Academy Living IC: (Chapter 1) Group A

[heretic]

There’s a dewy chill in the air still as the group passes ‘neath the southern gate. A line of hedges runs along each side of the road, bushy and green with white flowers puckered shut in the cold. After a hundred yards or so, the hedges give way to rolling hills to the west and a flat plain to the east, ending in an oceanic horizon. The road under your feet is paved with limestone, only lightly rutted by wheels.

As the day goes on, the heat rises to an uncomfortable fever. By now, there are a few other travelers on the road. A slack-jawed merchant drives a wagon north, trailed by a pair of bearded footmen with swords on their hips. A family in matching straw hats makes for the south, with the parents on foot and three children riding a brace of donkeys. A trio of armed riders in fine silken riding-bibs and cloaks sit at a roadside shrine, laughing as they draw water from a well.

Further on, it’s time to bear west, leaving the road behind. Some of the hills are steep, some gentle. Some wooded, some shaven. The flies become thick as you traverse the woods. The chitter of birds and bees is all around. Fortunately, the noise, the occasional step in some clay-like mud, and the snag of dry brambles are the only inconveniences the thin forest has to offer.

After seven hours of travel, the trees break for good and you spy what looks like a traveler’s inn up ahead. It’s a sturdy thing—three stories of well-grouted limestone bricks, a peaked roof of thatch, and four chimneys. A low, long building of timber stands beside it, a well, and a small shack—perhaps a shrine or an outhouse. The only sign of life is a small figure urging a donkey in circles around the well. Since you left early, there’s still hours of daylight left.

Spoiler: OOC

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This is meant to be a travel montage with multiple opportunities for interactions. We can run these in parallel, so feel free to have a conversation or two with some of the travelers as well as each other. If you choose to do so, please mark each section (e.g. On the Road, Off the Road, Near the Inn). Unless one of these escalates unexpectedly, they shouldn't affect each other.

You also have a decision to make about stopping at the inn for the night or pressing on for another hour (just over two miles).

[Schismatic]

She was fairly quiet on the travel there as the wagons and soldiers passed by. Dressed as a foreign soldier and armed to the teeth she preferred to appear as a traveller more than anything else and not draw suspicions. Mardu had been leading Sardun with a rope tether. No point putting the animal understrains while the rest of the party walked. She espied the traveller's hut and pointed.

"Shall we stay inside or push further?" She queried to the group.

By the sound of her voice she was either/or. She was a recent traveller from all the way from Marad afterall and spent years helping visibly protect merchants, particularly on the Tell Kuara-Burgian trade route. She was used to the hardship of long hours on the trail, and she knew full well there were times speed should be bought with stamina. That being said, she was not the center of the universe and ultimately it was no fault of others if they felt more inclined a decent straw bed before plunging into a dangerous tomb.

[El'the Ellie]

Rosa catches up with Galion with a few excited steps and slips her hand into his. "Yeah, it's good to be back out on the road! As much as there is to discover at Mithdiran, it's nice to have a destination stretched out in front of us." She considers, looking over to the other bard. "Myrmidons? Hmm, doesn't that seem a bit... military? I'm with Vasco, maybe it'll come to us on our adventure."

On the road
Rossantil is happy to keep the chatter going during their walk, occasionally strumming or whistling a tune as they go. She sidles up happily to the children riding the donkeys, speaking to the parents in friendly tones. "Morning! How's things on the road been? Going anywhere good?"

At the inn
The half-elf sits on a nearby boulder, giving her legs a rest. "Seems to me like a good spot to turn in. We're not going to get there tonight anyway, and we might as well get a bed and some hot food while we can: there's no promises of that if we keep going. Camping is fun and all, but better when you don't need to."

She walks up to the small shack curiously.

Spoiler

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What is the name of the Inn?

[JBarca]

Galion smiles as Rosa moves in step with him, nodding with along with her in agreement. He seems content to let most of the idle chat happen around him, though he does offer input if spoken to directly or when he has a particularly good story or joke to tell.

On the Road
Galion offers a small wave and bright smile to the merchant, expecting nothing in return. When he sees Rosa chatting with the family, he stays back, enjoying the brief break in walking.

When they reach the well, Galion walks over and finishes his waterskin, content to wait until the trio have finished to draw his own drink.

"Afternoon, mates. How're the roads south? Clear and friendly and boring, I'd wager, yeah?" When it comes time to draw his own water, Galion takes his time, drinking and refilling more than once. Though he hasn't complained, it's obvious the heat is wearing on him.

The Inn
Galion nods. "Yeah, unless y'all are looking to wear ourselves out in an all-fired hurry, we best stay the night. I could use a cool drink and some shade, not to mention that walls around me help me sleep."

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Off the Road

"Man, am I glad to get out of that heat for a while," Vasco sighs as he walks into the shade. His dark olive skin is in no danger of getting a sunburn any time soon, but the three or four islands he called "home" in the Sweetsea were all known for their constant rain, fog, and overcast skies, so several hours of direct sunlight is something he'd much rather do without. "What I wouldn't give to be on board a windjammer or caravel right about now, where you can put a nice thick sail between you and the sun."

He looks around the forest with interest and listens to the symphony of birdsong. He's never actually been in a wild forest before; the closest he'd come was a well-tended druid grove on Sunset Isle, which was meant for meditation and so distracting creatures like birds (and young boys hoping to snag some fruit from the trees nearest the entrance) were kept out as much as possible. He didn't say much during the forest trek, just focused on drinking in the new sights and sounds.

Near the Inn

"Another vote for staying the night," Vasco agrees, raising a hand wearily as he trudges in behind the others. "Walls or no walls, I'm sure I'm not going to need any help getting to sleep tonight." He looks around to see if the room prices are posted on a board outside the inn, like they would be back home. "By the way, I don't know if everyone was planning to get their own room, but I don't mind sharing if the fares are on the high end; I brought a hammock, I'll be fine off in a corner somewhere."

[Schismatic]

"Hrm... I could use a decent bottle of wine." She considered.

Leading Sardun towards to the inn. The horse knew what a break looked like, having long associated such roadside rest stops with a well earned feed. Her head flicked up and balked slightly before skitterng with an insistent trot towards the establshment. An irritable snort as if in petulant rebellion. The tether tugging at the grip of her right hand.

"Steady!" She ordered in her native Maradian.

"Feels kind of off." She noted, reverting to that poor imitation of Sindarean. "The size of the inn, no competition, decent stables... How you say--Middle of nowhere? Yet big inn so far off main road. Is there other towns nearby on this path?" She queried to the hopefully more local of their party.

[heretic]

On the Road

Rosa

When you speak to them, the children’s eyes go wide above their pug noses. It occurs to you that they may not have seen a half-elf before, given their age. You’d guess they’re nine, seven, and four or five years old. Finally, the oldest one breaks his reverie and answers. “Pa says the road is good, but I say it’s hot and dusty. I’ve got dust in my teeth, I ‘ave.” His father hides a smile as the child speaks, then fills you in further. “The road’s safe. We make for Caras Held for new glass. A drunken traveler smashed all of ours. It is known the House of Ithilien will make replacement.” He turns to his children. “Your father is wise to buy from the House of Ithilien." He turns back to you. "Now how far is it to the city?”

Galion

The merchant doesn’t seem to notice your salutation. His half-lidded gaze remains fixed on the road ahead. It seems that the heat seems to be getting to some more than others. Perhaps he’s been on the road for some time.

The riders laugh more when you ask of the dangers of the road. “The road is safe enough for you, my friend. It is Ambroise here who is the danger!” They guffaw for a moment while the speaker fans himself with his curl-brimmed riding hat. None of them are older than five-and-twenty, and they carry themselves with a carefree sort of confidence. You don’t know for sure if they’re nobles, but their attitude seems to suggest as much.

The one identified as Ambroise gives a mock bow, maneuvering the scabbard of his fine longsword aside as he does so. “It’s my elven blood. Makes me fast with the blade, as our late friend Durato learned.” Seemingly noticing your elven heritage for the first time, he sizes you up. “Not as fast as you, though, I reckon. I’m only one-sixteenth elven.”

This ancestry is not obvious from his appearance. He wears a thick brown mustache and his round face is framed by a cascade of loose curls long enough to reach his collar. He's wearing armor of boiled leather, over-topped by a chest-bib and cloak of fine, thin silk. His companions are similarly garbed, though the first speaker has stripped away much of his leather armor to cool off, revealing a sweat-soaked linen shirt stuck to his body.

---

At the Inn

A turn in the breeze removes all doubt that the shack is an outhouse. As you approach, the small figure at the well turns out to be a girl of about ten or so. She waves to you, but does not stray from her task of driving the donkey as it labors to raise water from the well. The long, low building is indeed a stable. From the sound of it, there’s more than a few horses within. A sign hanging above the front door bears a humorous depiction of a bulge-eyed man with a silver knife and fork in hand racing after a werewolf. Below that, the words “The Tasty Werewolf” are painted in large white letters.

Just then, the door bursts open and a tall, thin man in a wool jerkin and pants stomps out. He’s got his head down, rummaging through some things he’s holding in one palm. As he lifts something to bite it, the light catches it a bit, flashing gold. He vents to himself as he examines the coins, seemingly without noticing your approach.

“The bloody nerve of them! Pickled fish? Blubber? Where do they think I’ll find a bloody whale, ‘round here? It’s a bloody inn, not the Lost Fleet of bleedin’ Teleri! I mean my gods! Coins all the wrong sizes, and—” He freezes when he notices you, his scowl instantly lifting into a false smile. “Welcome! Welcome to the Tasty Werewolf. Vasily Fowl, at your service.” He hurriedly tucks the coin into a pocket on his jerkin. “Can I interest you in a warm room and meal after a long day on the road?”

Inside, there are Yurans. Yurans everywhere. A pair of Yurans in steel armor tossing dice at a table. Three Yurans with shaved temples and top-knots sitting on stools at the bar. A Yuran couple passionately kissing in the corner, one man’s hand slipped inside the other’s shirt. Two Yuran women honing their curved blades by the cold fireplace. A Yuran with a salt-and-pepper beard and white ponytail, drinking beside a powerfully muscled man who looks like a younger relative of the older man's. Next to them is a bare-chested man whose features and sleeves of blue tattoos mark him as a Lakeman. The sides of his head are bare, leaving a narrow strip of hair running from the front to the back of his head. His breeches are hitched by a golden buckle and a belt studded with dark onyxes. Behind the bar are a Sindarean man and a woman hurriedly working to fill cups.

Most of the Yurans look somewhat alike—they wear their dark hair long, and they all carry curved swords—but a few stand out. One of the women (of which there are five) has a blonde streak dyed into her flowing hair, as well as an amethyst pommel on her sword. The well-muscled man has blue eyes instead of brown, while one of the dice-throwers is short one ear and one eye.

The occupants take note as you enter but do not otherwise disturb themselves from their activities. A low murmur of conversation echoes throughout the common-room.

[JBarca]

On the Road

Galion laughs with the riders. When Ambroise eyes him, though, he ruefully smiles and adopts a playfully sad expression. "I'm flattered, friend. But this air is far too hot for testing skill. And, alas, I didn't bring my long blade today. Not that kind of trip for me, yeah? Probably for the best anyway. I wouldn't want to end up like Durato!" With a smile and a last "safe travels," Galion rejoins his company.


At the Inn

Offering a dubious half-smile and a raised eyebrow to his companions over his shoulder, Galion steps forward, all smiles and friendliness.

"Afternoon, Master Fowl. I think our little troop may pass the night at your place, sure." As they enter in the inn, Galion scans the room, "What sort of rates do you charge? And I have to say, it looks crowded. You can house us, yeah? Uh, see Vasco there for the details. I'll get you back, Vas'."

The last half of his questioning trails of a bit as he notices one of the groups. He makes his way to the bar and quickly acquires four mugs of ale.

With a guileless grin on his face, he sits at the gambler's table, nudging the ale toward the Yurans. "Room for another, I hope?"

Spoiler: OoC

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Assuming the two are willing to open their table, Galion gambles with them for a bit. He won't try to cheat or scam them, he's just here to enjoy the games.

In case you want it
(1d20+5)[13] - Bluff
(1d20+5)[22] - Profession (Gambler)

[El'the Ellie]

On the Road

Rossantil can't help but grin from the young innocence of the kids on horseback, and their reactions to her mixed heritage. In her childhood that sort of thing would have annoyed her, where the way she looked seemed 'surprising', but now it was fondly reminiscent of home.

She offers her waterskin up to the boy on the horse. "Haha, here. Swish some water around good and spit to get the dust out. I always found singing a trail song always helps: it doesn't keep the dust out, but you won't think about it as much. Do you know the Farmer in the Fields?" She picked one of the easiest, catchiest tunes that she thought the kid might know. SHe starts singing a bit, hoping he or one of his siblings might join in.
"Across the Cairna plains one day, I met a strange old man.
A great big golden field he had, and not so much a plan."

Regardless, she replies to the father. "Road's good for the rest of the way. Hot, but not too much trouble. You're maybe... four or five hours from the city."

At the Inn

"The Tasty Werewolf? Huh, well points for creativity. That's a new one."

Rosa enjoys the idle chatter as they settle into the inn. She sidles up to the bar. "Evening Vasily! I'm Rossantil, the others are Galion, Vasco, and Mardu. What's on for dinner? Folks, you want in on dinner?" She directs the last comment at her companions.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

"What, again?" grumbles Vasco as Galion blatantly shirks his responsibility. "You still owe me for last time, you know...but fine. You can pay me back with your winnings tonight." As he greets Vasily and counts out some coins for the innkeeper, he distractedly responds to Rosa, "Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure, dinner's good. I'm fine with whatever's cheapest and doesn't have any lentils in it." He looks up and adds with a grin, "Unless 'tasty werewolf' is the menu, too, in which case I'll pass."

Once he's paid for the rooms, he turns around and leans against the bar to give the room a good once-over. His eyes linger on the more attractive Yurans before settling on his fellow Lakeman, whom he finds intriguing. He's a bit jealous of the other man's large and intricate tattoos (Vasco has some tattoos of his own, of course, like many Lakemen his age, but having to spend his gold on expensive spell scribing supplies meant he'd had to settle for smaller upper arm tattoos), and he finds an onyx-studded belt a bit peculiar--Hmm. Gold and onyx, too valuable for a mere fashion statement, probably. Enchanted with something? Maybe something necromantic, if those are black onyxes? Worth asking about.--so he orders a mead and makes his way across the room.

Pulling over a chair, he offers the man a smile. "Hail, friend! It's good to cross paths with kin, so far from home. What brings you out this way?"

[Schismatic]

Mardu would spend time prepping her horse to bed down. Cleaning her legs of caked mud, tethering her, preparing her threshed lucerne, oats, a little warmed molasses and a water trough, taking off Sardun's packs, saddles and saddle cloth. Dlligently finding the most comfortable bay she could before heading over to the inn. Naturally meaning she was going to be the last to enter, and cleaning herself and the saddle cloth up with a quick prestidigitation spell before placing it back on Sardun as the nights were colder here than back home.

Plus it didn't pay for a proud dignitary to look bedraggled in foreign lands. Whether that be herself or her steed.

Stepping into the Tasty Werewolf as if the mud, dust, dew and sweat dare not mare her proud bearing as she proceded to the counter.

"I have a mare in your stables, I'll also need food and lodgings for one night. Any wine?" She instructed, having had time to practice those sentences many a night in Sindarean simply travelling to these lands.

[heretic]

On the Road

Galion

The three riders wave to you as you withdraw.

Rossantil

You get as far as “golden field” before they start singing along. The father thanks you and they move on with smiles all around.

---

At the Inn

It’s a gold piece per night, a price that covers supper and breakfast both. A stall and fodder in the stable goes for five silvers. After accepting your coin, Vasily leads you up the creaking stairs, past the second floor, where the Yurans must be sleeping several to a room, and up to the top. The rooms are about ten feet square, furnished with a bed with light cotton blankets, a chamberpot, and an empty bucket that Vasily vows to soon fill with water. There’s a window apiece to boot, paneless and secured by wooden shutters. The doors have no locks, but sport a hefty deadbolt instead.

Galion

The Yurans at your table don’t appear to speak Sindarean, but they smile at your offer of ale and quickly make room for you. As it happens, the game of liar’s dice doesn’t require much in the way of language. They joke and carouse in their native tongue, while holding up fingers on one hand to signal their bids.

After the first hour or so, you find yourself up by about twenty-seven silver playing penny-ante stakes. They’re having a good time, drinking more ale as they sweat ferociously beneath their burnished breastplate armor. After a spell, the woman with the blonde streak in her hair slides onto the chair between you and the one-eyed gambler. Her turquoise silk dress clings to her in the heat, as does her purple sash with the sword tucked into it. She addresses you in the Trade Tongue, though you don’t catch every word.

“I’m afraid my friend *unintelligible* one eye, *unintelligible* can’t count. I hope you are not leaving him penniless!” She grins. “Where hail you from?”

Spoiler: OOC

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The above reflects you succeeding a DC 14 Intelligence check to understand the Trade Tongue (I rolled for expedience).

To get the 27 silver figure, I treated your Profession check normally (half of result in GP per week) and took a 1/40 fraction of the result for the hour. I’m thinking maybe we could modify Profession (Gambler) so that there’s a higher risk option for future use. Allowing higher rewards in return for the possibility of losing money would be the general idea. Thoughts?

Rossantil

You quickly gather that the woman behind the bar is Sydra, Vasily’s wife. She’s a short woman with her silver-brown hair brushed into a sort of tall wasp-nest shape. When you inquire about dinner, she flashes a practiced smile as she flicks a mug at arm’s length, sending foam spattering down behind the bar. “That would be duck surprise, my dear. We’ve got a few of them roasting out back.” She wrenches a tap and begins refilling the iron mug. “Thank you for choosing to stay here. What brings you to the forest? Or were you coming from the north?”

Vasco

The tattooed Lakeman gives you a self-confident grin as you approach. Up close, you can see the onyxes are indeed jet black. The belt must be worth hundreds based just on materials. His tattoos are largely standard fare for the Sweetsea—fish threatening to swallow various people or creatures, hammers, stilted houses, long-necked dragons, and so forth. You recognize the green dragon Kumagatahas, worshipped in the city of Galamaylungsod. The wyrm is hundreds of years old, and exacts enormous tributes on the city’s trade, as well as receiving honors at various festivals and events. Folk from the lakes are known to tattoo themselves with local beasts of legend. Some of the geometric symbols on his arms are more obscure to you, though the style is somehow familiar.

He speaks in your native tongue. “Good to see a kinsman so far north. Two kinsman, I see!” He nods towards Galion. “Why am I here? Oh, you know. This and that. When I was a little boy, I listened to the music come across the water. A song of adventure and heroism. So I followed the song and never stopped. Now there is no water for the music to come on, but I still listen to singers when I meet them. They always help me find my way to the next bit of mischief.” He winks.

Spoiler: OOC

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The above reflects my making various Knowledge rolls on Vasco’s part to identify the tattoos.

Mardu

Vasily tends to you quickly, speaking excitedly as he pours you a tall glass of Sindarean red. “I say, it’s good *unintelligible* touch of class, I say. Marad is so cultured *unintelligible*—” He leans in a bit, speaking out of the side of his mouth. “—riffraff from Yura, if you ask me.” He pours himself a glass and is about to drink, but his wife scoops it out of his hand before he gets a taste, shooing him out back. A few moments later, he returns. “Well, I hope you’re enjoying *unintelligible* courtesy of my wife, of course. Well, it is splendid to *unintelligible* touch of class, isn’t it? Which city are you from?”

Spoiler: OOC

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The above reflects you succeeding a DC 14 Intelligence check to follow the conversation.

[JBarca]

Galion smiles when his partners laugh and does his best to enjoy the gambling. His good fortunes certainly didn't hurt his mood, either. He keeps his eyes on the other two, though. It wouldn't do to upset them by taking all of their coin.

When the woman joins, he smiles and waves, happy to have another involved. Galion answers her question in the same tongue. "Can't count, eh? Then I don't feel so bad taking his money. He won't know the difference!

"I'm traveling from Mithdarin Academy, but originally come from Sweetsea." With that, he throws a wave at the Lakeman standing nearby.

"What about you? Where are you from, what brings you here tonight?"

Spoiler: OoC

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Yeah, I was wondering how you wanted to handle that. Only ever making money seems a little strange, even for a "professional" gambler. Having a way to end up losing money is fine with me. Would the best way to handle it be opposed rolls with my opponents? Or perhaps just a scaling chart (1-5, lose X. 6-10, lose Y. 11-15 break even. 16-21, gain Y, etc or however it breaks down)? The former feels more interesting to me (and as I gain levels, the latter option will stop being as meaningful as I'd only be hitting the higher tiers). I'm not sure how else to handle it.

[Schismatic]

"Thank you!" She beamed as she took her seat. Taking a while to process his Sindarean. "Well, I'm from the Tain Clan. We roam the holds and roads surrounding Tell Kuara." She tried to explain as she took a sip of the wine to taste before deciding what she would likely eat with the aperitif.

"I've never actually seen many Yurans. Mostly the occasional trader. Is that these people? Traders on the way to Caras Held?" She said in her broken Sindarean.

[heretic]

Galion

The young Lakeman at the bar looks up from his conversation with Vasco to wave back to you. A moment later, the woman accepts a pair of dice from the one-eyed Yuran, tossing them up against a cupped hand. “I’m Pachiko. We ride north, back to Yura.” The two armored gamblers wait patiently as she speaks, apparently taking their losses in good spirit so far.

Pachiko studies her dice. “We *unintelligible* adventured in the south, with the Lakeman. The Droplet That Falls Up. He’s fun, but *unintelligible*” That moniker spurs a bit of thought. You’ve heard stories about a powerful sorcerer they called The Rain That Falls Up. They say he earned that name when he killed a water-dragon by making the water fall upwards, trapping the beast on the empty lakebed. If memory serves, the story is at least as old as you are. Other details about the "Rain" sorcerer elude you, but you mainly recall that he was known to be quite powerful, engaged in feuds with the church and with extraplanar beings, and joined the coalition of sorcerers that fought the arch-sorcerer Sull-Presta at various moments in history.

Spoiler: OOC

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This narration reflects the results of a knowledge roll.

Mardu

Vasily’s mustache bends into a smile. “Tell Kuara . . . ” He brings his thumb and forefinger to his mouth and kisses them with a flourish. “Beautiful. I hear *unintelligible* aqueducts are fine indeed.” When you mention the Yurans, he sneers a bit and lowers his voice. “Well, we tolerate them, I suppose. Not that they *unintelligible*, with that bloody attitude on them.”

The wine is overly nutty, as you’ve come to expect of Sindarean vintages. Sindare may rival Marad in works of art, but it cannot compare when it comes to food and drink. Vasily continues his grousing. “They’re sell-swords, I reckon. Most Yurans *unintelligible* enough to carry a sword, but this lot’s carrying enough steel to *unintelligible* King Galadruil’s Immortals.” The Immortals are a legion of deadly elven warriors, sworn to the crown. Officially, they number a thousand, though it’s said the real number is just half that.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

"Yes, he's kin as well, though you'd think he's a Maradian by the amount he gambles," Vasco replies with a mock-disapproving sigh. "I'm Vasco, from Gorod in the west, and my friend is Galion, from Despinsh in the southwest. I assume from your tattoos," he indicates the portion of them depicting Kumagatahas, "which are quite impressive, by the way, that you're from Galamaylungsod or thereabouts? I've heard it's a lovely city, but I've never made it out to that area of the sea myself."

Vasco leans in when the Lakeman mentions adventure and heroism. "We're kin in more than blood, it seems! I followed mischief inland years ago, and I'm following adventure today. We quest to slay foul and mighty beasts, to recover ancient treasures lost to history, and of course the most important part, to score a few free drinks from the story afterwards," he says, returning the man's wink and sufficiently exaggerating the group's mission to turn it into merely a flippant remark.

"And on the subject of treasure," he says, motioning to the man's waist, "forgive my curiosity, but I couldn't help but notice all those gemstones on your belt. I work with onyxes like those in my studies at the Academy, and I'd bet silvers to seashells that it's a valuable masterwork, or highly enchanted, or both. I don't suppose there's a song to be sung about how it came into your possession?"

[El'the Ellie]

"Academy business," she says proudly before continuing. "Hunting down some old secrets that might help the masters at Mithridan and their theories."

She listens to the other conversations floating around the bar as she talks with the bartender. She catches the name 'Droplet that Falls Up', wondering if she's heard it before.

Spoiler

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Bardic Knowledge: (1d20+9)[21]

Back to Sydra, she asks, "I'm a bit new to the area: how's the forest around here this time of year? Fairly quiet?"

[Schismatic]

She naturally feigns support for the drop. As she listened to him recount the nature of the Yurans.

"That's odd. So sellswords? Is there much danger on these roads that you need extra guards? Or does something around these parts attract people carrying so much steel?" She queried softly in her basic Sindarean before looking to see if they had any lamb of barbecued mutton to go with this almond-y wine.

"I'm new here so I haven't an idea of any significant activity in the region." She added.

[JBarca]

Galion waits for the results of the newcomer's roll, then smiles ruefully as his carefully placed bet slides across the table to another's pile.

"Well, a pleasure to meet you, Pachiko. The Droplet, you say? Quite the, er, loaded name. Weighty. Probably helps you sleep at night, knowing you've got someone with that sort of name with you, eh?"

Galion accepts his dice and rolls, sparing but a glance to them as he continues talking, fingers held up in the established patterns to indicate his bet.

"How'd the lot of you meet up? Rather, why? You're quite the group of armed and storied individuals, yeah? Did something important happen?"

[heretic]

Vasily scampers out the back, fleeing another glare from his wife. A couple of minutes later, he returns with a number of wooden bowls, each filled with some roasted potatoes, onions, and carrots and topped with a skewer of duck meat and apricots. He begins distributing these among the guest. It takes him several trips, with the meat appearing more and more roasted with each trip. The taste is good enough, well-balanced for an inn, although the peppercorns used to season the vegetables were not fully crushed beforehand.

Vasco

The Lakeman, who interjects to tell you his name is Cam, grins and laughs as you speak of slaying beasts and treasure. “They make ‘em good in Gorod, as they say.” It’s one of those phrases that has a hundred meanings, but is usually just used to emphasize the city’s connection to something noteworthy.

He mops the beads of sweat on his bare chest with a small cloth as you remark on his belt. He gives you a mischievous grin and wags a finger. “Ah, ah, ah—the belt doesn’t want me to be revealing its secrets. We don’t want thieves coming after it, now do we. Now maybe if you whisper the right words, it will reveal itself to you.” When he speaks these last words, wispy glowing characters waft from his mouth, as if written on the air itself. They dissipate just moments after you register that they spell out the last four words he spoke. It’s a bit jarring, since he didn’t appear to cast, but you quickly surmise that he must have had the spell active and just triggered it now.

Rossantil

After a beat or two, you recall a ballad about a sorcerer father and son, The Rain That Falls Up and his Droplet. The story goes that Rain was a sorcerer whose arcane might was matched only by his lust, and he left droplets all across the Sweatsea. There was the Dancing Droplet, whose hips charmed half the court in Tell Shura into duels for her favor, the Fiery Droplet, who died falling from a summoned phoenix, the Foul Droplet, a thief-boss in Despinsh, and half a dozen others. The Droplet That Falls Up earned his name by imitating his father’s namesake spell on a cupful of water, one of many attempts to impress the famously absent-minded Rain. It’s said that Rain considers Droplet his heir, though his old age has not stopped him from continued adventuring.

Sydra brightens when you mention the Academy. “Oh, that’s nice. We’ve had a few of the wizards here before. There was this terrible bear-owl creature in the woods. Big as troll, it was. We haven’t seen anything that dangerous in a while. Sometimes there are poachers in the wood, but the road beyond is safe this close to the city.”

Mardu

Vasily considers your question as he pulls off his oven-mitts. “Well, they’re probably *unintelligible* fighting down in the Skyscrapers. They’re *unintelligible* good for a bleedin’ fight down there. Probably on their way home, I’d wager.”

He gnaws on a duck skewer for a moment or two. “I’ll tell you what activity *unintelligible* used to have here: noble hunters. The *unintelligible* class themselves.” He draws himself up a bit, proud of the times past. “Bloody poachers *unintelligible* the game and now all we get is riff-raff like these Yurans.” His eyes go wide with alarm. “Not that you’re *unintelligible* Of course, we’re so happy to have you. Marad. Cheers.” He lifts his cup, eager to get past his faux pas.

Galion

Pachiko ratchets up the bid to five sixes. “He likes trouble, but *unintelligible* his uses. He looks out for magic and we *unintelligible* blades.” The one-eyed Yuran flashes five fingers then one, then repeats, increasing the bid to six sixes. When you ask about how they met up, she says simply “same clan.” Perhaps realizing that answer is incomplete, she adds “we filled his *unintelligible* stories of Yuran heroes.” The other Yuran calls, pulling his hand back to reveal a five, two threes and a one.

[JBarca]

Galion frowns at the call, then winks as he reveals a winning set.

"Very interesting. Tell your companions I'll be just back in a second, alright?"

The young sorcerer takes advantage of the time between hands to make his way to the Droplet, extending a hand in greeting.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says with a smile in his native tongue. "I just wanted to introduce myself to such a storied individual. Name's Galion, it's a pleasure."

After receiving a response, Galion indicates his game and apologizes for the brief nature of the conversation. "Again, truly a pleasure. Sorry, to both of you."

Gal swings past the bar and purchases four drinks for his table by way of apology for the delay, plus an extra two for Vasco and the Droplet to apologize for the interruption.

As he sits, he takes a glance around the establishment, making sure all of his companions are present and accounted for. He then notices the food and quickly begins eating, calling out, "Delicious!" when Vasily and his wife are near enough to hear.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Vasco is impressed by the show of magic. It's a trivial one, sure, but more than he could do--he'd dropped both Principles of Invocation and Introduction to Figments before he learned anything useful in either class, and had managed to pass the Evocation and Illusion sections of the comprehensive end-of-semester exams only through some last-minute cramming the night before.

Before he can ask about the belt "wanting" anything, Galion makes his appearance, giving Vasco another piece of the puzzle. He raises an eyebrow once Galion heads back to his own table and asks, "A 'storied individual', huh? I figured there was more to a stranger talking in riddles in an out-of-the-way inn than there appeared to be," he says like, making sure to indicate with his tone that he didn't intend the "talking in riddles" part as an accusation. "I don't know many kinsmen whose reputation follows them out of the islands, so that's a story I'd love to hear." He glances down at the belt. "And the one about the belt smart enough to be worried about thieves. So if you would be so kind as to, er, 'reveal yourself to me', please?" he says, feeling a little silly about talking to an object that may or may not be intelligent.

[Schismatic]

"Cheers!" She beamed. "I'm Mardu, by the way!" She greeted, lifting her cup and producing a 20GP worth of gems.

"Oh, I need to converse with my associates a bit. We're planning an expedition for the Academy. If you could deliver a new bottle to that table over there with some lamb cutlets, that would be fantastic!" She beamed before signalling her departure. Proceeding towards the rest of the party.

[heretic]

Galion

They push your winnings to your side of the table as you excuse yourself. Over at the bar, the Lakeman is deep in conversation with Vasco. When you introduce yourself, he flashes a winning grim and shakes your hand. “Galion. You can call me Cam.” He returns to his conversation with Vasco, lifting his cup in salute after realizing you’ve bought one for him.

Vasco

Cam rolls his eyes in a self-deprecating way when you allude to his reputation. “I’m afraid it’s my father who’s the storied one, but I get caught up in half the tales anyway. But make no mistake, by the time I’m finished, it will be the other way around.” He hooks his fingers beneath his belt buckle, aiming it upwards a bit. “As for the belt, the words you need are these.” He lifts a hand and begins to cast.

Spoiler: DC 15 Spellcraft check (the casting is noticeable to all)

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Detect Magic

After finishing his spell, he sizes up the room, his eyes lingering on each of the four party members in turn.

Mardu

Sydra’s eyes go wide with amazement when she sees the gems. “Oh my, you are so generous! Vasily, go get the wine!” She hurries back to the cellar to search out some salted mutton while shouting commands over her shoulder to her husband.

Soon enough you have yourself some seared lamb to go along with the duck, as well as a bottle of Sindarean pear wine, which is not the worst vintage.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Vasco gives Cam an encouraging smile. "As a man with some lofty ambitions myself--though, I'm sure, not as much power to achieve them as you have, at least for now--I wish you luck in making a name for yourself."

As his kinsman casts a spell, Vasco starts in surprise, then looks around the room to judge the other occupants' reaction. "Huh," he muses as no one seems to react poorly, "I'd have expected casting spells in public around here would be, y'know, rude, or dangerous if someone thinks you're casting something harmful. I haven't really gotten out much in the past few years, so I figured better to pass up a catch than be caught in a storm, right? But if people won't mind...." He casts his own spell of detection, one he'd learned through his, ahem, independent necromantic studies, the hand movements coming much more quickly and easily than the formal style he'd learned in class.

Once finished, he trains his sight on the belt and tries to identify the colors and patterns in the aura around it--and to discreetly examine Cam for auras while the other Lakeman is examining his compatriots.

Spoiler

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Vasco will take 10 on his Spellcraft check to ID Cam's spell, and on the Spellcraft checks to identify the school(s) of the belt's magic.

[JBarca]

Galion, his curiosity satisfied, is content to gamble and make small talk with his new friends. He tries to pay some attention to the conversations going on around him, but his main focus until weariness overtakes him is the game in front of him.

[Schismatic]

She sat herself down and poured herself an aperitif before eating her meal. Sipping the wine softly before digging in. She'd offer the wine and cuts of mutton if anybody desired a bite, her eyes drifted across the room. Mercenaries, and more. She now understood why this place existed ostensibly in the middle of nowhere.

[heretic]

Everyone

OOC: Are we ready to progress to morning and the road ahead? If you’d like any further interactions with the Yurans/Cam aside from goodbyes in reply to this post, please let me know. Same for any particular sleeping/security precautions. Right now I'm assuming you're taking separate rooms on the third floor and sleeping in the bed through the night.

Vasco

You feel a slight rush as you complete the spell, as if a blast of cool wind just hit you in the face. This happens sometimes when you’re agitated or when there’s a lot of magic around. You almost forget about the belt, because there’s so much else going on in the common room. Auras of magic, each one like halo around a bright light viewed through glass, shine from well over a dozen places in the room—half the Yuran swords, at least three suits of armor, a number of small vials you didn't notice earlier, a pair of boots, and a number of other odds and ends, all in addition to a few auras coming from your own party members. Of the auras, the strongest come from Cam himself, the blue-eyed Yuran’s sword, and the Yuran with the white ponytail.

As the initial jolt of the spell fades, you start to see the fine threads orbiting each of the auras. After a bit of study, you manage to identify some of them. For the most part, they’re in the category you’ve been taught to classify as “faint”—you sense mostly evocation and transmutation from the arms and armor, and conjuration and transmutation from the potions, although there are a few that escape you. The most powerful one comes from the blue-eyed Yuran’s sword. It’s a long-handled, curved blade sheathed across his back, with a sharkskin-wrapped grip and gold-inlaid disc guard. Fine threads of magic orbit about it, sometimes black, sometimes red or blue. They linger just long enough for you to identify it as evocation magic, which is not your strong suit. Besides him and Cam, the only other aura of moderate power comes from the white-haired Yuran’s ring, which glimmers with threads of abjuration.

Cam himself is surrounded by a steady divination aura of moderate strength—an active spell, but one whose specifics elude you—while the aura of the cantrip he cast dissipates before you can even find its school. He is otherwise without magic, although you do sense that he has a lead-lined sleeve that hangs from his belt and lines a wide pocket in his trousers. He slaps the gold buckle on his waist and gives you a mischievous grin. “Sometimes a belt is just a belt, my friend.”

Spoiler: OOC: Spellcraft

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This reflects Spellcraft checks to identify schools of magic for the auras, as well as a separate Spellcraft check to identify the active spell on Cam.

Galion

You manage to win another 50 silver pieces off of the Yurans before they desist. Things seem to be winding down in the common room now, as some of the Yurans have gone up the stairs to bed and the innkeepers are puttering about lighting lanterns and the hearth.

Spoiler: OOC:Gambling

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I'm extending your roll result over two more hours, and rounding, to get this figure.

Mardu

The room begins to thin out. Soon enough, even Galion is alone at his table. The islander remains engaged in conversation with Vasco, though they seem to be wrapping up. It did not escape your notice that both of them cast a magic-detective cantrip a while back.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

Vasco returns Cam's grin. "Can't exactly blame a man for his curiosity when you're walking around with a small fortune around your waist, can you?" He's disappointed that the belt doesn't, in fact, bear any necromantic enchantments that he could ask for a chance to study, but it was somewhat of a long shot anyway, and he can certainly appreciate a good prank in any case.

He whiles away the rest of the evening in conversation, first catching up with recent events in the Sweetsea (or at least things that had happened after Vasco left and before Cam had) and then trading tales of adventures they'd had and treasures they'd unearthed (while, of course, glossing over the details of his own tales and neglecting to mention the "illegal tomb-breaking" part). Soon enough Vasco finds himself beginning to yawn, so after thanking Cam for the enjoyable evening and extending him an invitation to visit the Academy if he's ever in the area, Vasco excuses himself and heads up to bed. He finds himself yawning even more as he goes through his usual evening routine, and he ends up fast asleep soon after his head hits the pillow.

Spoiler: OOC

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Yep, I'm ready to move things along. He'll cast an alarm on his room just in case, but that's it.

[JBarca]

With a yawn, Galion collects his most recent winnings as the others being to leave.

"Well, long day of travel ahead, I understand. Thanks for playing, it's been fun to pass the time."

He extends a hand to each of his competitors, smiling politely. He is careful to avoid looking at or counting his winnings or in any way indicate that the money was the important part of the interaction. He wants to part on good terms.

The Sorcerer makes his way over to Rosa to let her know he's headed to bed, then does one last scan of the room to ensure everyone seems comfortable. Noting Mardu seems to have an eye on things, Galion throws her a nod. Satisfied, he makes his way to a room and rests.

Spoiler: OoC

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I'm good with moving forward, no rush for those who have things they're still doing.