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Excalibur: a NeoGAF Pathfinder Play by Post Campaign
- Thread starter KittenMaster
- Start date
KittenMaster
Member
<As far as I know you can't fumble skill rolls. I'll consider this a success even if somebody corrects me.>
DeadPhoenix
Member
((Unless its specified someone, like in the UMD skill, there is no crit failure or crit success on skill rolls))
Heartened by Draco saying he would find out what he could about the paintings owner's Stricia agrees to meet back up with the group later on. She cups her left fist with her right palm and, raising them to her chin, bows as a mark of respect to those she has fought with as they prepare to go their separate ways.
When she was directed to Emerald Bay as the greatest store of knowledge and scholarship in Alydar she had imagined great libraries of ancient scrolls tended to by venerable scholars bent by the years and the weight of their accumulated wisdom. When she learned of a yearly martial tournament her expectation had changed to include something very much like the monastery she had left; Masters schooled in both the intellectual and physical arts tutoring and training their charges in an atmosphere of rigorous effort and mental focus.
She is completely unprepared for the chaotic fair and casual hedonism she finds instead. Discombobulated she focuses on the stately buildings that retain their dignity amidst the revelry below hoping to find someone in there that would be able to point her to a scholar with the knowledge that she seeks.
Perception check:
1d20=9+10=19
Entering the likeliest looking building she asks, armed with the knowledge she got from Nico, for the identity and whereabouts of some available scholar that would be able to tell her of 'The Fall'
Diplomacy:
1d20=2-1=1 (lol)
If she does find someone competent she will ask her questions regarding what happened at The Fall, the causes of it, the repercussions and any other fallout.
1d20=10-1=9
One way or the other after all this, either satisfied or frustrated by her research, she registers for the tournament and with the same though process as Lone Wolf ends up at the same place observing the participants. She tries to glean what she can from this about what she can expect to face
2d20=15+10=25
<Sorry for the unedited mess, busier than I expected to be, and Merry Christmas guys>
When she was directed to Emerald Bay as the greatest store of knowledge and scholarship in Alydar she had imagined great libraries of ancient scrolls tended to by venerable scholars bent by the years and the weight of their accumulated wisdom. When she learned of a yearly martial tournament her expectation had changed to include something very much like the monastery she had left; Masters schooled in both the intellectual and physical arts tutoring and training their charges in an atmosphere of rigorous effort and mental focus.
She is completely unprepared for the chaotic fair and casual hedonism she finds instead. Discombobulated she focuses on the stately buildings that retain their dignity amidst the revelry below hoping to find someone in there that would be able to point her to a scholar with the knowledge that she seeks.
Perception check:
1d20=9+10=19
Entering the likeliest looking building she asks, armed with the knowledge she got from Nico, for the identity and whereabouts of some available scholar that would be able to tell her of 'The Fall'
Diplomacy:
1d20=2-1=1 (lol)
If she does find someone competent she will ask her questions regarding what happened at The Fall, the causes of it, the repercussions and any other fallout.
1d20=10-1=9
One way or the other after all this, either satisfied or frustrated by her research, she registers for the tournament and with the same though process as Lone Wolf ends up at the same place observing the participants. She tries to glean what she can from this about what she can expect to face
2d20=15+10=25
<Sorry for the unedited mess, busier than I expected to be, and Merry Christmas guys>
ThLunarian
Member
((Hey you guys I'm too druk to post in character but u wanted to say marry Christmas to you all and thank god for auto correct while j type this message))
((Auto correct will only take you so far, man.))
KittenMaster
Member
<I will make a huge post in response to Azih tomorrow (because I'm very sleepy now). I'm not even going to bother with the rolls since the school wouldn't have much reason not to share what they know with her.
@DeadPhoenix: I think to save time I'm just going to cut some possible roleplay since it would have just led to you finding out the value of the paintings which are 4500 each for the two bigger ones and 2500 for the small one. The catch is that the connoisseur is not interested in buying the paintings, one of you will still need to convince somebody to buy them at this price. I'm also going to say that your Gather Information checks are just making it more apparent that it's very unlikely you'll find the original owners of the painting since you would have heard about the people that returned from the wreck by now.>
@DeadPhoenix: I think to save time I'm just going to cut some possible roleplay since it would have just led to you finding out the value of the paintings which are 4500 each for the two bigger ones and 2500 for the small one. The catch is that the connoisseur is not interested in buying the paintings, one of you will still need to convince somebody to buy them at this price. I'm also going to say that your Gather Information checks are just making it more apparent that it's very unlikely you'll find the original owners of the painting since you would have heard about the people that returned from the wreck by now.>
<I just used my powers as a DM to embrace the Christmas Spirit and give you a big help by fixing your post.>
DeadPhoenix
Member
Draco heads back to the meeting place to inform the group he has found a potential buyer, and he will be heading over there to sell the paintings. Anyone interested in getting a cut is free to join him.
((Dat ninja post...))
((Dat ninja post...))
((Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.))
Dreadstone's stakeout has yet to yield fruit, but his keen sense of observation allows him to pick up something... Off... In the interaction of the bartender and his female associate.
Been at the bar for an hour, he scribbles in his leather book on the blank pages between the handbills bearing the faces of Emerald Bay's most wanted. Bartender and his subordinate were agreeable enough upon my arrival, but they have taken to whispering conspiratorially while casting glances in my direction. The usual human apprehensions, or the weight of guilty consciences? Will inquire.
Dreadstone tucks his notebook into the inside pocket of his cloak as he stands. As a habit, he writes most everything he does on the pages. Not for his own benefit, however. More as a proof-of-concept of a notion he developed over the years, thinking how much easier his job would be if everyone followed his example. A body shows up, you just flip to the last page and start there...
Naturally, Dreadstone doesn't plan to put his idea to the test any time soon, but takes comfort in the knowledge that he might impart some vital knowledge crucial to hunting down whomever eventually gets the best of him.
Approaching the bar, he places enough coin to settle his tab on the worn wooden counter, keeping his hand upon the money as he pins the bartender with his piercing, quicksilver gaze. "Somethin' on your mind, friend?"
((Dice, why do you not like me today?))
Dreadstone's stakeout has yet to yield fruit, but his keen sense of observation allows him to pick up something... Off... In the interaction of the bartender and his female associate.
Been at the bar for an hour, he scribbles in his leather book on the blank pages between the handbills bearing the faces of Emerald Bay's most wanted. Bartender and his subordinate were agreeable enough upon my arrival, but they have taken to whispering conspiratorially while casting glances in my direction. The usual human apprehensions, or the weight of guilty consciences? Will inquire.
Dreadstone tucks his notebook into the inside pocket of his cloak as he stands. As a habit, he writes most everything he does on the pages. Not for his own benefit, however. More as a proof-of-concept of a notion he developed over the years, thinking how much easier his job would be if everyone followed his example. A body shows up, you just flip to the last page and start there...
Naturally, Dreadstone doesn't plan to put his idea to the test any time soon, but takes comfort in the knowledge that he might impart some vital knowledge crucial to hunting down whomever eventually gets the best of him.
Approaching the bar, he places enough coin to settle his tab on the worn wooden counter, keeping his hand upon the money as he pins the bartender with his piercing, quicksilver gaze. "Somethin' on your mind, friend?"
Code:
Sense Motive Check: 1d20+14=18KittenMaster
Member
Upon spotting the tiefling approach, the tender motions to his assistant these words, "Why don't you take a break, eh? And tell the player to make it a quiet one." While his assistant is an attractive human, she appears to be dressed to succeed the man before Dreadstone instead of being there to look at like the other wenches in the bar serving the patrons. She dismisses herself to leave the bartender and Dreadstone to themselves.
As a mellow, calming tune sets the backdrop to their meeting, the tender explains openly, "Perhaps. Always a something on somebody's mind in here. To be frank with you, I like you, I really do, but you seem like the type of guy that's looking to attract.. or find somebody willing to make trouble in my establishment." He keeps a cool, positively expressive face to slow tension, "Listen. I won't ask what kind of guy you are with those horns you have, but in my bar my customers are slow to judge what creature they were born as," he then lifts a hand and without hesitation reaches to gently tug on Dreadstone's Ruby Keep uniform, saying, "But even slower to forget how they dress. Get my drift?" Letting go he peels back, looking to the door, "I'll make sure my bouncers get you out safely tonight. Wouldn't be surprised if somebody thinks he can pull a smart one." He finally slides Dreadstone's hand back with the coin underneath, "I'll grab you another drink. On the house."
The tender made it obvious that he would prefer Dreadstone to not be around although won't force him to leave. He didn't explicitly make it clear his warning suggests that his tavern's culture is not exactly welcoming to law enforcement.
---
When Stricia approaches the Academy, she's stopped by a watch by the gate telling her that only those enrolled are allowed to visit the classes at this time of day. He points over to a library where visitors can find information they might need, within reason of course.
The library is fairly sizable coming in, though modest compared to the academy itself. The man she finds in the library is a well mannered sort organizing the book placement on the shelves. He turns to speak with her, "Oh, hello! Are you looking for something? The fall? I see.. So there are still places in the world that aren't fully aware of a piece of recent history that we take for granted as common everyday knowledge. Well, come with me, I can tell you all about it myself."
He leads her to a nearby table and sits in one of the seats sideways, laying his elbow on the table and lifting his leg over to rest on the chair in front, defying conduct the library's rules may have though understandably since there doesn't seem to be many people inside this time of day. He recalls the information well, and gives it to her without fail, "Roughly thirty years ago... or almost thirty one, as will be marked in the change of calender year, a strange occurrence happened in a forest called Wormwood near the river; something happened to cause all of the gods from the Astral Plane to visit the material plane. The most recent theory is that they had chosen that spot to hold a grand battle to determine who reigned superior, and that Olidamara had emerged victor as the last survivor. Pelor, Hieroneous, Ehlonna, Mayaheine.. any diety you can think of all gone. Even various cults have lost their evil gods after that day."
Giving a quick look over of Stricia, he says, "You are a Monk, correct? Well, before The Fall, Clerics, Paladins, and woodsmen would receive their powers from whom they worshiped, but after that was taken from them, there was quickly a way of casting the spells once more by drawing from one's power from within.. The same way as Monks have done years prior. Of course, what some call 'chi' is not as distinct in their magical composition as true divine magic. Only those that worship Olidamara, the last living god known to Primaria, would channel proper divine magics."
He then concludes, "As of right now, there are many claiming they've felt the presence of a new kind of diety, but their word can only be taken at face value without real proof. We will never have a reasonable way of finding out what is going on in the Astral Sea besides taking fictional fae tales as fact."
---
Regardless of whatever reaction Stricia choose to have, while looking to find the sparring ground to observe others, she hears a strum of a lute's string, catching her off guard.
"Why don't you stay awhile and listen...?"
When she turns, an overdressed figure draped in odd but gaudy clothing kicks himself from the wall, hoisting his musical instrument with him. The young man says in a soft spoken tone, meant to be soothing to those that hear it, "Please, don't allow your journey end here. You must hear my poem before you depart once more."
The stranger steps forward, strumming his instrument one more, beginning to speak his words to the woman:
As a mellow, calming tune sets the backdrop to their meeting, the tender explains openly, "Perhaps. Always a something on somebody's mind in here. To be frank with you, I like you, I really do, but you seem like the type of guy that's looking to attract.. or find somebody willing to make trouble in my establishment." He keeps a cool, positively expressive face to slow tension, "Listen. I won't ask what kind of guy you are with those horns you have, but in my bar my customers are slow to judge what creature they were born as," he then lifts a hand and without hesitation reaches to gently tug on Dreadstone's Ruby Keep uniform, saying, "But even slower to forget how they dress. Get my drift?" Letting go he peels back, looking to the door, "I'll make sure my bouncers get you out safely tonight. Wouldn't be surprised if somebody thinks he can pull a smart one." He finally slides Dreadstone's hand back with the coin underneath, "I'll grab you another drink. On the house."
The tender made it obvious that he would prefer Dreadstone to not be around although won't force him to leave. He didn't explicitly make it clear his warning suggests that his tavern's culture is not exactly welcoming to law enforcement.
---
When Stricia approaches the Academy, she's stopped by a watch by the gate telling her that only those enrolled are allowed to visit the classes at this time of day. He points over to a library where visitors can find information they might need, within reason of course.
The library is fairly sizable coming in, though modest compared to the academy itself. The man she finds in the library is a well mannered sort organizing the book placement on the shelves. He turns to speak with her, "Oh, hello! Are you looking for something? The fall? I see.. So there are still places in the world that aren't fully aware of a piece of recent history that we take for granted as common everyday knowledge. Well, come with me, I can tell you all about it myself."
He leads her to a nearby table and sits in one of the seats sideways, laying his elbow on the table and lifting his leg over to rest on the chair in front, defying conduct the library's rules may have though understandably since there doesn't seem to be many people inside this time of day. He recalls the information well, and gives it to her without fail, "Roughly thirty years ago... or almost thirty one, as will be marked in the change of calender year, a strange occurrence happened in a forest called Wormwood near the river; something happened to cause all of the gods from the Astral Plane to visit the material plane. The most recent theory is that they had chosen that spot to hold a grand battle to determine who reigned superior, and that Olidamara had emerged victor as the last survivor. Pelor, Hieroneous, Ehlonna, Mayaheine.. any diety you can think of all gone. Even various cults have lost their evil gods after that day."
Giving a quick look over of Stricia, he says, "You are a Monk, correct? Well, before The Fall, Clerics, Paladins, and woodsmen would receive their powers from whom they worshiped, but after that was taken from them, there was quickly a way of casting the spells once more by drawing from one's power from within.. The same way as Monks have done years prior. Of course, what some call 'chi' is not as distinct in their magical composition as true divine magic. Only those that worship Olidamara, the last living god known to Primaria, would channel proper divine magics."
He then concludes, "As of right now, there are many claiming they've felt the presence of a new kind of diety, but their word can only be taken at face value without real proof. We will never have a reasonable way of finding out what is going on in the Astral Sea besides taking fictional fae tales as fact."
---
Regardless of whatever reaction Stricia choose to have, while looking to find the sparring ground to observe others, she hears a strum of a lute's string, catching her off guard.
"Why don't you stay awhile and listen...?"
When she turns, an overdressed figure draped in odd but gaudy clothing kicks himself from the wall, hoisting his musical instrument with him. The young man says in a soft spoken tone, meant to be soothing to those that hear it, "Please, don't allow your journey end here. You must hear my poem before you depart once more."
The stranger steps forward, strumming his instrument one more, beginning to speak his words to the woman:
One with skin like Sun's own child, silver locks like Moonlight's knight
How your fists fight like he that's lost, how your eyes are oh so young
Please lend me ear, I know only few will, for a darkness sleeps and inspires fear
Carrying rage that spoils sour, he bids his time for morning hour
Beyond mortal affairs, hides what he dares
To become a god, is what he cares
Ready to opress, from lack of prayers
He'll cut short all the heirs
Woman of integrity, consider suggestion
Take part in war, for there is more
For he who threatens the planes, only shows in end
Remember that when choosing paths
"That is Muunfae's message to you, from a wanderer who dreamed of our meeting." he explains, without saying who this 'Muunfae' actually is, "And know this as well. You were spared the truth by time's written hand. It was man and orc that overcame that which felled even the mightiest gods. We know this from Muunfae's poems and song."How your fists fight like he that's lost, how your eyes are oh so young
Please lend me ear, I know only few will, for a darkness sleeps and inspires fear
Carrying rage that spoils sour, he bids his time for morning hour
Beyond mortal affairs, hides what he dares
To become a god, is what he cares
Ready to opress, from lack of prayers
He'll cut short all the heirs
Woman of integrity, consider suggestion
Take part in war, for there is more
For he who threatens the planes, only shows in end
Remember that when choosing paths
ThLunarian
Member
"Amateurs," Lone Wolf says quietly to himself, after observing at the sparring grounds for a while.
He gets up and begins to wander, having grown bored with watching sloppy, out-of-shape 'warriors' trip over their own weapons and flail clumsily about the area.
Again, a melody catches his ear, though this one is different than the last time. His first instinct is to turn in the other direction, but this time he fights it. Only coward runs from that which frightens, he reminds himself. Emboldened, he seeks out the lute player.
He finds the oddly-dressed man with Stricia just as the poem is beginning, and he listens with fascination, noting how the words have cadence and rhyming patterns despite the lack of music.
He waits for the man to finish before speaking up. "Moon Fay," he says, "I would hear more... poems.... of gods and men. What else you dream?"
He gets up and begins to wander, having grown bored with watching sloppy, out-of-shape 'warriors' trip over their own weapons and flail clumsily about the area.
Again, a melody catches his ear, though this one is different than the last time. His first instinct is to turn in the other direction, but this time he fights it. Only coward runs from that which frightens, he reminds himself. Emboldened, he seeks out the lute player.
He finds the oddly-dressed man with Stricia just as the poem is beginning, and he listens with fascination, noting how the words have cadence and rhyming patterns despite the lack of music.
He waits for the man to finish before speaking up. "Moon Fay," he says, "I would hear more... poems.... of gods and men. What else you dream?"
KittenMaster
Member
The bard's eyes gaze beyond Stricia to see another arriving. Smiling gently, he says, "That was the dream Muunfae gave me," Muunfae pronounced exactly as Lone Wolf had repeated, "But poets and singers are the voice of Muunfae, and I know of what dreams they were given through their testimonials. They spread Muunfae's tales of the astral plane so that many can hear it. Muunfae is our connection to their world through story. If you find others, perhaps they'll have a new story for you."
<they should've used autocorrect>
Stricia had actually been feeling very satisfied with herself, having believed her mission complete and was already planning her trip back when she was stopped by the strange bard. Her order was far more concerned with recording the past rather than considering the future and so she had no prior experience of prophecy but still the bard's poem struck her as true and as the truth was something she prized above all else this left her shaken. And if the poet's foretelling was true then what of his account of the past which so completely and dishearteningly contradicted the scholar she had just spoken to?
"Please" she asked, almost pleading, "what do you mean by man and orc besting what felled the gods? What is the truth of what happened? What is this Muunfae and how could I meet it?"
"Please" she asked, almost pleading, "what do you mean by man and orc besting what felled the gods? What is the truth of what happened? What is this Muunfae and how could I meet it?"
Dreadstone pockets his returned payment. "'Preciate the hospitality," he says as he pulls his hood up and prepares to leave. "If you ever need me to return the favor, just send a message. I'm sure you got means outside the usual channels, and I tend to be pretty easy to find."
Ignoring the pointed stares of the other patrons trying their hardest to not stare, he steps out into the night air of Emerald Bay and flips his notebook to the last page. There is no direct source of light here, and the night sky lit by the ambient light of the city offers scant illumination, but the depth of the many overlapping shadows are of little concern to tieflings with their natural ability to see in complete darkness. For Dreadstone, it may well have been broad daylight.
No leads at the tavern, he writes in cramped, hurried handwriting, will look elsewhere if time allows. Returning to inn now--Probably late for lecture from Dortumn about dereliction of duty.
Returning his notebook to its place, he steps out of the alley into the main boulevard, the revelry of the tournament attendees diminishing and parting before him the entire walk back.
Ignoring the pointed stares of the other patrons trying their hardest to not stare, he steps out into the night air of Emerald Bay and flips his notebook to the last page. There is no direct source of light here, and the night sky lit by the ambient light of the city offers scant illumination, but the depth of the many overlapping shadows are of little concern to tieflings with their natural ability to see in complete darkness. For Dreadstone, it may well have been broad daylight.
No leads at the tavern, he writes in cramped, hurried handwriting, will look elsewhere if time allows. Returning to inn now--Probably late for lecture from Dortumn about dereliction of duty.
Returning his notebook to its place, he steps out of the alley into the main boulevard, the revelry of the tournament attendees diminishing and parting before him the entire walk back.
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Niko's efforts to investigate the Academy in search of a headmaster or dean of the school are apparently unsuccessful. As he walks the darkening streets, he struggles to remember why. Perhaps having reveled a bit too much has taken its toll? He remembers hearing about a guard admitting no outsiders...usually that would not be enough to dissuade him, but given his memory lapse he reckons he was in no condition for espionage earlier either. Crestfallen, he returns to the inn to meet with Draco and the others concerning the paintings.
He nods solemnly as Draco imparts the findings of his investigation, but is secretly pleased the original owners could not be found. "That means we need to find a buyer if we want to cash in. I still want to get into the Academy on personal business." He takes a swig of ale and gestures to the bartender to order a round for his traveling companions who have made it to the meeting. "Nothing like hair of the dog to nurse a hangover. Well done though, Draco. I'll ask around myself, scholarly types are usually suckers for such things."
He nods solemnly as Draco imparts the findings of his investigation, but is secretly pleased the original owners could not be found. "That means we need to find a buyer if we want to cash in. I still want to get into the Academy on personal business." He takes a swig of ale and gestures to the bartender to order a round for his traveling companions who have made it to the meeting. "Nothing like hair of the dog to nurse a hangover. Well done though, Draco. I'll ask around myself, scholarly types are usually suckers for such things."
ThLunarian
Member
Lone Wolf had been putting up with the irritatingly cryptic style of speaking employed by the bard, mostly because he was cautiously interested in hearing more poetry and song. When it becomes apparent that this is not forthcoming, he gives up.
"Stricia, nice see you again. Fresh meat in sparring grounds; might be you and me at end of day in contest. Fight well."
With the day still relatively young, Lone Wolf finds himself at a loss for what to do the rest of the day. He spends much of it simply wandering the streets, observing. He listens to conversations for new words and tries to learn their meanings through context clues; he spends some time rough-housing with Lady; he meanders his way into the merchant district, stumbling upon a magical trinket in a roadside stand that catches his eye.
The ring is beautiful, with a shimmering emerald stone glittering in the sunlight. He knows right away that there's something special about it - another side effect of the transformation, no doubt.
The shopkeeper is a small, older woman with curly white hair and olive skin. One of her eyes appears to be made of glass. She is dressed in bright colors, standing out even among this crowd of revelers.
"You've a discerning eye, young man," she says, and Lone Wolf immediately detects an ulterior motive in her tone; this wasn't just a compliment, he realized. It was a persuasive tactic. "You're a participant in the tournament, correct? This marvelous little gem will serve you well in the arena, mark my words. It is enchanted with a protective charm that will deflect blows from enemy attacks. You'd be a fool to go without it! It can be yours, for a mere.... oh, let's say, 2,000 gold."
Lone Wolf looks evenly at the old woman. "Not enough now. Will come back later."
He recalls the discussion of the paintings. It had been a shock for him to hear that they may be worth money, but then again, he was still getting the hang of the entire concept of 'currency'. The others had made mention of meeting to discuss splitting the gold. Lone Wolf had not originally intended to be a part of that meeting, but now that he could actually put that coin to use....
--------
That evening, he sits down with Draco and Niko (and whoever else shows up) and listens to their assessment of the situation.
So no one wants buy paintings, he thinks to himself, as though vindicated in his original assessment. Wants to buy paintings.
"So meet here tomorrow night and see if there is better luck?" He declines the drink offered by Niko, finding no use for anything that might dull his senses.
That night, he finds a secluded, grassy area either in town or right outside of town and closes his eyes, hoping to initiate the transformation himself this time. He finds success without much effort, easily morphing into his beast form and falling asleep next to Lady.
"Stricia, nice see you again. Fresh meat in sparring grounds; might be you and me at end of day in contest. Fight well."
With the day still relatively young, Lone Wolf finds himself at a loss for what to do the rest of the day. He spends much of it simply wandering the streets, observing. He listens to conversations for new words and tries to learn their meanings through context clues; he spends some time rough-housing with Lady; he meanders his way into the merchant district, stumbling upon a magical trinket in a roadside stand that catches his eye.
The ring is beautiful, with a shimmering emerald stone glittering in the sunlight. He knows right away that there's something special about it - another side effect of the transformation, no doubt.
The shopkeeper is a small, older woman with curly white hair and olive skin. One of her eyes appears to be made of glass. She is dressed in bright colors, standing out even among this crowd of revelers.
"You've a discerning eye, young man," she says, and Lone Wolf immediately detects an ulterior motive in her tone; this wasn't just a compliment, he realized. It was a persuasive tactic. "You're a participant in the tournament, correct? This marvelous little gem will serve you well in the arena, mark my words. It is enchanted with a protective charm that will deflect blows from enemy attacks. You'd be a fool to go without it! It can be yours, for a mere.... oh, let's say, 2,000 gold."
Lone Wolf looks evenly at the old woman. "Not enough now. Will come back later."
He recalls the discussion of the paintings. It had been a shock for him to hear that they may be worth money, but then again, he was still getting the hang of the entire concept of 'currency'. The others had made mention of meeting to discuss splitting the gold. Lone Wolf had not originally intended to be a part of that meeting, but now that he could actually put that coin to use....
--------
That evening, he sits down with Draco and Niko (and whoever else shows up) and listens to their assessment of the situation.
So no one wants buy paintings, he thinks to himself, as though vindicated in his original assessment. Wants to buy paintings.
"So meet here tomorrow night and see if there is better luck?" He declines the drink offered by Niko, finding no use for anything that might dull his senses.
That night, he finds a secluded, grassy area either in town or right outside of town and closes his eyes, hoping to initiate the transformation himself this time. He finds success without much effort, easily morphing into his beast form and falling asleep next to Lady.
KittenMaster
Member
"By killing it, of course," he answers, unsure of how else to say it, then smirks at her next question, "to hear one of Muunfae's stories is to meet Muunfae. I bid you fare well, perhaps our paths may cross again."
<Everybody should now be heading to the Inn, correct?
Also, you guys can find a buyer (the connoisseur wasn't one). Now you know the full price without having to make an appraisal check. Roll diplomacy (bluff if you want to try and sell beyond the full price), I'll give you the money.>
<Everybody should now be heading to the Inn, correct?
Also, you guys can find a buyer (the connoisseur wasn't one). Now you know the full price without having to make an appraisal check. Roll diplomacy (bluff if you want to try and sell beyond the full price), I'll give you the money.>
DeadPhoenix
Member
Diplomancy: (1d20+7+1d6=27)
((If i known i was gonna roll that well, I would have attempted rolling bluff for the extra cash... though I've got 3 less points in that and i wouldn't be surprised if the dc for something like that was a 25 at least... oh well))
Draco informs a potential buyer why buying these pictures is too great a deal to pass up on.
((If i known i was gonna roll that well, I would have attempted rolling bluff for the extra cash... though I've got 3 less points in that and i wouldn't be surprised if the dc for something like that was a 25 at least... oh well))
Draco informs a potential buyer why buying these pictures is too great a deal to pass up on.
KittenMaster
Member
<Rolled a 21 for the NPC's appraisal, so you can get full price off of them.>
Looking over the paintings, the buyer responds, "These would certainly look nice in my home. Your asking price is a bit steep but I suppose it is a fair value."
<Unless you want to pass on this guy and attempt to bluff someone else, you'll get 4,500, 4,500, and 2,500.>
Looking over the paintings, the buyer responds, "These would certainly look nice in my home. Your asking price is a bit steep but I suppose it is a fair value."
<Unless you want to pass on this guy and attempt to bluff someone else, you'll get 4,500, 4,500, and 2,500.>
KittenMaster
Member
<For your troubles I'll give you this new trait to add to your character sheet:
No Job Too Small
You put your investigative skills to use even for some of the smaller, out of the way requests.
- +2 to Gather Information checks, stacks with other bonuses>
You put your investigative skills to use even for some of the smaller, out of the way requests.
- +2 to Gather Information checks, stacks with other bonuses>
ThLunarian
Member
((Shall we make it a 500 gold finders' fee for Draco and then do a 5 way split for the remaining 11000 for 2200 each?
Whatever the split, I'm going to buy a Ring if Protection +1. Book price is 2000 if that's alright.
Also a Cloak of Resistance +1, book price 1000))
Whatever the split, I'm going to buy a Ring if Protection +1. Book price is 2000 if that's alright.
Also a Cloak of Resistance +1, book price 1000))
KittenMaster
Member
<I'm gonna start this scene in mind. Unless there's some reason your character is not heading back to the inn (or is heading to a different one by choice), you can eventually catch up.>
Evening begins to settle as does the tired occupants finding shelter for the night. Finally, the scent of the sea air becomes vivid when the streets become less dense. As the monk and druid pair wander their back to a place of stay, they begin to pass by a bar making itself known as simply the Piano Bar (same one Dreadstone is in) has just that, piano music leaking from within its confines.
A noticeably weakly, thin man (to the point where it almost seems sickly) that must be in his twenties with long, light ginger hair and only wearing enough to cover his loins quickly takes notice of the two arriving. Picking up a mug from beside him, he pushes himself up and scampers over to Stricia and Lone Wolf, nearly shoving an upturned palm to them while holding the mug in his other hand, "S-spare me a cain- coin for a man in need?" He then shakes the mug, whatever liquid is in it splashing slightly, while baring yellowed teeth with a grin.
Evening begins to settle as does the tired occupants finding shelter for the night. Finally, the scent of the sea air becomes vivid when the streets become less dense. As the monk and druid pair wander their back to a place of stay, they begin to pass by a bar making itself known as simply the Piano Bar (same one Dreadstone is in) has just that, piano music leaking from within its confines.
A noticeably weakly, thin man (to the point where it almost seems sickly) that must be in his twenties with long, light ginger hair and only wearing enough to cover his loins quickly takes notice of the two arriving. Picking up a mug from beside him, he pushes himself up and scampers over to Stricia and Lone Wolf, nearly shoving an upturned palm to them while holding the mug in his other hand, "S-spare me a cain- coin for a man in need?" He then shakes the mug, whatever liquid is in it splashing slightly, while baring yellowed teeth with a grin.
ThLunarian
Member
Lone Wolf looks disdainfully at the man, feeling both pity and disgust for him. "Here," he says, giving the man 50 gold. "Cover yourself up, too." He removes his armor and his deerskin shirt, gives the shirt to the scraggly man, and puts his own armor back on over his bare chest.
A thought occurs to him. "You want learn hunt? Will never go without food or clothing if can hunt. I can teach tomorrow. Nothing else to do until tournament."
A thought occurs to him. "You want learn hunt? Will never go without food or clothing if can hunt. I can teach tomorrow. Nothing else to do until tournament."
A charitable sort and used to an ascetic existence in any case Stricia does not hesitate to press 1 gp into the beggar's hands. Though she does sniff with disapproval at the beggar's obvious lack of self control and the mug of alcohol in his hand. <Let's just say she does this before Lone Wolf goes full Santa>. She is once again flabbergasted by Lone Wolf's actions, but doesn't comment.
Already out of sorts from learning of completely different historical accounts that she has no idea how to sort through, Stricia isn't surprised by the news of the painting's owners being impossible to find and will glumly accept her share of the proceeds. Believing her task accomplished and then losing that conviction is weighing on her more than she cares to admit.
<She'll use 1000 of it for a Cloak of Resistance +1 as well.>
Already out of sorts from learning of completely different historical accounts that she has no idea how to sort through, Stricia isn't surprised by the news of the painting's owners being impossible to find and will glumly accept her share of the proceeds. Believing her task accomplished and then losing that conviction is weighing on her more than she cares to admit.
<She'll use 1000 of it for a Cloak of Resistance +1 as well.>
KittenMaster
Member
The beggar is equally surprised to receive a very generous amount to feed his addiction to the alchohol. He grins once more joyfully, saying, "Why need to hunt when I can wait for men like you? I live my days in bliss and drown my sorrows." As the shirt is passed to him, he looks over at the white dog with him and lights up like a child, "OOH! A puppy!" He quickly leans forward and tries to ruffle Lady's head as if she weren't a dangerous animal.
Beginning to understand Lone Wolf's approach to life which seems to her to be as natural and rational as that of any animal seeking to live and thrive she tries to explain "Some men do not think of their own benefit or wish to survive and do not act as such. You have not spent much time in human society?"
ThLunarian
Member
Lady bites the air very close to the man's hand, as a warning to back away.
Lone Wolf shakes his head at Stricia. "Not my concern what man does with money. He know better than me how make best use. He turn down offer to hunt; his loss.
"For me, have only been part of humans for five moons. Learn much in this time, but still much more to go."
Lone Wolf shakes his head at Stricia. "Not my concern what man does with money. He know better than me how make best use. He turn down offer to hunt; his loss.
"For me, have only been part of humans for five moons. Learn much in this time, but still much more to go."
KittenMaster
Member
The homeless man shambles behind, yelling one last word to them before they walk off for good, "Living this way has taught me humility! Listen to the wolf, he knows well!" He stumbles over a bit in his walking, but still seems able to give a coherent statement. Once he stops moving and begins watching the two walk off, he tilts his head to drown the remaining contents of his mug into his throat, then gives a cheer with the mug.
The individuals that have spent their day arrive at the inn that night and find themselves encountering each other once more. They agree to discuss how to split the profit made from selling the framed pictures they had found. Dreadstone would find that the inn has its own tavern area, though it is much more old timey in comparison to the Piano Bar. Still, it would serve as a place to get dinner and drink without worry.
The next upcoming days are uneventful compared to the first. Lone Wolf will curiously find the homeless drunk nowhere in sight, despite any attempt to find him. Dreadstone won't be in contact with Dortumn until the day of the tournament.
<This is an opportunity to get miscellaneous business like shopping finished and for coming up with anything else you might want to do before we time skip to the day of the tournament.
@Niko: However, for you I do want you to describe the start of your day and where you go, because I have something in mind for you that I wasn't able to do for the first day.>
The individuals that have spent their day arrive at the inn that night and find themselves encountering each other once more. They agree to discuss how to split the profit made from selling the framed pictures they had found. Dreadstone would find that the inn has its own tavern area, though it is much more old timey in comparison to the Piano Bar. Still, it would serve as a place to get dinner and drink without worry.
The next upcoming days are uneventful compared to the first. Lone Wolf will curiously find the homeless drunk nowhere in sight, despite any attempt to find him. Dreadstone won't be in contact with Dortumn until the day of the tournament.
<This is an opportunity to get miscellaneous business like shopping finished and for coming up with anything else you might want to do before we time skip to the day of the tournament.
@Niko: However, for you I do want you to describe the start of your day and where you go, because I have something in mind for you that I wasn't able to do for the first day.>
"Five months..." Stricia says nodding thoughtfully. Just two days ago this would have shocked her, but after witnessing Lone Wolf's transformation she takes the revelation in stride as it explains much about him. "You have made a very great change and you adjust to it well. You have my admiration." she marks her words with a short bow.
ThLunarian
Member
Lone Wolf appears to be at a loss for how to respond to Stricia. He awkwardly bows back at her in the same way.
"Thank you," he says, probably a little too flatly. "No need for admirations. Simply is way things are. Must always adapt to changes, or be left behind."
A sullen expression overtakes his features. "Sometimes be left behind anyway," he adds sadly, remembering the pack he used to lead.
((Lone Wolf spends the next few days mostly just lounging about, occasionally venturing out of town to hunt when he gets hungry. He will also try to get another deer so he can replace the shirt he gave away.
Survival roll for hunting (1d20+9=23)))
"Thank you," he says, probably a little too flatly. "No need for admirations. Simply is way things are. Must always adapt to changes, or be left behind."
A sullen expression overtakes his features. "Sometimes be left behind anyway," he adds sadly, remembering the pack he used to lead.
((Lone Wolf spends the next few days mostly just lounging about, occasionally venturing out of town to hunt when he gets hungry. He will also try to get another deer so he can replace the shirt he gave away.
Survival roll for hunting (1d20+9=23)))
Stricia spends her time avoiding the crowds, meditating in the evening, and attempting to find out about the fae driven by the mysterious bard's words and also recalling the scholar's flippant dismissal of 'fictional fae tales', focusing specifically on the Muunfae and hoping to run into either another of the Muunfae's dreamers or at the very least the stories and poems the bard alluded to and learning what she can about them in specific.
<How many days are there? Since she has nothing better to do she'll do one check per day until then. Assuming two for now>
<That's pretty much the best rolls she could hope for (shoulda saved them for the tournament!) and as she ain't going to get to beat a DC20 I'll stop there>
<How many days are there? Since she has nothing better to do she'll do one check per day until then. Assuming two for now>
Code:
[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4344579/]1d20=19, 1d4=1, 1d20=18, 1d4=1[/url]
First Attempt at Gather Information: 19-1=18, took 1 hour
Second Attempt at Gather Information: 18-1=17, took 1 hour<That's pretty much the best rolls she could hope for (shoulda saved them for the tournament!) and as she ain't going to get to beat a DC20 I'll stop there>
DeadPhoenix
Member
Draco spends the next morning seeking out information on his potential opponents in the tournament, so that he might be better prepared for a battle with them.
Gather information: (1d20+7+2+1d6=22) Time: (1d4=1) Hour
Gather information: (1d20+7+2+1d6=12) Time: (1d4=2) Hours
((Yeah, should have stopped while I was ahead.))
Gather information: (1d20+7+2+1d6=22) Time: (1d4=1) Hour
Gather information: (1d20+7+2+1d6=12) Time: (1d4=2) Hours
((Yeah, should have stopped while I was ahead.))
KittenMaster
Member
<I want to see Niko's post before I post results for you guys, so that my instruction to him isn't drowned out.>
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Finding himself newly heavy with coin, Niko sets out early to relieve his wallet's burden as quickly as he can. He makes sure to stop by the outskirts of town to re-unite with Ozzy on the way, making sure he is out of sight within his cloak by the time he circles around to the stalls of the bustling Emerald Bay markets. He makes inquiries to purchase a Ring of Protection for the coming tournament before his mind wanders back to the Academy. 'Today I will find some answers' he reminds himself, making sure to head to the gates early this time.
KittenMaster
Member
As of right now, from the storytellers or singers she's spoken to, she is repeated information about Muunfae and him being the connection between the material plane and the astral plane. However, the poem she had heard that was seemingly about her appearance and an apparent forthcoming darkness remained something she had only heard from the bard she encountered.
Draco learns that several newcomers to the event are coming this year to compete. Not much is known about their combat prowess even after rigorous searching for somebody that's seen them train (in fact he would be more convinced that nobody saw them train), but common strategy suggests that the spell-casters would be the ones to watch out for among new entrants as their tricks depend the least on an opponent's fighting style.
Of the history of prior events, the current champion has been known to trample the much less experienced competition with an unorthodox fighting style.
--
Niko had chosen a better time to arrive at the school. Classes are out today. One of the faculty members he encounters leads him to the main office, where visitors are allowed when classes are not in session to visit with the headmaster. The headmaster looks up from some scribe work and perks into action, "Ah, greetings. What brings you to Emerald Bay Academy, master...?" he hangs there, waiting for Niko's name.
Draco learns that several newcomers to the event are coming this year to compete. Not much is known about their combat prowess even after rigorous searching for somebody that's seen them train (in fact he would be more convinced that nobody saw them train), but common strategy suggests that the spell-casters would be the ones to watch out for among new entrants as their tricks depend the least on an opponent's fighting style.
Of the history of prior events, the current champion has been known to trample the much less experienced competition with an unorthodox fighting style.
--
Niko had chosen a better time to arrive at the school. Classes are out today. One of the faculty members he encounters leads him to the main office, where visitors are allowed when classes are not in session to visit with the headmaster. The headmaster looks up from some scribe work and perks into action, "Ah, greetings. What brings you to Emerald Bay Academy, master...?" he hangs there, waiting for Niko's name.
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Coldly eyeing the students and officials of the establishment, Niko takes a moment to look around the headmaster's office as the man works away upon a heavy stack of scrolls. 'So these are the quarters of one who would claim to study for power, rather than absorb it via raw experience.' Turning as he is spoken to, Niko gives a curt nod to show the headmaster the proper courtesy. "Nicholas. And greetings to you as well Headmaster. Glad I could catch you between sessions, you must be quite busy this time of year."
Resisting the urge to rifle through the contents of the office, Niko instead busies himself be fetching a book of his own from within his cloak. "I suppose I should say curiosity has brought me here. I have heard tell of the scholars and students and the famous knowledge they keep here even across the continent." Niko pauses a moment before continuing.
"I simply wish to know...might there be anything an adept adventurer such as myself can do to endear himself to the needs of the school?" He listens intently to the headmaster, showing little reaction but paying due attention.
"If I might wax philosophical...Those who are in tune with power are drawn toward its sources and those who hone its use. So they say. Should I be capable of providing a favor I would ask of only one in return." Turning to an earmarked page in the leather bound journal, he gently lays the book upon the headmaster's desk and turns it to face the scholar.
Tapping on the page with a finger, Niko quietly asks "Tell me, headmaster. Do you recognize the name on the page or know of whom I could speak that would help me find the person it identifies?"
.
Diplomacy roll (if necessary): 1d20+4 → [15,4] = (19)
Resisting the urge to rifle through the contents of the office, Niko instead busies himself be fetching a book of his own from within his cloak. "I suppose I should say curiosity has brought me here. I have heard tell of the scholars and students and the famous knowledge they keep here even across the continent." Niko pauses a moment before continuing.
"I simply wish to know...might there be anything an adept adventurer such as myself can do to endear himself to the needs of the school?" He listens intently to the headmaster, showing little reaction but paying due attention.
"If I might wax philosophical...Those who are in tune with power are drawn toward its sources and those who hone its use. So they say. Should I be capable of providing a favor I would ask of only one in return." Turning to an earmarked page in the leather bound journal, he gently lays the book upon the headmaster's desk and turns it to face the scholar.
Tapping on the page with a finger, Niko quietly asks "Tell me, headmaster. Do you recognize the name on the page or know of whom I could speak that would help me find the person it identifies?"
Printed on the page in a neat cursive scrawl is the signature of Cassandra Aurelian
Diplomacy roll (if necessary): 1d20+4 → [15,4] = (19)
KittenMaster
Member
The headmaster hmms at the words the visitor Nicholas gives to him, "It sounds like it was quite a journey for you just to see if a student was enrolled here." Using his hands to guide his speaking through casual gesture, he begins to tell Nicholas how he feels about his motive and request, "Master Nicholas, this school is not a 'source of power' as you might seem to suggest. You might misunderstand based on the reputation we hold as raising fine wizards."
To demonstrate, he reaches into his pocket to pull out what appears to be a tea packet, "These are crushed cabbage leaves. This.. this is the kind of 'source of power' that you speak of. Otherwise ordinary objects which are used as components to become the ingredient for magic spells cast by words written in the arcane language." He then circles with his hand movements, "The way I move my hand is a source of power for casting spells. Even the sound of my voice can be a source of power.. my point is that we are a school of students drawn to knowledge, not power as potential sources of magical power are all about us. We simply learn how to utilize it."
Now that is out of the way, he looks at the name given to him, "Now about that name.. Cassandra Aurelian.. I can't say I recall the name myself from my ten years of being here, and I am certain that a female student without her name starting with 'L' would stand out to me. Please allow me to jot down this name so I can have my assistant look through the archives. Also, you owe us no favors, we aren't a secret society, we're a learning institution."
To demonstrate, he reaches into his pocket to pull out what appears to be a tea packet, "These are crushed cabbage leaves. This.. this is the kind of 'source of power' that you speak of. Otherwise ordinary objects which are used as components to become the ingredient for magic spells cast by words written in the arcane language." He then circles with his hand movements, "The way I move my hand is a source of power for casting spells. Even the sound of my voice can be a source of power.. my point is that we are a school of students drawn to knowledge, not power as potential sources of magical power are all about us. We simply learn how to utilize it."
Now that is out of the way, he looks at the name given to him, "Now about that name.. Cassandra Aurelian.. I can't say I recall the name myself from my ten years of being here, and I am certain that a female student without her name starting with 'L' would stand out to me. Please allow me to jot down this name so I can have my assistant look through the archives. Also, you owe us no favors, we aren't a secret society, we're a learning institution."
Dreadstone is somewhat surprised to receive a portion of the proceeds from the sale of the paintings. In truth, he'd figured that the kids would rather forget about him than deliver his cut, as was the treatment he was accustomed to. "Much obliged," he says as he pockets the coin purse. If only all his income was so easy to collect..
---
Early the next morning, Dreadstone drops by the local postal station, letter in hand. Most people would opt for a sending instead, but the delicate nature of the connection between him and his intended recipient requires a more anonymous touch.
"I need this wrapped and packaged," he says flatly as he produces his finished wooden carving. His hours of careful whittling on his little block of wood has yielded a small sculpture of a unicorn frozen in a prance of equine grace, it's mane forever blowing in an imperceptible wind.
As the attendant dutifully ensconces the carving in paper and places it into a small box for delivery, Dreadstone rereads the letter he's written back to himself, lips moving silently in time to the words. With a heavy sigh, he crumples the letter in his fist and crams it back into the pocket. He does this every time, he reminds himself bitterly, musters the words to explain things, but it's never the right time. Maybe someday he'll send it.
But not today.
Instead, he grabs a postcard bearing a painting of the Emerald Bay skyline and scrawls an unsigned message of Happy birthday! upon the reverse side. "This too," he informs the clerk, who places it in the box.
---
Back on the streets of Emerald Bay, he turns back to cultivating his fledgling information network; revisiting the vagrants, lurking in the markets to eavesdrop. He's got a while to kill until he next meets Dortumn for this mystery job, but he may have need to seek information in this town again, and it would be helpful to know how to best direct inquiries in the future.
Besides, big event like this? That means gambling. Which means someone is going to try and fix at least one of the fights at a minimum. City guards might be willing to pay out a reward if that's the case.
---
Early the next morning, Dreadstone drops by the local postal station, letter in hand. Most people would opt for a sending instead, but the delicate nature of the connection between him and his intended recipient requires a more anonymous touch.
"I need this wrapped and packaged," he says flatly as he produces his finished wooden carving. His hours of careful whittling on his little block of wood has yielded a small sculpture of a unicorn frozen in a prance of equine grace, it's mane forever blowing in an imperceptible wind.
As the attendant dutifully ensconces the carving in paper and places it into a small box for delivery, Dreadstone rereads the letter he's written back to himself, lips moving silently in time to the words. With a heavy sigh, he crumples the letter in his fist and crams it back into the pocket. He does this every time, he reminds himself bitterly, musters the words to explain things, but it's never the right time. Maybe someday he'll send it.
But not today.
Instead, he grabs a postcard bearing a painting of the Emerald Bay skyline and scrawls an unsigned message of Happy birthday! upon the reverse side. "This too," he informs the clerk, who places it in the box.
---
Back on the streets of Emerald Bay, he turns back to cultivating his fledgling information network; revisiting the vagrants, lurking in the markets to eavesdrop. He's got a while to kill until he next meets Dortumn for this mystery job, but he may have need to seek information in this town again, and it would be helpful to know how to best direct inquiries in the future.
Besides, big event like this? That means gambling. Which means someone is going to try and fix at least one of the fights at a minimum. City guards might be willing to pay out a reward if that's the case.
Code:
Gather Information Check:
Diplomacy: 1d20=19
Hours: 1d4=1KittenMaster
Member
Dreadstone's inquiries would potentially lead him back to the Piano Bar, should he wish to try his hand at asking the tender about gambling activity in the city.
<Can't pass up opportunities to be the bar tender.>
<Can't pass up opportunities to be the bar tender.>
DeadPhoenix
Member
Draco buys himself some scrolls to add to his formula book.
Ablative Barrier 375
Blur 150
and then picks up a handy haversack (2000) because those are just kind of amazing.
He is now poor again. Yay.
He spends the rest of the day copying those spells(another 80 gp. Can I take a 10 on the skill check for that? I hope so.) and enjoying the festivities.
Ablative Barrier 375
Blur 150
and then picks up a handy haversack (2000) because those are just kind of amazing.
He is now poor again. Yay.
He spends the rest of the day copying those spells(another 80 gp. Can I take a 10 on the skill check for that? I hope so.) and enjoying the festivities.
KittenMaster
Member
<Just to clarify, you're doing a spellcrafting check, right?>
DeadPhoenix
Member
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Raising an eyebrow Niko listens with interest to the headmaster's alternative take. Skeptical at first, by the end he finds himself seriously pondering what he has said. "You have given me a new perspective and for that you have my thanks." He bows slightly and moves in haste to leave but spins back at the doorway. "Ah, if your assistant should find anything, I will be staying in town for the duration of the tournament. I have lodging at the inn."
Walking back over the cobblestone streets he muses upon the marble pillars and great statues of mages and wizards past that dot the Academy campus. His sense of rivalry against the learned magics versus those honed through raw talent clashes greatly with what the headmaster has shared. It could be false...but even Quintus the Ascendant began his studies here, so it was said. Though he may imagine great things for his life like those immortalized in stone, Niko does not yet understand the balance of power and knowledge in pursuit of his grand designs.
Walking back over the cobblestone streets he muses upon the marble pillars and great statues of mages and wizards past that dot the Academy campus. His sense of rivalry against the learned magics versus those honed through raw talent clashes greatly with what the headmaster has shared. It could be false...but even Quintus the Ascendant began his studies here, so it was said. Though he may imagine great things for his life like those immortalized in stone, Niko does not yet understand the balance of power and knowledge in pursuit of his grand designs.
KittenMaster
Member
As Niko doubles back through the city, it is now afternoon. If he were to pass by a cafe while walking the cobbled streets, he may see a familiar figure sitting at a table settled on the patio (roofed by a striped, durable sheet much like a tent). It's the singer from the concert, enjoying a warm drink on her own.
<You clearly wanted a chance to talk to this person, now's your chance.>
< I updated my character sheet and added 750 gp worth of potions to the cloak of resistance, 3 cure light wounds, 1 barkskin, 1 shield of faith, 1 enlarge person, so spent 1750, leaving 450 of the loot remaining. I'm taking the prices from http://www.d20srd.org/srd/magicItems/potionsAndOils.htm, hope that's alright.>
KittenMaster
Member
<Yes. Book prices are being used.
@ThLunarian: I should ask while it isn't an issue now: Where did you draw the line between stuff that was available and stuff you had to roll for?>
@ThLunarian: I should ask while it isn't an issue now: Where did you draw the line between stuff that was available and stuff you had to roll for?>
ThLunarian
Member
((If it was just an item with an enchantment placed on it (Gloves of Dexterity, Ring of Protection, Amulet of Natural Armor, +X enhancements to armor/weapons, healing potions, etc), I thought about how skilled the local enchanters in that particular town would be. If it seemed like there should be someone skilled enough to make an item with a particular strength of enchantment, they'd have it. If not, there would be a percentage roll to see if there happened to be one in stock anyway.
For Wondrous items (such as Val's Mask of Disguise, or Tarkus's healing thing that I gave him near the end), it was a function of price. If it was 10k or less, it would probably be available just about everywhere with no roll. 10k-50k, would definitely be available in a mid-sized town (Alydar) and bigger; smaller towns would have a percentage roll. 50-100k, would only be available in a large city (Ruby Keep), and towns smaller than that would have a percentage roll.
In Sigil you would literally be able to find anything you wanted, and a Gather Information roll would determine how long it would take to find it.
Metamagic Rods are kind of on the bubble between enchanted items and Wondrous Items, in my opinion, so you could treat them either way.
I may have broken my own rule when I made Val go to Sigil to find the Rings of Blink, but that was mostly just togive me an excuse to harass him as the Khajit guy make it so Quintus didn't have to go there alone))
For Wondrous items (such as Val's Mask of Disguise, or Tarkus's healing thing that I gave him near the end), it was a function of price. If it was 10k or less, it would probably be available just about everywhere with no roll. 10k-50k, would definitely be available in a mid-sized town (Alydar) and bigger; smaller towns would have a percentage roll. 50-100k, would only be available in a large city (Ruby Keep), and towns smaller than that would have a percentage roll.
In Sigil you would literally be able to find anything you wanted, and a Gather Information roll would determine how long it would take to find it.
Metamagic Rods are kind of on the bubble between enchanted items and Wondrous Items, in my opinion, so you could treat them either way.
I may have broken my own rule when I made Val go to Sigil to find the Rings of Blink, but that was mostly just to
Jackben
bitch I'm taking calls.
Spirits lifting at her sight, Niko approaches the girl he saw the other day during the celebration. He politely asks of her name and if she will be watching the tournament. "My name is Niko. I'll be competing. I promise quite a show." Not wanting to disturb her too much he makes his presence brief before strolling back to the inn with a renewed sense of purpose.
KittenMaster
Member
The girl only gives a curt glance towards the strange man that just promised to entertain her at the tournament. Like a hit and run, the man leaves before she can give him a remark.