DeepBlue's Vagabond - Act 1

[amanodel]

Shimar

The barbarian got used to the strange looks he receives during his travels. He holds his nose up as he looks around in the room. Her stands proud, not concerned about the belittling looks he receive. He even feels kinda superiour amongst the usually weaker city-folk.

Going over to the bar, he asks the bartender with a clear Northalnder accent. - Good evening to you. What do you have to offer to weary travelers from afar? - He places his coin purse to the bar.

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Back at the Harpy's Head, Harold lifts his eyebrows a little at Flare's confrontational attitude, but then the minstrel tilts his head to one side, as if doing some tricky mental arithmetic.
"There's something you're not telling us, Mr. Wyatt. That distresses me, because if there's one thing men in our situation need, it's trust. Suppose you tell us what's on your mind, hm? What's got you in such a flurry?"

[Proven_Paradox]

Drahlo's attention is focused almost entirely on the glowstones that light their way--he makes a mental note to come back to examine them a little closer next time, when there's less hurry. It seems that he's mostly unbothered by the cold.

As he enters the inn, he begins by trying to meet the eyes of the other patrons, trying to stare into them for a few moments. In the likely event that most of the others refuse to meet his gaze, he will turn his attention to their clothing, frowning disapprovingly at the wasteful use of excessive fabric and metal.

He follows Shimar into the bar, and his curiosity now turns to the humans' drinks--he'd had his fill of ceremonial drinks in his tribe, and a few tastes of elven wines before, but not of the brew available here. "I will have what he has." He nods to Shimar.

[Deepblue706]

The Harpy's Head

Wyatt looks pretty confused at both Flare's and Harold's reactions. "Not giving me any, eh? Don't trust me, do ya?" He puts out his smoke, and folds his arms. "Look, me and Mr. Tieger are just tryin' to get things workin' as smoothly as possible. You're not exactly making things easy for us by going off for days on end, not really givin' us any information. Not makin' much easy by refusing to cooperate, either. What, you want Tieger to come take it himself?" He rubs his forehead. "Me an' him aren't exactly in a safe position, you know. It's not like it's easy hiding stuff from The Guild, you know. If I'm in a "flurry", maybe it's because I'm a little strung out, okay? You people, for some reason, aren't phased by any of this - but I don't have nerves of steel, okay?" He then goes silent, deliberately trying to calm himself down before saying anything else.

White Horse Inn

The bar is slightly dimmer than the lobby - a slightly shadowed atmosphere but still, in a sense, warm and inviting. A few patrons sit at the bar, while others are seated around tables. Most of them are the same kind of upperclass citizens you passed in the lobby - but, you note a one party seated around a table in the corner who look more like a lot of adventurers than noblemen. Perhaps, they are a band of Nouveau riches who only celebrate a victory here because they can finally afford it, and find it preferable to common inns.

Behind the bar is a short, attractive woman with short brown hair and a flashy outfit. She looks over Shimar with a curious smile before answering, "We have a long list of spirits and ales for men just like you. Perhaps you'd be interested in our famous Black Dragon? Not a lot of our guests dare try any - but you look like the sort who can handle it!"

[Zed's Dead]

Lucian Salvatore

And what would you recommend for someone like me, miss?

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare meets Wyatt's gaze and remains silent, allowing the man the time he seeks to regain his composure. When all this was happening, I didn't have time to think this through. But now I think I'm beginning to see how it all fits together. You said we were worth what... ten thousand gold? And despite such a high criminal stature, we're allowed to walk free without exile, restraints, anything really. And then Tieger puts his life in danger to pay our fee, despite not knowing us because... why exactly? His reasons seemed particularly contrived.

There's really only one way that this makes sense. You're trying to use us. He looks over at Harold and smiles. You seem to have a head for cons. How does this one rate in your book? Anyway, the rest of you can do as you please, but I suggest you ignore these men and their ridiculous demands. I'm staying elsewhere tonight. Don't follow me Wyatt, or things might get unpleasant.

Flare waves to his three companions and turns to leave.

[amanodel]

Shimar

Questioning his drinking ability was just enough reason for the barbarian to ask for the Black Dragon. Without half a moment of thinking about it, he smiles back at the pretty maid.

So finally an exciting southlander for the northern man! Show me then what you've got for me!

It is unclear that he missed the object of the sentence because of lack of languistical skills, or he meant it as a kind of flirting, but he was smiling at the girl while speaking.

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold waves a hand and Flare.
"Now, now. Our friend Ritan is apparently the reason we're walking free. The way you folks acted that night in the Inn, the amount for the bribe seems commensurate, and I don't doubt that Mr. Tieger is telling the truth about the deal itself; it was a bribe to get someone of the cabal out of trouble. Then we got...added on by mistake. You don't basically commit murder in a crime raid and then just walk free the next day without serious palms being greased."
Harold steeples his fingers again, his expression mild.
"So there's no need to pile the recriminations on poor Wyatt here; if nothing else, you owe Wyatt's Guild something for getting you out of stir after your...display. I admit, though, that there's something going on here I can't place my finger on..."

[Deepblue706]

The Harpy's Head

Wyatt reaches out for Flare as he turns to go. "Wait a second! First, it's five thousand. Missy here had the blood of a lieutenant on her hands, remember? You three were all going down with her. And, Ritan, while he wasn't exactly..." He glances around. "Wait a minute. Where the hell is Ritan, anyway?"

White Horse Inn

With an awkward smile, the bartender fetches Shimar's drink. As she places the stein before him, Shimar notes a strange odor eminating from the black, bubbling liquid that sits before him. "Don't drink it too fast, now!" She warns. "Oh, that's a silver a pint, ya hear?" She then looks back to Drahlo, asking him if he's absolutely sure he wants the same drink.

With the same smile, she turns to Lucian, suggesting he tries one of their malt beers. "They're my favorite." She giggles.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare stops and closes his eyes, and then reopens them. He's dead. Alright... maybe we do owe you something. But whether you're trying to deceive us or not, I don't intend to handle this problem by caving in to a bunch of thugs because of money that I didn't steal. Did you get that job lined up for us? The government counting house?

[Zed's Dead]

Lucian Salvatore

Lucian nods, then watches her fill the pint.

He puts down a gold piece.

Drahlo, would you like one?

I'll buy this round and the next. You keep the extra silver, miss.

[Proven_Paradox]

Drahlo wrinkles his nose at the smell of the Black Dragon. Still, curiosity overrides distaste, and he says, in a flat tone, "One of those for now--" He points to the Black Dragon, "--and one of those after, should I still live."

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DeepBlue, I forgot to ask; how much money is Drahlo carrying?

[amanodel]

Shimar

May I ask where does this drink come from? - he asks, then takes a sip of the ale before the answer. After tasting it, he does the best to retain a usual face, is it's possible.

Khm... good stuff here... hrm... Is it distilled from the blood or the urine of a black dragon? Be careful Drahlo, even the orks don't drink anythink like this stuff.

Between sips of the tea, he looks around in the inn. He's looking for nothing in particular, he just likes to get the ambiance of the inn. Of course he checks the adventurer-looking folks as well.

[Deepblue706]

The Harpy's Head

"Dead?" He begins pacing again, rubbing his chin while he grits his teeth - only somewhat listening to Flare as he continues to speak. "The Counting House?" He stops. "I told you, tax offices aren't a smart idea. I don't care if you're the richest man in Medici - there's no way you could get the resources to get in and out without someone or something seeing you." He goes over to his desk, staring into the plain and vacant surface. "There's a forgein moneylending group who formed a bank here not too long ago - I checked them out to see if you could go for them, instead. They're still a little wet behind the ears, if you get my meaning. They've got guards, and they've got wards - but they're the easiest target around." He turns back to you. "Even so, this would be a very high-risk operation. If you'd wanna do it right, it'll take far too long to plan - and if you go in there shooting off spells, you'd be cornered in no-time. I'm tellin' you right now, this is a dead-end; and I'm not trying to funny with words, either." He pauses. "If you're set on doing it anyway, I'll tell you where it is - but I can't really do much to help without spending more time than you have before the deadline we're working for."

White Horse Inn

The bartender smiles as she accepts Lucian's tip, and then quickly works to get him his drink, as well as another Black Dragon for Drahlo.

"Well, the Dwarves from the north and some Orc visitors from the south have been competing here over who makes better ale - this is the result of a few actually working together. They say the Black Dragon is supposed to be the stronger than any other drink known to Medici!" She grins. "Not too sure of the ingredients, though. But, I don't think they use anything too strange...there's laws against what can go into food, and such."

As Shimar eyes over the group in the corner, he notes a few distinct details: there is a large man with a pair of exotic swords sheathed across his back, who sits in silence, somewhat listening to what you would presume to be a pleasant conversation. Beside him is a halfling with a grizzled beard and a scar beneath his left eye, who twiddles with a tiny throwing knife. Another patron eyes it a bit nervously as it tumbles through his fingers. Opposite the halfling is a rather plain-looking elven woman in unflattering clothes listening intently to the blabbering of a wiry young robed man who sits beside her. His voice grows as he continues speaking, enough that you can catch a bit of what he has to say.

"And then I said, "careful, there might be a booty trap"!" He finishes with a grin.

The elven woman giggles, but his other two companions don't seem to find the humor in it.

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Sorry - if I hadn't specified otherwise earlier, Drahlo and Shimar each carry 15gp

[Ya Ta Hey!]

OOC:

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Flare is the Miko Miyazaki of chaotic alignment.

So, I forgot about having set Len's skill to weaponsmithing, so I guess I won't go tampering with the spyglass. Sounds like it could save us from having to get up close and personal while investigating so it would suck to have it in pieces anyway.

I'd get started on the H.flail, but that's gonna be something like 15 gp for tools and parts, right? I'm thinking that's more than Len's fair share, do you guys agree?

Also, I thought I noticed somewhere that you can take 10 on craft checks. Since Len's craft bonus is +7, that's important to me as it means she can make guaranteed progress on building any martial weapon if so. Is that true?

Oh, and thanks for the XP.

IC: Len simply smiles, gratefully admiring her new weapon. She slips out her old halberd's leather hood and runs it over the blade; unfortunately, while a halberd is short enough that it looked like an oversized walking stick like this, this seems more like a small tree. Oh well.

Without any ado, she hands Wyatt her share of the money from the recent adventure and takes a moment to stare greedily into the weaponchest.

"I personally can make do with any broken weapons the Guild discards from now on, if that makes it easier." she comments in passing.

[Deepblue706]

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Yeah, so anyway....the fact that only the part-time player responded since last post tells me to just keep it moving before people get bored to death.

The Harpy's Head

Wyatt is pleased with Len, nodding to her with a half-smile - but is then quickly reminded of the hesitation of both Flare and Harold as he turns back to them. His frown returns.

"I do not trust you, Wyatt - but I see few alternatives to resolving this situation." says Fargrim, stepping out from his shell of silence. "If you can indeed help us, you need our coin. If you are deceiving us, you would seek other ways to claim it from us should we refuse to cooperate." He stands tall over the hunched Wyatt, obviously trying to intimidate the small man. His eyes are nearly glowing with divine energy. "If this is all an effort to exploit us to gain personal riches, Faharam will not forgive you - and when he seeks to punish you, I will serve as his hand of justice." He thrusts his hand forward, nearly driving a small coinpurse into the chest of the Guildsman, who stumbles a bit before setting the bag onto his desk.

"I'm going to my room." he says on his way out.

The White Horse Inn

You enjoy your drinks at the small bar as time seems to slip by. A few patrons come and go, but the crowd remains at a static number. You notice the adventuring group has left, and at their small table now sits a lonely old man who carries a great amount of baggage. He does not look so much like an adventurer as he does an odd merchant, however you note his clothing is more utilitarian than most business attire. And, he is a bit dishevelled for a salesman - his tiny glasses look worn and crooked, and his lengthy white beard seems to have a few pieces of straw in it. He seems to be scribbling something on a piece of paper - occassionally glancing upward as people walk by, only to return to his work as they move passed his table.

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold wrinkles his nose a little at the effrontery of his companions.
[Color="Blue]"Well, Mr. Wyatt...You're still hiding something from me, but for my own part I believe you when you say that bad things will happen if that money isn't returned. I'm not so desperate as to try anything so risky as what you've laid out, though. We're pursuing a few profitable venues even now. I think the prospects are good, though. We'll be seeing you soon."[/Color]
He picks through some of the weaponry, looking for an ornate rapier or shortsword. Not that he had much use for a blade, as a rule, but sometimes they made a good prop. With a somewhat weary salute, Harold likewise takes his leave.

[Proven_Paradox]

Drahlo chokes the drink down quickly, and wrinkles his nose again at the taste. He looks to the barkeeper and says, "What is the purpose of such a drink? A ritual to prove one's strength and endurance? I can think of no other reason to consume such a foul liquid."

[amanodel]

Shimar

Well my frien Drahlo, the lady explained that this is the result of orc and dwarf race. Your people and the dwarves are proud of their constitution, and their drinking capability. Almost that much as our tribe. So I think you're right, it doesn't tast like an elven honey wine distilled by the rays of the sun!

He stops mostly because the strong drink still burns his throat a lot. He looks at the scribing man, because men who would like to have some discrecy usually draw the most attention.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Sorry, but it's hard to go against your gut. I'll think this over for now. The rest of you, I'll see tomorrow.

Flare bows his head and slips away, heading in the general direction of the White Horse Inn. On the way he stops anyone he finds and asks them where he could find a spellcaster for hire.

[Zed's Dead]

Lucian Salvatore

Actually, my beverage is quite agreeable.

Gentlemen, enjoy the remainder of the evening. I must rest, or risk dulling my edge tomorrow! To your health!

Lucain drains his cup, gives the waitress a wink, and walks briskly out to his room.

[Deepblue706]

The Harpy's Head

The group disperses and each goes to their respective resting places - Flare to the White Horse and the others to their reserved rooms at the Harpy's Head. As Flare makes his way through the streets, he asks a passing citizen about a spellcaster for hire, and is told that there is a wizard named Archibald who owns a shop in Merchant's Square. He apparently has some minor standing as he once served King Matthias, but retired a few years ago for unknown reasons. He is known to do private work for pay, but is selective in what he does.

The White Horse

Lucian heads off to bed, and much of the bar clears out as the night progresses. Shimar, Drahlo, and the odd man in the corner are the only ones that remain, disregarding a few half-conscious drunks that the bartender seems to be pulling up from their chairs, as she suggests they turn in for the evening.

The old man abruptly packs up his things, and then slowly makes his way to the exit, not making eye-contact with anyone in the room.

"It's getting late, fellas. Why don't you call it night?" the bartender asks with a smile.

[Proven_Paradox]

Drahlo nods to the bartender before draining the remaining contents of his mug (this time the lighter drink that Lucian had chosen). That done, he gives a small nod to the barkeeper, pays his tab, and heads to his room wordlessly.

[amanodel]

Shimar

Oh, we were just about to leave. A really nice place you have! especially the bartender, but don't tell that anyone! - The last sentence was almost whispered, in a somewhat playful tone. The barbarian's manner is unnaturally quiet, because he doesn't want to ruin the paladin's reputation. Civilised folks, for some reason, don't like standing on tables and sing, or rather shout battle songs, while drinking, and playing a game involving throwing axes. It's quite strange, but one has to get used to different cultures if he's travelling a lot.

He offers a hand if some drunks are need to be carried outside, or just off the table. Then he pays his beers, and heads to his room to have some rest.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare thanks the woman and continues to the White Horse, resolving to go to Archibald's shop in the morning.

[Deepblue706]

Another cold morning. While the inns of Porto Giedion were always pleasant and warm, the winds outside could chill to the bone.

At the White Horse, Titus can be spotted preparing himself in the lobby - any who cross his path are reminded to get what they need prior to departure. He states he will be going to a temple of Faharam before the group leaves, and invites any who would join him to come along.

Harold and Len meet in the common room of the Harpy's Head early, but Fargrim is nowhere to be found. A note on Wyatt's door reads

"Friends, I'm sorry there was no earlier notice, but myself and Fargrim have to do work elsewhere, for the time being. Continue about your business, and we'll meet up with you as soon as you return."

Their respective rooms are locked. And, as nobody answers either door, probably vacant as well.

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold purses his lips as he reads the note on the door.
"Lovely. Well, not much option but to continue on, I suppose."
He opens the door for Len as they leave.
"If you've had your breakfast," he continues, " We might as well head for the rendezvous. I wonder, though; what's your opinion on this whole mess, Len?"

[Ya Ta Hey!]

Len yawns deeply, massaging her eyes as Harold reads the note. Its little comfort to know that that pendant, her last contact with her original goal, left with Fargrim this morning.

She manages something like a laugh, shaking her head. "A 'mess'. You have a gift for understatement, Harold."

They step through the door of the Harpy's Head and into the sharp sea breeze, sending torrents of goosebumps up Len's arms. They join the morning traffic, horses clopping down the cobblestone road behind them.

"Whatever it is, its kept me in this city for twice as long as I had planned, now. " She muses, staring out over the forest of ship masts and billowing sails in the harbor; two and even three-masted merchentmen teem at the entrace, heaving with titanic deliberation as they ride the outgoing tide.

"All I wanted was a doctor, and now I'm fighting organized crime, deposing magristrates, and some cleric has my little girl's life in his pocket? Its like the powers that be are playing dice with my existence. Sheesh."

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold listens carefully, his hands clasped behind his back as he walks.
Tsk, Harold he chides himself mentally, You saw the sword and the muscles and jumped to conclusions, didn't you? Everyone has depths.
The handsome minstrel turns his gaze against the wind as well, sampling the salty air.
"Sounds troublesome. If that amulet is something you need back, then I believe I can get it back for you. I don't need to show you my card again, I'm sure."
He snaps his fingers,
"That reminds me; In answer to your question, Silverweave isn't a name I've heard before. Is this the doctor you're looking for?"

[Ya Ta Hey!]

Having dreaded the impending confrontation with a Church cleric, Len grins appreciatively at the problem solver's offer.

She shakes her head. "That's his son. The doctor's specialty was lost medicine and exotic diseases, and he passed away just before I arrived. I made an idiot of myself trying to find out more--" she laughs "--and they finally let me in on this name, 'Silverweave'. Apparently, he was supposed to take over the doctor's practice; he has the last known copies of all kinds of secrets."

Len's voice falls. "Except that now he's a real black sheep, highway bandit or something. Nobody knew where to find him. Oh, and I guess he can't do anything without that stupid necklace either--who ever heard of so much depending on a piece of jewelry?"

She raises a piece of table bread she borrowed from the inn, only to find that she's going for a nasty patch of mold. Instead, she picks at the bread piece by piece, tossing it to the seagulls.

"You know, if it were only me that was sick, I'd just get on with my life and forget about this ridiculous grasping at straws. And its not like little Seo is the first kid to die on me, but I'm pretty sure I gave it to her--I don't know how, but I think its on me to fix it." Maybe. It was a fact of life that children didn't make it as often as not and while Len learned to accept that like most parents, it felt better than telling herself 'at least I have something to do.'

"Anyway, thanks for the offer, and if I'm still alive when all this is over, I'll be happy to pay you. If not, get the cure to her father and he'll definitely make it worthwhile."