Some initial questions of passersby indicates that while the action at the River Gate may be over, the Riverman's Quarter may just be getting harmed up.  It sounds like the ale is flowing freely at the Black Stone Inn.  Fairfortune Hall--a shrine to Tymora and gambling hall--too seems to be in high spirits.

Tol knows an adventuring priest of the Lucky Lady--Prospero.  It has been some time since the quest to avenge Baron Cromm Redhand, but his name and face is deeply entwined therein.

Tolantra smiled at the thought of Prospero. Their adventure together hadn't been exactly the stuff of song, but everyone had gotten out alive... eventually. And the presence of another cleric had meant she had been able to keep her secret without worrying about degrading the survivability of the group.

She turned her feet towards the gambling hall. Priests of Tymora had a tendency of hearing things, and she was curious to learn what Prospero knew.

Leaving the River Gate, the party starts up the Hill Road rather than cutting through the various alleys of the Riverman quarter.  The land rises along this road as you distance yourself from the river.  On your right rises the bluff one which the Ducal lands sit and on the edge of which is situated the Mikitan Shipyards (9) and the Ducal Stables (8).

Turning left down the Trade Way, the cobbles are kept in good order here at the edge of the Money Quarter. Here are the true masters of Daggerford. The people of this quarter invest in caravans rather than owning them and hire soldiers rather than train them.  Celadhel gives a salute to a vine-covered four story home on the corner of the Money Quarter (45).  It has a small footprint, and at four stories you'd call it a tower except that it distinctly looks like a home. "My uncle Darfin" Celadhel explains.

The Caravan Quarter is opposite the drill field to the South.  Fairfortune Hall (73) is within sight when you hear a scream of pain coming from a nearby building. This is the Physician's Order (63)--a fraternity of surgeons and priests practicing non-magical healing at a reduced price.  Normally they care for smaller matters--like wart removal or embalming, but it seems tonight they're tending wounded rivermen.

Fairfortune Hall is a great open air pavilion of rough hewn timbers held together with mighty bolts. Torches flicker, gutter, and pop from sconces.  Between the pillars of wood hang woolen drapes gathered with cords in the center to let the air in and avoid some measure of privacy but also to allow glimpses to passersby to pique their curiosity.

Within is the atmosphere of a festhall--unusual at both this place, this day, and this hour.  There is always gambling in Fairfortune Hall--its a holy rite--but this has the feel of a reckless abandon.  Tymorans celebrate Midsummer in this way, but in the winter?  And these don't all seem like Tymorans.

Figures in blue and white drift between the tables where the gamblers cast their dice.  Toward the back stands a tall and strong warrior cleric looking gallant in his mail and both excited and concerned about the proceedings.  Prospero.

Tolantra slid around the edge of the crowd, keeping one hand near her hammer and the other near her belt pouch. Not that she didn't trust Prospero to run a place infested with thieves, but this didn't seem like the normal crowd. And it certainly hadn't been a normal day.

When she got close enough, she raised a hand and waved at Prospero. "Prospero! Straight tunnels and pure ore to you. How goes the day?"

Prospero greets you warmly, "The day was fine!" he looks around perplexed, "this though! Every man a hero and earned a hero's reward, but none say from whence it came.
 I suppose it's the will of the goddess that so much of it will come here to rest."  He grins, but is also clearly concerned about the activity.  "You travel with new companions? Ah, but there is Edrie!  One face still familiar!" Prospero presses past to embrace the magician and greets her with a kiss on either cheek. "What brings you all here?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:11, Sat 18 Sept 2021.

"There was an attack earlier tonight at the River Gate," Tolantra said. "Someone brawling with the  rivermen. The Lawblade is handling the cleanup, and asked me to ask around, see what folks had to say." She nodded towards the gamblers. "Have you heard anything in particular from this group? And do you know if they have any particular leaders?"

"Jardak Seven-Mouths" Prospero intones. "He's something of a headman for dock laborers.  They call him that for his belly-aching over the seven-mouths he has to feed at home.  Sometimes his complaining gets everyone a raise. I haven't asked, but if I needed to know, that's who I'd start with."

Prospero gestures over his shoulder at an old dock worker with greasy salt and pepper hair leaning up against a back wall with a ceramic mug in his hand.  He is occasionally congratulated or thanked by members of the crowd, but does not participate in the festivities.

"Thanks, Prospero," Tolantra said. Giving him a quick clap on the arm, she headed towards the back wall. Once she got close enough, she hailed Jardak.

"Hail, Jardak. I heard a bit about the fight on the river." She patted her hammer to draw attention to it. "I wish I'd been there! Can you spare a moment to tell what happened?" She waved over a server and ordered a refill for what Jardak was drinking.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:05, Wed 02 Feb 2022.

Jardak scowls and pushes back his greasy hair. "One more fool casting coin like stones in the river. At least this one's cast my way." Jardak seems decidedly unfriendly.

The mechanics for adjusting NPC disposition are a bit clunkier in 2E than in later editions. We're going to call this a retro-skill challenge. You need 3 successes before 2 failures.  The free drink counts as the first.

Think of ways you could improve Jardak's disposition, and make a related ability or proficiency check. Success will get you all that he knows without violence.  Failure will get you half of that--without violence. The rolls can come from anyone in the party.

This message was last edited by the GM at 02:23, Mon 20 Sept 2021.

Tolantra chuckled, though inwardly she was wincing and hoping that this man wasn't as ornery as some of the devoted grumblers back in the clan. Still, she'd persevered there, and would try to do the same here. "Not so much a fool as that. I'm an honest smith. I make my coin with my sweat and my arms, just like you, and stand my watch with the militia like everyone else. I don't mind tossing around the coins my sweat has earned, and I like a good story. From what I hear, you know a good one. What say you?"

((ooc: Going for a Charisma check, since I'm kind of blanking on applicable NWP's.
1d20 = 6 Success.))

Jardak snorts.  "The coin's better when the stories aren't told, and I've seven moufs to feed at home." He sighs, "But what everyone knows don't cost nuffin'. From time to time folk need strong arms.  They'll come in the Black Stone and buy a round for the house.  They'll leave coin wif the bartender and whisper what needs doing.  Then sometimes it gets done. Same fing happened tonight, but not one of the usuals and a larger purse is all.  Promised us we'd be heroes for the Duchy. As if I can feed seven moufs at home wif heroism." His brown teeth a bared as he laughs at his own joke.

"But maybe you need to know something that everyone don't know. There's seven moufs wots needs feedin' in my house." His laughter fades away but his smile remains.

Tolantra debated just pulling out her coin purse and bribing the man, but it sat badly with her to just pay such an unpleasant man. Then she thought of a better idea. "With seven mouths, some of them must be getting older. Ready to make decisions about their life. We dwarves have a saying: 'a smith dies rich.' I have friends among the smiths; maybe I could arrange an apprenticeship? Training in a skill that could support a parent in old age. And, of course, a master pays for an apprentice's food."

((ooc: I don't think I've ever used Armorer in a role play environment, but here we go...
1d20 = 4. Easy success.))

In reply to Tol (msg # 142):

All this talk of mouths to feed reminds Heluvianal of the Dwarven village near his home, his family traded food for metal ores. Talking to the tavern server Any chance of some food for my friends and why not, anyone else who is hungry

Jardak's mouth gapes and works silently like a fish on land.

"I, I, I though you was just gonna gimme some coins. Are you serious? No fish guts? You'll apprentice one of me brats?"

Tolantra hesitated for a moment. What she had meant was that she would talk to one of the other smiths in town about taking on one of Jardak's kids as an apprentice. But she knew from experience that master smiths were picky about who they would take as an apprentice. And in all honesty, she was getting tired of forging by herself. Apprentices weren't just there to learn, they also did useful scutwork that kept the forge clean and operational, saving time for the master smith to focus on their own work.

So instead, what she said was, "I won't train someone who isn't genuinely interested in learning. I've seen too many lives ruined by being forced into something they aren't. And if she or he and I don't get along personally, I'll try to find a master they'll mesh with. But with that said, yes. I will."

"You come by me house then and have your pick. Within the month since you seem to be at work now."

"Here's wot I know wot's no one else does.  Lady Bronwyn had been writin' letters back and forth to Agwain for a month.  Her teacher--the court wizard--should know the truth o' that. I also be knowin' that the Baron and the Lady were with Delfargo the Baitseller before they were fallen upon by these heroes."

Tolantra nodded. "Once this latest crisis is over, I'll come. You have my word. And my thanks. Where can I find Delfargo at this time of day?"

Once she knew where to go, she gave Jardak a short bow, and headed out. She had a lead.

In reply to Tol (msg # 147):

As he had been accompanying Tol to talk with the river men, Heluvianal followed on to help find Delfargo.
As they moved through the city, he kept a watch out for those staring or being shifty, he mat have need of those later on.

((Just to verify, no one's interested in hitting up the Court Wizard?))

The party jogs down the city streets in the night, closely following the directions given by Jardak Sevenmouths.

The house of Delfargo the Baitseller sits at on the end of a wooden pier that sticks out into the Delimbyr River.  It's difficult to ponder how mighty the trees were that were felled in order to create the supports that allow this long peninsula of pine to stay above the water.  The boards are bleached by the sun and slick with algae, bird squeeze, and fish blood.  This pier, in many ways, serves as social security for Daggerford's poor.  If you don't have coin enough for food, you may yet have enough for bait. With a little skill and luck you might be able to pull one more day from the flowing waters for the cost of some cut bait.

At this hour of night only the most destitute Daggerforders can be found.  Folk missing legs and arms, or who have outlived their usefulness with no dutiful sons and no pension, or prostitutes too far past their prime or too disease ridden to be allowed in a festhall. Some sleep propped against one of the poles.  Others huddle around braziers.  Still others sit on the edge holding limp lines and staring at the River as if they've cast their last hope into its rippling rills.

Delfargo's Baitshop and home sit at the end of the pier with iron bars on the windows and iron bars on the door. A battered sign hung from a rope faces out painted red--indicating that there is no bait available.  On the reverse is painted green indicating the opposite.

Make Wisdom checks.

((ooc: Not yet for the court wizard, though that may change.

Wisdom check: 1d20 = 9. Made it easily.))

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 149):

(ooc:  Wisdom Check 10, needed 10 to pass.

Sorry, with the pills I've been on, when I read the thread on my mobile I missed the Court Wizard bit, will be heading that way in the morning)
Tol, these poor people, I'll head to talk with Lady Bronwyn's teacher, the Court Wizard in the morning, you don't wake a Wizard up when in deep sleep unless it's urgent.

Down below the pier you hear a commotion, "Look there!  Them skiffs the Rebel Baron stole! They're free inna water now. Get the boat, we gotta get 'em afore they float away!"

Something seems out of place on the bait sign, and you step forward to investigate.  You see that scratched into the edge of the sign are Sylvan moon runes. Because of the lights of the city the pure light of the moon and stars is only able to faintly illuminate the text--and Daggerforders wouldn't know what it is anyway.

It seems that Defargo the Baitseller is a fey creature in disguise, and that he is a guide to the otherside.

If you had to guess, Baron Agwain's escape route runs through your home, The Laughing Hollow.

It was strange to see such signs inbthe city or so close to one, the pier was probably the furthest place away from the city whilst still in the city. It dawned on him that will all these poor and 'throw-away people close by, it makes sense that a creature with a chaotic nature would encourage them to be near. Stranger still was the knowledge a Sylvan would find solace here, then again, it was surrounded by nature in the form of the river and power through lay lines sometimes flowed with the river! Defargo was probably using that to power his disguise.

Heluvianal goes back inside to speak with the owner. On finding him, he quietly speaks words no other would understand if overheard.

Tolantra glanced around at the others. "It sounds like the baron abandoned his boats. Either they're on the other side of the river, or they found something near here that allowed them to escape. Keep your eyes open." She nodded towards the Baitseller's house. "Maybe he knows more." Seeing that Heluvianal was heading inside, she followed closely.