“I don’t give a damn about any Sea Princes or none of that. I go where the gold is good, you know that,” Hugh grunts. “Now get lost,” he continues. “You don’t got no right talking ‘bout me’... crew.” Hugh’s voice begins to waver when he begins to talk about his crew. Hugh wouldn’t turn to face Kreb, instead nonchalantly sipping his ale while speaking.
Kreb raises his hands in mock surrender, his voice full of honey. "Okay, okay. I ain't got not interest in running up against the best fighter we've seen in this town. Just keep in mind, laughing boy." He leans in close. "This bratty little kid whose treating Saltmarsh like his plaything ain't gonna be around forever. And when he goes, and all those others who have their nose up King Skotti's butt, those who are left here are gonna remember who were their friends." He looks to the bartender. "They're all drinking for free tonight, Cole. Big goddamn heroes here."
He chuckles, slapping Hugh's shoulders. "I'll be seeing you soon Hughie, my boy." The way he says it, it sounds like a threat.
In the short time Tul has known the group, she has come to trust them. They're not family, but she could see how they could become family. But despite that, she needs some time to herself to process everything that has happened. She needs to recenter herself and calm her mind. Spending more time with Gibson will make that hard to do, nor will spending a few hours in a pub full of fighters. Inevitably she would want to clobber Gib and likely need to clobber someone else in the bar.
Instead, she walked with Hugh until he turned off to go down to the Empty Net and then continued down the path to the point looking out over the sea.
She goes through her exercises and patterns, breathing deeply of the sea air.
She then moves into a cross-legged position and watches the sea, thinking about her mother and wondering what she's doing now.
Dimma decides to spend at least some of the evening before the dinner with Gib. Though, admittedly, she had considered him another senile old man in a town that had its fair share of them, she wonders how much more he knows and notices - and doesn't let on. The two visit the general store, just before they enter, Dimma lets Gib know that she'll be just a moment, as she stops and mutters the Detect Magic ritual. The gnome shopkeep has hit it off with Gib as she enters and then turns his attention to her.
"No investors here, friend," she says, now extending her hand to the gnome, "Dimma Brazzik, Dwarven Guild of Cooks, though this matter is more personal than business."
Dimma glances around the interior of the general store, looking for anything interesting or out of the norm for a store of this stature. She hums quietly to herself as she peruses - regardless of the outcome of the search she asks, "Do you have a set of brewing supplies available for sale?"
"No..." Gibson shakes his head and laughs heartily. "No investors here. This one's far too savvy for your usual chicanery. She somehow manages to spot tricks and traps a league away! Still haven't figured that one out," he trails off for a moment, lost in thought, before snapping back to the present. "But that's neither here nor there! I've got a pint-sized bone to pick with you, my compact compatriot." Glancing around for a chair, low table, or crate, Gibson sits on the nearest flat surface. "Have I not shared my life story with you? Bared my soul and told you every embarrassing detail of my past?" He pauses for just a moment. "No? Hm... Remind me to get around to that one of these days. But in the meantime! Why have you never told me about your bacchanalian brother?? Gods! The sheer volume of possibilities for new angles for... Um... Gaining converts and, um... Donations to the church..." A quick side glance to see if Dimma appears to be paying any attention or if she's still looking around the shop. "You know how charity and redemptive narratives play!" Heaving a heavy sigh, Gibson's shoulders slump. "Anyway, that lout Satox said you used to have dealings with the old wizard before his supposed demise. Have you heard anything about the goings-on in or about that decrepit house in the time since? We had an... Interesting morning out that way and I think we'll be following up to sort some loose threads in the coming days. I was just wondering if there's any related scuttlebutt that hasn't made its way to me just yet."
Standing and stretching, Gibson turns around once, surveying the shop. "I haven't been by in a few days so I also wanted to check in and see if anything interesting has come through."
Hugh drinks until he has reached that first level of intoxication. Afterwards he will stumble around town looking for some member of the group, ready to head to the dinner.
(I will subtract a gold piece from Hugh’s stash for the cost of the ale, and let me know if that needs to be more.)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Dimma is certainly listening to what Gibson has to say and is making no secret of it. Despite his attempts at discretion, Dimma doesn't seem to take offense to his usual grift. Instead, paying more heed when Gib mentions Satox and the wizard. As the gnome prepares his response she is ready to hone in on any signs of lies or half-truths.
(Hugh -- one gold is plenty. Roll a perception check for me on your way to meet the others at Primewater Mansion.)
Winston claps a hand onto the small of your back, Gib and grins at you, showing a line of pearly whites with one gold canine. "Ah. Gib my boy. Satox is...well, I do love my older brother deeply but he always was the member of the family, I think every family has one, who thought that he was entitled to something approaching a living because he worked hard and saved his money. Dreadful sense of entitlement, that. Anyways, yes, I had some dealings with that Dilpas chappie back in the good old days, before we had our fair town besmirched by..." he looks out the shop window quickly to make sure no guards are around "lickspittles like Captain Fireborn who do their best to impede the nature ebb and flow of the market. Disgraceful. But to answer your question, no, I have nothing to do with that place any longer. Ghosts are not good for the bottom line. Or Sea Princes, for that matter. And if I were you...he strokes his mustache and studies Gib, then looks at Dimma and gives her an overly broad wink "I'd steer clear of it too. People hate the Princes, because they've been the real power in Saltmarsh for years, even from across the sea. And besides, bucko, even if this one has been rubbing off on you, you ain't the type to risk that very red neck o' yours."
Dimma only
When Winston starts to talk about the Dilpas Manor, and the Princes, you notice his stroking his mustache is less grooming, and more sort of a nervous tic. Something about this line of conversation bothers him.
As Gib asks about any recent acquisitions, Winston's face lights up. "I have a few products. Not as many since Captain Xendros brought those bloody minions of Iuz to town. I ask you, how am I supposed to compete with a demigod when it comes to magical items? Its criminal, that is. That boy Solmor would do better soiling his diapers over that witch than honest businessmen just trying to make a living. Two things have found their way into my shop, though." He pulls out a heavy case and opens it up, removing three items.
"First we got a pipe of remembrance. Beautiful thing, made out of local riverstone. Smoke it, and it reveals your most heroic achievements. Great for parties! 60 gold -- and before you ask, Gib my boy, that's a friend price."
Next, with a grunt of effort, he pulls a large, brass circular object and places it on the table. "Now this beaut is a Helm of Underwater Action. Let's you breath underwater and move around and see down in the murky depths. This may or may not have been bound for the Keoland navy before it...err, ended up here. This piece runs you a cool 320 gold." Winston pats it affectionately, then moves on.
"Finally, a little something else ol' Uncle Winston acquired recently. This here is a Mariner's Hide. Made out of the finest polar bear and walrus hides, this warm and comfy thing is really made for fighting under the sea. Which, trust me, Gib -- you ain't gonna be doing much in your lifetime, no offense. Your friend, though, she might make use of it for let's say, 350 gold?"The halfling grins at the both of you. "And of course, any of our standard goods. We sell quality products at competitive prices to all. Especially for those who seem...positively weighted down with coin to spend."
As the sun lowers in the sky, Tul takes one last deep breath, and then unfolds her legs, springs up and begins walking back towards town to find the others and head to Primewater Mansion.
Gibson waves a dismissive hand. "Parlor tricks and trinkets for young men who have yet to learn that the gods have willed us to keep our heads above water." He scoffs, "As if I'd need a toy pipe to lend my stories legitimacy..." At that, smoke begins pouring out of his ears and collecting in a cloud over his head. It swirls into a miniature scene of a semi-formless dragon biting the top half off of a knight before swelling cartoonishly and popping into glitter raining down over the old tiefling's pate and disappearing just before landing.
"As for the rest of this mess: I don't care a lick about politics, you know that! I go where the coins (and Cumian's will, of course) lead me. If that be running errands for the boy or... Liberating the occasional valuable from its place of disuse and neglect, then so be it!" With that, Gibson's face lights up as he reaches into his bag and tosses Winston the gold skull. "What do you make of that, huh? Pretty slick piece of work, right?"
I already added the coin for it. Just using it as a prop/RPing offloading it.
[b]"As for the rest,"[/b] Dimma says, while stroking her chin, silently appraising the items that the gnome has paraded in front of her and Gib, [b]"the guild would be interested in acquiring the helm. If you're willing to part with it for 300 gold pieces we can do business here and now, and I'll send business your way next time we need tools and the like."[/b]
Winston scratches his sideburn and gives Gibson a cagey look. "Aye, that's a nice piece Gib. I heard ol' Dilpie had been working on some sort of process to make things into gold. This his work? Not that it matters...."he leans over it, picking it up and appraising it carefully, whistling as he feels its heft. " It's real. Thought you might be kidding a kidder, boyo." There is a pause, as Winston is clearly thinking, or at least, appearing to think about it. "Yeah, I think I know some freaky old coot who will pay well for this. I'll take it off yer hands, old friend. If'n you do figure out how Dilpas had done it, you tell Uncle Winston, first y'hear? That's the sort of content that makes us pals, Gibson."
DM Screen
Dimma Persuade - 13
Winston eagerly nods at your proposal Dimma, and practically pushes the helmet into your hands. "I've been trying to get some of the dwarven business in town since Manistrad led those fine up-standing (and wealthy!) miners into town. If you can get me in good with her or any other of the kind and generous well-heeled dwarves in town, why, Winston Lonagan is happy to be of service! Please pass along my compliments to your guild. I can also provide a fine letter of reference. I already wrote it up, of course, so all I would need is a signature..." Seeing DImma's face, he stops. "Never mind. I will let you craft the proper recommendation."
He rubs his hands together and looks at the two of you, then past you, as a nervous-looking sailor enters the shop. "Ah! A classic type if I ever saw one. The sailor looking to spend his first check on a ring. Young love is sooo lucrative. So, unless you've been holding something back for a big finish for me, I had better pluck this particular chicken while the getting is good." He hugs Gib, then pulls back and checks his billfold a moment. He then steps towards Dimma, and bows deeply. "I am at your service, young lady. Please send all your guildmates, as well as your own needs to Winston's, where quality goods are affordable for the common man."
At the appointed seven o'clock hour, with the sun descending upon the town of Saltmarsh, the five of you converge on Primewater Mansion (#16 on the resource map -- updated). The mansion sits right on the docks, and Council Primewater can be seen standing on a small veranda, his back to you, yelling at some sailors on one of his ships, his massive bulk blocking out a good portion of the harbor beyond.
A nattily attired kobold stands outside the gate, looking at you all skeptically through brass pince-nez precariously perched on the end of his snout. "You here for banquet. No, no. You no look like fancy guests." He consults a little book in his hand then looks at all of you. "No tradesmen, no solicitors. Mr. Primewater gave generously this week. Fresh tropical fruit for Retired Sailors' House, rotten tomatoes for execution today. No handouts for the likes of you!"
At the sound of the kobold's shrieking, Primewater turns around, and even from the distance you currently are at, you see his bright white smile. "It's perfectly alright, Dulpa. They are guests! Come friends, you are expected!"
The kobold glares at you silently and moves aside, opening the gate and allowing you entry. As you step into the mansion, you are immediately blown away by the entry hall. It is, without a doubt, probably the most sumptuous room you've ever been in your life, with imported marble arches and flooring with beautiful murals and artwork from all over Oerth.It must have cost a mint to furnish this room alone. At a pianoforte near an expansive grand staircase, a beautiful young human girl plays a light, breezy number, while you see a few other familiar faces. Manistrad Copperlocks stands in front of a painting that is clearly Gellan Primewater in his youth, when the man cut a much more striking figure. Eda Oweland is in conversation with an older human woman that seems to bear some familial resemblance to the girl behind the piano, and you see the Goliath frame of Eliandor Fireborn, emerging from a doorway, carrying a number of heavy leather-bound books with a delighted smile on his face.
As you enter they all look at you politely, and a halfling in livery near the door clears his throat and whispers to you all "Erm...how shall I announce you?"
On the walk over, before arriving, Gibson silently invokes his dark patron's assistance in helping him make a more positive impression than usual on this potentially-lucrative occasion. He uses Mask of Many Faces to cast disguise self to broaden his shoulders slightly, slim his stomach and waist, soften the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, scoot his hairline a little forward, and gain about an inch of height.
Hearing this question, Gibson quietly mutters, "No need, junior," as he blows past the halfling. Addressing the assembly he flashes his widest smile, spreads his arms in a theatrical introductory manner, and bumps up the volume of his voice, adding a rumbling resonance with thaumaturgy. "Ladies and gentlemen of Saltmarsh -- movers, shakers, and clam bakers of our fair city -- your saviors have arrived! I present to you: Gibson's Gallivanting Guardians of All That is Good! Responding to the summons of our dear Lord Prizewater, we do humbly make ourselves available to you all for your praise, profit-making, and, uh, pleasure. In whichever order you prefer." He bows with a flourish at the end of this.
Tul smiles at the halfling doorperson, keeping her mouth closed as she does, trying to hide her small tusks from view and trying to somehow indicate that Gibson does not speak for them all.
"I am Tul Shirro. I do not have a title or anything else worthy of announcing," she says very aware of the wealth on display in this room. She doesn't know whether to wait for the halfling to indicate it's okay to go in further or if she should just follow Gibson. She's never been to anything like this before.
She looks down at the halfling, eyes wide, hoping for some guidance.
Gibson's pronouncement is met with silence by the assembled throng of VIPs, save for a barely suppressed snort from Manistrad. The human woman in conversation with Eda Oweland raises one impeccable eyebrow, then comes over and takes Gib's hand, leading him into the room. "Ah, yes! Gellie told me all about you. The adventurers who solved the Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh. Bravo, bravo! I am Lady Regan Primewater. Please join our little banquet."
The halfling attendant, dropping all decorum, growls to Tul in a rough working-class accent very different from his formal voice "Oi, you gotta give me something....oh, sod it." In a voice reminiscent of the voices of Keoland's elite announces loudly "Lady Tul Shirro, lately of Saltmarsh, adventurer and traveler of means, humility and grace." He makes deliberate eye contact and flicks his eyes forward as if indicating you should enter. He repeats the process for each of you, announcing loudly.
"Dame Dimma Brazzik, representative of the Dwarven Guild of Cooks, cleric and fighter for justice."
"Arvastan Shark-Friend, sailor and friend to Saltmarsh."
Seeing Hugh (and smelling the booze on him, the halfling winces slightly and hesitates a half-second, long enough for the lady of house to make stern eye contact. Quickly, he clears his throat and announces
"Master Hugh Silverford of Saltmarsh....uh, sailor, and....sailor!"
With these formalities out of the way the pre-dinner mingling begins. Wait staff circulates through the room bearing long stemmed glasses of wine, and there is a decent spread of soft cheeses, breads, and light seafood out. The host seems not to have made it down from the upstairs yet, but the party is in full swing.
What are you all doing?
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“I don’t give a damn about any Sea Princes or none of that. I go where the gold is good, you know that,” Hugh grunts. “Now get lost,” he continues. “You don’t got no right talking ‘bout me’... crew.” Hugh’s voice begins to waver when he begins to talk about his crew. Hugh wouldn’t turn to face Kreb, instead nonchalantly sipping his ale while speaking.
Alton Thorngage- (Klein’s One Shot String Adventure)
Holden Stonefist-(A Tale of Mercenaries)
Fenrick Wolfsbane- (Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden)
DMing-Ctleath13’s Lost Mines of Phandelver and Ctleath13’s Out of the Abyss
Kreb raises his hands in mock surrender, his voice full of honey. "Okay, okay. I ain't got not interest in running up against the best fighter we've seen in this town. Just keep in mind, laughing boy." He leans in close. "This bratty little kid whose treating Saltmarsh like his plaything ain't gonna be around forever. And when he goes, and all those others who have their nose up King Skotti's butt, those who are left here are gonna remember who were their friends." He looks to the bartender. "They're all drinking for free tonight, Cole. Big goddamn heroes here."
He chuckles, slapping Hugh's shoulders. "I'll be seeing you soon Hughie, my boy." The way he says it, it sounds like a threat.
In the short time Tul has known the group, she has come to trust them. They're not family, but she could see how they could become family. But despite that, she needs some time to herself to process everything that has happened. She needs to recenter herself and calm her mind. Spending more time with Gibson will make that hard to do, nor will spending a few hours in a pub full of fighters. Inevitably she would want to clobber Gib and likely need to clobber someone else in the bar.
Instead, she walked with Hugh until he turned off to go down to the Empty Net and then continued down the path to the point looking out over the sea.
She goes through her exercises and patterns, breathing deeply of the sea air.
She then moves into a cross-legged position and watches the sea, thinking about her mother and wondering what she's doing now.
Dimma decides to spend at least some of the evening before the dinner with Gib. Though, admittedly, she had considered him another senile old man in a town that had its fair share of them, she wonders how much more he knows and notices - and doesn't let on. The two visit the general store, just before they enter, Dimma lets Gib know that she'll be just a moment, as she stops and mutters the Detect Magic ritual. The gnome shopkeep has hit it off with Gib as she enters and then turns his attention to her.
"No investors here, friend," she says, now extending her hand to the gnome, "Dimma Brazzik, Dwarven Guild of Cooks, though this matter is more personal than business."
Dimma glances around the interior of the general store, looking for anything interesting or out of the norm for a store of this stature. She hums quietly to herself as she peruses - regardless of the outcome of the search she asks, "Do you have a set of brewing supplies available for sale?"
"No..." Gibson shakes his head and laughs heartily. "No investors here. This one's far too savvy for your usual chicanery. She somehow manages to spot tricks and traps a league away! Still haven't figured that one out," he trails off for a moment, lost in thought, before snapping back to the present. "But that's neither here nor there! I've got a pint-sized bone to pick with you, my compact compatriot." Glancing around for a chair, low table, or crate, Gibson sits on the nearest flat surface. "Have I not shared my life story with you? Bared my soul and told you every embarrassing detail of my past?" He pauses for just a moment. "No? Hm... Remind me to get around to that one of these days. But in the meantime! Why have you never told me about your bacchanalian brother?? Gods! The sheer volume of possibilities for new angles for... Um... Gaining converts and, um... Donations to the church..." A quick side glance to see if Dimma appears to be paying any attention or if she's still looking around the shop. "You know how charity and redemptive narratives play!" Heaving a heavy sigh, Gibson's shoulders slump. "Anyway, that lout Satox said you used to have dealings with the old wizard before his supposed demise. Have you heard anything about the goings-on in or about that decrepit house in the time since? We had an... Interesting morning out that way and I think we'll be following up to sort some loose threads in the coming days. I was just wondering if there's any related scuttlebutt that hasn't made its way to me just yet."
Standing and stretching, Gibson turns around once, surveying the shop. "I haven't been by in a few days so I also wanted to check in and see if anything interesting has come through."
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
Hugh drinks until he has reached that first level of intoxication. Afterwards he will stumble around town looking for some member of the group, ready to head to the dinner.
(I will subtract a gold piece from Hugh’s stash for the cost of the ale, and let me know if that needs to be more.)
Alton Thorngage- (Klein’s One Shot String Adventure)
Holden Stonefist-(A Tale of Mercenaries)
Fenrick Wolfsbane- (Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden)
DMing-Ctleath13’s Lost Mines of Phandelver and Ctleath13’s Out of the Abyss
Dimma is certainly listening to what Gibson has to say and is making no secret of it. Despite his attempts at discretion, Dimma doesn't seem to take offense to his usual grift. Instead, paying more heed when Gib mentions Satox and the wizard. As the gnome prepares his response she is ready to hone in on any signs of lies or half-truths.
Insight: 26
(Hugh -- one gold is plenty. Roll a perception check for me on your way to meet the others at Primewater Mansion.)
Winston claps a hand onto the small of your back, Gib and grins at you, showing a line of pearly whites with one gold canine. "Ah. Gib my boy. Satox is...well, I do love my older brother deeply but he always was the member of the family, I think every family has one, who thought that he was entitled to something approaching a living because he worked hard and saved his money. Dreadful sense of entitlement, that. Anyways, yes, I had some dealings with that Dilpas chappie back in the good old days, before we had our fair town besmirched by..." he looks out the shop window quickly to make sure no guards are around "lickspittles like Captain Fireborn who do their best to impede the nature ebb and flow of the market. Disgraceful. But to answer your question, no, I have nothing to do with that place any longer. Ghosts are not good for the bottom line. Or Sea Princes, for that matter. And if I were you...he strokes his mustache and studies Gib, then looks at Dimma and gives her an overly broad wink "I'd steer clear of it too. People hate the Princes, because they've been the real power in Saltmarsh for years, even from across the sea. And besides, bucko, even if this one has been rubbing off on you, you ain't the type to risk that very red neck o' yours."
Dimma only
When Winston starts to talk about the Dilpas Manor, and the Princes, you notice his stroking his mustache is less grooming, and more sort of a nervous tic. Something about this line of conversation bothers him.
As Gib asks about any recent acquisitions, Winston's face lights up. "I have a few products. Not as many since Captain Xendros brought those bloody minions of Iuz to town. I ask you, how am I supposed to compete with a demigod when it comes to magical items? Its criminal, that is. That boy Solmor would do better soiling his diapers over that witch than honest businessmen just trying to make a living. Two things have found their way into my shop, though." He pulls out a heavy case and opens it up, removing three items.
"First we got a pipe of remembrance. Beautiful thing, made out of local riverstone. Smoke it, and it reveals your most heroic achievements. Great for parties! 60 gold -- and before you ask, Gib my boy, that's a friend price."
Next, with a grunt of effort, he pulls a large, brass circular object and places it on the table. "Now this beaut is a Helm of Underwater Action. Let's you breath underwater and move around and see down in the murky depths. This may or may not have been bound for the Keoland navy before it...err, ended up here. This piece runs you a cool 320 gold." Winston pats it affectionately, then moves on.
"Finally, a little something else ol' Uncle Winston acquired recently. This here is a Mariner's Hide. Made out of the finest polar bear and walrus hides, this warm and comfy thing is really made for fighting under the sea. Which, trust me, Gib -- you ain't gonna be doing much in your lifetime, no offense. Your friend, though, she might make use of it for let's say, 350 gold?" The halfling grins at the both of you. "And of course, any of our standard goods. We sell quality products at competitive prices to all. Especially for those who seem...positively weighted down with coin to spend."
Perception (Disadvantage): 1
Alton Thorngage- (Klein’s One Shot String Adventure)
Holden Stonefist-(A Tale of Mercenaries)
Fenrick Wolfsbane- (Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden)
DMing-Ctleath13’s Lost Mines of Phandelver and Ctleath13’s Out of the Abyss
As the sun lowers in the sky, Tul takes one last deep breath, and then unfolds her legs, springs up and begins walking back towards town to find the others and head to Primewater Mansion.
Gibson waves a dismissive hand. "Parlor tricks and trinkets for young men who have yet to learn that the gods have willed us to keep our heads above water." He scoffs, "As if I'd need a toy pipe to lend my stories legitimacy..." At that, smoke begins pouring out of his ears and collecting in a cloud over his head. It swirls into a miniature scene of a semi-formless dragon biting the top half off of a knight before swelling cartoonishly and popping into glitter raining down over the old tiefling's pate and disappearing just before landing.
He's just using minor illusion.
"As for the rest of this mess: I don't care a lick about politics, you know that! I go where the coins (and Cumian's will, of course) lead me. If that be running errands for the boy or... Liberating the occasional valuable from its place of disuse and neglect, then so be it!" With that, Gibson's face lights up as he reaches into his bag and tosses Winston the gold skull. "What do you make of that, huh? Pretty slick piece of work, right?"
I already added the coin for it. Just using it as a prop/RPing offloading it.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
[b]"As for the rest,"[/b] Dimma says, while stroking her chin, silently appraising the items that the gnome has paraded in front of her and Gib, [b]"the guild would be interested in acquiring the helm. If you're willing to part with it for 300 gold pieces we can do business here and now, and I'll send business your way next time we need tools and the like."[/b]
Winston scratches his sideburn and gives Gibson a cagey look. "Aye, that's a nice piece Gib. I heard ol' Dilpie had been working on some sort of process to make things into gold. This his work? Not that it matters...."he leans over it, picking it up and appraising it carefully, whistling as he feels its heft. " It's real. Thought you might be kidding a kidder, boyo." There is a pause, as Winston is clearly thinking, or at least, appearing to think about it. "Yeah, I think I know some freaky old coot who will pay well for this. I'll take it off yer hands, old friend. If'n you do figure out how Dilpas had done it, you tell Uncle Winston, first y'hear? That's the sort of content that makes us pals, Gibson."
DM Screen
Dimma Persuade - 13
Winston eagerly nods at your proposal Dimma, and practically pushes the helmet into your hands. "I've been trying to get some of the dwarven business in town since Manistrad led those fine up-standing (and wealthy!) miners into town. If you can get me in good with her or any other of the kind and generous well-heeled dwarves in town, why, Winston Lonagan is happy to be of service! Please pass along my compliments to your guild. I can also provide a fine letter of reference. I already wrote it up, of course, so all I would need is a signature..." Seeing DImma's face, he stops. "Never mind. I will let you craft the proper recommendation."
He rubs his hands together and looks at the two of you, then past you, as a nervous-looking sailor enters the shop. "Ah! A classic type if I ever saw one. The sailor looking to spend his first check on a ring. Young love is sooo lucrative. So, unless you've been holding something back for a big finish for me, I had better pluck this particular chicken while the getting is good." He hugs Gib, then pulls back and checks his billfold a moment. He then steps towards Dimma, and bows deeply. "I am at your service, young lady. Please send all your guildmates, as well as your own needs to Winston's, where quality goods are affordable for the common man."
Gibson rolls his eyes and wordlessly waves goodbye as he leaves to head toward dinner.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
At the appointed seven o'clock hour, with the sun descending upon the town of Saltmarsh, the five of you converge on Primewater Mansion (#16 on the resource map -- updated). The mansion sits right on the docks, and Council Primewater can be seen standing on a small veranda, his back to you, yelling at some sailors on one of his ships, his massive bulk blocking out a good portion of the harbor beyond.
A nattily attired kobold stands outside the gate, looking at you all skeptically through brass pince-nez precariously perched on the end of his snout. "You here for banquet. No, no. You no look like fancy guests." He consults a little book in his hand then looks at all of you. "No tradesmen, no solicitors. Mr. Primewater gave generously this week. Fresh tropical fruit for Retired Sailors' House, rotten tomatoes for execution today. No handouts for the likes of you!"
At the sound of the kobold's shrieking, Primewater turns around, and even from the distance you currently are at, you see his bright white smile. "It's perfectly alright, Dulpa. They are guests! Come friends, you are expected!"
The kobold glares at you silently and moves aside, opening the gate and allowing you entry. As you step into the mansion, you are immediately blown away by the entry hall. It is, without a doubt, probably the most sumptuous room you've ever been in your life, with imported marble arches and flooring with beautiful murals and artwork from all over Oerth.It must have cost a mint to furnish this room alone. At a pianoforte near an expansive grand staircase, a beautiful young human girl plays a light, breezy number, while you see a few other familiar faces. Manistrad Copperlocks stands in front of a painting that is clearly Gellan Primewater in his youth, when the man cut a much more striking figure. Eda Oweland is in conversation with an older human woman that seems to bear some familial resemblance to the girl behind the piano, and you see the Goliath frame of Eliandor Fireborn, emerging from a doorway, carrying a number of heavy leather-bound books with a delighted smile on his face.
As you enter they all look at you politely, and a halfling in livery near the door clears his throat and whispers to you all "Erm...how shall I announce you?"
On the walk over, before arriving, Gibson silently invokes his dark patron's assistance in helping him make a more positive impression than usual on this potentially-lucrative occasion. He uses Mask of Many Faces to cast disguise self to broaden his shoulders slightly, slim his stomach and waist, soften the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, scoot his hairline a little forward, and gain about an inch of height.
Hearing this question, Gibson quietly mutters, "No need, junior," as he blows past the halfling. Addressing the assembly he flashes his widest smile, spreads his arms in a theatrical introductory manner, and bumps up the volume of his voice, adding a rumbling resonance with thaumaturgy. "Ladies and gentlemen of Saltmarsh -- movers, shakers, and clam bakers of our fair city -- your saviors have arrived! I present to you: Gibson's Gallivanting Guardians of All That is Good! Responding to the summons of our dear Lord Prizewater, we do humbly make ourselves available to you all for your praise, profit-making, and, uh, pleasure. In whichever order you prefer." He bows with a flourish at the end of this.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
Tul smiles at the halfling doorperson, keeping her mouth closed as she does, trying to hide her small tusks from view and trying to somehow indicate that Gibson does not speak for them all.
"I am Tul Shirro. I do not have a title or anything else worthy of announcing," she says very aware of the wealth on display in this room. She doesn't know whether to wait for the halfling to indicate it's okay to go in further or if she should just follow Gibson. She's never been to anything like this before.
She looks down at the halfling, eyes wide, hoping for some guidance.
Gibson's pronouncement is met with silence by the assembled throng of VIPs, save for a barely suppressed snort from Manistrad. The human woman in conversation with Eda Oweland raises one impeccable eyebrow, then comes over and takes Gib's hand, leading him into the room. "Ah, yes! Gellie told me all about you. The adventurers who solved the Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh. Bravo, bravo! I am Lady Regan Primewater. Please join our little banquet."
The halfling attendant, dropping all decorum, growls to Tul in a rough working-class accent very different from his formal voice "Oi, you gotta give me something....oh, sod it." In a voice reminiscent of the voices of Keoland's elite announces loudly "Lady Tul Shirro, lately of Saltmarsh, adventurer and traveler of means, humility and grace." He makes deliberate eye contact and flicks his eyes forward as if indicating you should enter. He repeats the process for each of you, announcing loudly.
"Dame Dimma Brazzik, representative of the Dwarven Guild of Cooks, cleric and fighter for justice."
"Arvastan Shark-Friend, sailor and friend to Saltmarsh."
Seeing Hugh (and smelling the booze on him, the halfling winces slightly and hesitates a half-second, long enough for the lady of house to make stern eye contact. Quickly, he clears his throat and announces
"Master Hugh Silverford of Saltmarsh....uh, sailor, and....sailor!"
With these formalities out of the way the pre-dinner mingling begins. Wait staff circulates through the room bearing long stemmed glasses of wine, and there is a decent spread of soft cheeses, breads, and light seafood out. The host seems not to have made it down from the upstairs yet, but the party is in full swing.
What are you all doing?