Renew the Pact: Time of our Lives, part 2
Log Info
- Title: Renew the Pact: Time of our Lives, part 2
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Paenitia, Aryia, Seyardu, Fallon, Lyme
- Place: Goldcoast of Veyshan,Tashraan
- Time: Friday, June 04, 2021, 9:12 PM
- Summary: A bunch of Alexandrian adventurers step into a bar and run smack into a bunch of Charnese merchants and their mercenaries. Paenitia yaps at them like an enormous dog. They laugh at her and go back to their meals. Seyardu arranges rooms while Paenitia and Lyme share a few drinks 'with the enemy' and swap stories. The night passes uneventfully, if with some tension. In the morning, the party divides into two groups, which Fallon will both shadow, to venture into the market and observe bidding behaviour. Paenitia and Lyme watch an exchange over a rust monster, with the little knight sacrificing one of her pole arms to it. Seyardu and Aryia are less successful, having located interesting targets but being unable to really overhear them or watch their process. Back at the inn, mission leader Farland is surprised by the last person he wants to see. High Priestess Akoniril Belvedae of Taara, of Charn.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-= Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Aryia 4'8" 110 Lb Shadow Elf Female A heavily scarred mul with a curious look about her. Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. Fallon 5'6" 145 Lb Half-Elf Male A short hooded man. Lyme 7'2" 435 Lb Orc Butch Black-skinned oruch of suitable stature -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Farland Friendly Gnome Male A sorcerer and a Resurrectionist, and a gentleman. Akorinil Belvade Shadow Elf Female Diplomatic Delegate, Priestess of Taara, Aristocrat -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Whirlpool Otyugh I am stinky! -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Previously
Farland pushes his way into the inn, whose sign is decorated with a great, dancing lady with snakes for hair. The Gorgon's Rest, they call it.
Fortunately, there's no medusa's inside. Rasther, a considerable number of Charnish merchants and sailors alongside a large number of mercenaries. And in walked the Alexandrians.
They all turn to look at you.
"Oh," says Farland.
"Bother."
Behind Farland is the even smaller figure of Paenitia, resplendent in her red clothes and rusty armour. A wide brimmed hat floating at waist height to a human, with a stylized grinning mask of a man's face on a body that is feminine, somewhere under all the armour if its shape is to be believed.
"Hola!" The Red Knight barks, loud and large like some wild breed of canine, perhaps even a gnoll, "there any Mad Dogs in the cantina?" <gnoll>
And then she laughs, giggling with an impish gleam in her eyes, one that shines through the holes in her mask as she turns it slowly to each and every one in front of her.
Aryia had no clue what Paenitia said, but she trusted her lead, and she walks in nonchalant with her hands in her pockets. Despite how much she wanted to glare down the Charnish folk.
Rocky is big. Mildly tall but Sith standards, not so midly wide, he makes a decent backdrop to the jabbering lutch. And gives a friendly smile.
Fallon just stares back at them. "So, um... nice weather we're having, yes?" He also has no clue what Paenitia said, but it sounds a lot more convincing.
Seyardu was clueless as to what was said, but she did not show it. She took a step back to beside the other sith'makar. Not nearly as imposing looking, but still armed and armored, with a smile of their own, and a wave to the building in general.
Silence grows as the two groups stare...
Now
The Gorgon's Rest. My God, it's full of Charn.
As the Red Knight barks and opens up in gnoll, the varied humans and others sort of stare. Perhaps most everyone here is unfamiliar with the language? One human woman, her face shrouded in her blond hair and black helmet, pauses and bursts out laughing.
Fallon's comment about the weather gets even more staring.
Everyone stares, and slowly ... very s l o w l y, they start to return to their meals, card games, and conversation.
Farland clears his throat, "Someone be a dear and talk to the half-elf behind the bar there and get our rooms, would they?"
Fallon doesn't seem too bothered about the staring -- he's kind of used to it. His attention goes to the half-elf instead, when Farland points them out, but he looks to the others expectantly to see if there were any other volunteers. It didn't seem like a daunting task, but he isn't sure if they've made a great first impression.
Seyardu was feeling even more out of place than usual in the new tavern. The request though snapped her out of whatever she was thinking at the time, and she nodded to their guide. "I'll see about getting rooms for everyone. Are there any requests about sleeping accomodations in that case? I am fine any way, though I do not know how many rooms we should book, or how we will stay the night."
Aryia gives a slightly nervous shrug. "I don't care, I just want to be in a room."" <Handspeech>
The Red Knight happily returns the stares. It's easy for her with a metal mask hiding all but her eyes. Her hat tilts up a little at the laughter, happy sounds are always good. As attention returns to conversations and meals, she picks focuses on the human with the blond hair and black helmet. The one who laughed first.
"I need a small room, to be alone." Paenitia tells Seyardu, and then crosses the floor to the human and looks up at her. "Hola comrade, I am Paenitia of the Mad Dogs. You have stories to share? I buy a round for each story if this interest you."
There's an unsettlingly loud, avian squawk outside which is far too deep for a normal bird. The Dark Lucht looks the silverscale's way again, "Also, the large stable stall for Ramirez. I will do the grooming."
Fallon sighs when the conversation turns to sleeping accommodations. "As long as there's a bed, I don't really care," the ranger admits. "I'm fine with bunking with Rocky if we want to save silver. We should ask if they even have rooms available, first."
GAME: Paenitia rolls diplomacy: (17)+7: 24 GAME: Seyardu rolls diplomacy: (12)+7: 19
Paenitia's offer of a round absolutely smoothes things over for her. They are immediately welcome to have a seat. Stories? Anyone can do a story for a round. That's simple enough, and immediately someone starts to share the tale of the time their trusty dog found a halfling who stole a magic ring. It was an unexpected journey around town.
Seyardu is, at least, able to swiftly procure rooms from the nervous looking woman. Keys are offered over. She glances into the crowd.
Alexandrians and Charn-mercs in the same room? She's counting her blessings that the brawl hasn't *already* started. No one has forgotten Charn's occupation of the great city, after all.
Lyme crosses his arms across his yrch-y chest, and looks around. He doesn't really like the vibes, but he keeps it to himself, just walking over to sit down next to Paenitia.
Paenitia is happy to act as a peacemaker, easily laughing and seeming at ease in the company of mercenaries. The fixed grin of her mask hides any doubtful expressions, there is only her cheerful voice to go by. She also makes little jokes here and there, "I enjoy the short stories, but you I think are good for the tall tales!"
She shares some of her own experiences fighting bot-flies and rats, self-deprecating tales that aren't likely to threaten or enrage, and seems always willing to buy another round if there's another story to go with it.
It's not her city and not her bar, but she manages to bring a little of the Lucht Siuil hospitality to the establishment. Hopefully long enough for everyone else to get situated in their rooms.
Aryia gets a key to a room, not wanting to stick around the main hall for too long. She harbored vitrol for Charn for different reasons, and waited for the party to retire.
Seyardu made sure everyone's needs were met. Paenitia would have her room and a place for Ramirez to bunk for the night, though next to the other rooms, and a few more for those nearby as well. She handed out the keys to everyone, before going upstairs to check them over.
Lyme palms his key, then nods to Paen'. He gets up, and heads for the given room. He claims a bed, checks it, then gets ready to settle in. He's not feeling social that night.
GAME: Paenitia rolls knowledge/local: (9)+9: 18 GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (6)+11: 17 GAME: Fallon rolls perception: (16)+10: 26 GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (15)+3: 18 GAME: Fallon rolls bluff: (15)+1: 16
Farland seems relieved when a brawl does not immediately break out.
With most everyone retiring to their room, it just leaves Paenitia to spend several hours swapping tales with the Charn-based mercenaries. They range in companies, interestingly enough, but thee's a lot of them, and most of them don't seem to care one whit for the acution you're supposed to be here. Above their pay grade. Seems, however, that they're all definitely recently employed and preparing for 'maneuvers'. Seems Charn is up to something, but nobody knows quite what. The mercs are getting paid and that's ultimately all they care about. However, more than a few of them were formerly in the employ of Alexandria.. and not anymore.
Fallon, on the other hand, circumspectly is able to keep an eye on the rooms the others have retired to. He can detect a certain air of tension in the inn. Nobody's sleeping easily in their rooms. Beds are shifted in restlessly. An excitement is in the air for whatever reason.
Morning will come early. This is predictable. That's what morning does.
The hours go well for Paenitia, she has a Lucht's ability to pack away food and drink and the experience of growing up in a tavern to pace herself by. She's attentive and jocular, careful not to push too much but still to get enough raucous ribbing in to establish herself as equal to the mercs, if a little on the crazy side. Although, aren't we all?
Tale-swapping done, she will check on Ramirez in his stable, brush him and pamper the hippogryph in the ways he expects. She also inspects for anything he may have inadvertantly picked up. She removes his saddle and the brace of weapons and leaves them in his stall, he'll protect them better than she would, and takes what she needs to bed.
Trusting Fallon's vigilance and her social efforts, she goes to sleep late and does so deeply. Sunlight on her face brings her round and she is quick to go through her morning ablutions and dress before venturing back down stairs.
Fallon puts off his sleep until well into the night, not -quite- trusting mercenaries who work for Charn for... reasons. Just a hunch. Nights aren't supposed to be filled with so much tension. Eventually he does retire, but what little slumber he does get isn't comfortable, so he wakes up even groggier than usual. First thing he does is double check his belongings, and use his comb to tame his bad case of bedhead. He steps out of his own to meet the others, likely the last to do so.
Aryia was quick to eat, and even quicker to go to bed. And even then, she didn't sleep well, waking up every half hour to stare at the dark. The sun rouses her, Aryia tiredly checking what little she had to her person: some coins, a compass, a potion, and a journal, before lumbering out of the room and timidly heading down to the main hall to try and find the others. The most effort put into her appearance was smoothing her mess of hair down with her fingers.
Seyardu retired to her room quickly once everyone had their rooms sorted, for evening prayer and to get sleep early, to wake up as soon the next day as she could. It wasn't until early the next day that she stepped out again, down to the main room. Certainly a bit different looking, or at least, shinier. Something they had applied to their scales made them brighter, and glitter a bit in the lights of the tavern, and the sunlight that came in.
Lyme opens his eyes. He must have drifted off. Slowly, he wakes up, checking to make sure everything is where he left it -- largely under his head, really.
Farland stumbles out of his bedroom as well in the morning to greet the rest of the party. He's dressed splendidly, of course, except for his hat. That's in his hand and looks a bit crumpled this morning. He seems to be studiously attempting to fix it without magic.
"Right. Auction is at sunset today. We have this time to poke around at the markets and see who the big spenders are today. A lot of the merchants and nobles make a big show of their spending prowess on days like this near enough to the auction site that as a way to ward off lesser spenders. The more frivilous and expensive the purchases, the more likely they're trying to send a message. I'd like all of us to work together to figure out who the big spdners are."
He looks between the lot of you.
"Do we all agree?"
"Sounds like a solid plan," Fallon replies to Farland, still trying to blink the sleep dust from his eyes. "I'll... watch people." That's what he does best.
Aryia keeps track of the things that were asked of them on each finger, her nodding along. And once that was done, she came to a conclusion.
These were all things she was absolutely horrible with. She'd need to stick with someone who could do this rather well so she could keep an eye out on things.
Plus one to team watching.
Lyme pauses for a moment. "O-ookay."
"Yes." Paenitia says, adjusting the brim of her hat, her eyes focused on how he holds and pulls on his own. "The watching will not be hard."
"Do you wish us to bid higher on the things they do, see how they spend? Or you wish us to try and sell them things?" The Red Knight's voice cheerfully lilts higher, "I am not the barterer that my mother is, and have nothing to sell. I hope you do not intend to ask I offer Ramirez or my friends for sale, ha ha!"
She laughs vigorously, then stops abruptly with a stare at Farland as if to say, not even as a ruse, or a jape. Do not speak it.
"I will try my best to understand what we are searching for in that case." The Sith'makar replied once she found an empty stool, or failing that, a chair that could be turned to sit in.
"So many of you softskins purchase things that seem frivolous to me, so I do not know how good of a gauge I can be, but I will try my best."
Aryia scowls at 'offer my friends for sale'. If someone offered to buy her, she'd probably need to be held back to not deck them in the mouth.
At talk of offering friends for sale, Farland just kind of stares at them like 'this is an offensive 'joke.
He doesn't say it out loud, but it's clear he's not even happy with that!
"Good. No need to bid on things. Just observe who gets into it, make a note of them and their description. If you can find out more about them quietly, do so."
Fallon rubs at his arm, stating, "I don't think any of us have the money to compete with these big wigs, anyway." He then squints at the rest of them. "Or at least *I* don't."
"Okay." Paenitia says cheerfully, "I do not have the coin for that, they dribble out of my pockets. We go alone, or in teams? If teams, one very noticeable and one not perhaps. All eyes will be on Ramirez and I. And you Seyardu, the sun, he is very bright off your scales today. You look marvelous. Eyes will be on you also."
"No one should be alone," says Farland, "but you don't all need to be together. You can cover more ground if you split up." Aryia nods in agreement with Farland.
Lyme nods curtly. "Who wants a friend? I promise to say little and look fierce."
Fallon blinks. "I'll just stalk one of you. Haven't chosen yet..."
"No, no selling anyone, or anything." She said firmly, not quite getting the joke. "But thank you, I was told keeping up appearances can be helpful when trying to deal with people. So I hope it will be helpful in some manner."
"Breakfast first, we can discuss these matters over food though. We will have a long day ahead of us most likely, and perhaps little time to rest once we head out."
Paenitia looks around, faces Seyardu, "Aryia is good in the fights, and you speak well. I think you a good team." She turns to Lyme next, "And you are the big to my small, we should go together also."
Finally, the little Lucht faces the ranger, "I think you best stalking after both the groups, if you do not decide either of us is best."
"But I agree. First we eat, then we do everything else! Old family saying."
Fallon shrugs to Paen's suggestion. "Sure, I can try," the ranger answers. "Mmm. Breakfast."
Aryia gives a thumbs up to the idea. Hopefully with Seyardu, they could get some information while she kept them safe.
Lyme nods once, curtly. "Okay, I can do that."
GAME: Aryia rolls Sense Motive: (3)+9: 12 GAME: Seyardu rolls Sense Motive: (8)+3: 11 GAME: Fallon rolls stealth: (11)+10: 21 GAME: Paenitia rolls sense motive: (10)+10: 20 GAME: Lyme rolls Sense Motive: (1)+3: 4 (EPIC FAIL)
And so a split is made and agreed on. Farland is eager to see it done, and sees you on your way.
After the departure, and long after the adventurers are out of ear shot, Farland sits down in a chair and orders himself a dainty cup of tea. He sips it.
"Ah, much better." Just then, a figure strides into the inn and drapes herself across the chair in front of him.
"Well, well, well," says a rich voice, "fancy meeting you here, Farland. A shame Griva herself couldn't come."
"Akorinil Belvade in Tashraan?" says Farland, without looking at her. "Fascinating."
MEANWHILE...
The adventurers are in the market, now, near the site of the later auction. Seyardu and Aryia are being observant. There's a lot of people here and a whole lot of bidding, but if we're honest, it's hard to tell which rich person is doing what Farland suggested and which rich person is just being ... rich.
Rich people are all alike, you know. There's the noble with the ridiculous hat with the gold tassels and the dark skin. There's the large, heavyset woman with the dour face, but the elegant dress and carriage and servants. She's shopping. A lot.
And then there's the modestly-dressed man who says he's a representative of the Convar Conveyance, a wealthy merchant company operating in Tashraan, and then there's the skinny fellow who doesn't say he's with anyone, but is flashing gold around like nobody's business while being exceptionally restrained with his garb. Who of them is worth watching for?
Meanwhile, Lyme and Paenitia are having a little better luck. They've identified a Lucht woman with a sour expression and a silken clothes who seems to be competing with a taller, bearded man over a caged animal: in this case, a rust monster. The cage is very wooden for obvious reasons. They seem to be trying to purchase it for someone's menagerie of Beasts. They're *definitely* both related to the auction, and seem to have a history.
Lyme is caught up in the spectacle of it all, and isn't doing so well with noticing things. Hey look, is that a rust monster! He's heard about those things!
Fallon does his best to keep track of the two groups. He's mindful that he doesn't look like he belongs here at all, but he's not particularly noteworthy, either. Surely the rich people are too busy with their own affairs to give him much notice. He takes an interest in the rust creature, too, but keeps his distance and remains but a curious observer. Let the talkers handle this.
Aryia has been bought and sold many a times. But she really didn't know what to look for. All the rich folk looked nearly identical to her: too much stuff on them that bordered on impracticality. Though, she kept mental notes, and did her best to not scowl at nearly everything and anything.
Paenitia is riding on Ramirez, which gives her a height and space advantage, and perhaps spotting another one of the Travelling Folk came with that. The Red Knight is very familiar with rust, as her armour and mask have a sun-baked patina on them and many of her pole arms have seen better days. One may be sacrificed for the cause.
"A rust monster! I have never seen one, ha!" She calls cheerfully, to attract the Sour Lucht's attention, "will he eat the bardiche? I have one, here. Make sure it is not sick."
She maneuvers the weapon, holding it near to see if the monster reacts.
Seyardu was lost, as she expected, she had trouble understanding the goings on of the numerous common folk she found herself around on the regular, let alone those with more money than others. All she knew is some of them where incredibly poor owners of horses. She tried her best though, and found a few who looked like they were either wealthy, or were spending a lot of money.
"I am sorry to say I have nothing. What do you make of it?" She asked Aryia as she found a wall to lean against, looking over some of the people she saw nearby.
It's not especially easy to track two groups in this market that is this size. Fallon's able to keep abreast of both of them for now but there's no telling how long that's going to last.
The sour-looking Lucht turns on Paen when the bardiche is spoken of and she considers a moment. "Assuming they let you, by all means, feed it the metal on a stick. I'm sure it'll approve."
"I suppose it could use a snack," says the elderly merchanmt with a shrug, seeming unconcened. "But if you hurt it, you'll hear from the guards."
He doesn't mean the city guards, either. He means the imposing looking legbreakers none too far away observing the lot of you. Armed guards are not uncommon either.
Meanwhile, Aryia and Seyardu are not having a lot of luck identifying for *sure* who amongst those presence is someone they need to keep an eye oin, so the end result is a lot of watching a lot of people, and it's all a big jumbled mess of who's who.
GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (6)+11: 17 GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (3)+3: 6 GAME: Fallon rolls bluff: (20)+1: 21 GAME: Paenitia rolls diplomacy: (16)+7: 23 GAME: Lyme rolls diplomacy: (13)+2: 15
Lyme looks at both the sour-Lucht and elderly merchant person in a manner meant to convey bland seriousness. Why would there be trouble, we're not trouble, you're trouble.
Aryia just shrugs at Seyardu's question with her hands raised above her. She joins in the leaning, just watching everyone go about business.
Paenitia looks dramatically from one guard to the other, laughing loudly, "Okay, as long as your guards do not mind hearing from Ramirez."
'Ruaaaah!' Ramirez squawks, in case a horse sized peacock with a beak like a scimitar and talons like daggers was somehow overlooked in the exchange. The merchant has big men, his mistress has the bigger man.
"Do not worry, I am good with the monsters." The Dark Lucht leans, extending her bardiche, the 'metal on a stick' as the sour Lucht termed it, close enough to the rust monster it could snack on it.
The Rust Monster is an orange colored, carapace-having quadraped with long antenna on its head. The antenna swish around and reach towards the bardiche's tip and, on contact with it, immediately rust it until its nothing more than fine dust that falls away from the wood. So much for that weapon.
On the other hand, Paen has a mighty fine stick now.
The sourfaced girl looks satisfied that it can do what's expected and and immediately launches into a fresh bidding war with her counterpart, who seems pleased as well. The price is going up, up, up, up.
This could go on a while. They're definitely making a show of it, and people *are* noticing. This is exactly what Farland described.
Fallon is able to slip thorugh the crowd to the other group while giving no indication of the groups links. In fact, if anything, the opposite seems to be true thanks to how smoothly he's done that.
Seyardu and Ayria, however, notice that the woman with the enormous dress seems to be speaking to the modestly-garbed man. This contrast is sharp enough to draw their attention -- but they're going to have to get closer to hear..
Fallon continues his unusually convincing lost tourist charade. Maybe it's because it's not -entirely- a lie? The universe may never truly know. He's taking mental notes on how the sour Lucht and the bearded man interact with each other -- maybe they can use that hostility to their advantage -- and the way they seem to regard Paenitia. His attention is drawn towards the second group, and the two strange rich people they've now spotted. One clearly being richer than the other. Is it eavesdropping time? He thinks so.
The Red Knight seems satisfied and bangs the end of her stick on the ground a few times to ensure it's finished rusting the blade off, and then she replaces it in the weapon candleabra attached to her saddle. Having 'paid in' to the fate of the rust monster, so to speak, she lingers to watch how it plays out. Her peacock-andalusian is backed up a few steps as well, she doesn't want to lose more things.
Lyme's presence is noted and ignored, best to pretend they're not connected. She relaxes into following the spectacle.
