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Gwen smiles and at the trader Fimble is talking to then scans the crowd looking for anyone that looks more desperate then for the aid of protection. Perhaps someone that looks especially unable to handle themselves in a fight or is trying to barter for protection still.
The merchant smirks a bit when the monk arrives, as if stifling a chuckle.
"Six o' ya. Most o' ya' short 'n slow." The merchant ducks under the neck of the horse and comes around to the other side. You can see by the merchant's gait, that she's a haggard old wench, with mottled and leathery skin that is wrinkled and sun dried, yet she doesn't appear to be frail. In fact, the years have made her tough. She scrutinizes you two from under her hat, which obscures just enough of her features to make it impossible to see above her nose. "It's 150 miles to Luskan. With yer little legs, it's gonna take a week t'get there."
She stands up straight after looking the two of you up and down, and you hear a nasty cracking sound in her ankles. Then she begins counting on her fingers. "An' there's too many of ya. I can't pay ya' enough ta make it worth yer effort. I norm'ly pay a silver a day per head fer mounted guards. But since yer slowin' me down, I'll pay ya' 5 silver a head. Provide yer own meals 'n tents."
Roll Sense Motive Checks
POSTING FOR MISSMVICIOUS:
"Good idea Gordid. Oscar can come with me to try to hustle up some business, and you can try to get in good with the guild. One way or the other, we'll get work." Gwen nudges Oscar with her elbow. "I think I've found our man, right there." She points to a portly gentlemen who has just finished talking to a well-to-do merchant who appears to have shunned him.
"I've been to Luskan many times with my family. If we ever found guards for such a low cost we would be rich enough to rule in Waterdeep... And it is at least 9 days to Luskan unless you are leaving your wagon here..." Says Felix deep in thoughts, then he focuses on the merchant and adds "Would you like to reconsider your offer?"
Spoiler
Profession check (1d20+3)[7]
__________________
“No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style.”
― Steven Brust
“Plan. Yes. Good idea. I should come up with a plan.”
― Steven Brust, Dzur
(Felix has good reason to believe that the group should be paid 4-5 gold per head for this trip based on that profession check.)
The old woman's head snaps toward Felix as he talks. Then she takes a moment to re-evaluate him.
"Waterdeep Lynns..." she sniffs and thinks about the name, trying to recall where she last heard it from.
"Alright. I can tell yer not new at this after all. But I still can't pay ya much. I'll give ya three gold a head. And I'll let other merchants piggy back if ya wanna catch a second bid. Guild merchants git t' leave first. Once they're gone, the rest 'f us try to find our own means of protection and travel. Some of em might even pay ya some money to tag along with me now that I'm guarded. But be discreet about it. I'm not interested in rufflin' the feathers of the guild."
Gordid takes more time than he oribionally planned and makes himself a magnificently braided beard, then finally approaches the guildsmen and gives a respectful bow to the dwarf. "Hail kinsman. Aye be Gordid Swordbreaker of the Whisperin' Stone Monastery in the distant mountains of World's Spine. Me friends and meself are looking fer work and it dawned upon me that we should seek work from the guild. Do ya have any openings fer six eager adventurers? Me companions include a pair o' paladins, two casters of the arcane, and a monk."
Spoiler
Diplomacy check to see if I can give a good enough introduction (1d20-1)[8]
Beard is like this
__________________
"But Iron - Cold Iron - Is Master Of Them All"
Having no idea of how bartering works or even what's good or bad economically (he paid double for the boat-ride), Fimble turns Felix around by the shoulder and whispers in his ear:
"Is this a good offer? And is it true about the other merchant's? To be honest, I just wanna get going, but I don't want you to be cheated."
__________________
Spoiler
"Players may blunder through dialog with shocking ineptitude, forget the name of the country they are in, or get confused about which side they are on, but once it comes time to roll for initiative they all turn into Sun Tzu." -Shamus Young
"For the protection from the group like ours you should pay at least five gold per head. Even more is we were to protect more of you. And I would say that the food should be provided too... nobody likes hungry guards on duty..."
__________________
“No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style.”
― Steven Brust
“Plan. Yes. Good idea. I should come up with a plan.”
― Steven Brust, Dzur
"Welcome brother, Gordid Swordbreaker!" Also "Good fortune to you kisnman, Gordid Swordbreaker!"
"Eet's good tae see anodar kinsman! Oy be Bazbin Strakeln, oof da Gate o' Oiron Moines."
He extends a hand in friendship after his traditional greeting. His thick and unusual accent is hard, even for a dwarf, to decipher, but you recognize it as coming from the desert mountains far southeast of here.
"Ye came o bit late, oim afrayd. Most o'da beest work goon oot ainreadeh." He scratches his beard a bit. "Bu' oim not fer turnin' me own blood away empteh-'anded. Gragory! War be da gnome aboot? Get dem pehppers 'ere."
He looks to the human as he asks the question, who seems to be comfortable with the dwarf's accent, and turns sharply on his heels claps his hands twice and calls out for someone named "Fnipper." Shortly thereafter, a small, silk-clad gnome scurries up to the human with an inquisitive face. "Papers." he barks to the gnome. "For six." The gnome bows and fumbles through his scroll case and produces a long scroll.
"Will that be all, Master Gregory?" The gnome inquires in a pompous, nasally voice.
"At's da ting." Bazbin replies as he snatches the scroll from the gnomes hand. "Git yer friends tae coom op'ere, lad. 'Oil draw up da pehppers. Yoo'n'yers follow da gnome back tae da guild hall. Tellem oi sent ya. But be quick aboo'it!"
"Well," the Gnome says, turning to you. "As soon as you're ready, then."
Felix and Fimble:
Spoiler
The old woman looks devastated.
"You'd drive an old woman to the poorhouse like that? Four gold a head and not a copper more. I'll cover yer meals and rooms, but I ain't payin' for anything fancy."
Diplomacy: (1d20-1)[8]
Gordid slaps Bazbin on the shoulder in gratitude and then calls over to his fellow adventurers. "Oy! I got us sum papurs fer tha guild. Aye plan ta go fill 'em out. Yer free ta come as well but be quick 'bout it." He turns to the gnome and motions for him to proceed, expecting the others to follow if they want.
__________________
"But Iron - Cold Iron - Is Master Of Them All"
Oscar surveys the portly gentlemen, taking a moment to get a sense of the man's station. As Gordid returns with news of official papers, Oscar eyes drift over to Felix and Fimble. Felix seemed to be in the process of haggling with a merchant, "Well at least opportunities abound in the caravan trade. Ms.Gwen do you still wish to negotiate with the rotund fellow?"
Spoiler
Sorry for delays, I've had quite a busy weekend/week. I'll be switching to email subscriptions to keep up with the thread. Here are some rolls, if they are still applicable.
Here is the standard sense motive, with a focus on the portly man's desperation for guards. (1d20)[18] Sense Motive
I want to use a profession gentlmen check (1d20+1)[17]
and a craft check (1d20+5)[6]
To see if Oscar can recognize whether the man appears to be wealthy and possible his station.
"I think we'd do fine enough on our own, but if it's the will of the group, I'll go. Lead the way Oscar. If it doesn't work out with Gordid, then Felix at least has one on a hook."
You all follow Gordid who is following the Gnome back to the Guild Hall. It's a wide, low, opulent tower with thick granite walls , etched and carved with runes off all kinds of languages. Statues and embossed faces of legendary heroes adorn alcoves along the outer wall. The massive main chamber doors are thick and reinforced with iron, and when you enter it, you since a tingle in your brain as is you were just groggily waking up from a dream.
(The effect is harmless, but you are welcome to roll a Will Save.)
All around you, the main chamber is adorned with embossed names of those who have served in the guild. You can see Sir Grim's name in there over a towering statue of him, though the likeness is much younger, slimmer and sporting an enormous axe in one hand.
The gnome sits down at a large mahogany desk and dips a quill in an ink well. The quill then hops up and begins scribbling onto some parchment.
"Hmm... let's start with your names, shall we? Please introduce yourselves."
Fimble whistles slightly as he enters the large hall and at the gnome's mention of his name, he clears his throat.
"Fimble Doublebat Scrimnoodle, paladin and squire of the Blackwing Templar Order." He smiles at the other gnome, "it is always good to see kin. What is your name, may I enquire?"
__________________
Spoiler
"Players may blunder through dialog with shocking ineptitude, forget the name of the country they are in, or get confused about which side they are on, but once it comes time to roll for initiative they all turn into Sun Tzu." -Shamus Young
Oscar had managed to compose himself but couldn't help but give a small whistle at the building's design. Powerful architecture for powerful men Oscar thought, as his hand traced some of the more ornate languages. Taking a moment to amuse himself, Oscar carefully looks over the etchings seeing what languages were familiar to him as strolled around the chamber. He interrupted his stroll briefly to get a good look at Sir Grim's statue. While the statue was the very incarnation of ferocity, Oscar had a slight chuckle at the expense of any suitors that sought ms. Giselda.
As the gnome abruptly asked for their names, Oscar frowns slightly as he says, "My name is Oscar Arceneau, with E-A-U, and you are?"
Spoiler
I have a hefty amount of known languages, do I spot any familiar ones on the wall with some interesting sayings. I'll edit in a list of known languages later.
As the quill continues it's scribbling, you see that the Gnome is still just standing and staring at each of you, as if studying your mannerisms while you talk. In fact, he doesn't seem to be very interested in your names at all...
POSTING FOR MISSM: (She'll be back in town on Monday. I will definitely not be posting on Monday. I might not post on Tuesday, either. I'm going through wife withdrawals, and I'm gonna be spending time with her.)
"What are we... in school here? How about you give me your name first."
The Gnome gives Gwen a condescending look, but says nothing.
"Gwen... bug-eyed, rat-faced, little pipsqueak." Gwen mutters with a pout after several awkward seconds of silence.
The gnome doesn't even flinch at the insult, but instead turns to Gordid and Felix expectantly.
"Gordid Swordbreaker of the Whisperin' Stone Monastery in the distant mountains of World's Spine." He speaks his name loudly and almost bellows it, so all in earshot would pause at least to glance at the boisterous dwarf. If there was nothing else, people would know he was here, he'd be sure of that.
__________________
"But Iron - Cold Iron - Is Master Of Them All"
The gnome looks at you for a moment more, waiting for the quill to finish scribbling, then gives an approving nod. He looks over at the writing the quill has left behind and puts on some tiny spectacles.
"Hmm... odd. Mister Swordbreaker doesn't look like a monk to me, but you clearly aren't lying about it. Also, it would appear that you are all rather new at adventuring as well. A pity... we have need for experienced work to escort a merchant into Neverwinter Wood. Not to worry, I have many types of work for many different skill levels."
He pulls out a huge stack of parchment while he continues speaking. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Baeruran-faer "Fnipper" Folkor, Keeper of the Living Sapphire, and Guardian of the Ice Tree." As if that explained everything, he snaps his hand up militantly, clutching a stack of papers.
"Do you understand what a Geas is?" He looks at you collectively like a teacher giving a lecture. "It's a magical contract, of sorts. By signing this contract, you agree to finish the quest you are assigned, and are magically bound to follow the specific details of the quest you agree to undertake. This assures the quality of those who represents the guild, because guild members never desert, but it also helps us to fetch a higher price from discerning investors. When you sign a contract, you are accepting a Geas. So, don't sign unless you are certain you want the work.
A word about the guild itself. We are a rapidly growing and expanding organization which provides the elite services of bold adventurers for a nominal fee. To join the guild, you agree to a few simple terms:
10% of all your earnings from each Geas go to the guild as a finder's fee. We collect that before you're paid.
10% of all treasure found on your quest becomes property of the guild.
You agree not to take contracts, within guild territories, that aren't guild approved.
You will make no attempt to harm or hinder the motives or efforts of a guild lord or guildmaster, such as myself.
You can recognize them by their uniform and by this tattoo." He opens his shirt a bit to reveal an elaborate tattoo on his chest with strange runes on it. "Only guildmasters and guild lords possess such a mark, but if you suspect an impostor, casting detect magic will reveal the truth. Our tattoos possess powerful magics within its seal."
"Anyway," he says as he buttons up his shirt, "in return, we supply you with a steady flow of work, fair trade on treasure items, access to our guild shops, and a guild badge which, in areas where our influence is strong, can award you certain privileges in towns that you would not have enjoyed before. Please sign these forms accepting the terms I have just mentioned." He hands each of you a guild Terms of Acceptance Contract. "We sort work by requested alignment, anticipated difficulty and monetary award, and by sorting it this way, we can limit the work we give you to challenges we believe you can handle. I see that you are all 'non evil'" he puts that in finger quotes, "which keeps your options open much wider. Let... me see. Beginners as well..." He puts about 3/4 of the stack of contracts aside and begins thumbing through the thinner stack. "Most of our armed escort work is gone, which is perfect for first timers. But we have a few caravans that we can lump together. You can escort the entire group to Luskan, at which point, the alchemist merchants are going to Mirabar and the rest are heading on to Ten Towns. I also have a caravan heading south to Waterdeep. I also have this one... it's high risk for your skill level, but a family of aristocrats are taking a shortcut to Silverymoon by way of Triboar. And then we have some local work, which may be of some interest to you." He rolls out a scroll revealing a list of smaller requests from the guards. "The pay for the local work isn't very good, usually but the missions are over quickly enough."
Quote:
Escort to Luskan: 50 gp plus expenses
Escort from Luskan to Mirabar: 50 gp plus expenses
Escort from Luskan to Ten Towns: 70 gp plus expenses
Escort to Waterdeep: 100 gp plus expenses
Escort to Triboar: 200 gp plus expenses
Most local work ranges from 5 gp to 20 gp. One in Beggar's Nest is going for 100 gp.
Fimble accepts a document and scribbles his signature on it, with unpractised clumsiness.
"Sounds like a fine deal to me. I will, however, need full disclosure on any geas I participate in beforehand. I follow tenets that cannot be wavered from.
Oh, and I believe we were quite set on the trip to Luskan, that was still an option, correct?"
__________________
Spoiler
"Players may blunder through dialog with shocking ineptitude, forget the name of the country they are in, or get confused about which side they are on, but once it comes time to roll for initiative they all turn into Sun Tzu." -Shamus Young
Felix reads the document carefully, muttering under his breath "I've never thought I would become an mercenary... although it sounds reasonable..." and signs it with a precision of a monk who spent a lot of time helping with rewriting the books.
"Yes, I think the escort to Luskan is what we would like to take care for now. I assume there is a Guild branch over there too, am I right?"
__________________
“No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style.”
― Steven Brust
“Plan. Yes. Good idea. I should come up with a plan.”
― Steven Brust, Dzur
He looks over the papers, pretending he understands them. He takes the quill and scribbles the only thing he really knows which is his name in dwarven runes. He nods hearing the others, "Luskan sounds best fer us. We can fo frum thar."
__________________
"But Iron - Cold Iron - Is Master Of Them All"
Oscar watches with a careful eye as his fellow adventures accept the terms proposed by the gnome. When it came to his turn, Oscar locks eyes with the gnome before saying,
"I have a few questions before I agree to sign the document. First is on the nature of the geas. I am familiar with this particular spell, it was a quite an effective educational tool for encouraging less diligent students to study. Is the effect of these bewitched contracts exactly the same as the spell or modified in some form or fashion?"
He cast a suspicious eye at the Terms of Acceptance Contract, "Are we assured that the presented contract is not similarly enchanted? Perhaps my most pressing question is in relation to the 4th term in the acceptance contract and with the statement that we," and with finger quotes, "are not-evil which broadens the possibilities for work, seems to imply that you in fact allow those of lesser moral character to represent you in an official capacity...Now this only becomes a serious issue if that" and with finger quotes, "non-good member also happens to be a guildmaster or lord, particularly for my companion Fimble."
Turning to Fimble Oscar says, "While I won't claim to fully understand how you paladins work, I do understand that you are bound to keep your oaths correct? Furthermore I happen to know that you must also not consort with those of the "non-good" persuasion least you anger your divine patron. Let me present this hypothetical situation for your consideration, A guildlord orders you to commit a heinous deed or the guildlord plans to commit a heinous action. You now have given your word to not interfere with guildlord's efforts, which would mean you let an evil act be committed willingly. Conversely, if you chose to act against him, you would be breaking an oath...risking some form of divine retribution.."
He turns back to the gnome, "As such my final questions are, do these contracts, both magical and mundane, exist in perpetuity? What is the protocol for withdrawing from guild membership? Finally in the event that a geas becomes impossible to complete, what occurs?"
Fimble looks shocked at Oscar after hearing his explanation.
"What? I, I never thought of that." Fimble waves his contract angrily at the gnome. "I won't be tricked into supporting some evil warlord, I'll tell you that, gnome or not!"
__________________
Spoiler
"Players may blunder through dialog with shocking ineptitude, forget the name of the country they are in, or get confused about which side they are on, but once it comes time to roll for initiative they all turn into Sun Tzu." -Shamus Young
Fnipper listens to you patiently. "Yes, if you studied at a school, then you are most likely quite familiar with the nature of the geas that we use. Though most students will only be subjected to a Lesser Geas. A Geas can be much worse for you if you are not diligent in your pursuit," then waits for your next question.
He smirks a bit at your next statement. "Due to the nature of the terms in the contract, we cannot enchant it with a geas spell. However, since you also cannot lie in these chambers, it's unlikely that you can even sign that contract without honest intent to do so. The primary nature of the Terms of Acceptance Contract is to give us legal liberty to handle breaches of contract without too much legal or government interference. Our quality control is highly regarded among many northern kingdoms. And as for the... moral quality of our guild masters and guild lords, let that be a matter for gods and judges. I can assure you that all our guildmasters and guild lords are highly regarded by the states and nations in which they abide. However, what is defined as evil in one nation is not necessarily defined as evil in another. Did you know that there is an entire city populated by thieves? There is another nation where it is legal to assassinate someone as long as you belong to an assassin's guild. Would you consider assassins and thieves to be evil? Some might, but in their cultures, they are just hard-working citizens, doing their best to provide for their families."
He listens to you consult with Fimble, then adjusts his spectacles when you address him.
"The nature of a geas is simple enough. If the geas is impossible to complete, the spell simply wears off after a certain amount of time. That's why the Terms of Acceptance Contract cannot be enchanted with a geas; it has no end. However, if you wish to terminate your association with the guild, simply submit a request at the nearest guild site. If approved, your contract will be destroyed and you'll be released of your obligations to the guild. However, there is no obligations to take the jobs we offer. You simply aren't allowed to take contracts that aren't offered be the guild. Therefore, if you wish to retire from adventuring, simply stop going on adventures."
Fnipper turns to Fimble with a raised eyebrow and open mouth... a bit shocked by his outburst. "I'm not tricking you. This entire chamber is a zone of truth. I can't lie. Not only that, but the more I say, the more that quill reveals about me. It's no easy feat to deceive someone in this guild hall," he says as he points to the quill scribbling into the book. "That's why we interview new recruits here."
POSTING FOR MISSMVICIOUS:
"I think I'll take my chances on my own. Thanks for the offer, but I go where my spirit carries me, and I don't like the idea of signing a geas that determines where I go and what I do."
With that, she gives Fimble a warm hug. "I hope to see you guys around some time. Perhaps we'll meet up in Luskan." She waves goodbye to everyone else, eager to catch up to that merchant she found.
Fimble is on the rack with emotion by the sudden farewell and the stress of the situation.
"But miss Gwen. Couldn't we sort something out? You don't have to work on contract to work with us! And I'd hate to see you go."
Fimble hugs back and holds her tightly before letting her slip out.
"This is all a bit much for me, but if you say it's good, Oscar, I'll take your word for it."
__________________
Spoiler
"Players may blunder through dialog with shocking ineptitude, forget the name of the country they are in, or get confused about which side they are on, but once it comes time to roll for initiative they all turn into Sun Tzu." -Shamus Young
Oscar had listened carefully to Fnipper response to his questioning. I'm not entirely sure on the nature of a true geas...I imagine that would have been a topic of Professor Brandin of the Isles lectures in his Enchantment course... As the knowledgable Fnipper continued his response, Oscar eye twitched involuntarily as he pointed out the relativity of what is considered good and evil. When Fnipper had finished his response Oscar thought to himself, First thing is first, let us see if in fact this is a zone of truth. His hands flatten out a small wrinkle on his shirt as he peers down at Fimble and says, "Fimble is a very t-mghgng" The phrase cut short as his tongue cements to the roof of his mouth. His eyes close briefly at his unsightly appearance, and with a mighty swallow, behind a hand of course, he dislodges his tongue.
"While I do question the veracity of a relativistic morality, I will admit that the established procedures for leaving the guild are acceptable. I will also concede on the limitations of the geas and that the logic of using an established contract to circumvent legal and governmental interference is sound. Furthermore, as I have...demonstrated, a magical compulsion to speak only truths is indeed present..." He stops for a moment as he considers possible loop holes or subtle truths, and eventually he turns to Fimble and says, "Fimble, seeking my council on this matter places me in a rather precarious position...The responsbility of my own decision is light enough for me to bear, but the responsbility of anothers' decision is a millstone to the spirit. I do not take such matters lightly. At the moment with the best of my faculties, I have found no inherit deceit in Mr.Fnipper responses. In fact, his statements seem to be the most simple and elegant methods in dealing with an organization such as this. So," He takes his own paper, and with much flourish scrawls his own flamboyant signature on the contract. "I endorse this organization" and with a smirk, "Pardoning the pun of course."
At Miss Gwen annoucement of her depature, Oscar bows his head, "It has been a pleasure Miss Gwen, and I do hope our paths cross again. Until they do, I wish you safe travels in your journey."
After exchanging sentiments with Fimble and Oscar, Gwen offers a bright smile to Felix for the cookies and hugs hims as well. "I love cookies! You're the best group I've travelled with yet! Thanks again for all the memories. I hope to see you soon. But if I'm going to catch that merchant, I have to run," With that, she bounds out the door to catch the merchant.
Fnipper scowls darkly at Gwen as she leaves and adjusts his spectacles again, but says nothing during her departure.
"Am-hem...." he clears his throat as he thumbs through the contracts. "You mentioned an interest in going to Luskan. Here is a contract going to Luskan. It's a large group, and will require a fairly large group to guard it. 50 gp go to the team that guards them all the way to Luskan.
"Common threats en route to Luskan include goblins, orcs, yeti, and barbarians, though natural dangers exist as well. I recommend warm clothing for your travels. There are very few provisions for shelter on the way to Luskan, but the merchants have plans to stop off Port Llast, about 25 miles into your trip and at the Midway Inn, about 75 miles into your trip, during their itinerary. The Midway Inn will be your last civilized post on your trip, so if you are low on provisions by then, you will want to purchase what you need there. Beware, Midway Inn has been known to overcharge northbound travelers, so it's advisable that you get what you need here at the guild hall or at Port Llast. The guild requires that its clients provide an expense account for adventurers when traveling for longer than a day, to which you are allowed access, on your honor. Do not abuse this privilege. Proof that you can stay within budget will raise your credibility, and therefore increase your expense account. It will take a week and a half to reach your destination, and you are each allotted 20 gp to cover expenses. If you wish to combine your individual expense accounts into one large expense account, I can arrange that for you as well."
He sets the contract down on the desk and places a quill and inkwell down next to it. "If you agree to the terms, please sign here. The geas is completed when all the merchants listed in the contract are brought safely to Luskan. The geas, of course, has a provision for natural death. If any of the registered merchats should die from health complications, their remains are to be brought to Luskan for proper burial. This is a standard stipulation for all guardian contracts."
With that, Fnipper stands there, calmly waiting for a response. If he weren't obviously flesh and bone, one would swear he was a statue. It's remarkable how unlike a gnome he is, except in appearance and manner of dress.
"Well..." Fimble says, rubbing his hands together. "This all sounds very exciting. And reasonable. Oscar, thank you for your words, I know it's a lot to ask for, but I trust you."
Fimble looks over the contract and if it all looks in order, and the others seem to agree on the course of action, he will sign it.
"And I vote for shared provisions, it makes sense, I think.
When do we leave?"
__________________
Spoiler
"Players may blunder through dialog with shocking ineptitude, forget the name of the country they are in, or get confused about which side they are on, but once it comes time to roll for initiative they all turn into Sun Tzu." -Shamus Young
"Mounts? Bah! No mangy beast be carryin' me. Aye can keep pace wi'out one. Le's get food and drink and get goin'. Me axe needs a wee bit of sharpenin'." He chuckles haphazardly signing the document and sniffing, running his tumb along the side of his axe's blade head boredly.
__________________
"But Iron - Cold Iron - Is Master Of Them All"
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