DM Barcas - Skull & Shackles: Freedom of the Sea (Inactive)

Game Master Isaac Duplechain

With pirates, slavers, and Cheliax prowling the seas, there are some who still appreciate - and fight for - the freedom of the sea.


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2 Gozran 4713

After passing through the Arch of Aroden, the Empty Lighthouse enjoys the calm seas and secured shipping lanes of the Inner Sea. The winds favor their journey, cutting a day out of their journey. After the difficult journey through the coast of the Sodden Lands and the risk of pirate attacks in the Shackles, the trek seems a vacation as they cut with efficiency through the international waters. Even the sun seems to shine brighter and the sea appears more blue. They discuss - as a group, with all points of view welcomed - their destination. There are many possible friendly ports to head to; they will visit Souston, of course, but it is too small to properly outfit themselves and the ship as needed. They narrow it to three choices: Absalom, the City at the Center of the World; Almas, the capital of Andoran; and Augustana, the home of the Andoran navy. All have merits, but they eventually agree upon going to Augustana. The port city will have weapons, equipment, possibly even bounties or jobs for them.

They stop for a night in the same small fishing village that Captain Jonas had stopped in on their last night in Andoran, buying crabs for the crew and enjoying Ollivor's cooking. They salute their fallen, as not quite half of that departing crew of fourteen still lives. Captain Jonas, Malakay, Iakob, Symon, Bucky, Kabek, Ricki, and Tibbs all rest with the waves now. In only a few months, the pirates and the Chelaxians had stolen so much - but the Lighthouse and its ideals survive. Their dreams live on through the new crew and its new mission.

As they sail into Augustana, after almost a month at sea, the scope of the city manages to surprise them. John - having sailed in and out of the port numerous times - and Vrunyar - used to the metropolis of Absalom - are somewhat inured, but the sight is still profoundly impressive. The city sits on the southwestern coast of Andoran, facing the Aspo Bay. Fort Constance, the great stone fortress that houses thousands of sailors and marines, stands guard from the southern side of the harbor with catapults ready to ward off any seaborne attackers. The harbor itself is divided into two parts, the outer 'Salt Harbor' and inner 'Fresh Harbor'. Almost all of the shipping and naval ships use the Salt Harbor exclusively. Hundreds of ships, large and small alike, jockey in a chaotic dance to make it in and out of the many docks. The ships bear merchant flags from every nation in the Inner Sea, all drawn to the duty-free hub of trade and commercial activity. The center of the Salt Harbor has an elaborate system of flags to signal the stop-and-go traffic of the larger and less nimble ships, while it seems like the smaller ships simply dart through the gaps between the bigger vessels. The crew signals their general purpose (trade and outfitting the ship) and get directed to a dock near the mouth of the Arthfell River, in the city's Fleet District. They have to dodge a few massive galleons that sail imperiously through the harbor, but they make it to their destination.

As they pull the ship alongside the dock, dozens of vendors, merchants, and porters arrive to shout their deals and look for work. It is a varied group, with halfling messengers standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Katapesh traders, all looking for ways to serve the newly-arriving ship. Hundreds - maybe thousands - of workers dot the docks, busy trafficking items to and from warehouses and ships. Vendors sell food - cooked and otherwise - from small booths. The smell of the city mixes with the salty sea air, spurred on by the warm spring sun of the early afternoon.

As they tie the ship down to the dock, a particularly enterprising gentleman draws their attention. He is clearly an Andoran, with bright blue eyes and fair hair; his clothing is the traditional Andoran style, largely influenced by the military dress of the People's Revolt, complete with a fine tricorner hat. "Welcome to Augustana, friends. I am Bejman Clarke, a facilitator of sorts. Should you have wares to sell, I can find you buyers. Should you wish to buy goods, I know those who would give a fair price. I can arrange for any other service - banking, religious, or other - that you might seek. My fees are paid for by the network of contacts that I offer, so my services are at no cost to you. What can I direct you to?"


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

Doran, here’s the post where our characters were given money. 36,000 divided between us.

Commander Cain wrote:
"I see. The ambassador from Pusaban. Is that nation in Garund? As with many primitive lands, they rise and fall with such frequency that it is difficult to keep track. Where is this nation in relation to Sargava? Should Cheliax expect an ambassador of its own?”

”Et’s tru neme es Pusaban’Ngegwam’Ule. Yays, Garund,” Vrunyar’s hands make a shape of Garund in the air and he vaguely indicates a point in the far south of the continent. ”E hayve ay bruther nemed Blayscren Tegu. Hupefuelly une day...whayn Blayscren speks wayll he well gue to Chely-ax. E tayll hem to luke fur you.” Vrunyar bows to Commander Cain.

Along the way to Augustana
Vrunyar understands one of the main benefits for the officers eating together. It gives them time to discuss ship issues in a relaxed environment. When the issue of what they plan to do with their newly gained wealth arises, he mentions alchemical supplies, clothes, and a new battleaxe.

”I was going to ask what you thought of stone decks, but after thinking about it, it wouldn’t be safe. You know how slippery wet stone can be. Sure I’d get to see more patients, but I don’t want people injured because I like walking on stone. However, what if we had some tiles installed in the infirmary? Help keep the floor cleaner. Easier to wipe up blood and fluids. Stone would be ideal, but ceramic is acceptable too.” He raises an eyebrow in inquiry then starts to chuckle. ”Oh I forgot to mention that I’d pay for this out of my share. I wouldn’t insist that any one else pay for this. No, I was mostly worried about balance issues for the ship. Sure it’d be a small percentage of the total weight, but a little bit of weight placed incorrectly can have her listing and...y’know,” he shrugs and sweeps a hand aside as if that’s a sailor-code for nautical terms everyone else will know.

2 Gozran 4713

Vrunyar nods as Bejman Clarke introduces himself. He likes the man’s seemingly honest acknowledgment of how he makes a living. Very pragmatic. So long as the businesses he takes us to aren’t trying to sell us junk and slag, I have no problem with this arrangement.”Greetings Mr. Clarke. You’ll earn your commission with us. HA! My name is Vrunyar Magmabeard. We have a variety of needs. New clothes. Food stores, weapons and armor. My priority is medical and alchemical supplies. We also have some recently freed slaves so if there’s a temple or center to help them begin a new life of freedom, please show us the way.”


Male Halfling Bard
Quote:

Vrunyar understands one of the main benefits for the officers eating together. It gives them time to discuss ship issues in a relaxed environment. When the issue of what they plan to do with their newly gained wealth arises, he mentions alchemical supplies, clothes, and a new battleaxe.

”I was going to ask what you thought of stone decks, but after thinking about it, it wouldn’t be safe. You know how slippery wet stone can be. Sure I’d get to see more patients, but I don’t want people injured because I like walking on stone. However, what if we had some tiles installed in the infirmary? Help keep the floor cleaner. Easier to wipe up blood and fluids. Stone would be ideal, but ceramic is acceptable too.” He raises an eyebrow in inquiry then starts to chuckle. ”Oh I forgot to mention that I’d pay for this out of my share. I wouldn’t insist that any one else pay for this. No, I was mostly worried about balance issues for the ship. Sure it’d be a small percentage of the total weight, but a little bit of weight placed incorrectly can have her listing and...y’know,” he shrugs and sweeps a hand aside as if that’s a sailor-code for nautical terms everyone else will know.

"Well, when we hit shore, why don't you try this idea on a master shipwright and see if it could be made to work, Vrunyar?" Ollivor is among those that pushed for Augustana. In the small town he was born in raised in, the home of Andoran's navy had an almost mythic reputation for being the place where you could go and start your journey to truly see the world instead of being stuck in a small nowhere forever, "I hear Augustana has some of the best and maybe they could put your vision into being right proper?"

Considering his own share of the wealth, Ollivor is torn, "I suppose the galley is fine as is for the most part. Not sure what I want to do with my wealth...dragon blooded or no, I don't feel TOO powerful an urge to heap it into a pile and roll around on it," He smirks, "Maybe I'll buy myself some nice clothes and take Faiza shopping if she likes. Paint the town red a bit. We'll see."

...............

While he's been to Almas, Ollivor had never been to Augustana. It was definitely different. Almas was one giant dedication to the revolution and the ideas it represented. Augustana with the great fortress, and the mighty docks full of Andoran warships as well as civilian craft seemed like the teeth on the dog to Almas' wagging tail. It wasn't unfriendly, but gods help whatever fool tried to earn those fangs.

Why, it almost made a fellow feel proud.

................

Quote:
As they tie the ship down to the dock, a particularly enterprising gentleman draws their attention. He is clearly an Andoran, with bright blue eyes and fair hair; his clothing is the traditional Andoran style, largely influenced by the military dress of the People's Revolt, complete with a fine tricorner hat. "Welcome to Augustana, friends. I am Bejman Clarke, a facilitator of sorts. Should you have wares to sell, I can find you buyers. Should you wish to buy goods, I know those who would give a fair price. I can arrange for any other service - banking, religious, or other - that you might seek. My fees are paid for by the network of contacts that I offer, so my services are at no cost to you. What can I direct you to?"

Ollivor's guard instantly goes up. How many fleecers had he seen on docks offering to direct honest sailors to this or that inn, only to find a scheme where said innkeeper jacked up the prices when the guide's name was mentioned? Many a lad in a dark alley could get himself rolled by a man offering to 'help' him out. For a moment he's tempted to tell the man off.

Then Vrunyar speaks up.

Quote:
Vrunyar nods as Bejman Clarke introduces himself. He likes the man’s seemingly honest acknowledgment of how he makes a living. Very pragmatic. So long as the businesses he takes us to aren’t trying to sell us junk and slag, I have no problem with this arrangement.”Greetings Mr. Clarke. You’ll earn your commission with us. HA! My name is Vrunyar Magmabeard. We have a variety of needs. New clothes. Food stores, weapons and armor. My priority is medical and alchemical supplies. We also have some recently freed slaves so if there’s a temple or center to help them begin a new life of freedom, please show us the way.”

Huh, maybe I'm just too distrustful by half. Too much time under pirates and slavers has made me a hard heart. Then again, I'm not sure I want to do EVERYTHING by this fellow.

"Much as my friend says. Many of them are halfling by blood so if there's an area halflings favor they might be interested in such a ward or neighborhood. As for myself, if ye be an honest man and willing to help a son contact his parents, I plan on writing them a letter ...and I'll need a messanger I can trust who'll make the trip for a modest fee. They live in Cyremium if you know the place. You have knowledge of such a messenger?" Ollivor has mixed feelings for his home town. It was a cage once, and he got accused of being a demon when his powers burst forth, but it was also home to his family which loved him, and a few good folks like the priest that shamed the few in the 'demon hunting' mob before they did something they'd later regret. They weren't bad folk, just scared. It took a trip on the Wormwood to teach him REAL evil.

Depending on the man's answer, he continues, "Beyond that, I'd like to spend at least one night in an inn, nice and cozy, and buy myself some clothes both stylish and yet still suitable for a ship deck if need be, and yes, a few nice things for a lady friend of mine. So I suppose an inn and shop suggestion would do us. Beyond that? Considering a bit of arcane regalia to help keep me alive in case of trouble, or make me a more potent sorcerer. Got anything that'll help with that list?"

Considering a headband of Charisma for the magic item, if any such thing can be found here. AC improving items are another consideration


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

In the Officer’s Mess
Doran chuckles in good-natured amazement at Vrunyar’s suggestion of stone decks, replying, ”Ye’ve got the right o’it, Vrunyar, there’d be a few problems wit’ decks made o’ stone. A bit too much weight, an’ that high in the ship – would make ‘er wobble more’n I’d like. An’ repairin’ a stone deck after a fight or a blow’d be a bear, ‘less we ship with a company o’ dwarves to craft it all for us. Not to mention, the barky takes a fair bit of strain, and ye need the wood to bend, so it doesn’t break…”

He pauses, not wanting to lecture the dwarf, whose intentions are purely good, then continues in a kindly, respectful tone, ”But the infirmary’s yer kingdom, Vrun, and it’ll be however ye like it. A tile floor’ll add a bit o’ weight, but cargo can be shifted to counter that, sure as sure. An’ you’ll be keepin’ us alive if things get hot, want it to meet yer every need.” Turning his practical seaman’s mind to the question, he asks, ”How about a nice rough-glazed tile? Would be easy enough to clean, but wouldn’t get slick when there’s blood spilled on it. You sort out what ye want, and we’ll see it done, eh?”

In Augustana
Having been at sea nearly all his life, Doran has sailed the world, but has never seen Augustana. He’s been aboard a ship or two that’s been here, but the halfling slaves were kept tight belowdecks when visiting Andoran ports, to make sure they had no opportunity to join in the Andoren celebration of freedom. It’s a pleasure for him to see it with his own eyes, and a greater pleasure still to know he can leave if he wishes, or stay as long as he likes.

All the same, he knows the busy commercial docks of such a large seaport will breed many varieties of scoundrels and charlatans. When Bejman Stark approaches and offers his services, Doran gives the man a careful once-over before deciding he can likely be trusted to do as he says.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

”Aye, Master Stark, we’ve need of a good many things,” he says. ”Barrels o’ pitch, coils of rope, a bundle or two o’ hawser, quite a few feet of plankin’, likely a spare binnacle, forty yards of good white canvas sailcloth, a couple dozen barrels o’ seaman’s rations, limes, a pair of stout oaken beams to brace the ship’s knees – cut across the grain, mind ye – some fine rope, maybe dyed a nice gold, to replace the whippin’ on the king spoke, ours is disgraceful…that’ll do for a start.”

”An’ there might be a thing or two ye can find for me as well, if ye know where a man can find things in the magical line,” he adds. A loud squawk, punctuated by a beautiful blue parrot landing on Doran’s shoulder, makes him laugh and add, ”And we’ll be needin’ some crackers!”


Clarke takes notes in a leather journal as they make their requests, scribbling quickly as the orders come faster and faster. He flips between pages, apparently categorizing the requests as he goes. He tears out a page and hands it to a young man, who runs off to fulfill the order. "I can procure the mundane items with no issue, and for a good value. That list will take a few hours. I can recommend several inns - the Eagle's Nest on Cypress Avenue would be a fine choice if you want a taste of finery, and the Grand Augustana if you'd like to live like royalty for a night. Both are in the city's best shopping district. I can arrange an appointment to commission magicked equipment through our local academy of wizardry and arcane learning within a day." He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a hard biscuit crisp wrapped in paper. He snaps off a bit and hands a bite to the parrot. "Many sailors have birds with them as good fortune. I could even arrange a tengu crewman to join you, if you are a superstitious lot."

The halflings still on the ship are all crew. The ones who chose a life elsewhere were smuggled out via the Bellflower Network.


Male Halfling Bard

Ollivor's first expenditure turns out to be the letter to his family. He's never been the most loyal son, or most dutiful but at least he can let them know he's alright.
What was meant to be a simple straightforward letter starts out as such, but soon takes up more paper than he intended.

Dear Father and Mother,
Where to begin? This is Ollivor, and I'm very much alive and surprisingly well given all that's happened to me since I first left you. The tale is too long, and possibly too unbelievable to relate in its entirety. I hope you are both prospering, and while Cyremium is no longer home for me, I wish the town no ill and hope it does alright as well. Frankly, if I ever do return there, I may show off a bit as my magic has grown considerably compared to what it was. And yet I've really only scratched the surface.

The story of what's happened to me begins in Souston, hardly a place of legends anymore than Cyremium. Yet it was here that I met Captain Henray Morgan Jonas, and gained passage on his Ship, the Empty Lighthouse. I was to be cook for a time, in exchange for passage...

The letter in question covers but the hightlights, praising his friends and allies, lamenting their loss, and speaking less on the horrors of slavery though they ARE mentioned. It also talks of his escape and liberation, though details are left out that might end up endangering the Lighthouse and its crew. It finishes up with...

... and now I have more honorable, yet exciting job at sea. I wish I could give you all the details but that must wait. To sum up, your son is employed, his power grows as does his wealth, and yes, I've even met a lass I'm quite fond of. Not knowing your current state, along with this letter I've sent some coin to prove at least the 'doing well' part and so you might live in better comfort.

Love and respects,
Ollivor

The message is sent with a bank note for a hundred gold. Andoran banks being among the best in the world, it's probably safer and lighter to carry than just a bag of jinglies.

...........

"You sure about this now?" Ollivor said dubiously. In retrospect, asking Conchobar Shortstone for advice in clothing may have been a mistake, "A hat is a must?"

"To put it mildly," Conchobar insisted, "A proper hat, my lad, is the difference between a yokel and a gentleman. It is the brightest feather in any young rooster's pluamage, the most luminicent of stars in the constellation, the very..." Shortstone made a snapping sound "Pop in his champane!"

"Given that I'm planning on buying a headband, I'm not sure I'd be using a hat much," Ollivor said, still uncertain.

"Put the hat OVER it, silly boy," Conchobar insisted, "You Andorans frown on crowns anyway. A headband might be seen as too close to that. The hat over it? That shows style without putting on airs."

"Point there," Ollivor admited, and turned to the habbadasher, "Let me see that tricorner with the bronze lining again. I can't decide between that or the wide brim with the plume"

"Either would go well with an open vest jacket," Faiza remarked, a wicked gleam in her eye.

"I want to look nice for you, darlin', but that'll be awful embarrasing on cold winds," Ollivor wagged a finger at her.

She did not look suitably chastised, "Some of the clothes you bought ME don't cover very much," She hurumphed.

"Completely different," Ollivor stated, "That was necessary for Officer morale."

"Do I have to dip you both in cold water, truly?" Conchobar tisked.

The young lovers managed MINOR blushes but only that.

"Ah, young love," The habberdasher declared.

It took a bit, but Ollivor finally found the hat he prefered, paid for it, and the three headed out. The district suggested had indeed been good for shopping. Faiza had oooed and awwwed over the many fabrics and the colors they came in. Ollivor had thought he'd tire of it right away, but seeing her delight made him smile, and perhaps it was his dragony side, or Shortstone's influence, but it did feel nice to dress to impress a bit. And it was nice to be in an area where you could shop without worrying about being hit over the head and waking up in a pirate hold, he thought wryly.

Of course, that didn't mean that the city was entirely crime free. He almost didn't notice the hand on his coin-purse. Ollivor felt the slightest of tuggings, turned, and saw a short figure trying to race off with his money!

"Oh no you don't!" Ollivor said, stomping his foot down, and a ripple of power caused the ground under the cutpurse to quake. The figure tripped forward, falling on his face, buying time for Ollivor to close with him, "Now give me back my bag you little..." as Ollivor flipped him over, he saw the lightfinger's face, "...thief." He said in surprise.

It was a boy, the orcish blood made it hard to tell, but it didn't look like he could be past ten. The boy's face was pug nosed a snaggle tooth, almost a fang really, that his lower lip couldn't quite contain below it. His skin had a grayish sheen to it, another testamnent to his nature.

Ollivor was so surprised, he almost caught a punch in the face from the lad. Fortunately, the attempt failed, and Ollivor managed to pin him, "Try that again and I'll cast a spell that'll make your hair stand up, you hear me?"

The boy struggled a bit more, but seemed to realize he had little chance to get away, "Fine," He said huffily, as if somehow this whole situation was Ollivor's fault for noticing rather than his fault for stealing.

"What's your name?" Ollivor asked, "And don't you lie to me, I have dragon powers."

"Pull the other one," The pug nosed boy shot back.
Ollivor let claws grow from his hands.
"Okay, okay, don't pull the other one," The boy hastily recanted, "My name's Wulf."

"Seriously?" Ollivor said.

"Yes!" Wulf grumbled.

"Why are you stealing for a living, Wulf?" Ollivor said, "You're a big lad. Can't you apprentice? You got no family?"

"it don't pay too well...and no one round here wants a half ulfen half human bastard, that fine by you?" Wulf glared, "An' no, the orc what took my ulfen mother didn't xactly hang around. Neither did mother so no, no family! Now let me go!"

"We have him, sir," City guards approached, "You can let him up."

Ollivor did so, retracting his claws and standing up right, "What's to happen to the boy?"

"Orphanarium," One guard shrugged, "Most like. Orc blooded lads sometimes get a sponsor from the Lumber Consortium, they provide room and board for him, and he'll do some work."

"It's damn slavery is what it is!" Wulf snapped, "It's a scam, and I ain't gonna..."

"Pipe down, tusk face," One guard put a warning hand on a club at his side.

Ollivor frowned. Andoran was a land of liberty, but it did seem that there would always be those who tried to enslave men and women in all but name, even here, and the Consortium's reputation was not promising. True, the lad might grow to be a fine jack and get a fair wage. Or he might end up so indebted all his life for the charges the consortium would pile on him that he'd be little better than a true slave. And then there was the comment... 'tusk face'. Ollivor didn't like orcs, and he had to admit, many half orcs were hard to trust, but the lad didn't choose to be what he was. And there was no need for insults about a man's bloodline, not here in Andoran anyway.

"His name is Wulf," Ollivor stated, "And he's free to go. I'm pressing no charges."

"What? What are you talking about? This boy tried to rob you!" One guard sputtered.

"No, no... he just bumped into me and I over reacted," Ollivor lied. He suspected the guards were thinking he was, but they couldn't prove it. He turned and offered the confused Wulf a hand up, "Sorry about that, Wulf. Right unfair of me to assume."

Wulf was just a boy, but he made a pretty good effort at saying "No problem. These things 'appen," with a sincere face.

"That's how it is then?" One guard raised a brow at both Wulf and Ollivor, then glanced at Faiza and Shortstone.

Both of the latter shrugged, and offered no counter.

"That's how it is, Wulf was just asking me about a possible job as a cabin boy, I told him he'd have to try out for it like anyone else, and talk to my captains," Ollivor stated.

"I was?" Wulf blinked, only to get elbowed by Faiza, "Right, right. I was.I'll do that sir."

"Just look for Captain Doran or Rawkins at the Empty Lighthouse, tell them the cook sent you, and see if they think you've got the gift," Ollivor said, "The sea's not always safe mind, but you look sturdy."

The boy nodded vigorously, "Empty Lighthouse, cabin boy, Doran Rawkins...got it."

The guards shook their heads, "On your way then," And moved off.

Ollivor bent down to the boy, "And IF you do try for it and they take you in, no more stealing, you hear me? You'll be getting fair pay for fair work, and no excuses. If you can't earn things in life like a real man does, we'll want no part of you. You ken me?"

"I ken," Wulf said, and then muttered, "I'll...think about it, thanks," He prepared to leave, then stopped, "Why did you do that?"

Ollivor grinned, and for a moment his eyes went almost serpentine, "We monster bloods have to stick together, prove we're as good as the next fellow, now don't we?"

Wulf's eyes widened, but he nodded, and then grew very thoughtful before wandering off.

"Real chance you're taking there, Master Cook," Conchobar stated.

"No, he'll be the one taking the chance, if he does," Ollivor said, "I'm just giving him the option."

Faiza kissed Ollivor on the cheek

"What was that for?" Ollivor asked, though not displeased.

"I'll tell you later," She replied with a smile.

.................

The time at the Eagle's nest had been chosen just because Ollivor liked it's name better. While perhaps not as fancy as Augustana's Finest, it wasn't far off, and he and Faiza had enjoyed almost every luxury a young couple could in such situations. The soft downy bed and it's silky sheets was a true treat.

Faiza threatened to become a true slug-abed under such pleasures, and Ollivor teased her about it quite often. This morning however, he found her rushing HIM out of bed, "Get dressed, and get some of the nice new clothes on. I want you looking your best."
"Ye gods, woman," He muttered, "What's the rush?"
"An academy, I didn't even know Andoran had a magical academy!" She voiced, "I want to see it when you get your commission."
"I think the term 'academy' might be overblown," Ollivor stated, "It's not like the great honkin one in Korvosa or other lands. Just a little bitty thing that takes in a few lucky talents every year I bet."
"Well, big or small, I want to see it," She said handing him her boots.
"Sometimes I think you only want me for my wand," Ollivor grumbled, and was rewarded with a light whap on his shoulder.

The Augustana Academy of Wizardry and Arcane Learning turned to be a bit bigger than Ollivor had thought it would be, but smaller than Faiza had hoped. Ollivor wondered if they taught sorcerers here too, or just wizards. The two had told the guard at its gate of their arranged appointment for a commissioned item.

"Whew, that's expensive," Ollivor said as he was told the price of the service.

"Not as much as you might think, Mister Myles," The enchanter explained, "Not once you take into account there's far more than material and spells involved, security, time, ethical standard checks...."
"Ethical standard checks?" Ollivor raised a brow.
"Yes, fairly new," The enchanter sighed, "We had a bit of a scandal last year. One of our assistants took some money on the side to enchant a bit of headwear for the wife of a local guildmaster. He thought her too prudish and restrained, and asked for a bit of magic to help 'realign' her. Had we known about our former employee's side business, we would have fired him sooner. In a land of liberty, magical mind control is, rightly, frowned on."

"Is the lady alright?" Faiza asked alarmed.

"She's... happy, at least," The Enchanter admitted, "That's how we caught onto it. Her husband slipped on the object pretending it was just a 'gift'. The normally restrained young lady did indeed become ...unihibited. However, any sense of loyalty to him was also destroyed. She seduced any number of strapping young men, and more than one 'friend' of the guildmaster. There was a scandal, and while loving her new state, when she found out the cause, she divorced him. I understand she's now a novitiate at the temple of Calistra."

"Good for her, I think," Faiza muttered.

"Well, ever since then, we keep a much stricter eye on every step of the process. I'm sure you understand?"

Ollivor nodded, "After a story like that? Hell yes. I take it your former employee is facing some sort of punishment beyond just losing his job?"

"Alas, he managed to escape the authorities. Rumor has it he sells cursed items on the black market. We hope he'll get caught eventually though," The Enchanter stated.

Negotiations went smoother after that. By the end of the week, Ollivor found himself the owner of a slim circlet that hid quite nicely under his hat, which enhanced his charisma and the magicks that thrived on that.

But he worried about Faiza. She spent quite a few days at the academy and at other arcane 'places of learning' in the city. More than once Ollivor had worried that Faiza was covetous of his magic. She was, as far as he knew, no sorceress, but what if she decided to stay and try to become a wizard? Would he have a right to deny her her dream? And had she just been using him all along?

He realized he's find out by the time the Empty Lighthouse took sail again. He hoped she'd be on board it.


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Doran smiles at Bejman’s crunchy gift to Jako, now confident that he can trust this fellow with their business here in port. ”Glad to have met you, Bejman, it looks like we’ll get along famously.”

Although he’s tempted by the notion of a luxurious hotel in this grand city, Doran simply can’t imagine himself in such a place. He may be a captain in name and responsibilities, but in his heart he’s still an old salt who’s far more at home grabbing a quick bite to eat in the crow’s nest than sitting at a fancy table wondering which spoon to use. He finds simple lodgings by the docks easily enough, and settles in quite happily among the modest guests at the Seagull’s Rest.

After some consultation with Bejman, Doran sets off for an armorer’s shop not far from the inn where Ollivor is staying. Seems funny to ‘ave split up the crew, I never got t’ do that as a slave. But we do get to see plenty o’ each other while at sea, ‘tis prob’ly fer the best to get a break from each other’s comp’ny when we can. He enters the shop and inquires about armor and a dagger, showing off Naga to the smith. ”I’d like another blade, as close to a twin to this one as ye can manage,” he tells the burly weaponsmith, ”and a set of studded leather armor, magicked up as well. An’ I’m sure we can arrange some sort of package deal, since I’ll be bringin’ ye custom fer two purchases, ain’t that so? An’ if ye offer a good price, I’ve got a few friends just arrived in port, likely to be lookin’ to make some purchases as well. We’re fresh off a long voyage, with some gold to spend, an’ I know at least one of me crew wants a couple of swords re-forged, would fetch ye a pretty penny.”

After several minutes of cordial haggling, a slightly reduced price is agreed upon, and Doran agrees to pick up the goods in a week’s time. While he waits, he visits the wizard’s academy and places an order for a cloak and a ring to help protect him in combat and against all manner of spells and other hazards. No tellin’ what we might run into in our travels, always wanted somethin’ like that to add a bit of luck, offset some of tha’ bad luck I seem to have sailed with fer so long.

Stopping by the Lighthouse to check on the progress of supplying and refitting the ship, Doran is surprised to encounter a young half-orc lad, and even more surprised to hear the boy has been asking after someone named Doran Rawkins. ”What is it ye’re after, lad?” he says, not unkindly. ”I’m Cap’n Tidewrack, usually jus’ called Cap’n Doran. Rawkins is our other cap’n.” On learning that the boy seeks to sail on the lighthouse, at Ollie’s suggestion, Doran considers him carefully. ”Hmm, boy your age, livin’ on his own in the big city, ‘s got to be rough. And don’t tell me ye don’t live on yer own. I can see you’ve been livin’ rough, and not eatin’ much, and ye look like ye’ve been in a scrape or too. But all them things are strengths when it comes to a life at sea.” He thinks a moment, then continues, ”I’ll tell ye what. Ollie’s got a big heart, but he’s never built a crew for a voyage. But that don’t mean I’ll turn ye away. We’re going to be busy the next week or so, loadin’ supplies and gettin’ the Empty Lighthouse in proper sailin’ trim. You step aboard, help with that work, and we’ll see how ye do. I’ll see your paid for the week’s work whatever happens, and if ye show yerself a hard worker – even if ye’re a lubber – I’ll take ye on. Done?”

Once Wulf has been handed over to the ship’s skeleton crew for a brief orientation and a spell of intensely hard work, Doran sets out on the errand he’s been saving for last, to savor it all the more. He visits nearly every shop in the city that sells musical instruments, from the most refined crafter of violas and harps to the lowliest dockside pawnshops. Surprisingly, it is in one of these that he finds his prize: a harmonica, beautifully crafted of silver to fit his small hands, with the initials ‘I.S.’ picked out in amethyst stones on the underside. Hmm, now that’s a fine sign, Iakob’s initials. John’ll like that, remindin’ him of his good friend, brave fella that he was. This thing must’ve belonged to some rich Andoren fallen on hard times. Small as it is, ‘e probably ‘ad it since he was a kid, and had to part with it. Well, I’ll see that it travels th’ world, and Iakob’s memory travels with it. He hands over a small sack of gold coins for it, though he pays less than he would have in the finer parts of Augustana, and enjoys its fine tone, playing it as he walks slowly through the streets of the city back to the docks.


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

Sorry DM Barcas, I forgot about the Bellflower Network’s path to halfling freedom meant going through Rahadoum and the Inner Sea. Please pretend Vrunyar didn’t tell Clarke about the freed halflings, since there aren’t any.

I have a few more things I want to type for Vrunyar, but for now this will do.

3 Gozran 4713

Vrunyar wanders the quarter dedicated to books, scribes, and magic supplies. He spends the morning finding supplies for his alchemy and medical needs which will be delivered to the Empty Lighthouse. After a lunch of fried fish bought from a street vendor he enters a bookstore.

Instead of books, Vrunyar finds a female gnome at a desk, to the right of an inner door, in a small lobby. A little tea set is by her side. There is a painting on the wall that captures Vrunyar’s attention. It shows a staircase making ninety degree turns as it climbs a courtyard, yet on the fourth turn it connects to the first steps of the staircase at the bottom of the courtyard. There is no way such a staircase could exist in three-dimensions.

She puts her pen down, ”Welcome to my bookshop. If you would like entry, give me a paradox.”

Vrunyar looks around the room to see if this is some form of joke or gag the gnome is playing. ”Uh, okay. a paradox? HA! This statement is false,” Vrunyar says. He smiles and takes a step towards the inner door.

”Please, do you know how many times I’ve heard the liar’s paradox? Any gold in that vein has been mined long ago, dwarf. Try again.”

Vrunyar nods with good humor. What was that one Yennard told me? The ship, two ships — The dwarf clears his throat. ”You probably heard this one before too, but it’s nautical themed so perhaps it will please you. A friend of mine, Yennard had a ship. Told me you can replace all parts of a ship one by one and it is still the same ship. He could leave port, show up a few years later in a ship that has had every part replaced, yet everyone would say it’s the same ship. Now if during this years long adventure he had saved all the original parts and meticulously reassembled them, this ‘new’ ship would also be the original ship.” Vrunyar pauses for a moment to read the gnome’s expression, but can’t determine more than a general polite appreciation. ”Therefore, both ships would be Yennard’s original ship, yet of course you can’t have two things be the original. Is that enough to let me in?”

The gnome claps her hands once and smiles. ”Very well, you may enter. I’ve heard it before, but you told it well enough. You may purchase any of the books you wish, provided you have sufficient coin,” she speaks an arcane word and the inner door opens. Bookcases reach the ceiling, except those that form three rows in the middle of the store. They are only about four feet tall. Three plush chairs. Sunlight streams from the skylight. A ladder attached to a rail enables a shorter person to access any of the books along the ceiling high bookcases. ”Please write it down in the guestbook within.”

Vrunyar enters and starts his search for books that may interest him, especially anatomy or alchemy. The light drains from the skylight before he realizes how much time has past. Seven new tomes are in his hands as he goes to pay for them.

5 Gozran 4713
”What!? It’s still not peach season?” Vrunyar says to a grocer who had just answered Vrunyar’s question. ”There’s not an enterprising cleric of Adabad selling out of season fruits? Did the druids stop her?” Vrunyar shakes his head and scoffs. ”Torag’s sparks. Typical druids. Well, good day, sir! ”


Male Elf Barbarian (Urban Barbarian) 2 / Fighter (Archer) 2 /Sorcerer (Wildblood=Sage Cross Blood=Aquatic) | HP 35/35 | AC:16 T:14 FL:12 | CMD 20 | F:+7 R:+4 W:+2 | Init +4 Perception:+8

Thorn stepped off the Empty Lighthouse and stretched his legs before he stood on the edge of the dock in shock as he tried to take in the whole sight of Augustana. Thorn could not believe he had finally made it back to a city or port again as a free man but before Thorn could enjoy his new found freedom, a man approached the Empty Lighthouse. Thorn continued to stand and listens to Bejman Clarke as he gave his speech offering them a helping hand. Thorn could feel he did not trust this man but said to himself "Have I been caged up and kept away from civilization so long as to not be able to even trust a stranger offering a helping hand?" Thorn paused his thoughts as he listened to Vrunyar, Ollivor and Doran speak with Bejman. Thorn quickly told himself "If my new friends are trusting of Bejman maybe I can trust him because I have grown to trust their opinions. Time to jump back into the thick of it and get your life back, you still have much to accomplish." Once the rest of the crew had asked Bejman for help, Thorn walked up to Bejman and cleared his throat, "Could you point me into the direction of the best armorer in the city please!" Thorn listened to Bejman as he gave him very specific directions, to the Enchanted Forge, owned by an unlikely married couple of a master dwarf black smith and an elven enchantress who gave the masterwork pieces magical properties and enchantments. Thorn could not believe what he heard from Bejman but did not waste any time to see the master work and the unlikely couple.

Thorn soon found the shop and thought to himself Bejman had been true to his word for now and Thorn entered the shop cautiously. As soon as Thorn entered the shop a loud long bell toned out of thin air. Thorn took a sudden step back as to make a quick exit but a thin female elf stepped out to greet him graciously and with a slight bow. Thorn scanned the elf for weapons but only found a finely dressed elf with an intoxicating and wonderful smell of perfume swirling around her. "Welcome to the Enchanted Forge" the elf said in a soft and calming voice. "What brings you in today and how may I help you?" Thorn quickly scanned the shop before saying "I was told by Bejman Clarke that you and your husband have the finest armor in the city and the best quality, is that true?" The female elf stood up straight and with a small grin said "Aha yes, Bejman does speak highly of us and he is a good friend. I do not like to boast about my husbands work the way he and Bejman do but I can promise you will be completely satisfied by the time you leave the shop." Thorn began to walk slowly around the shop and admire all of the masterwork quality armor as the female elf followed slowly behind him momentarily before saying "Please take your time to look at our work and if you need any help, I am Gwynnestra." Thorn quickly realized he was being rude and turned to face Gwynnestra and said "Thank you, I will let you know when I have found something to my liking."

Thorn continued to walk through the shop and took in all of the different items they had for sell. As Thorn neared the back of the shop he could hear the stead beating of a hammer to anvil. Thorn being curious peaked his head into the back room and saw a dark room with even more rare pieces of armor but he did not see a dwarf hammering away on an anvil. The room was small and only had a few pieces but a shirt hung from the wall as it some how managed to radiate light as if the sun was bouncing off of it metallic sheen. Thorn walked over and felt on the material and recognized immediately that this was a Mithral shirt. Thorn turned to yell out for Gwynnestra's help but she was already there to say "Aha a wonderful choice, you have exceptional taste!" Thorn was still glammered by its glowing light and asked "How much are you asking for it." Gwynnestra stated in a slow, soft and confident voice "Its hard to put a price on such wonderful things but because we must make a living we are selling it for 3000 gold pieces." Thorn took a step back into the wall with sticker shock. As he hit the wall, a bracer fell from the shelf above his head and struck him on the head. Thorn rubbed his head as he bent down to pick up the bracer.

A flicker of gold shined from the bracer and he took back into the front of the store to get a better look at the bracer. Thorn was suddenly mesmerized at the golden falcons embroidered into the leather. Thorn could not explain it but he just new deep down in his heart that he must purchase these bracers no matter what. "How much for these" Thorn asked with eagerness in his voice. "Aha, A hunter you must be to feel the calling of these bracers. They will give you the sight of a Falcon and a ranged strike as deadly as their talons. I will sell you these for 4000 gold pieces."

Suddenly a dwarf came walking into the front of the shop from the same room they had just left. Thorn in disbelief stared rudely at the dwarf. "Aye laddy, you look as if you just saw a ghoast!" quickley followed by a loud roar of laughter. The dwarf was covered in sweat and dark soot. "The name is Drak, I am the other half of this enterprise. I see you have met my wife Gwynnestra, I am sure she has been more than helpful to you. How can we help you today?" The dwarf stared at Thorn for a few seconds before saying "Whats wrong with son, you got something wrong with ya or are you slow?". Thorn soon realized he was still staring at the back room in amazement. It must be some kind of spell she cast to keep him hidden from his sight but he did not have time to figure it out. Thorn quickly spoke up "Sorry, Sorry, I don't know what came over me, I must have dazed off a bit. Nevermind that, I was interested in purchasing some of your wares and these bracers have really caught my eye as well as the Mithral Shirt in the back room you just came out of." Drak looked at the bracers and then walked back into the room and brought out the Mithral shirt. "Well you sure have good taste in deed, I am sure my wife gave you our prices and she is the boss when it comes to things like that." Thorn nodded his head slowly and then said "Yes, she did tell me the prices and unfortunately I can only afford one or the other which is a shame because I really like them both. I only have 6000 gold pieces and the combine cost she gave me was 7000. I will have to ask Bejman for more help it seems."

Drak cut Thorn off quickly "Bejman, did you say? Did Bejman send you to my shop? Well why didn't you say so. That Bejman is a true friend and he only sends the best customers our way. I tell you what because you are a friend of Bejman, you are a friend of mine. Today is your lucky day my young elf i will take you gold and you can take both pieces." Thorn could not believe what he had just heard and quickly said "Thank you Drak, and thank you Gwynnestra, I will tell the rest of my ship about your kindness and your wares." Thorn threw on his new armor before throwing his bag of gold coins over the Drak's and shook both Drak's and Gwynnestra's hand. Thorn returned to the Empty Lighthouse with a smile on his face and could not help to think I hope everyone else was as fortunate as me and Bejman was able to help them as he helped me.

I purchased the Bracers of Falcon's Aim and a magical +1 Mithral Shirt


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

The officers’ dinner night before Augustana
”The wood bends even in the infirmary? HA! I guess I need to think more about the ship as a whole unit rather than a series of compartments. Stone doesn’t bend or twist as well as wood. Hmmm. Don’t worry about the maintenance of the tiles, though. I’ve done some general stonework and tile installation. As a child I really liked making mosaics, the geometry and patterns. Of course that’d mean keeping spares tiles around. The more I think about this, the more I think my idea is slag. Well for now, let’s send the idea back to the forge and exam it in the future. Wood floors aren’t bad, I just prefer stone.

”One final thought on a completely unrelated topic, I think Gemmusran Tegu should die. In case the Cheliax have informants in the city, watching the ships for important people. I don’t think Commander Cain would notice, but perhaps one of his superiors who tracks people’s passage through the arch and where they land. Am I over-thinking this? Well perhaps death is unneeded. He could get an inn’s room and simply disappear during the night.”

2 Gozran 4713
”The Seagull’s Rest?” Vrunyar says as he decides where to get rooms. ”Looks better than the Mermaid’s Cove next door.”

6 Gozran 4713
The ship is relatively quiet in the mid-morning. Most of the crew is ashore. A brief period of ‘liberty’, I believe it is called. Vrunyar thinks as he grinds reagents in a mortar. The restocking and expansion of his alchemical supplies yesterday was time well spent. The first day sailing will be occupied with brewing potions and creating some useful alchemical items, like candlerods, acid, and smokesticks. Plus he can finally teach John how to make black powder. Restoring his lost leg. He glances at the leather cover of an alchemical book. One thing at a time, he returns his attention to the arcana theory book open on his desk. For now, he’s using it as a reference for making a negative-healing extract for Aaron. Each failed attempt doesn’t bother Vrunyar. He’s learning what doesn’t work; getting one step closer to finding success.

8 Gozran 4713
Vrunyar returns to the armorer Mr. Clarke had sent him to earlier in the week, the Enchanted Forge. He dons the commissioned studded leather armor and swings his axe a few times. He is impressed at how unencumbered he feels. ”Exceptional quality. Well worth the price. Thank you Drakk and Gwynnistre!”

As he’s leaving he notices a mithral shield. ”How much is this?” He nods when he hears the price. You get what you pay for, he thinks as he holds it. I’m not trained to fight with a shield. It’d just get in my way...for now. John and Aaron could train me. Take a bit of time, true, but defense is a good thing. ”Coin well spent if you ask me,” Vrunyar says handing over more gold.

A return to the quarter specializing in arcana consumes hours of Vrunyar’s time. He buys four scrolls for conversion to formulae. One of healing, two for defense, and one with a variety of applications. Nearly 200 gold coins. He hopes they will be useful. Still thinking of defense, he lingers on an amulet. A crab shell, carved with runes and wards. The price is nearly half of his remaining funds. Would a magical axe be a better investment? he thinks. I won’t really know until we’re in a fight. By then it will be too late to change my mind. Should I consider group tactics? Being harder to hit will make slipping past adversaries easier. Out flank people. I should have asked the others what they think. Well I can always try to trade it in another port if a better weapon is called for. He signals the merchant that he wants to purchase the amulet.

9 Gozran 4713
”I was impressed with your painting,” Vrunyar says to the halfling, M.P. Freiling. The artist’s studio is lit with bright lights from magical lamps. Objects for still lives are arranged on shelves. Finished paintings line the walls. An ingenious swing rack holds some paintings to save space. ”I returned to Madama Paradoxia’s bookshop to enquire about who painted it. Her eyes gleamed when she said your name and gave me directions. So here I am, hoping to find something to help improve the ship’s infirmary. HA! Maybe next time you could paint the ceiling?!”

I’ll wrap up the scene with M.P. Freiling and another brief one (maybe 7 lines?) later today.


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

8 Gozran 4713
As night begins, Vrunyar holds a vial before Aaron. The dwarf’s face is beaming in delight. ”Hold this,” he says and demonstrating by closing his palm over the vial. After passing it to the dhampir, he enfolds his hands around Aaron’s hand. He draws his breath in deeply then recites a string of arcana. He takes another breath then smiles. ”I’ll refine the process,” he says. ”Maybe we won’t have to hold hands each time. Basically I use a bit of your negative energy to ‘align’ (or invert?) — for lack of a better word at this point — my positive energy that fuels my healing extracts and potions. Thus this will heal you. I could make you potions too. I can give you a list of reagents and materials if you want to buy them. So, good news HA! You won’t have to rely on my non-magical healing skill and talents.“ He chuckles.

”Wait, that didn’t sound like I wanted it to.”

An Inflict Moderate Wounds should cost 237.5 gp and an Inflict Light Wounds 118.75 gp. Vrunyar gets a 5% discount when crafting due to one of his traits.

9 Gozran 4713

Vrunyar chooses a painting after about half an hour. If he had more money to spend, he would get two. In the end he selects an image that resembles chain mail, but each circlet is made of smaller circlets, and those in turn are made of smaller circlets. The detail is impressive. As are the colors. MP Freiling captured the sheen of metal well. It’s not as eye bending as the one he saw in the bookshop, but he really likes this piece. ”If you have time, go to the Empty Lighthouse. A ship docked on the...well, dock. Or is it a pier? Anyway, you can help me place it on the wall. Maybe even get a sense of the ceiling. The dimensions. Tell me how much it would cost to paint it. Do you ever do mosaics?” Vrunyar can’t remember the last time he was so happy to spend 250 gp. The painting is wrapped in canvas and tied with string. It’s easy to carry being about eighteen inches by two feet. He extends his hand. ”I don’t know what inspires these paintings, but thank your muses. Next time we need repairs, I’ll try to convince the crew we need to return here. HA!”


Male Android Soldier (Themeless) 1; EAC 13, KAC 14; SP 1/8, HP 11/11, RP 4/4; Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +2 (+2 vs. disease, mind-affecting effects, poison and sleep); Initiative +6; Perception +1, Sense Motive -2

Aaron spends most of his time at the ship, helping out with the repairs and refitting. Although it has been quite some time since he worked as a carpenter on a regular basis, still he welcomes the opportunity to do so, even if it is for only a few days. He has missed working with his hands, using them to handle a hammer instead of wielding a sword. And Hojo is a fine partner, skilled as she is and, unlike him, a more full-time carpenter. If there is one thing he finds she lacks is humor; she is straight and to the point, her tone of voice matter-of-fact. Still, when the subject of conversation is wood-working there is much to discuss and learn.

Despite liking working with the ship though, the opportunity to stay in an actual inn and sleep in an actual room is too much for him to ignore, opting to dine and drink and rest at the Eagle's Nest. He was never one for luxury, so the alternative provided by the Grand Augustana hardly tempts him. Between his time in the Chelaxian Navy and then the years on that forsaken island, it has been a long time -relatively speaking, anyway- since he had the opportunity to stretch his legs on land and for more than a couple of days.

Of course, not all his time is spent working on the ship or resting at the inn. There are a few things to take care of, first among them having to do with improving his arms and armor. Thankfully it should be a relatively straightforward task, seeing as how Doran has already spoken to him of a blacksmith and armorer who seemed quite capable of taking care of such things. It does take some time for Aaron to describe to him how exactly he wants his blades reforged, but thankfully the memory of the vision remains fresh in his mind. After that, it is a simple matter to also ask him to have both swords and the mithral shirt he already owns enchanted. Nothing too flashy, but a magical strengthening of both weapons and armor will do for the time being.

While waiting for his order to be finished, he finally visits Vrunyar. The dwarf had mentioned looking into his... condition and how it would be possible to heal him earlier and it seems he has made some breakthrough or other. Sure enough, though it will cost him some coin for the ingredients, at least he will not have to worry about finding those particular concoctions that may heal him, but would harm anyone else.

Aaron smiles at his dwarven friend, quite pleased with the news. "Thank you, this will do nicely," he says with a nod of appreciation. "I will take care of bringing you the necessary ingredients for a few of them of varying potency," he adds before leaving once again to do just that.


12 Gozran 4713

The Empty Lighthouse rests in port as its crew enjoys the fruits of civilization for a while. Thousands of pieces of gold pass into the economy of Augustana, to its shipwrights and blacksmiths and innkeepers. After barely a day in port - and with the knowledge that they would have to be docked for up to a fortnight - John makes the decision to sail to Souston to see his wife and daughter. Being separated from them for several long months, being forced to wait weeks more would be torturous. He negotiates a fair price with a reliable merchant to hitch a ride for the two-day sail between Augustana and Souston, telling the rest of the crew to meet back up with him when they have finished their business in the city and leaving the ship in sole captainship of Doran for the time being.

For the rest of the crew, the city offers great things. The gold they each have to spend is much greater than the amount any of them have ever had. Most people make a few hundred gold pieces a year at the most. Andoran has enough oportunity for its people that even the poor make a fair amount of gold, rather than a few dozen pieces of gold scrounged up in addition to substinence farming, but only the wealthy have thousands of pieces of gold to spend at once. It is a strange feeling for this motley group of former slaves and simple sailors that they are the wealthy ones in the city, with vendors and salesmen competing for their money. They are far from the only wealthy individuals in Augustana - and there are definitely some for whom wealth would best be measured in the millions of gold pieces rather than the thousands - but they are no longer the poor. For a few weeks, at least, they experience a life that seemed unimaginable for many of them for a long time.

Doran still can't believe it or shake the feelings of comfort on the docks. He spends quite a bit of time by the piers, enjoying the familiar sights of workers hustling to unload the ships. The smells of sea and sweat make him feel at home as he watches them running up and down the piers to carry the crates and goods to waiting wagons. Most of the goods will head to the merchant's warehouses to be made ready for overland transport with the trade caravans. The great hub of commerce seems to hum with efficiency and industry. The humans and halflings work together well, he notes proudly, with no rancor or competition between the two groups, and no one seems to be slacking or avoiding work. There are still supervisors, but they are not overseers.

Lost in thought and admiration, Doran barley registers a ship coming into the pier. He watches as a group of halflings readies itself to unload, noting that they seem to be moving with trepidation. The busy industrious efficiency is gone. Doran scans the ship to figure out what is wrong and why they seem frightened - and his heart skips a beat. Below the flag of Cheliax, he sees a sight he thought he would never have to gaze upon again: the merchant flag of House Jenidar, his former masters.


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

When the House Jenidar flag comes into view, Doran can’t help but ask himself the question he thought he had left behind: Why do the sea gods haunt me so? Having made his escape from so many troubles and found himself back in the land of the free, with a ship and a crew and money in his pocket, and the promise of a decent future on top of all that, his past has come sailing back to haunt him.

This time I’m not alone, and I’m not their slave. But still, best play it a bit cautious. He drops off his perch as the ship makes her way to the pier, and approaches one of the halflings waiting to assist in unloading. ”Hey, mate, what can you tell me about that ship, ‘side from her bein’ full of devil-lovin’ slavers? I’ve got no love fer the family that flies that flag, nor them fer me. There’s a few coins in it fer ye, if ye can tell me ought about it, especially who ‘er cap’n is.”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Once he’s learned what he can about the ship – its business in Augustana, who captains it, anyting else of note – he moves along the dock a bit to watch from a distance as the unloading begins and the captain and crew begin to make their way ashore. When he’s gleaned all he can from this observation, he hurries back to the Empty Lighthouse, and spies Wulf, their newest recruit. ”Boy!” he calls out, ”you know this city, right? Go gather the rest of the officers, tell ‘em Doran wants ‘em on the double, we’ve got to meet about somethin’!” After naming the inns that the others are staying in and making sure the boy has all their names straight, Doran says with uncharacteristic brusqueness, ”Go! Time and tide wait for no man!”

Once the lad has left the Lighthouse, Doran collects himself a bit. No point takin’ out me nerves on the boy. But seein’ that flag has shaken me good – I hope it’s sailed off by the time the others get here, but my luck’s never been as good as that.


The halfling looks over Doran with a bit of suspicion - until the mention of payment for information comes up. "Mean lot, this fam'ly. Cruel enough to us free folk when they can get away with it. Can't imagine them treatin' the slips well. This ship's called the Hell's Harlot, captained by Lord Jenidar hisself. I'd 'void him if you can. Time to time, we have some disappearingses when they're in port. Ain't nothin' can be done, though, not less they're caught in the act." He spits on the pier, rubbing it into the wood with a shoe. "You got trouble, you take it elsewhere..." The dockhand looks closely at Doran. "You're lookin' kind of familiar. What'd you say your name was? You ever do work here in Augustana?"


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Doran drops a fat gold goin in the man's hand by way of thanks, saying, "Sure 'nuff, that's th' family I were thinkin' of. An' Jenidar himself's aboard? Well, I'll hafta see if I can resist th' urge to do the man some mischief, or worse."

In reply to the man's question, Doran says, "I've been through here before, tried workin' the docks a bit, but found I wanted ta be at sea, ye know? I tried and tried but jus' couldn't shake me sea legs, th' ground always felt like it were movin' under me."

Bluff: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20 Not really lying, but not telling the whole story either.

As he waits on the Lighthouse for his friends to arrive, Doran's thinking turns from nervous fear that somehow his former masters will reclaim him to thoughts of action. He can't help but want to do something about Jenidar and their cruel ways, can't help but dream of striking back somehow.

The rest of y'all are welcome to come aboard and post with him!


Doran's call to the others finds them throughout the city, wherever they are - all except John, who is presumably already arrived in Souston. It takes their young, new swab a few hours to find and collect everyone, but soon enough all of the senior crewmen are assembled in the captain's quarters. Their requisioned armor and arms have been procured, giving the crew a well-armed feel. Doran has a second dagger, a well-crafted copy of the one found in the naga's nest. Ollivor has both fine clothes and a remarkable headband that augments his strength of will. Aaron's reforged blades hang from his belt, and Thorn has new enchanted gloves. Vrunyar holds a shield of shining mithril, befitting his dwarven heritage. They are far from the press-ganged prisoners whose gear was taken from them and held in Grok's lockers.

Okay, everyone should be here!


Male Android Soldier (Themeless) 1; EAC 13, KAC 14; SP 1/8, HP 11/11, RP 4/4; Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +2 (+2 vs. disease, mind-affecting effects, poison and sleep); Initiative +6; Perception +1, Sense Motive -2

"Aye Captain?"

The words and the greeting behind them are simple enough, though it is easily noticeable that Aaron is in high enough spirits, probably the result of both his stay in an actual inn of an actual city and the images in his mind having been given proper form if the two curved swords resting in their scabbards are any indication.

Looking around and seeing the others also coming to join the halfling captain, all except fro John anyway, there is an expression of mild curiosity and puzzlement on his pale face. "What seems to be the problem?"

The question does not remain unanswered for too long though, as his eyes spot the Chelaxian vessel that has Doran so preoccupied. "Ah."


Male Halfling Bard

Ollivor is indeed looking pretty spiffy, he cocks the hat over his head band at a jaunty angle, "Ah?" He asks when Aaron makes the 'oh I get it ' noise, because Ollivor himself hasn't quite.

Then he looks towards the same vessel, "I take it there's some trouble about that particular ship beyond it being Cheliaxian?"


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

12 Gozran 4713
Around dawn Vrunyar boards the Empty Lighthouse to work in the infirmary. The city isn’t quiet, exactly, put he enjoys the early morning’s sounds. They are softer yet more deliberate.

Yesterday he made made one of the more complex “negative healing” potions for Aaron, today he plans to make the two minor potions. As he arranges the reagents and ingredients, he glances at the infirmary’s new painting. Maybe next time he should buy a painting and send it to his parents. If they don’t like it, he’s sure someone at their school will. With a satisfied chuckle, he begins making a potion.

Two hours later, while swirling the finished potion in the flask to check his work, Wulf calls and knocks on the door, ”You in there Doc? The innkeeper said you were gone for th’ day, an’ I thought you might be in there. Doran wants all th’ officers on the double.”

The dwarf answers, ”Aye! Aye! Cease your knocking! Spare your hand some splinters.” He opens the door with a smile. He can’t fault the new boy’s enthusiasm. ”I’ll be there ‘on the double’ as you say. Curious phrase: ‘on the double.’ HA! Double what?” Vrunyar’s eyes gleam.

Wulf shrugs and dashes away with a mumbled farewell.

Vrunyar pockets the flask, figuring he can hand it off to Aaron. Dodging some of the crew doing the ship’s daily docked maintenance, he approaches Doran, Olivor, and Aaron. They’re looking at a ship. Other than it being Chelaxian — he has a sinking feeling the ambassador of Pusabun may need to make another appearance.

”This is for you,” he says, giving the flask to Aaron. ”What can we do for you Captain Doran?” Vrunyar asks indicating the Chelaxian ship with a nod of his head.

Aaron has 1 inflict moderate wounds and 1 inflict light wounds. The second ILW will be made today at some point.


Sandara comes ambling in with her hat half-cocked on her head. She looks invigorated and pleased. Being in port seems to agree with her. "So, what's going on?" She might not have been invited, but her skill set is always welcome and her perspective tends to be helpful.

Waiting on Doran to get this party started!


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

With his friends joining him on deck, Doran begins to explain the significance of the Chelish ship, and her captain, "That ship is th' Hell's Harlot, an' her cap'n is Lord Jenidar, sire of the family what used to 'own' me. They’re rich n’ greedy, always wantin’ more – makes ‘em do questionable things from time t’ time. An’ I’d like to catch ‘em at it.”

Gesturing around the busy docks, he continues, ”Even here, where folk are free, no matter who they are, the Jenidars’ll try to take slaves. The little folk, especially, will sometimes go missin’ - an’ if they’re not caught red-handed, they sail away wit’ their catch an’ sell ‘em into bondage when they git home, like they jus’ fished ‘em out of the sea. I’d like t’ see the laws of Andoran stuck to those bastards, see ‘em caught takin’ slaves in a free land. Odds are they’re too powerful to pay all they should for their crimes, but even seein’ ‘em red-faced with embarrassment would be a joy to behold, ye know?”

Doran is thoughtful a moment, scratching Jako’s plumage and pondering how to accomplish his goal. He looks around at his crewmates and says, ”Like I said, nothin’ I’d like more than to catch ‘em trying to take halflings as slaves here in Andoran…but I’m not sure the best way to do it. We could post a watch on ‘em, but they might notice some of the less sneaky of us. An’ if I were on watch, they might jus’ try to take me…”

”What do ye think, crew? Send Vrunyar’s ambassador over to talk to ‘em, get a tour of the ship and see what he can find? They’re like to be too clever to make it easy, an’ we’d have to get the timin’ jus’ right, to be sure they’ve got captives but haven’t sailed yet. Anyone got any way to spy on ‘em from afar? Ollivor or Sandara, you know any tricks like that?”


Male Halfling Bard

Olivor shakes his head, "Sorry, Doran. You want to try something to take the bastards down, I'm with you, but my magic ain't the subtle sort. Probably because I'm not always a subtle fellow. Still, have you thought of seeing if you can get one of the crewmen or better yet officers alone and drunk while on shore, and seeing what secrets he might spill? Might tell you more about how things work there now, and what or who is on board?"


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

”Aaron might be good at approaching a fellow Chelaxian,” Vrunyar says. He inspects the ships in the area and the workers on the docks, lingering on Hell’s Harlot. ”I don’t know how Commander Cain didn’t see through my disguise. Playing Gemmusran Tegu again meght bay pueshing may lueck.” Shaking his head he chuckles at speaking with such an outlandish accent.

”If one of us could breathe underwater, we could weaken their hull with drilled holes. Not enough to endanger anyone, just maybe sink it as it leaves port.”

Vrunyar drums his fingers on the railing. ”If they got caught taking slaves here, why I imagine the ship wouldn’t be able to come here anymore.”


Male Android Soldier (Themeless) 1; EAC 13, KAC 14; SP 1/8, HP 11/11, RP 4/4; Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +2 (+2 vs. disease, mind-affecting effects, poison and sleep); Initiative +6; Perception +1, Sense Motive -2

"That could work, yes," Aaron concurs after a moment's thought. "I am guessing they would not mind talking with one of their own. I could even let slip that I was at some point in the business of slave trafficking and see what they have to say about it? I doubt they will feel shocked about it, especially if what you say about this particular vessel is true."


Sandara seemingly summons a pear out of nowhere and takes a bite of its succulent flesh. "I don't have any tricks for spying with magic or anything like that - but I do have some tricks up my sleeves to find out information. This Lord Jenidar, I'm going to guess he has the same desires and appetites as most men? What do you want me to do, captain? I could set things up so that you could sneak in and cut your throat if that's what you wanted. Up to you."


The crew of the Lighthouse discusses the plan for an hour, throwing out suggestions and arguing about the best way to bring down the corrupt merchant slaver. Some suggestions - Sandara's offer to assassinate him, for instance, or merely sinking the ship - go down quickly. The goal, Doran explains, is to have the Andoran authorities catch him with living contraband. Bringing slaves into Andoran from a slave-holding nation results in the slaves being freed and the merchant being heavily fined (essentially doubling the economic pain), but most ships from Cheliax and elsewhere merely hide the slaves on board and remain quiet. It is an unspoken truth that many of the ships in port hold slaves inside, but the authorities cannot simply search them without cause. So long as the slavery is not known to the Andorans, its possibility is tolerated. However, enslaving any citizen of Andoran is a severe crime punishable by execution. Should a merchant be caught kidnapping and enslaving halfling dockers, he would be swaying from the gallows as soon as the trial came to a conclusion. Lord Jenidar is a careful and clever man, and would likely maintain the plausible deniability that comes with wealth and respectability.

They decide that they need more information before moving forward with any plan. Simply sneaking onto the ship and freeing the slaves would likely make any evidence inadmissible under Andoran law, as they'd be violating Jenidar's own property rights by trespassing on his ship. They rule out bringing their suspicions directly to the authorities, not knowing who might be in the pocket of the wealthy and corrupt nobleman. If John were here, they could use his contacts in the Steel Falcons to find some trustworthy aid - but he isn't, and they're essentially on their own.

A few hours of surreptitious watching of the Hell's Harlot gives them their mark: a young sailor with the imperiousness only a Chelaxian can master. He barks orders at the halfling porters, treating them as fools. He clearly sees them as inferiors. He seems to have enough authority to command several of the other sailors, but so much arrogance that he should be blind to their plots. He is a haughty, handsome man with curly brown hair to the collar, but a sneer seemingly permanently attached to his face.

They continue to watch until darkness falls over the port. The officer quickly leaves the ship and heads into the city. Doran follows him like a shadow, watching as he enters one of the higher-class taverns in the Oldtown District, where the city's wealth and power resides. Doran doubles back and fetches the rest of them, telling them to put on their finest clothes and practice their refined conversation skills.

One by one, they filter into the smoky tavern. They hear laughter and conversation coming from within. The marble facade of the tavern, called the Enlightenment, bears witness to its expensive and exclusive nature. Ollivor brings along Faiza, while Aaron walks in with Sandara on his arm. Both of the beautiful women draw a great deal of attention as they walk in. Thorn, Vrunyar, and Doran all enter by themselves. They sit throughout the expansive room, keeping an eye on their mark. He is sitting at the bar, trying and failing to keep the attention of a comely young woman. "Grover Pentrucio, my lady," he introduces himself with a bow in his prominent Chelaxian accent. The most he gets out of her is a polite nod before she turns to a more suitable suitor. He sullenly returns to his drink, tapping at the bar with anger.

The conversations being held through the room are quite intellectual and stimulating. They discuss history, economics, religion, all at a quite advanced level. Frequently, the speaker will gesture to another in the area to obtain their opinion - not as an attempt to embarrass, but rather an attempt to actually receive a diversity of thought.


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Thanks for getting us going again, Barcas! Still very busy, then out of touch this weekend, then I'll be back a bit more.

Doran moves through the room as casually as he can. He's quite used to taverns, but of the rough, dockside sort. This salon, with its marble frontispiece and alabaster beauties within, is more than a little alien to him. Nonetheless, he makes his way to the bar, pausing as if listening to a particularly profound thought when he nears Pentrucio and his attractive quarry.

No idea if they'll put up with music in a place like this, but I might be able to do the Chell a favor here, so he'll have his guard down...

Trying to catch the eye of Pentrucio and the woman who's just turned from him, Doran slips his harmonica from his pocket, the amethysts on its surface glittering with blue light as he cradles it in his small hands and raises it to his mouth. With a wink, he begins to play a lively tune, tapping his foot to the rhythm of it and nearly dancing a jig. Taking the briefest break in his playing, he says with a grin to the Chelaxian and the woman next to him at the bar, "Ye're a lovely couple, won't you dance?"

Take 10 on Perform for an 18.


The arrogant officer looks down at Doran with distaste on his face. "Away with you, slip!" He waves him off contemptuously, returning to his drink. The woman sitting next to him takes her leave with a look of sympathy for Doran. The halfling captain's plan seems to have driven Petrucio into a mood even more sour than when he was first rejected. He turns in his chair and leans down to speak to Doran, whispering to him, "Get out, you little bastard, unless you want to know what we do to your kind in Cheliax." He returns to his drink, slamming the glass down and ordering another before turning to scan the crowd for female companionship again.


Male Android Soldier (Themeless) 1; EAC 13, KAC 14; SP 1/8, HP 11/11, RP 4/4; Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +2 (+2 vs. disease, mind-affecting effects, poison and sleep); Initiative +6; Perception +1, Sense Motive -2

Moving towards the bar, Aaron reaches it just as the Chelaxian speaks to Doran, the malice in his tone quite unmistakeable. However, the halfling's crewmate is not there to lend aid. Well, not to the halfling anyway.

"You heard the man," Aaron says softly, coldly, adding his voice to the other man's, his own Chelaxian accent easy to discern, as he is not trying to hide it; quite the opposite really. "Take your little toy and your little self and stop bothering proper gentlemen with that noise you call music."


Male Halfling Bard

Ollivor feels confident with his new headwear and a lovely lady on his arm, but while he tries to nod sagely at some of the more illuminating theorums of life, love, and the pursuit of fluff in one's belly button, he also tries to get a look at the fellow the others are conning, particularly what sort of weapons and the like he has.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

Not sure what the odds would be to cast detect magic unnoticed in this situation


Aaron Bluff 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20
Grover Sense Motive 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

Grover Petrucio sneers at Doran, bolstered by the support of a fellow Chelaxian. He makes one final motion of dismissal, causing Doran to apparently slink away in racial shame. The Chelaxian turns to his countryman, toasting him with a raised glass. "Allow me to purchase you a drink, friend. Another Devil's Trap," he orders confidently. Aaron hasn't heard of the drink before, but that isn't surprising considering the fashion changes in the Chelaxian court. They apparently extended to liquor as well, and no one kept him updated on his years on the island. "Grover Petrucio, currently second in command of the Hell's Harlot out of Westpool. Pleased to meet a fellow civilized gentleman in this backwater town."

Across the room, Ollivor starts to summon his magic. "Pardon me, sir," interrupts a steward before Ollivor can check the magical auras of his fellow patrons. "The use of magic is not permitted within our establishment. We find that it dulls the exchange of ideas." With a significant look suggesting that this would be his only warning, the steward returns to a watchful position near the door. Faiza glares at the steward but says nothing.

One of the gentleman sitting at one of the tables nearby overhears the brief warning. A boisterous older man with an oiled mustache, he calls out to Ollivor. "Perhaps you can be of aid to our discussion, good sir. We have been debating the ethical use of mental enchantment during international diplomacy. Should both sides expect its use and take appropriate precautions, or should its use be considered a violation of accepted norms?"


Male Android Soldier (Themeless) 1; EAC 13, KAC 14; SP 1/8, HP 11/11, RP 4/4; Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +2 (+2 vs. disease, mind-affecting effects, poison and sleep); Initiative +6; Perception +1, Sense Motive -2

"As am I," Aaron says with a courteous bow of his head in greeting. "I am Carsus Verunn. And a fellow Chelaxian and a gentleman no less is certainly a most welcome sight. I was beginning to lose hope." Taking a sip from the drink offered, he smiles in approval before adding, "Both I and my cousin, in fact."

Turning to look at Sandara, he calls to her, beckoning her to approach. "Cousin, please join us. I have found a gentleman that is sure to be excellent company." He then moves to almost whisper to Grover's ear. "After all, such a thing is in short supply in this... I do not know, town sounds too good a word."

"Hell's Harlot, you say? Why does that name sound familiar?" Aaron, or Carsus, appears to try remember, seemingly helping his memory along with another -tiny- sip.

I am assuming at least the fake names have been decided beforehand, if not the roles. Still, a bit of improvisation never hurt anyone... I think.


Male Halfling Bard

Sorry, hadn't meant to cast detect magic. I was only asking if it was possible without being seen. If he didn't think he could do it unseen, Ollivor wouldn't have tried.

But since it's a bit late to undo all that

Quote:
Across the room, Ollivor starts to summon his magic. "Pardon me, sir," interrupts a steward before Ollivor can check the magical auras of his fellow patrons. "The use of magic is not permitted within our establishment. We find that it dulls the exchange of ideas." With a significant look suggesting that this would be his only warning, the steward returns to a watchful position near the door. Faiza glares at the steward but says nothing.

"Not even to provide a bit more light? My apologies." Ollivor says. He finds a blanket rule a bit slap dash, but he supposed he could see the man's point.

Quote:
One of the gentleman sitting at one of the tables nearby overhears the brief warning. A boisterous older man with an oiled mustache, he calls out to Ollivor. "Perhaps you can be of aid to our discussion, good sir. We have been debating the ethical use of mental enchantment during international diplomacy. Should both sides expect its use and take appropriate precautions, or should its use be considered a violation of accepted norms?"

Ollivor thinks it over, "I think you have to ask yourself what ,if anything, would be the closest mundane equivalent and how that might come across. Charming someone might be like getting them sauced and then trying to get them to sign a legally binding contract, unethical if not flat out illegal depending on where you are. On the other hand, there's a reason food tasters and weapon checks occur, and if both sides do it, the precautions, not the unethical stuff, I see no reason for either to presume offense. Of course, I believe the old phrase is "Trust by verify"," Ollivor smiled.


Sandara Bluff 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

Sandara approaches the bar, utilizing her feminine charm to the best of her ability. Most of the eyes of the room follow her closely, draped as she is in a clinging silver dress. Her red hair cascades down her bare shoulders. She somehow manages to keep her sultry whisper intact when she affects a Chelaxian accent. "Well, it does seem that you have found us some pleasant company. I hope that he has the sense to buy a drink for me as well." Like a flash, the young man's coin is practically in the bartender's pocket. She looks over him approvingly. Aaron shoots her a glare, as her accent has the emphasis in all the wrong places - but it doesn't really matter, as he is clearly eager to spend more time with her. She doesn't seem to acknowledge him as she charms Petrucio. "The Hell's Harlot? Sounds like your ship's been quite naughty!"

The smitten young man almost stammers as he drinks in the beauty of the disguised priestess. He tries to flirt back, already on his back foot. "Oh, she has been. Up to all sorts of things that she shouldn't be doing!" He giggles ever so slightly, intimidated and already a bit drunk. "And you two, where are you from? What brings you to the colonies?"

------------------------

Over on the other side of the room, the mustachioed man nods somewhat approvingly at Ollivor's answer. "A negotation with no spirits would be a poorly-struck one, though!" The rest laugh at the quip. "Where did you train in the magical arts, young man? I always dreamt in my youth of learning magic. I'm told that I am a wizard of finance, but I fear I cannot turn lead to gold and must produce gold the old-fashioned way."

If anyone else wants to jump into a learned discussion about an interesting topic, go ahead and jump in!


Male Elf Barbarian (Urban Barbarian) 2 / Fighter (Archer) 2 /Sorcerer (Wildblood=Sage Cross Blood=Aquatic) | HP 35/35 | AC:16 T:14 FL:12 | CMD 20 | F:+7 R:+4 W:+2 | Init +4 Perception:+8

Thorn trails in after the rest of his party and stops in the door way briefly to give a quick scan of the room to spot a quiet place to sit and enjoy a drink. Thorn spots an empty table tucked away in a dark and remote corner. Thorn sits in one of the two chairs with his back to the corner. After getting himself comfortable in his chair Thorn gives the waitress a nod of the head to get her attention. Once the waitress makes her way through the crowd Thorn orders a large goblet of ale. "Looks to be a busy night for you. If you do not mind could I trouble you for a goblet of your best ale."

She quickly responds "Sure thing honey, but it might take me a bit to make my way back to you. As you mentioned before we are quite busy and short staffed so be patient with me. OK?" Thorn began to open his mouth with a response but the waitress was gone as fast she arrived as she continued her round of the tavern. While waiting for the waitress to return with his ale, Thorn takes this time to examine the entire room, locating each of his crew members first, then identifying their target Grover Petrucio and finally giving a once over the rest of the remaining patrons inside the tavern. Thorn checks to see if any of the patrons are carrying any weapons of significance or if Grover has any body guards near by or inside the tavern watching his back.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11


Male Halfling Bard
Quote:
Over on the other side of the room, the mustachioed man nods somewhat approvingly at Ollivor's answer. "A negotation with no spirits would be a poorly-struck one, though!" The rest laugh at the quip. "Where did you train in the magical arts, young man? I always dreamt in my youth of learning magic. I'm told that I am a wizard of finance, but I fear I cannot turn lead to gold and must produce gold the old-fashioned way."

Ollivor chuckles at the quip too. It's a good one, "I think it's the fellows who use the old fashioned way who often have more power than wizards, either to better their communities or only themselves. Though it might be nicer if men of business would conveniently adorn themselves in white or black robes like wizards do in the minstrel fancies. As for myself, my training was very informal, though I did study a bit at the University of Almas." Not even half of the truth, but certainly not a lie. His gifts as a sorcerer weren't a choice, but he did study dragons and honed his then meager magics there. Still meager really, but I keep feeling I am growing, like molting out of one skin to find myself larger than before. "And you, sir? Is your skill with commerce from a formal education, runs in the family, or a bit of both? if I might ask?"


One of the group spots Thorn and beckons him over, distracting him from keeping an eye on the room. He tries to wave them off, but they continue to beckon him over. If he declines again, he risks bringing attention to himself and blowing their cover. He walks over to the group of distinguished gentlemen and ladies, taking a seat that still gives him some degree of oversight of the room. One of the women - a plain woman wearing a simple dark gown, clearly in some sort of business - offers him a drink. "What a fortunate boon that you have arrived early, Taluras! In light of your pending arrival, we were discussing Kyonin. Do you believe that Queen Telandia will open more of the markets to our trade?" It is clear that she has a case of mistaken identity. She apparently wants to hire this Taluras as an envoy to trade with the reclusive elven nation.

A few table away, Ollivor gets a bit of a smile out of the man. "I'd hope that it runs in my family. My father was Tarmen Goldfield, and I bear his name." Even Ollivor knows the name, being one of the wealthiest families in Andoran. The senior Goldfield was one of the early backers of the People's Revolt, lending his merchant fleet to break the Chelaxian blockades. The decision turned out quite well, as his son now commands one of the largest private fleets in the world. "I did study at the University of Korvosa in my youth, learning the ways of finance and trade. Fortunately, this great nation has given me every opportunity to discover that wisdom is gained through trial and error, not books. Much like your magic, I used what I learned sparingly and learned from the mistakes I made in my youth."


Male Android Soldier (Themeless) 1; EAC 13, KAC 14; SP 1/8, HP 11/11, RP 4/4; Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +2 (+2 vs. disease, mind-affecting effects, poison and sleep); Initiative +6; Perception +1, Sense Motive -2

"Westcrown," 'Carsus' answers with a friendly smile. "As for what brought us here, nothing terribly exciting I am afraid. My cousin wanted to do a bit of traveling and insisted I accompany her. Truth be told though, I did find myself in need of a change of scenery. And you never know when a business opportunity might come up." He sighs then, rolling his eyes. "Of course, this... town was not exactly what I had in mind. And we did not even bring any of our..." He pauses then and leans in a little closer, his tone somewhat conspiratorial. "Any of our servants. It seems having a few of the..." Another pause and his voice goes even lower. "...of the little vermin along would have earned us our fair share of disapproving stares."

Sitting back into his chair again, he appears to change the subject, though not by much. "What about you? Business? Pleasure? Both? If what I recall of your ship is correct, I cannot imagine you will find much of the former here..."


Male Halfling Bard
Quote:
A few table away, Ollivor gets a bit of a smile out of the man. "I'd hope that it runs in my family. My father was Tarmen Goldfield, and I bear his name." Even Ollivor knows the name, being one of the wealthiest families in Andoran. The senior Goldfield was one of the early backers of the People's Revolt, lending his merchant fleet to break the Chelaxian blockades. The decision turned out quite well, as his son now commands one of the largest private fleets in the world. "I did study at the University of Korvosa in my youth, learning the ways of finance and trade. Fortunately, this great nation has given me every opportunity to discover that wisdom is gained through trial and error, not books. Much like your magic, I used what I learned sparingly and learned from the mistakes I made in my youth."

"A goldfield eh? There's a lot to live up to, and aye. Even after my own book studies , I had to learn some bit of life the hard way to see somethings as they are. The liberties hard won by our sires and grandsires are as like to get taken from us if we're not ready to keep an eye out on them." Ollivor considers. He's not what character he's supposed to be pretending to be, but he figures that sticking close to the truth means he'll not be caught in a flat out lie. Besides, it seems Aaron over there has taken the role of haughty Cheliaxian.


Grover nods conspiratorially as Aaron lowers his voice, though he can't do much to tear his eyes away from Sandara. She leans in as well, getting more of a grasp on the accent after hearing the two of them speak for a little while. "I had to draw my own bath. Unbelievable!" He chokes a little, apparently imagining her in the bath. She swallows a smirk.

Petrucio leans back, pridefully ready to boast of the ship. "Business, as always. It isn't easy building an empire of trade. I've brought a great deal of textiles, pottery, and weaponry from Cheliax. The Andorans cannot craft anything of this quality, and so our great nation grows rich by supplying it. Their markets hunger for skilled craftsmen from more civilized lands." He finishes his drink and pushes it forward for the bartender to refill. "I'll say, the poor quality of slips never ceases to shock me. It is a disgrace how slow and ill-trained they are as porters. If only we could use..." He trails off before he can finish the thought.


Male Elf Barbarian (Urban Barbarian) 2 / Fighter (Archer) 2 /Sorcerer (Wildblood=Sage Cross Blood=Aquatic) | HP 35/35 | AC:16 T:14 FL:12 | CMD 20 | F:+7 R:+4 W:+2 | Init +4 Perception:+8

One of the group spots Thorn and beckons him over, distracting him from keeping an eye on the room. He tries to wave them off, but they continue to beckon him over. If he declines again, he risks bringing attention to himself and blowing their cover. He walks over to the group of distinguished gentlemen and ladies, taking a seat that still gives him some degree of oversight of the room. One of the women - a plain woman wearing a simple dark gown, clearly in some sort of business - offers him a drink. It is clear that she has a case of mistaken identity. She apparently wants to hire this Taluras as an envoy to trade with the reclusive elven nation.

Thorn quickly observed a woman who stood in a group of distinguished gentlemen and ladies across the room. The woman wore a simple dark green dress and waived Thorn to their group. Thorn paused momentarily to quickly scan the room for a rouse. The woman waived him over to the group once more with more vigor and now the rest of the group turned to stare at him. Thorn soon realized that this group would bring unwanted attention to himself so he rose with haste and worked his way through the crowd. Thorn was able to work his way through the crowd with ease thanks to his size and presence.

As soon as Thorn arrived to the outskirt of the group The woman in green approached him with a drink held in her out reached hand. The woman says "What a fortunate boon that you have arrived early, Taluras! In light of your pending arrival, we were discussing Kyonin. Do you believe that Queen Telandia will open more of the markets to our trade?" Thorn realized the woman believed him to be another person "Taluras, I believe" Thorn said to himself. Thorn grabbed the drink from the woman and began to take a couple of gulps and wiped quickly wiped the left over beverage running down his chin with his wrist. "Thank you for the drink, I traveled with haste and the journey left me somewhat parched. You are a true blessing to weary traveler." Thorn slowly finishes his drink and use the time to give the entire group a once over from head to toe. Thorn continued "What about Kyonin were you all discussing before I arrived?....Oh and as for your question regarding the Queen, she is like the elven nation and keeps her decisions a mystery to all, even myself!"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Doran glares at Petrucio, turning away in frustration and disgust. Well, that came apart fast! Let's hope Aaron and Sandara have a defter touch talkin' to the vile fellow.

He takes a seat some ways away, and his dark mood is lightened somewhat by seeing how easily the Chell is taken in by Sandara's wiles. I'd do best to jus' keep a weather eye out fer now. Seems Ollie and Thorn are managin' to chat up the folk 'ere, and I'm not fit for fancy parlor talk.

Sipping a drink and scanning the crowd, he keeps an eye open for any halflings nearby, in the hopes that he might find a sympathetic ear and a possible source of information about the Chelish slaver.


Thorn...

Bluff 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Sense Motive 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

The woman's eyebrows draw together when Thorn spills his drink on himself, and draw further together when he begins to speak. "Tell me, what is my name?" Thorn has no answer for her as the charade quickly falls apart. "As I thought. Shame on you for lying about you are and misleading us! I have half a mind to have you ejected! Begone!" She and her compatriots pointedly turn away from Thorn, dismissing him back to his place in the corner.

Doran...

Doran's mood darkens again when he notices that he is the only halfling in the room who isn't serving drinks or clearing tables. Even in the nation with the most liberty for his people, most of them are second-class. No one in Augustana has treated him poorly, save Petrucio, but it seems that halflings have a hard time earning social stature even here. Dejectedly, he starts to hum and draws his harmonica again.

Before long, he has a small crowd of onlookers. His mournful tune turns to a happier one. The smiling and laughing crowd dances to his melody, which he augments with a popular song that mocks Cheliax. He adds a few quick verses of his own invention, knowing that the disrespect will anger the haughty Chelaxian. The crowd claps and cheers as he culminates with a somewhat salacious implication that Queen Abrogail enjoys being spanked by imps. As the crowd breaks up, one of the halfling servants - a pretty lass with bright blue eyes and yellow hair - gives him an additional few claps. "Good show! I saw the way that the devil-worshiper treated you. I'm glad you didn't stand for it. I'm Jaine, by the way." From her accent, she is native to Andoran.

Ollivor...

Tarmen Goldfield nods and raises his drink in agreement. "Indeed. We've been privileged with a great deal of good fortune, and it's our duty to pass it along to the next generation after ours. And your father and forebears? What of their gifts are you thankful for?"

Vrunyar...

Somehow, Vrunyar finds himself deep in a debate about the value of traditional medicine - that is, magical healing - compared to the study of anatomy and disease. His salon partner, a Clerk of Abadar who has introduced herself as Alys Dakkone, argues that divine magic can heal most maladies far more efficiently than the trial-and-error of bodily meddling. Young for her station (though that may simply be his dwarven inability to properly estimate human ages), she argues her position fairly clearly, adding that arcane magic and alchemical supplements can fill in any gaps in healing ability.


Male Android Soldier (Themeless) 1; EAC 13, KAC 14; SP 1/8, HP 11/11, RP 4/4; Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +2 (+2 vs. disease, mind-affecting effects, poison and sleep); Initiative +6; Perception +1, Sense Motive -2

"I must insist you allow me to buy you this next drink," Aaron says, adding just a hint of slurring into the words. "It is not every day we find a man after our own hearts." Taking the bottle from the bartender's hands, at the same time indicating he will be covering the tab for it, he fills Petrucio's glass once again.

"But, I think you were saying something?" He shows interest, or rather curiosity, the curiosity of the slightly inebriated who has found a friend and kindred spirit. "If it has to do with the quality of the workers here, I can sympathize. But it is not like we can find anyone better, anyone... properly trained."


Male Halfling Bard
Quote:
Tarmen Goldfield nods and raises his drink in agreement. "Indeed. We've been privileged with a great deal of good fortune, and it's our duty to pass it along to the next generation after ours. And your father and forebears? What of their gifts are you thankful for?"

"Well, I think any man or woman now a days who had grandsires and granddames and other kin that fought to gain this land's freedoms has enough to be grateful for right there. For me? Well, every man has his private parts of his heart so not all I'll be telling, but I have a sense of ire at injustice that comes perhaps from both my father and mother, the ire more his I guess, but I hope it is a goodly rage for all that. From my mother's side comes some magic, and while she has not the gift, it was through her it came. My brother as true a patriot as I ever knew made me respect those of good heart who do good duty, though my own preference is to follow my own path I cannot sneer at those who follow the more trodden paths for I know their hearts are often fine stuff," Ollivor feels oddly wistful at thoughts of family. He'd been so eager to be free of them, and now? Well, no, he wouldn't go back to stay. Visit maybe, "Well, I'm young yet, but already I'm learning I was far too eager to think of myself as cleverer than generations before when I was younger still. Now I'm starting to see I came in danger of splashing out the baby with the bathwater more than once. Hopefully I can eventually do away with my arrogance while still keeping a bit of pride. But easier said than done."


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

Vrunyar listens politely to Alys Dakkone’s argument concerning medicine. He drinks his ale, making eye contact between sips, wondering how insulting she was trying to be. He stops himself from starting his remarks with ‘HA!’ ”Well, Clerk Dakkone, learning anatomy and the processes of the body, gaining knowledge, is a good thing. The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know. What causes disease? Why do some poisons affect the muscles and others affect certain organs? What accounts for the differences in vision between the various races? There are numerous questions to find answers for. I won’t try your patience with more. Another reason: not everyone has access to a cleric’s divine magic, but most people can learn some herbal-lore to combat fevers and ease pain.”

Alys Dakkone narrows her eyes, ”You aren’t one of those that believes healing should be free?”

The dwarf laughs like he just heard a minor joke. ”Ohhh everything has a cost, but that doesn’t mean it can be expressed as a specific weight of rare metal. If a doctor wants to charge per stitch, or bone set, why shouldn’t she? However, would you begrudge a farmer giving an apple to an impoverished man?”

She shakes her head. ”You don’t know what small so-called mercies can do to the larger economy. Undervalued goods or services in one locale can have repercussions in surrounding kingdoms. It depends upon the man too. He may be impoverished, but bartering for services is a possibility.”

Vrunyar shrugs, ”I didn’t study how wealth shifts between people or nations. I became what I am due to my family and also my compassion...my wanting to help people. But we’re getting a little off topic. You essentially said there was no need for non-magical healing, so far as I know healing with divine magic doesn’t require any knowledge, simply faith in your god. There’s little chance, but what would happen if our prayers weren’t answered? Plus, what happens when the amount of healing surpasses the capacity for divine healing, like after a major battle? And what if prayers could be more effective if a cleric knew what exactly needed healing? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad divine healing is available. I simply think that non-magical healing, while not as fast, definitely has a place in our world.”

The dwarf beckons over a server. He orders an ale for himself and says, ”Please offer a drink or hot plate to that musical halfling. I enjoyed his performance.” He slides over the appropriate coins for his order. His hand pauses before closing his coin pouch, ”Would you like another drink, Clerk Dakkone? My treat.”

”Why would you do that? You just buy drinks for people?” she asks.

”Yes,” Vrunyar says. ’Why’ you ask, because I’ve enjoyed our conversation and hope it can continue. Though we could discuss other things. Art, childhood, politics, what else you do for fun in this city, or we could do a math contest; multiplication, fractions, division, geometry. You name it.”

Clerk Dakkone indicates the small abacus tied to her coin purse. There’s a small carved ivory stylus used to manipulate the beads attached to the abacus as well. ”I’ll take a glass of wine,” she says to the server then turns her attention back to Vrunyar. ”Geometry? You know the right triangle theorem? How many different proofs do you know for it?”

”Different proofs?” with a wet finger, he traces a triangle on the table, creating squares from each leg and the hypotenuse. He stares at it for a few minutes. ”I learned just one in school. Never even thought about needing more, but that’s a great idea. How many do you know?”

Clerk Dakkone looks smug and triumphant. ”Six!”

”Six!” Vrunyar looks dumbfounded. He chuckles slightly. ”Please teach me. I’ll pay of course,” he adds, with a wink. ”Whatever the going rate for impromptu math lessons in a tavern are. Say you must know where to buy pretty much anything in the city, right?”

So Doran, feel free to RP a server offering you a drink or food courtesy of Vrunyar.


Aaron...

Petrucio, the fool that he is, beckons Aaron closer to him. Aaron can smell the alcohol on his breath. "The problem isn't finding someone properly bred and trained. The problem is the absurd laws of this land. I told Lord Jenidar, I did, that we should just stay with the ports where we can use our own people, that or have a shipping route solely for these backwaters. It's so inefficient! We have to feed dozens of lazy slips while they sit back in the hold and I do the backbreaking work!" He scoffs in disgust before drinking another large swig. "At least we can put them to work once we hit the open water. Don't have to hide like we're doing something wrong, not on our own ships."

Ollivor...

Goldfield nods sagely. "Well said! It takes quite a bit of wisdom to make the realization that you have - especially at your age. I was ready to conquer the world at your age, thinking that Golarion had never seen a man like me. It took some setbacks to realize that all of this has happened before, and all of it will happen again." He takes a sip of his drink, leaning back in his high-backed leather chair. "So what is it that you do, young man? And I realize now that I haven't learned your name."

Vrunyar...

Vrunyar receives an interesting lesson in mathematics from Alys. It is actually quite interesting, and she is an able instructor. "My uncle always pushed me to embrace my education," she explains. "He sent money for me to study at the University of Absalom, and my wages as a Junior Clerk paid the rest. My mother was a servant for a wealthy family in the Petal District. It is good work, but I wanted more opportunities. Abadar has given me those opportunities, and I know that the more people understand and follow his tenets, the better off the world will be - even if that means paying for goods and services when charity might do. My uncle Bertram serves Abadar in his own way as well. He is a sworn protector for a small bank somewhere in the River Kingdoms. Sanctuary, he called it. I'm sure that the Banker there is forging a new community through the Manual of City-Building."


Male Android Soldier (Themeless) 1; EAC 13, KAC 14; SP 1/8, HP 11/11, RP 4/4; Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +2 (+2 vs. disease, mind-affecting effects, poison and sleep); Initiative +6; Perception +1, Sense Motive -2

"The idiocy of these backwater people in this backwater town," 'Carsus' readily agrees with the enthusiasm only alcohol can bring about. "And now you, a proper Chelaxian, doing menial work..." He shakes his head as he puts an arm around the other man's shoulders in understanding. "Digs... Disgusting..."

Unless I am mistaken, that should be a juicy bit of information right there, right? Or do we need more? If not, Aaron will be feigning a case of "too much wine, stomach feels bad" kind of thing and probably excusing himself.

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