We just came back from one... had it been smaller we wouldn't have come back... ran into a hundred or so of those Saturnists holding some sort of summoning.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:17, Sun 20 Sept 2015.

"Nah. So long as equal shares."

"Alright then, how about everyone grabs any gear or supplies they need and meet here early in the morning to set out.  We can enter the undercity through that destroyed street section near that bar."

Ooc: I've been assuming its late afternoon at least, since there were organized dart games going on.

How about we use tomorrow to preppare and leave early the day following? We can all get a two good nights sleep  to prepare...

OOC: How many days are people taking supplies for? 5 seem plenty?

Well if we plan on 5 days, I'd take a week of supplies.... things never go as planned.

"Does anyone have rope, or should I plan to buy some?  Do we have sacks to haul back anything compact enough to carry, or should we get some?  You mages need that stuff to replenish your power, whatever it's called?"

"Got a bit a'rope, a bit a'cord."

OOC: Jocelyn, I meant with a margin, not planning 5 days. But that's why it was a question.

"We have no idea what we are going to run into, so how about we plan on four days below, so bring enough supplies to last at least five or six, in case of difficulties.  If we have so many problems that it is not enough, I can supplement the food and water. We will need plenty of rope and sacks though.  I am probably being too optimistic, but if everyone brings two sacks, that would be good.  I will bring a couple of ropes, if someone else wants to as well, that would be great."

We have neither rope of Sacks .... don't expect we need everyone to bring rope, but we can buy a fair length and a few sacks...

"Okay, I'll grab a couple sacks, twenty yards of light rope (enough to hold my own weight, not the kind that'll lift a horse), and I'm covered for food."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:56, Sun 20 Sept 2015.

In reply to Mario Crowfoot (msg # 45):

"Razakeel may come, yes?"

"Yes Razakeel, we welcome you in the group."
Raising his voice slightly,  "It is settled then, take the rest of today and all of tomorrow to prepare, then we leave at daybreak the morning after.  See you all then.  If any of you have questions, please just ask."

"Ludlow, you're coming as well, aren't you?  We may need all the help we can get..."

In reply to Mario Crowfoot (msg # 48):

"Well then, that is splendid! I have a bit of instruction to engage with Madamoiselle Lemru. If I am not
mistaken, we shallbe proceeding to the site of this weeks
street collapse. I am familiar with the area, or at least I
 was before the incident..."

From the corner with a comfy chair comes a fluid Elven accented voice:

"Meistr Zideqick, ya sain to be the chef for t'is expedi'ion, bu I see no guider?  Who'ave ya contracted?

If yn ya have no, I offer fy service as guider an interpre'er."

The dirty blonde man does not raise his head as he says this.  Aside from his lips moving he appears to still be napping (as he appeared when you all entered).






OOC:  If the accent is off, I'll edit it later...
[EDIT]
Replaced terrible French accent with terrible Welsh accent.
[/EDIT]
This message was last edited by the player at 03:55, Mon 21 Sept 2015.

"Pardon, but what do you mean by guider? If you mean scout, we are going underground, not into the wilderness, unless you have a familiarity with the section of the undercity we are heading to."

"'es. I'na  Sage specializin y City Below.."

His hand reaches into his leather great coat and fishes about, then with a jangle, he produces an iron ring and keys... the iron ring bears the mark of the Department of Sanitation and Aqueducts.

"I'n also 'n possession des clés du royaume, as is said."

Tucking the keys back into the pocket they came from he stands, stretches, and removes his darkly tinted glasses.  He's tall (6'3" or so) but rail thin.  He reaches behind the chair, retrieves a leather wrapped walking stick, and approaches.

"I'as prepared to go tomorrow yn y morn an contracted pair a to accompan' me, the' are alread' paid, though I could pu' them off a day if'n so be.

As he approaches you see he isn't just a dirty blonde... he's a filthy blonde.  You steel yourself for the smell of unwashed homeless behind, but find instead he smells of woodlands and moonshine.



[EDIT]
Replaced terrible french accent with terrible Welsh accent.
[/EDIT]
This message was last edited by the player at 03:59, Mon 21 Sept 2015.

What the hell is a cles du royome and why the hell do we need it? Every frickin' elf thinks he's a wonder scout. SHIT!


OOC- Yes, she curses a blue streak... it's her DisAd... sorry if anyone is offended.

He leans towards her and bats his eyes, "Des clés du royaume", he repeats, "Means t'e ke's o' t'e kingdom luv."  A pause, "Yn 'olde' Araliase."

"As fer bein' a scout, nay.  I'n a sage."  He laughs, "Yn keen the diff' a scout an'a sage? If'n a scout say 'I keen me way aroun', 'e means 'I ain' ever been 'ere'.  A sage means 'I been 'ere plenty, an come back ever time'."

Deciphering the oddly thick accent, Nodwin raises his hands palms up a short distance, before turning them over as if pouring something out.

"Sage or scout, guide or sanitation specialist, it matters but little.  We depart for an unknown duration in two days, you already declared you have prior clients tomorrow, awaiting you to take them into the sewers and aqueducts.  It seems that you are already honor bound in any case."

"Nay clien's.  Hirelins.  A lan'ern bearer an'a guardsman.  I was fixin to go down an see wut was wut an map t'e damage so t'e masons an engineers ina Sanitation keen wut is broke an where.  Is kin'a fy job, but pay 'o 'nough t'e hire ona full crew I don get.

T'e gaurds t'e watch fy back, t'e bearer to carry anyfin I find.  T'ey alread paid, so t'ey no need a share."

Almost as an aside to himself he says, "I was waitin yer 'o see ifna anyone was gonna moun an expidi'ion.  Make fy job easier 'o join up with a good crew."

He pulls off his glove to display his tin Guild ring* and says, "I'na 'n good standin, so is no problems there. If needs, I can take a Least Share, but I claim First Right 'o Credit ya discover sometin new.  Publish er perish, aye?  Also I dinna need on ya Permit 'o Vigilante and Looting ya mention, so tha' save yer some coin when ya go an get everone o' yer crew name on it.  Bein a sanitation mapper 'ave some perks."




*Next to the Adventure's Guild ring is an old worn steel Sage's Guild ring, most of the gold leaf worn away, the small symbols looking a bit sad, two of them are enameled in black.

"Nodwin, it's never a bad thing to have someone along who actually knows what's there, or at least what was there before the collapse.  I'd say, let's bring him."

"Mario, that is true. I was merely concerned that he had a prior commitment that he was willing to throw away.  A misunderstanding on my part, but I feel a reasonable one since Vejovis knows that trust is very important when things get dangerous."

Turning back to the elf, Nodwin smiles.

"Good sage, we would welcome you to our group at the same rate as everyone else. As I said earlier, all of the group members will be equal.  However, I would like to know who I am dealing with beforehand, what are you called?"

"Ah!" He mimes lightly slapping his forehead, "Where fy manners!  I'n Jareth Mooncalled, and this is..." he pats a few of the pockets and pouches affixed to his coat and then frowns.

He reaches up with his staff and taps the rafters, "Ho, Akimbo!  Get down 'er ya lazy varmint!"

There's a scuttling from above, and furry face peeks over the beam.  Jareth points the leather wrapped short staff (it's clearly longer than a walking stick) over at him.  A furry tube scrambles down the staff and arm and resolves itself into a black-footed ferret.  It hunches on his shoulder and offers him the remains of a huge beetle.

"Nay, tis yer catch fair 'n square, 'esides I'n not hungry, thanks for t'e offer."  Jareth turns to the assembled, "This 'ere is Akimbo, he's a hunter and scout proper," Jareth winks at Mellarill, 'though 'e mostly just hunts t'e small stuff."

"Oh, an anyfing shiny ya may have... eh... 'mislain' as it were. He sometimes has, t'e 'sticky paws'."

The ferret squeaks indignantly.

"No, I mos dis'inc'ly did nay call ya a theif.  I jus' say yer good at findin lost stuff and don't clean yer paws enuff." "Squeak! Squeak! D'ook!"  "Oh I keen I got no w'ere to talk about bein dirty, but fy han's ain' sticky wit beetle juice. Now pip down, and make wit t'e lookin at yer fellow spelunkers."