo, are you more a bacon or a sausage man?" Gregor says resignedly, heading for the kitchen.
Ian saunters towards the door and opens it.
A bewhiskered and bespectacled gnome stands in the doorway. There are papers in his hands, and at his belt hang a variety of hammers, levels, squares, and other tools of unknown name or purpose.
"Bruno Bidziil!" he declares. "Carpenters’, Roofers’, and Plaisterers’ Guild. Here to take measurements. May I come in?"
Ian gives a polite bow and says,
”Welcome Master Bidziil. We have some business being conducted in the lower areas of the mansion for the first part of the morning. If it wouldn’t be a bother, do you mind starting from the top floor and work your way down?”
Persuasion: 15
"Yes yes yes, fine fine fine, I'll see myself upstairs, I know my way around."
The gnome bustles in with nary a glance at the assembled, and heads straight for the stairs.
Volo is writing like mad, though what he could possibly be recording is hardly obvious.
Yagra has already swilled down the mug she was handed, and is drooping in her seat in the corner.
"I smell breakfast!" she bawls suddenly. "What about some breakfast then? I'm famished! Where's Horsa? What's going on, anyway?" She gawks at the party one by one. "Say, don't I know you mooks from somewhere?"
The party's diminutive spellcaster responds to the familiar voice. "Kahah! Good, you remember Akai, and Akai remembers you! You fought blaggards in Yawning Portal inn, first night Akai graced Waterdeep! Many foes and one of you, but you showed no fear at all! Even turned down hammer-man's help! Kahah!" With a crafty gleam in his eye, Akai curls his lips back in a toothy grin. "Strong spirit and sharp mind - rare gifts! Akai may have use for them 'fore long!"
"Hey wha? Is a lizard? A talkin' lizard? Wha?"
Yagra, staring at Akai, slides forward in her chair, lays her head on the table, closes her eyes, and begins to snore vigorously.
Upstairs, there's a clatter and a crash, and Bidziil can be heard shouting "It's fine! I'm fine!"
There's a knock at the door.
Akai narrows his eyes at Yagra's drunken slumber. "Tch! Need to hold liquor better if you work for Akai in future!" The sound of yet another visitor does nothing to soothe his frustration. "Krrr! Downside of fame, no moment to rest. Too many fools seek Akai's graces!" He makes his way to the door and opens it boldly. "Yes? What business have you with Akai this day?"
Ian will go upstairs to check on Master Bidziil.
Irma looks at the sleeping half orc in amusement. He slings her arm over his shoulder and prepares to move the half orc to a spare bedroom.
strength check: 12
It’s Renaer Neverember.
“Morning, fellows. How’s business? Got a moment to spare? Hate to impose at this gods-blessed hour, but it’s just that some friends of mine, some very sharp friends you understand, they’ve turned up a little curiosity I thought you might be interested in. Brought it straight here when it came into my hands, thought you’d like to be the first to see it, don't you know. Floon sends his regards by the way. And I say, Volo, my dear fabulist, what are you doing here?”
Upstairs, Ian finds that the gnomish carpenter has opened the door to one of the privies on the third floor, apparently used as a broom closet by the previous owner, and let loose an avalanche of janitorial bric-a-brac. He appears unharmed.
Meanwhile, Irma has laid the snoring half-orc out on a dusty cot in the spare room on the second floor. She chuckles and gropes him lewdly in her sleep.
Falshen excuses himself, departing for the upper level. He returns in a few moments, now properly attired with his standard adventuring gear.
With a mistrustful glance at Volo, Renaer gestures Akai and Falshen to a table at the other end of the room from the industrious wordsmith. Leaning close, he says,
“My friends are...musicians. The musicians, you might say. If that means nothing to you, pass it over, it matters not. What matters - at least, I think, to you - is that one of them found something I believe you are looking for. A mechanical manservant, the sort employed by the odd noble house - strangely abandoned in an alley, thoroughly busted up by somebody who must have held quite a grudge. A curiosity. Few people bother venting their spleen on nimblewrights, who are known to be quite, quite harmless. Except, apparently, for one that visited your neighborhood the other day. Well, among the odds and bits my friend found...this.”
And he shows them a small scrap of paper, a map of the city in miniature. On the map there is an X over the neighborhood of Mistshore, in the Dock Ward, and beside it is written “Grinda Garloth.”
Renaer leans back.
“I suspect,” he says, “that this pertains to my own family matters - the sort of family matters I would really prefer to let alone. You, however, may find it to be of interest. So might certain other parties. I came to you because I owe you fellows - and because I’m frankly curious to see what you might do.”
With a friendly (though knowing) grin, Falshen nods. "I think this is a problem for which we are well-suited. That said, I think we may need to involve our entire troop." With a raised brow aimed at Akai, the young rogue inquires, "What say you, mighty fire-hurler?"
At this time, Gregor comes back with plate piled perhaps higher than is wise with bacon, "Ah, hello Master Neverember. You didn't happen to see anyone following you, did you? Potatoes are in the pan, kettle is almost hot... please make yourself comfortable."
He looks around, a little alarmed, "Where did Yagra go?"
Ian sets his unseen servant to tidy up the bric-a-brac. He pipes up to Bidziil,
“Just seeing if you needed help. Don’t mind the mess, we’re still getting the place sorted out. Call down for us if you need anything.”
Ian will pause for a moment for a response, but will head downstairs if there is no follow-up from Bidziil.
Pleased at the appellation of "mighty," Akai growls thoughtfully. "Krrr, would be tedious to listen twice, better to have everyone here to listen all at once. Very well! We hear details of new proposal once others gather!"
"No help needed! None whatsoever! Don't mind the mess, life's a mess, never need anything, shoo, shoo."
The gnome bustles his way up the stairs heading for the garrets, muttering to himself and plucking at his mustache.
There's a knock at the door.
"Oh dear..." Gregor says, heading to the door, "Good morning, how may we help you on this fine day?"