Renew the Pact: Time of our Lives, part 4
Log Info
- Title: Renew the Pact: Time of our Lives, part 4
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Paenitia, Aryia, Seyardu, Fallon, Lyme
- Place: Goldcoast of Veyshan,Tashraan
- Time: Friday, June 18, 2021, 9:05 PM
- Summary: The adventurers, in fancy dress, head to the auction site, find a good place to wait. And wait. And wait some more and try not to fidget. The first item up is the Sword of Balance, until it isn't and everyone except Fallon swears it is and always was a Decanter. Next up is a music box that grows creeping thorns and vines when cranked. Next on the block is an ancient Veyshan spice holder, a Maugrimite religious icon, a set of blackened and twisted chains, a 'collection of fake prophecies written by He Who Hungers, a noted Caracorothian priest'. Followed by a twisted skeleton half-clad in flesh from the Fall of the Garnaks of Blar. Finally, Vumvet's famous text titled 'You're Enchanted to Meet Me', a noted enchanter who redefined magical progress for generations. This is the item they want, and the adventurers are assigned tasks. Aryia is to bid after anyone else, always raising the price and leaving things open for Farland to swoop in. Seyardu is sent to distract the well-dressed man, Fallon to deal with the stuffy over-dressed woman with the rust monster. Paenita decides to distract the goblin bidder by aggressively seducing him from on high. Lyme settles for looking absolutely fabulous and blocking the Auctioneer's view of a bidder. Things are going exceptionally well until the last second when Akoniril appears, and bids. Desperate from heat-stroke and feigned heart-break, Paenitia topples her tower and tackles the high priestess, wrapping her up in her long wig.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Previously
"We will begin bidding in five minutes, starting with the first item on our list: the Blade of Balance, a relic straight from the Demon Wars and held in private collection for over three centuries."
Aryia sits quietly, watching all the people roll in, set up, and flaunt. It all felt artifical, and detached. Then bidding started. By this point, sweat was dripping off her jaw. Yet she didn't move, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself.
What even was a Blade of Balance anyways? Aren't all blades supposed to be balanced? Just go to a smith, not hold an auction over one, duh.
"Wow," Fallon replies, feigning interest in the relic. Well, it -did- sound interesting, but also sounded like something he could not afford. His true interest lies in the reactions of the newcomers.
Paenitia watches the setup, the arrival of the various bidders. She keeps track of the Rust Monster, her shoes at least are mostly glass and something else, but not an affectable metal. "There is a story there I want to hear."
Lyme looks up in his best impression of suave style. A blade! Cool! He ruins it.
Seyardu sat, and tried to look engaged with the auction. But she mostly relied on the descriptions given, which were both extravagant, and completely lacking in useful detail. Whatever sword they brought out was a nondescript blob to her.
Held aloft is a simple looking, battered blade. It is etched with runes that glow faintly in a pulse. One of the workers pdraws the blade from its hilt far enough to see, lifting it up so that it's gold pommel glints in light. He raises it up higher, then shifts its weight to to rest the blade the hilt of the blade's bottom in the palm of his hand. It stands straight up.
He grabs the hold with his other hand and rises it up to place it atop the tip of a finger and it, again, stays there. Perfectly balanced as all things should be, as some serial murderer said somewhere.
Fallon blinks a few times at the glowy, apparently perfectly balanced blade being shown. "Neat..." That's really all he had to say about it.
"Yes," The Off-White Rook says, "This is a thing I do not see often. It is beautiful. The stories it would tell about the death it has dealt. I wonder how much it will go for."
Now
Aryia ends up paying less and less attention to the auction, and more on the people around her. She was uncomfortable, sweating profusely, and was in a stupid looking dress. If she could whine, she would.
"What is the purpose for this weapon? I wish they explained it better, but I feel like most here are more interested in the history. A blade is to be used, after all." The sith'makar noted, her eyes almost slits as she squinted trying to see what they were doing.
Paenitia looks at Farland, then turns to look over the crowd seeking out the people she saw earlier in the marketplace. Her tower gives her an unusual view, lower than from Ramirez and higher than what she's used to. "This is the one we are after, or it is the little appetite wetter?"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Okay, folks! Will save." <OOC> Paenitia says, "Lucht luck +1" GAME: Paenitia rolls will+1: (2)+4+1: 7 GAME: Fallon rolls will: (16)+3: 19 GAME: Aryia rolls Will: (8)+4: 12 GAME: Seyardu rolls will: (11)+6: 17 <OOC> Whirpool says, "If you failed, roll with my pose."
The bidding over the trinket is furious! Hands are going up and down as the price rises and rises. Farland is staring at it, like he's missed something that just happened. Wasn't it...
But, no. Of course not. There was never a sword. Instead, a lovely decanter from the days of the old Millenial Empire, a relic of a forgotten and glorious past when much of humanity was linked under one rule -- the rule of the Aiglosian Dynasty.
"Going once! Going twice! Sold to the woman in the outrageous dress!"
Fallon is paying -enough- attention to the bidding to notice the sword was... suddenly no longer a sword. "Wait, what? That's not..." He asks outloud, glancing to the others for reaffirmation he wasn't going to get. He continues to look profoundly confused after it's sold.
Aryia wasn't sure what she was looking at. Was it the heat? Or... no, that wasn't a sword. Was her eyes going bad? It was bright outside, sort of, kinda. It... was a decanter? She tries to stratch her head, but it makes her hat teeter to the side and make more light spill in.
She grumbles something profane.
Paenitia shakes herself, leaning out of her tower and looking around. "I fall asleep? Did the hours go by already?"
There was never a sword. The sword is a lie. Only Fallon saw the sword, he's going to feel very gaslit soon. There was never a sword. It was always the decanter. This seems perfectly natural.
The non descript blob turned into... another, but clearly different nondescript blob. The sith'makar blinked and squinted again.
"I am sorry, I did not see what happened. Did they take a new artifact out?"
"What we bid on next?" The Off-White Rook asks.
Farland shakes his head. "We're waiting for a specific item anyway," he continues. "You'll know it when you see it, I promise you, and you've already done an excellent job preparing me for what comes next."
The gnome sits up in hsi chair as the others are staring at the decanter. The decanter is sold. Next is a small, bronzed box with a crank on its side that, when pulled, slowly opens to reveal a series of growing, iron thorns and vines that creep up and out of it, unfurling. No doubt a work of a master artisan, or worse, a Kulthian.
Like a metal flower.
"Very pretty," says Farland, "but not it."
"It was a sword," Fallon insists. Indignantly. "From the Demon Wars..." Not an ancient decanter! He looks to Farland, then back to the crowd milling around them. Who's the spellcasting trickster among them!?
"Oh! That is the pretty device." Paenitia calls out to the auctioneer, "Can we see up close and examine?"
She looks over at Fallon, "You are sure you did not spend too much in the sun?"
Aryia shrugs, melting into the chair at this point. If she saw a sword, she would have said something. Err, whistled. Snapped her fingers. Whatever, the dress was frying her brain.
Farland gives Fallon a weird look. "That is distinctly *not* a sword," he says of the decanter as it is boxed back up for delivery to its new owner.
"I'm a ranger. I'm used to being under the sun," Fallon answers Paenitia. He narrows his gaze suspiciously at Farland, but says nothing in reply. His eyes follow the 'decanter', and it seems like he's intent on investigating, until it's boxed up.
"These clothes are quite impractical, it is possible you were over heated from being outside in them. I don't know what it was exactly, but I think I heard a decanter mentioned." Seyardu says. "I can barely tell what they are holding up, however."
"Yes. They are." Paenitia leans out of her tower again, looking down her enormous shoes, "They brining the rose for us to see? It is a box with a rose, Friend Dragon. I try to get it brought closer."
It is not.
More bidding. More bidding!
Fallon's insistence is getting him some strange looks from people near enough to overhear. There was never a sword.
Fnally, the Thorn-Box is sold to a 'gnome with a tiny hat' and it too is boxed up. So it goes. Two more items, an ancient Veyshan spice holder and an Maugrimite religious icoin, a set of blackened and twisted chains, are sold as well, as well as a 'collection of fake prophecies written by He Who Hungers, a noted Caracorothian priest'. Caracoroth and 'writing' don't tend to go together, so this makes it notable. Each in turn is sold. Next, a twisted skeleton half-clad in flesh. The design is ... artistic, to say the least, if horrible to look upom.
"...from the Fall of the Garnaks of Blar, a piece from the personal gallery of their Thulite priests!"
Fallon is not crazy, YOU'RE crazy! He folds his arms over his chest and huffs. He pays attention to the other items, now fixated on finding more trickery and proving to his companions that he was right. If this trickster was successful once, why wouldn't they do it again? It's not like he's persuading anyone thus far.
Aryia is halfway off her chair at this point, supported by her feet planted in the ground with half of ther hat covering her upper body from how she was contorted. Her gloved knuckles scrape the ground, a single eye kept on the auction. Even the weird items give her no pause. For Aryia was becoming a puddle.
Where the hell is this swooooooooooooooord.
"I would like to see some of these things the people are advertising, but they move too quickly, keep ignoring us." The sith'makar said, tapping a foot and tail a bit impatiently at this point. "It is starting to bother me, to be honest. No one wants to actually show us what they are presenting, is that not usually a thing at auctions?"
"This is so." Agrees the Off-White Rook.
Aryia sighs beside the sith-makar, and knowingly nods. Tends to be a thing to flaunt things about. She knows. Farland gives Seyardu a weird look now too. "Are you all right?" he asks of him.
They're not moving THAT fast, after all, and the bidding is proceeding at quick, but not overwhelming, pace. "Our item should be coming up soon, I believe. Now, watch." He gestures to the front.
At last.
"Finally, we have an ornate set of scrolls dating back a century. These scrolls were created by celebrated scholar Wilivum Vumvet. A noted enchanter who redefined magical progress for generations following, Vumvet's famous text titled 'You're Enchanted to Meet Me' belied the seriousness with which he took his craft. These pieces of magical history can be your's as we open bidding.."
"This, this the item we wait for?" Paenitia clunks forward half a step, then moves her other foot so her tower doesn't have a strange split. "It have an amusing name."
Once more she leans out of the tower looking around at Farland, then across the crowd, attempting to spot the competition. "You tell us what to do, we do it."
"... Sounds like the title of a bad romance novel," Fallon remarks. Wizards.
Aryia peels herself off her chair and sits back up. Her fingers drum along her leg, foot bouncing. She eyes the crowd, trying to spot the people that they scouted out.
Surely a tumbleweed rolls somewhere in some desert many miles away.
"His book was hilarioius, but also showed a deep understanding of his craft *and* human nature. As an Enchanter, Vumvet was able to get countless people to open up to him. Unfortunately, most of his books have been lost to time, but scattered tomes remain here or there. These scrolls are more like private theorycrafting, and they'll be perfect for the rites we need to accomplish," explains Farland, quietly. "Now, each of you. I'm going to bid on the first round. When they bid against me, Aryia, I want you to bid right back. Keep that going. Fallon, if you don't mind, go sit down next to the lady in the outrageous dress you met earlier. IF you can sweat harder, that'd be great. Seyardu, that man you saw earlier, the modestly dressed one? Go talk to him. Be as attention getting as possible." His eyes go towards Paenitia finally, "As for you..."
Fallon looks dryly at Farland. "Do you think I can control my sweat glands at will?" Wizards. Nevertheless, he moves to take a seat next to the woman in the loud and gaudy dress. He can't sweat at will, but tries his best. The glowering may also make for unpleasant company. He's very good at that.
"There is the tall dark man I must convince to sweep me off my feet, for the night of passion and love, and the morning of fighting and screaming?" The Dark Lucht in the Crying Woman's mask asks eagerly.
"...yeah, sure. WE'll go with that."
Farland points at the dour looking goblin on the other side of the room.
Oh no.
Fallon gives Paenitia a salute. Godspeed.
With a determined look, the Off-White Rook starts clomping towrds the dour goblin. She flings some long golden tresses out of her tower so they drag on the floor. "I be the damsel and he will be the entangled."
Clomp. ... Clomp. ... Clomp. ...
It's gonna take a bit.
Oh thank goodness, Aryia's task was straightforward. If someone else bids against their benefactor, then raise her hand. She could do that. She glances to who they were talking of, then looks up (strangely) at Paenitia who takes her role on with gusto.
This is the weirdest assignment she's even been on.
The overdressed pugilist readies her auction hand. Felt weird to be on this side of the stage for once.
"Very well." The sith'makar replies as she gets to her feet, brushing off the dress with another rainbow colored mess before she walked over to where the man was.
"Peace on your nest, but please excuse me. Have you been finding the auction to your liking? I've been having trouble since the start keeping track of everything going on. Can you see what they are trying to sell? I have been trying to get their attention from the start, but they do not stop for a moment." She said, loudly enough to drown out some of the general discussions around them, but still sounding sincere. The confusion was genuine, after all.
Rook to Pawn 5
"Yoo hoo! I see you across the room. The olive green sheen of your skin. The bat-wing ears. The warts to make jealous a whole coven. I think, this I must have." Paenitia calls down to the dour goblin, having chunked up behind him. She peers down the length of her tower-shoes, holding the long strands of her wig across the lower half of her Crying Woman mask. Through the eye-holes, she bats her long lashes at him. Then, to ensure she has his attention, she swips with the length of hair, wapping it against him.
"The bald pate like that, I have never seen before. It have the glow of the thousand year egg, wrest from the fecund soil. I have hair enough for both of us." It's as if she's leaning out of her parapet, when in reality she's simply bending at the waist over the edge of her oddly round dress. "I am six feet tall and worth the climb. Are you the brave man that will rescue me?"
Paenitia baps him in the face with her hair again.
Lyme is supposed to be doing things, but he's just standing there looking fly. Because, dammit, he looks fly.
The goblin just winds up *staring* at Paenitia with hororr in his face. That's actually happening?! What?!
"Excuse me. I'm trying to bid here."
As Fallon gets conspicuously clsoer to the outrageously dressed lady, her guard sinks in closer to her. Still, he's close enough for whatever reasoin Farland wanted her there. Her nose wrinkles. There is a filthy commoner too close to her. What is a filthy common doiung HERE close to HER? Ahem.
"Guardsmen, please remove this ... this ... *person," the way she says it indiucates she isn't sure Fallon is fit for the desgination, "from my vicinity."
Ayria is able to bid with ease as the others are deliherately being distracted. What, Seyardu has closed in oin the modestly dressed man who is looking at hin with waryness. Big lizard. Sharp teeth. Over by him.
Aryia is very good with simple directions. Very, very good. Move these boxes? No problem. Reel in the fish? Sure thing boss. Hoist sails? Sure can do. Bid on an auction if anyone else ever bids after a specific person? Absolutely. Like clockwork, her gloved hand shoots up the sky a mere second after anyone tries to one up Farland. She will not be useless here.
Lyme bides his time, subtle in his flamboyant outfit. As the guardsmen do their duty with Fallon, he glides in, favouring the lady with a glorious, toothy smile, a dimple, and a "Lovely night for an auction, isn't it?"
GAME: Fallon rolls diplomacy: (14)+1: 15
Fallon looks even more indignant, somehow. "EXCUSE me," he replies, feigning offense. "But I, as a scion of House Astley, have every *right* to be here, thank you very much! Just because I don't wear my entire wardrobe doesn't mean I don't belong." His rear isn't leaving the cushion.
GAME: Paenitia rolls bluff: (19)+10: 29
The fish swim placidly in the moat that makes up the bottom of the tower-shoes.
"Oh, you bid for me?" Paenitia flutters her dark eyes again. They smoulder intensely behind her mask. A careful whip of her hand and she drags the long, golden strands of her wig over the Goblin's shoulders. She is breathless. "To buy my heart with great passion. Yes, it can be done."
"Oh verdant paramour, tell me the ways and secrets of your desire! The hidden fires that burn behind jaundiced eyes." The desperate damsel coos, "I am here, the hair is down, the gates are open. Climb! Climb!"
GAME: Seyardu rolls bluff: (14)+3: 17
The sith'makar gave a sharped toothed smile to the man. It was meant to be disarming or nice, but it was still a lot of teeth. "Yes, I am unused to the customs of this place, but you seem to understand what you are doing here a lot better. You see, I do not see what is going on well myself, so I have been struggling to follow along, and some assistance making sense of what is going on would be appreciated." She continued. There was not a lie to it, though she did still wish to distract them.
"...augh! Stay away!"
The goblin is backing off while the bidding is ongoing, now, and the price is going up. The guards are starting to notice some of the hinjinks, thoiugh, and one is aiming to get between ourageous dress lady and Fallon, while they're less inclined to help a goblin. Who's shocked about that? Rich goblin or no.
Finally, one begins to move closer.
Hijinks are not utterly uncommoin, after all.
Fallon still doesn't move. As long as the guards aren't manhandling him, no fisticuffs will be ensuing. Yet. "How RUDE," he huffs at the guards. "I'll be making sure my third cousin twice removed hears of this!"
GAME: Paenitia rolls intimidate: (16)+10: 26
Rook takes Pawn
Paenitia turns on the approaching guard, her eyes flashing bright behind her mask, challenging. "You dare come between the passions of love? To test the waters of infidelity in a barque of twigs and twine."
"You have no oar to speak of! No strong arms to pull against the waves nor sail to catch the winds of perfidy!"
"Come my grassy garter-snipe! Show your viridescent virility against this petulant pole of obesient obscurity. Let you and he fight. It is the only way." The Dark Lucht is almost operatic in delivery.
Lyme is apparently circling, biding his time since the guards aren't actually removing Fallon.
It's only a matter of time before the guards do, in fact, remove Fallon. But he's giving them pause. Astley, huh? They don't want to step on the wrong rich person's toes, even if Fallon looks ... well off. For the moment. They aren't sure.
Meanwhile, that goblin is looking even MORE concerned about Paenitia's apparnelty authentic declarations of love. He's really, really eager ot escape, it would appear.
She's kind of scary.
Aryia is able to continue bidding, and eventually, Farland steps in and makes a quick, very high bid. He has what he wants, and the price point is being met quickly.
Going once, going twice...
A third figure speaks up and bids. It's a tall, red headed woman. A mul'niessa. Dressed resplendently, actually.
Fallon grunts when the bidding continues. How long does he have to keep up this charade? He does begin to move now, pacing back and forth between the guards and gesticulating angrily like an offended blue blood ought. He whaps one on the chest with his handkerchief. At least he didn't have time to sneeze in it first.
Despite the bid nearly closing out, Aryia shoots her hand up again after the red haired mul. Wait. Tall... mul'neissa? Red haired? Who was..? Oh. Oh no. Aryia just bid. She glances to Farland, sweating bullets now.
GAME: Lyme rolls diplomacy: (19)+3: 22
Lyme turns, scanning the crowd. Who, who, red-headed mul'niessa? He stops circling the other woman and, spurned, he sashays towards the tall, red-headed mul'niessa. They say, after all, that ignorance is bliss. He pauses for a moment in front of her, obscuring line of sight to the auctioneer. ADMIRE THE PLOOFINESS OF HIS HAT.
Rook takes Queen.
Paenitia recognizes the Red-haired Mul'niessa. She shouldn't be here! She shouldn't be bidding! Drastic measures are needed.
She steps away from the goblin and guard. "No! I am a broken woman! My heart torn."
Clunk. Clunk.
Attempts to move faster. "Left to die a spinster in a tower!"
Clunk. >>crash!<<
One of the glass bottoms at the base of her platform shoes shatters. Water rushes across the floor. As do tropical fish, glittering, flashing, and flopping as they suffocate in the air. The small wave rushes over Akoniril's feet, the sand in the base of the shoe trailing behind in the tide.
This is not the only imposition on her person. The tower crumbles, falls, on her. Complete with distressed damsel and her long tresses of hair that in some strange happenstance wrap around the Lady Belvade. Surely the Dark Lucht could not have been trying to deliberately entangle her!
In either case, they both go to the floor.
"I BID!!! you farewell."
Floofys
<OOC> Aryia says, "oml Pae lol"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Rapunsel and her myth probably do not exist IC XD"
<OOC> Aryia says, "its about to be"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "Eep. sorry on that."
<OOC> Paenitia says, "FIX Rapunsel to Damsel"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "It's fine. XD"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Easy error to make tbhg!"
<OOC> Aryia is dead
<OOC> Whirlpool snort!
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Roll bluff, Paen XD"
<OOC> Aryia says, "Paen is killin me lol"
<OOC> Paenitia is a little romantic. :)
<OOC> Seyardu says, "it's great"
<OOC> Aryia says, "this is amazing"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "ahaha :D"
<OOC> Paenitia is the little knight that brings twice the fight.
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "ahaha"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "I love you all :)"
<OOC> Aryia <3
<OOC> Aryia says, "lol"
<OOC> Aryia says, "and agh, almost!"
<OOC> Seyardu could do something maybe. Probably wouldn't though.
<OOC> Paenitia says, "Can I fall on her?"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "oh she already bid"
<OOC> Lyme says, "Ruh-roh."
<OOC> Aryia is going to have to get going soon :c
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "We'll pause soon :)"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "ahahahaha"
<OOC> Aryia says, "lol"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Go for it. :D"
<OOC> Lyme grins. Am I rolling? Whatever it is, I hope it's unskilled :D
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "If you want, Lyme! Diplomacy in this case!"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Or bluff"
<OOC> Lyme flexes on his single rank ;)
<OOC> Fallon says, "lmao"
<OOC> Lyme says, "ADMIRE HIS FLOOF"
<OOC> Aryia says, "omg lol"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "People with no diplo rolling well ;P"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "I blame Fallon"
<OOC> Fallon can't compete against the floof.
<OOC> Seyardu says, "would be nice to roll higher than an eleven for trained skills sometime"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Yes :("
<OOC> Lyme grins. Hey.
<OOC> Paenitia says, "oh, wait, do I pose?"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "right. pose"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Yes. Pose :)"
<OOC> Seyardu says, "not the fish D:"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "Quick! Seyardu! Save the fish! Eat them!"
<OOC> Fallon says, "):"
<OOC> Aryia says, "PFFFT"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "OH NO"
<OOC> Aryia is going to have to dip. Thanks for the fun, and thanks for running it whirly!
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "We'll pause here then!"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "That's a good enough place :D"