[e6] Mystara IC

[Holocron Coder]

Akiri

Akiri watches the occurrence quietly, trying to pay attention to this rather new sight.

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Spot - (1d20+7)[15]

[Sol_Invictus]

Gerald
Asking around, you manage to find almost no one willing to help you. Approaching a young student, she seemingly ignores your existence. A young wizard's apprentice, no older than nine, even has the nerve to conjure a hand made of sparkling light performing a rather rude gesture.

While the youth seem to be preoccupied, the elders are not much more helpful. A balding wizard even suggests checking the festival.

As the sun begins to set, you finally find a young bard who manages to point you in the right direction. Ascending the street he pointed you toward, you find yourself outside of a rather quaint cottage-home. Thatched roof and whitewashed walls, the only lit window is obstructed by a linen curtain. Adorned on the door is an iron-wrought plaque, bearing a sword crossed over a large sun, reading "Fencing Academie."

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If you choose to knock at the door a well-groomed, middle-aged man with his hair pulled into a rogue's knot will answer with a call of "Coming! Coming, hold your Axebeaks."

Akiri
As the crowd disperses, you manage to catch the backs of the guard and two men as they round the corner of the backstreet. The shorter man seems to place a bag into the guard's hand, and the three disappear around the corner in a hurry.

The sun has begun to set and overhead, the stars are rising.

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So, what'd you like to do? You have the option of following those guys, reporting it to one of the guards just outside the gate, or ignoring it entirely.

[Holocron Coder]

Akiri

Deciding that whatever those men are doing seems much more interesting than any old festival, Akiri tries to surreptitiously follow them.

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Hide - (1d20+7)[25]
Move Silently - (1d20+7)[23]

[tonberryking]

Well...

In a relatively out of sigh place of her choosing, Fennec finds herself in a conundrum.

Of sorts. The coins go into her own purse without a second thought. The ring... may come in handy, but it's the mandolin that gives her pause to actually think upon her actions. Fennec never attempts to rob people of valuables on the personal level: an artist's expensive paints, or a knight's sword, or in this case, she doesn't want to rob a musician of their bread-maker.

But it fell into her lap as a matter of circumstance...

Peeking out from the crates she's ducked behind, after hurling the sack deeper into the alley, Fennec attempts to scan the crowd for any musicians, at work or not...

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(1d20+2)[6]Ye spot

[Sol_Invictus]

Akiri
As you step through the alley with care not to be seen or heard, you hear the men's footsteps trail off at a quickened pace. When you round the corner, you come across a seemingly-drunken man, by his demeanor, who spots you as you near the corner.
"Ey you. C'mere," he says, beckoning you toward him. Peering further down the alley, you see it to be nearly empty, save for a stray dog lurking up and down the street and an elderly man crumpled in the doorway of a home, a lantern clutched in his hands.

The drunken man lurches forward, his tunic smelling strongly of liquor and fish.
Three hooded men appear from the shadows, each one wearing a cloth mask.

"Don't worry about them. You're new in town, I can tell." He suddenly appears quite sober, if smelly. "Now, you look like a fairly smart'un. I'm sure you'd want to help us. Be a real good idea if you didn't leave for a while. Follow? We'll be seeing you around. Tomorrow night, maybe. Here, catch."

The man throws you a small bag that rustles metallicly. With that, the men all slip back into the shadows.

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The bag holds 20 gold pieces

Fennec
Keeping your eyes peeled, you see so many jauntily-dressed people that any one could be a musician. Some of them are, singing and playing for coins on the street. It would appear that your musician is either preoccupied or incredibly forgetful. Taking a second look at the bag and mandolin, they both seem to be of a stellar quality, but possess no distinctive markings or emblems.

[TwelvePointFive]

Astounded at how rapidly the time had passed, Mahariel looked up at the darkening sky and pondered what to do next.
Deciding he'd see about finding a healer or somesuch on the morrow, and that right now he might as well look for a place to get a decent meal and a bed to sleep in. He walked on, looking out for something akin to an inn, all the while avoiding eye contact with the people still out on the street.

[Holocron Coder]

Akiri

Akiri catches the bag tossed to her and watches the men blend back into the shadows.

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Spot - (1d20+7)[10]
She'll look at the shadows anyway, to be cautious.

EDIT: And return to being half-blind. So, Move Silently and Hide good, Spot bad

Once it is clear that the men have moved on, she peers into the bag before tying it to her belt inside her robs with the others and steps out of the alley way.

She doesn't know if she'll want to meet up with the man tomorrow, wherever that may happen, but she has nothing else to yet occupy her time. Knowing so little about the man, and the city around her, somewhat puts a damper on her decision-making skills. She decides she'll let things fall how they may.

Looking up at the darkening of the sky, she decides, for now, it's about time for her to find a place to sleep. With that, she starts walking down the street searching for something that looks like an inn.

[Orzamil]

"I don't...think I have any axebeaks. Uh," Gerald pauses for a moment, looking confused, but shakes his head and continues, "Anywho, I'm Gerald, I believe you were looking for part-time help with sword lessons? I have to be upfront, though, I'll be leaving in the next couple of days, but if you could use me for that time, I would be more than willing to help."

Gerald offers his hand to Lorentz to shake.

[tonberryking]

Fennec lets out a guttural sigh. Looking around, leaving the mandolin 'hidden' for the moment behind one of her hiding crates, she pockets the ring and leaves her crouched position to get the attention of a passerby. Hopefully one of the jaunty musician types or someone obviously associated with these troupes.

"Oi; is there a inn or a buncha tents outside town where all these mistrals are staying?"

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Gather info: (1d20-1)[1]

[Sol_Invictus]

Mahariel
Going north, you're able to find a tavern by the name of Gaston's. Just outside is a bulletin board with various job postings, and upon entering, you find the patrons enjoying a festival of their own. The bartender seems to be quite busy at the moment, but shoots you a glance as you enter and waves you over.
"Welcome, pal. What're ya havin'?" The owner seems a bit gruff and anxious for a response. Perhaps he's understaffed, but a quick glance provides you the sense that no one in his establishment has gone hungry or wanting of drink. In fact, the owner himself seems to be eyeing a mug himself. "Got some nice cold Dwarven imperial stouts and a berry-flavored Elvish wine on tap."

Akiri
You see nothing in the shadows; it seems they really did vanish into thin air.

Just down the street, you see a platinum-haired, elfish-looking man enter what seems to be a lively tavern. Across the street from that one is a somewhat dumpier-looking tavern where the patrons are just as vivid, if not more so.

Gerald
Lorenz's face quickly turns into a furrowed grimace before the sides of his face crack. He seems to have caught onto the joke, and places a surprisingly large hand on your shoulder.
"Bien, bien. Come inside, young traveler. You seem weary, and the night is young. We can speak of business over a meal, if you will pardon the stench." He ushers you inside, barring the door behind you as he leads you through a long hallway adorned with racks of swords in every make you could recognize, and a few others that seem utterly foreign, as though you would need three hands to heft them up. "My classes for the day have ended, as you can see. My apprentices have just begun to clean up, or at least they should have." With a raised eyebrow, Lorenz turns to the side and shouts. "¡Oye, Loric y Gotz! ¡¡Limpiad los aparatos o golpearé a vosotros ciento veces!!" Changing his expression, he smiles at you and ushers you into the room to your left, the sounds of clambering in the room on your right. Sitting you down to eat, Lorenz offers a bowl of soup, bread, and a cup of beer.
"You say you wish to fulfill my request, but have only two days' time. I trust I have not brought you under my roof with brigands at your heels?" He looks across from his table with an expectant, quizzical expression.

Fennec
Seeing you pop out from behind a crate, you catch a passing man by surprise, his lips pursed tightly. "What do I look like, hmm? Do I have a big red button on my shirt saying "tour guide"? Go follow the smell of gypsy, knife-ear." With that, he storms away, muttering under his breath as he dusts off his sleeves.

Taking your leave of the rather boorish man and turning back down the alley, you spot a train of wagons parked at the end of the path. The grandeur of the festival is not lost here; the wagons are decorated with strange symbols and runes. Colorful costumes are draped from every corner, held up by lines and sheets acting as curtains. Every now and then a performer dashes to-and-from one of the makeshift tents and the festival street.

There's about twenty minstrels coming and going, but there are about five or so tailors repairing costumes and minstrels tuning their instruments.

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I need a gather info check for these guys.

dm's note: I made a spot check for you the other day, with a natural 20 result. I figured, why not place the camp nearby.

[TwelvePointFive]

On the way into the inn, Mahariel noticed the board besides the entrance, and stopped briefly to peruse the options.
I'll be needing money if I'm to stay here for any length of time. Oh well, It'll wait for tomorrow. Sparing no more than a cursory glance, he walked into the inn, making his way up to the bar. Opening his mouth to order a meal, he noticed he wasn't hungry at all. Strange... Aware of his mouth hanging open, he quickly grabbed onto the first thing that passed through his head. "Guess I'll try the stout" He placed a trio of silver coins on the bar. "Any chance one might be able to rent a bed for the night?"

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Using Elan Repletion for 1 pp

[Orzamil]

Gerald enters the building and follows the man patiently. He was used to people rambling on and cart drivers yelling at the kids to 'get out of the way' or 'go help the cook.' While not recognizing the language Lorentz speaks in, Gerald assumes it had something to do with cleaning.

At the table, Gerald accepts the food and beer graciously, thanking Lorentz before getting down to business. Being sure to swallow before speaking, he said, "No, no, nothing of the sort. I'm merely stopping here in between jobs. I managed to set up a promising one on my first day here, but the merchant won't be setting out for another couple of days. Although I'm much better with a bow, I know a decent amount about swords and I figured I might as well kill some time here."

Gerald takes a bite of bread, forgetting manners as he bends down to have some soup, he mutters, "Probably a better idea than hunting down trolls."

[Holocron Coder]

Akiri

Lacking any particular inclination about which inn to enter, she follows the silver-haired elf into the slightly-nicer establishment. Upon entering, she finds herself not particular hungry after the pair of meat skewers earlier that evening. Instead, she sits at the bar and looks generally lost, never having imbibed before.

Upon hearing the elf order the stout, Akirk speaks up as well, "And one for me, as well?".

She pulls out the requisite silver and pays for her drink.

[TwelvePointFive]

As Mahariel noticed the woman placing herself near him at the bar, he resolved to just mind his own business, keeping his head down, face covered by a curtain of pale blond hair. When she spoke up however, he turned his head to her, and offered her a curt nod. " 'Stranger." He said, in a melodic, if clipped voice, and turned back to his drink. He watched her out of the corner og his eyes, thinking that she seemed... lost, somehow. As if she's not sure what to do next, he thought. He could relate to that. He turned his head to her, and extended a hand. "I am Mahariel, and I greet you. With whom do I have the honor of speaking?"

[Holocron Coder]

Akiri

Akiri looks at the elf's hand a second before reaching out and shaking it cautiously. "My name is Akiri. Greetings to you as well," she responds, withdrawing her hand and looking around the inn once. "Are you from here?"

[TwelvePointFive]

"Not from here, specifically no" he says, looking pointedly around the inn.
He paused awkwardly, regarding the ravenhaired woman. Should I trust her? He might as well. "Actually, I'm not quite sure from where I hail. You see, I awoke this morning with no recollection of where I was, walked around the city for quite a while, and ended up in this establishment. Dare I inquire to yourself? You don't seem the part of a townswoman."

[Holocron Coder]

Akiri

Showing some interest in his plight, Akiri responds, "No, I am not from here. I come from a monastery a large distance from here. I left to learn of the world at large."

She fidgets with her hands a moment before asking, "You truly have no idea of where you are from?"

[TwelvePointFive]

"No, this is sadly not the case." He paused, appearing a little confused. "I supose I should seek a healer in the morning. But I think this might require a magician of some sort, and I know those to be expensive" His face scrunched up, thinking. "I think I'll have to find some work. I derive that I must be a warrior of sorts, for men of peace does not carry swords upon their backs. Mayhaps I can find work as a mercenary." His voice fell at this point, mostly speaking to himself.

[Holocron Coder]

Akiri

Akiri looks at the two swords on the elf's back. "It does seem likely that you would at least know how to use them. Perhaps, if your past is so blank, you should see if you remember how to wield them before hiring out as a mercenary?"

She looks around for the barkeep, hoping to get a room for the evening. Seeing the man busy elsewhere, she asks, "You are looking for work? I would imagine that it would be best to find a cure for your ailment before anything else, but that is just a wayward monk's opinion." She smiles apologetically.

[TwelvePointFive]

Mahariel is unsure how to respond. For a brief while, he just shifts his gaze uncomfortably, looking for the barkeep. That may be the truth. On another matter, what brings you travelling? I thought monks were confined to monasteries?"

[Holocron Coder]

Akiri

The monk girl frowns. "Confined is the wrong word. Maybe encouraged to stay, but we are not prevented from leaving," she explains. "In my case, the monks of my monastery thought it would be best for me to travel and bring back news of the world."