Roak clears his throat. "Still waiting for your bid. Do you want anything from the catacombs below? If not, you're costing me money every minute."

"I am quite lucid, Sir, I assure you. If indeed I am delusional, I can at least guarantee that my memories, my delusions if you must call them that...are consistent, as my companions will vouch for my general behavior and valor in the face of danger. I'll not place scorn upon you in response for limiting your conclusions to your life experiences in these caverns...."

He taps the tip of his ear.

"I haven't found anyone in these caves ready to debate hours of philosophy on how we know what we know, or alternatively posit that we're all higher beings pretending to be ourselves in some cosmic game and forgetting what we truly are or some other bizarre assertion. But please...back to business."

He grins and goes silent again.

The man seems fascinated by Lanliss' words for a moment, almost as if giving them actual consideration, then shakes himself a bit and continues, "Yes. Back to business."

He eyes cast about his desk for a moment, then fall on a bag of what appears to be coin.  Picking it up and hefting it, then consulting a ledger before him, he declares, "20 thousand in gold can be yours, if you can clear the catacombs below of undead."  He checks to make sure that the party members are paying attention before going on, "But, if you fail to completely clear them, I can pay only 50 in gold for each undead monstrosity that you manage to dispatch, with no hazard pay for any of your group who fall in the conflict.  I'll not pay for the failures of sub-standard workers,"

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 602):

"May I ask what constitutes proof of each undead destroyed? A skeleton or zombie thumb bone is collectible, albeit unpleasant to carry back. But what of the more dangerous ghostly types that leave no trace when destroyed? "

"For that matter, how can anyone be sure when the caverns are clear? Be it skeletons lying dormant in the muddy pools or spirits lurking in stalagmites? Is there a census of the undead as well?" He chuckles.

Even Sherborne raises an eyebrow at 20 thousand.  "For 20 thousand just what kind of undead are we talking about, and who's creating them?"

Roak's face twitches a bit at the mention of the massive payout. He waits eagerly for the answers to his companions' questions.

"Insofar as proof goes, I've no idea, really.  I was just throwing it out there to see if you'd bite.  Propose something to me and we'll see if I'll bite," comes the man's ready response.  He almost seems to be smiling, as if taking great delight in this conversation.

"As to who, or what, is creating them, I have no idea.  That will be up to you to determine, although I might add something to sweeten the payout, if you come back with that information."

"Perhaps," suggest Silverglade, "you could send some of your clerics to witness the undead that we make, um, un-undead."

Albricht had been observing this exchange with a growing mixture of excitement and apprehension. This was playing out to be a little too normal, and from what he'd seen so far down here, normal was too good to be true.

"Twenty thousand. Twenty thousand..." The words rolled around his mouth as if he were tasting them. Finally nodding, "For me, Aye."

"But a few questions. What good is such a... fair price, if we've nowhere to spend it? Can you recommend a smith or outfitter, or even a junk dealer in the city? We've got a few things to peddle and I'm in need of some crossbow bolts. Which compels me to ask if your order takes commissions to do enchantments and so forth? Have you any artifacts for which we could arrange purchase or trade?"

"You see, we've scraped and clawed our way down here from the... erm... narrow world up top, and we've cleared much of it, save for a foe or thrain which we struggled to overcome, not for lack of effort but for want of the right tools. We've gathered a fair bit of treasure recovered in the process. We'd like to spend it here in your city... but as outsiders we're finding it difficult to find anything worth our while... Don't mean this to offend, but mushrooms don't compare to steel that rings and gems that gleam. Hrrrumph!"

Roak smiles knowlingly. "Twenty thousand gold--in platinum--sounds reasonable. As far as proof goes, here's what we'll do? We'll bring you the head of the first and the last that we slay and I'll give you an accurate count of every undead we kill. Plus, to make things sweet, you give us ten thousand up front, ten thousand on return and a bonus when no undead come out to bother you after a year."

“How do we even know he has twenty thousand gold?  This guy could be smoking pseudodragon turds, for all we know.”  Elboc doesn’t bother to lower his voice.

Seeds of doubt planted, Albricht's wild eyes grew wary! Having no idea what a sudoku-dragon even was, but having a lifetime of familiarity with turds, it was quite possible to the old dwarf that smoking such might be a dark-elf equivalent of eating the strange mushrooms of this place. Was the High Cashier... actually, high?

Addressing Silverglade first, he replies, "Ah!  But then they would inevitably end up in danger and have to fight to save themselves, along with you.  It's an excellent attempt to gain additional resources and increase your own possible rate of survival at our cost, but I think we won't be doing that."

Turning to Albricht, he continues, "There are artisans here and some of them produce some quite high quality items.  I'll admit that they can sometimes be difficult to locate, and many are often dreaming the mushroom dreams, but they can be found.  Also, as you have guessed, we sometimes do commission work here, although it can take quite some time to complete.  Dweomers are not quickly or cheaply laid."

To Roak, "With no proof of your prowess, and being quite aware that this - despite all apparent evidence - might simply be a recent twist in the hallucinations common to the people, I fear that we won't be giving an advance.  I do, however, like your idea of keeping back part of the proposed payment for some time, to ensure that the undead menace has truly been dealt with."  The man gives a toothy grin at this, obviously aware that he is now verbally fencing with the diminutive adventurer.

To the room, generally, but obviously in response to Elboc's pointed question, "If you don't believe that I have the coin, you are free - of course - to leave and negotiate with others.  I would be a fool to display such a large sum to a group as heavily armed as you, with no proof of goodwill on your part and no obvious guards on mine."

Voran smirks. "What would give you incentive to pay us the entire amount of twenty thousand upon return with proof we've slain undead?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:43, Wed 05 Dec 2018.

Vsaati held a small frown on her face as she listened to the bargaining proceed.  It seemed their deal was worsening the more they talked. First it was half now, half later.  Now it was later if proof was provided.  At that rate they would be paying for the privilege soon enough!

For the moment she held her tongue though, in case Voran's latest question might turn things back in their favour.

Sherborne listens to the by play with some amusement but also briefly grasps his holy symbol just to be sure it's there.

The silver-masked man turns to Elder Voran, thoughfully, then replies, "The entire amount?  Well...  I suppose that a tour on the part of a selected number of my compatriots, satisfying ourselves that the job had been well and truly done would do it."  He taps thoughtfully on his chin for a moment.  "Yes, that would do quite nicely.  Were you just fishing, or is that a proposal?"

Voran bows slightly. "That is my counter-proposal, yes. A delay in payment is not desirable, and a tour of the undead-free catacombs would certainly be a better option than a delay in payment."

The back and forth was making the old dwarf's head spin. He was silently keeping score, but had neglected to label names on the columns of his mental score card. This made a running evaluation of who was winning a little difficult, but he was pretty sure Voran and his team were winning. For sure. Had to be. Perhaps.

"A tour sounds interesting, but let's get some supplies ironed out first..."

Albricht fished around in his quiver for a particular bolt. It was one he'd had for a long time, his hold out, a bit battered from having been kept in reserve for... centuries perhaps? He pulled it out almost reverently.

"This be Biter," Albricht presented the bolt to the priest. "It's only killed one foe. The first time it was used. Dropped a big desert-crawler, hit it right in the sweet spot. I've been holding it in reserve since I was a lad and made that great shot." He reached it across.

"I'd like to commission your Order to bless or enchant or mumble or whatever it is you do... I once saw a greasy, knobby-headed goblin that had a magic knife which would return to his hand each time he threw it! Or at least it appeared that way, not sure. The point is, I'd like to never lose this bolt. It's been a long, long time and I've never dared shoot it again for fear that it would shatter or go un-found. Saved it for my last shot. I'd be willing to donate my share of the reward if you can make it so..."

Lanliss looked on with fascination as Albricht unwrapped his treasured quarrel and doted on it like a newborn. He thought only elves gave such reverence to fated weaponry. Praise no blade until it's blooded, as his grandfather once told him.

The man smiles again, hearing Elder Voran's words.  "We can't, obviously, just give you the entire amount prior to the performance of your task, but we should be able to send you with 5000 initially, with the balance payable on our inspection of the catacombs, for completion. Be advised, we don't normally part with any money before service has been rendered, so this is quite the big deal."

The man turns to Albricht, "A returning bolt?  Just one?  I think we should be able to manage that, but it will take a couple of days.  If you find that acceptable, then so do we.  What say you?"

Voran bows. "A very reasonable offer. I accept on behalf of the party."

Roak shoots Voran a skunky look, but doesn't argue.

"Aye, one's all I shall ever need... but I'd also like it juiced up a bit, able to damage things which quarrels don't normally affect... like ghostly floaters and that sort of thing. If you can do that, then we can strike a deal."

The old dwarf pulled out his waterskin and offered the High Checker of Usimigaras a ceremonial draught to seal the deal.

"Agreed!" the High Exchequer calls out, taking a swig from the skin and returning it to Albricht and holding out his hand for the bolt.

The masked man calls out toward the door, "Clerk!  Bring me 25 double centuries of gold!"

In short order, the clerk returns with a cart that is groaning under the weight of 100 pounds of gold.

<Note:  I'm ruling that ACTUAL coins are 1/50 of a pound, instead of 1/10 of a pound, despite what it says on page 61 of the Basic Player's Manual (Mentzer version), but encumbrance - if we ever use it - will still work with cn weight being 1/10 of a pound for everything else.>