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Visitor :  Dice Roller| Game Info| The Cast |
| 1: Becalmed in Stormreach. Posted by The GM. | Group: 0 |
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| Author | Message | Page: 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 [all][bottom] |
Then the noise surges and carries one back to the reality of the place. The bones of the giant city are still there; titanic slabs of stone originally hewn from some quarry in Xen'drik that explorers had yet to find, and fitted together with a precision that belied their great size. One in ten of the colossal bricks were custom fashioned to serve the human-sized slaves the giants made use of. The current invaders made use of all these, and more; houses and shops crafted of wood and rope were affixed to the old construction. Scattered among the stonework were odd looking clusters of dark clay with queer hexagonal capsules within. Enterprising merchants used these as ready-made storage spaces; and desperate homeless people used others as cramped shelter from sun and storm. This message was last edited by the GM at 17:38, Wed 18 Apr 2018. | ||||||
Tremor had served as sommelier aboard the Tanaka's Grace, a fine airship from Sharn that had provided first-class transport to Stormreach. At least it had been first-class for Haftak ir'Clarn. Tremor had gone to lengths to provide a completely authentic performance aboard the airship, and so Haftak had no small affection for the halfling. The wealthy bookseller had given Tremor a packet to deliver to Bronden Klondek, in exchange the halfling had obtained a letter of recommendation. Tremor's cousin Arcadenweth d'Ghallanda had also set Tremor a task. Two in fact. The first was to look into the manufacture of kuryeva. The drink exported from Stormreach had grown in popularity on the mainland to a noticeable extent. The House of Hospitality had noticed. It needed to be sourced, and a better price needed to be found for the House. The second task was to look into the status of one Maarten d'Tann, who had negotiated a deal in person with the Keep in Stormreach. The deal was struck but, there has been no word from d'Tann for a month. This message was last edited by the GM at 07:20, Thu 19 Apr 2018. | ||||||
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Sweet wines, some called dessert, were not to the bookseller's fancy. Mostly. With the fair maidens as guests, these wines would be served, however, not savored. Lord ir'Clarn sis like the wines with prices a common man would think of as liquid gold, but it was not price alone. Age, story. Those brought up the eyebrows and those ultimately transfigured the wine an arrow that pieced the heart. Much talk of Bronzewood barrels, and barrels made from Murk oak of the Shadow Marches, how vintages soak in the elements of those rare crafted vaults. Talk of how Mithral presses had been engineered by Elven vintners in vain attempts to reproduce the taste of thousand year old magnums. Happy accidents of location and just enough exposure to sun and maybe a manifest zone of this or that. Arguments over whether Druids are best at raising the vines in early years or whether a dedicated grower, with trusted family could do as equal a job. It all made the trip that much more exciting and enjoyable. 04:08, Today: Tremor Enkau Valevine rolled 6 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 2. sommelier challenge Persuation DC 15 This message was last edited by the player at 23:39, Thu 26 Apr 2018. | ||||||
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Tremor will carry out his assigned mop duty, keeping an eye out for any contribution he could make, any his size would allow, while he climbing skills were poor, perhaps the use of rope, winch or pole could place him in a spot few if any other could squeeze or fit into. Mopping required water. Water had to be held nearby or pumped in. This was Marketplace, the River ran South in Southwatch. The Distillery needed water, perhaps knowing how the water flowed, where it flowed, that might be helpful. Time to investigate. Time to see if any small weaknessInvestigation or inadvertentStealth act could further his understanding of the water system. That diversion was fine to keep his mind occupied at work. After the mopping shift was done, time to hit the public places of hospitality and inquire about one, Maarten d'Tann, was he lodged here or elsewhere? Why do I inquire? A young lady, who by indiscretion knows this d'Tann, has... hired me to deliver a message, one that may Quicken his stepDeception | ||||||
To say that Molou's used water was an understatement. It was practically a bathhouse. Steam vented from carefully monitored vats and pipes, pumps sent fluids gushing by the gallons. The workers were drenched from the moisture in the air, steam and sweat dripping into eyes, off of noses. A frequent joke was that you could tell your shift was over when your underclothes were full damp. That was the factory floor, though. The tap room was cool, comfortable, and clean; at least until the guests of one of Lord Varen Lassite's parties arrived. The work is exhausting, but Tremor managed; he'd managed before in other times, other places; here at least there were no 'raptors vying to get in through the delivery doors. By the end of the first day Tremor had assessed the pipes and determined the flows and contents of the major conduits. By the second he'd ascertained which one of the behemoth mechanisms were pumping the water into the system. The first part of the creation of the liquor known wide across the Five Kingdoms was the boiling down of the scaled fruit. Teams of workers transported the kuryeva fruit from the inner jungle to the city. Sometimes the workers would be late. Sometime these workers would need medical attention when they arrived. Sometimes they never arrived. The fruit was peeled and prepared and then dumped into one of the huge boilers and cooked under pressure. Apparently great pressure, if one was to judge by the steam that escaped from the pipes and lids. The preparation of the friut was not without hazard, either, as the bushels of kuryeva would sometimes be infested with giant centipedes. Their colors indicated a virulent poison. Garreg sneered that the venom was in fact a better intoxicant that anything made in Molou's, as no one who sampled it ever drank anything else ever again. The boiling finished, the whole stinking mass was decanted and then pressed and the squeezings taken for further processing. In that section of the factory, the drink was poured into barrels, sealed and then rolled off into the catacombs. The barrel rollers would come back with store that had aged between one and ten years, depending on the quality of the order that was to be fulfilled. Anything over five years was watched over by Garreg; any over eight were supervised by the manager, Volen Lassite himself. Once pressed, the fruit was no good; the seeds were toxic and must needs be disposed of. The workers tasked with that clean-up had poor health to a man, and staggered when they pushed their barrows away. Tap recommended that Tremor avoid the dregs duty at all cost with a quiet "death, breath." Then the best of the aged liquid was distilled in another series of cooking contraptions; brought to a boiling point and kept there until everything of value was in the vapor, and all that was left was a pungent sticky mass, which, of course, needed to be cleaned away for the next batch. Tremor worked quickly when he could, and stepped carefully into the shadows to linger, scoping out the hazardous layout and listening to whispered conversations that were not meant for the ears of the grunt workers. When the day was through most of the workers were too tired to even consider anything but a soft bed, or even a hard one. But Tremor came alive at night, ferreting out information about the dragonmarked Maarten d'Tann. D'Tann had apparently wanted to try a different route for expanding Ghallanda's influence in Stormreach, appealing to the poor and downtrodden and thus had put together a deal working with the Church of the Silver Flame. Not the grand Keep in the city, but a small lodge that catered to those without food or money or hope. Everyone knew of the friendly halfling, and the old cleric who ran the lodge, but no one knew where they were; the lodge had been deserted for a fortnight, and the beacon of hope was quickly becoming a symbol of despair. This message was last edited by the GM at 01:28, Thu 26 Apr 2018. | ||||||
22:49, Today: Tremor Enkau Valevine rolled 20 using 1d20+9. whispered conversations Stealth DC 15. 22:50, Today: Tremor Enkau Valevine rolled 14 using 1d20+7. uncover weakness Investigation DC 10. 22:51, Today: Tremor Enkau Valevine rolled 16 using 1d20+4. clues to d'Tann Deception DC 12. This message was last edited by the player at 05:54, Tue 24 Apr 2018. | ||||||
Also, and unrelated, the floor manager seemed obsessive in his instructions for the disposal of the kuryeva waste matter, in particular, which wagons were to be used in moving it all for disposal. It seemed at odds with the treatment of the workers that he was so concerned with how the toxic plant material was disposed of. Once he knew what to look for, the accesses to the water supply became obvious, with only really one hurdle required to open and thence travers the supply system. A special tool was needed to remove the bolts that held the access doors closed. An educated guess suggested that Garreg might have one in his office. While everyone had heard of d'Tann no-one knew where he was currently. The consensus was that he and the old cleric, by name of 'Archibald Noeliss', had dealings with Capshaw the Crier who frequented a ramshackle tavern in Fisher's Folly called by turns either the Leaky Dinghy or Run Aground Tavern, depending on who you asked. This message was last edited by the GM at 01:38, Thu 26 Apr 2018. | ||||||
A survey had to be taken of the office, it's surrounds. What material was there, what access might be there and where a canine might slip to fall in shadow. Plenty of mop work to be done, and the timing for when Garreg was in his office to ask for a special broom, small handle but broader mop head, an improvement, more suited to pushing liquid, one where bristles were longer more like a comb, flexible to work into corners and around drums. It was a short time for such an improvement but perhaps Garreg could see the usefulness of it.Deception In truth it was just a means to access the office in working hours to investigate what could be seen.Perception Checking his coins, he took with him only a few copper and silver, hen came the visit to the Leaky Dinghy or Run Aground Tavern, no questions as to anyone inside, unless it was for a friendly game of cards. Winning was not the goal, a clandestine check for cheatsSleight of Hand?, and finding out who, if any, could be prodded into talking about the religious in the Harbor or StormreachPersuasion | ||||||
The office had a thick ironwood door and a substantial lock, and the windows were barred. the office itself was more like a narrow hallway with several storage lockers, a cluttered desk and a heavy Kundarak safe at the far end. The curious name of the tavern was self-explanatory when Tremor arrived that evening. The structure was primarily composed of what had once been a boat. It was artfully 'smashed' against a large boulder at ground level, and the gaping hole in the prow served as the ground-floor entrance. The second 'story' was roofed with a dinghy which had a hole punched clear through it's stern, and a climbing rope dangled into the interior of that space. It was a rotting, rat-infested, creaking mess of a tavern in an area of the docks called Fisher’s Folly, an unsafe mishmash of rigging, fishing boats, and huts that was home to many of the city’s fishers. This ramshackle little tavern seemed to be a haven for the many downtrodden folk of the district. The owner, Falgor Finney, a kindly old dwarf, allowed the homeless and destitute a seat at his bar, a free tankard of ale and a bowl of stew whenever he can spare it. Other innkeepers in the neighborhood call the poor souls who make up Finney’s clientele “driftwood” and never allow them past their thresholds. The tavern persists only because of the love its patrons have for the place, keeping it alive despite the best efforts of storm and rot to destroy it. The tavern’s survival against storms has become an occasion for celebrations, with parties being held in the swaying structure during the severest storms. Joining a card game, Tremor is introduced to Captain Donovan Montgomery, whom the other card-players call 'Shakes'. The Captain drinks too heavily to play well. Other notables are stern looking halfling writing furiously at the bar; a mage who has nursed a single mug of cheap ale for more than an hour, a drunkard wearing a ragged city guard uniform, and a fishy-smelling sahuagin looking to be hired as a guide. The rest seem to be beggars and homeless people seeking a few moments of relief under a roof. | ||||||
19:14, Today: Tremor Enkau Valevine rolled 23 using 1d20+4. avoid raising suspicions Deception DC 14. 19:16, Today: Tremor Enkau Valevine rolled 17 using 1d20+5. Garreg Office Perception . 19:18, Today: Tremor Enkau Valevine rolled 18 using 1d20+6. Cheat check Sleight of Hand DC 12. | ||||||
The first thing Tremor saw was the shift roster and a map for the floor security; six armed thugs had well-marked routes that covered the office access. The second was the beddings for two dire hounds. They were scruffy and mean looking. The third was that in addition to the Kundarak safe there was a large cabinet of tools. Garreg shut it while Tremor talked, and fastened a chain with a padlock. He kept the key on a chain around his neck. | ||||||
Tremor also noticed that the majority of the homeless folk were Tulita drow; they watched from the shadows. This message was last edited by the GM at 14:15, Mon 30 Apr 2018. | ||||||
Making mental notes of the floor routes, seemed best. Tremor's fingers twitched at the closeness of the map, now was not the time. Coin or other precious valuables of the Distillery did not interest him, seeing the list for the upcoming party, did. Perhaps Garreg could be reminded in an oblique way. "I also wanted to know if we have Cedar oil? To wipe down the Tap room with after it is swept and washed, the lye odor is strong."Deception 22 Leaky Dinghy It is possible, but counter to the public face of Falgor, but the couple could be giving a percentage of their take to the House. Proving the cheat, how it was being done, that was important. Falgor knew of Tremor what he knew of worms that lived in the dark soil. It is the happy and cheerful face, knowing who was really facing and not caring to lose the copper or even a silver to the pair. 12:25, Today: Tremor Enkau Valevine rolled 8 using 1d20+5. Card Game d20 + Insight +5. Tremor bought a pitcher to share at the table, played a couple of rounds, learn the methodologies of the cheats, lose some more and then excuse himself, taking his leave and going to the bar asking for the whereabouts of Capshaw the Crier, gauging the reaction of the bartender.Insight 24 Tremor went looking for Ekewaka Tua, there was an inkling of an idea and he could hire the Drow Elf to answer a question he had about the disposal of the fruit and the carts used by the Distillery. This message was last edited by the player at 19:29, Tue 01 May 2018. | ||||||
The dire hounds were named Rasha and Sasha, and they were poorly looked after. Tremor was no houndsmith, but in his own estimation he reasoned that he could do no worse with them than kindness. It might take some time to win them over, however. The day man who managed them was Philup, and he would be none too difficult to convince that Tremor was a better person to fetch the hounds in and out. The marketplace would have clay, certainly, and possibly other needed materials. The office windows had had a metal gridwork permanently affixed to them; apparently there was at one time a need to prevent objects the size of a bottle from passing through the window into the office. This also meant that something the size of a halfling would also be prevented from passing through the window. The ceiling in the factory was high, though and above the walls gave way to cross-beams. If a person were to manage to get up to them, then there was probably no place they couldn't go. It seemed an egregious security flaw. As far as the crafting of the tool was concerned the answer was probably to be found among the local guildsmen; seemingly everyone who did anything of note was a member of a guild. There couldn't be too many pipers to ask. The woman was called 'Tanika Sharpe' Her hair was long on the left, and close cropped on the right; apparently to draw the eye to a scar that ran across her temple. The bearded man was 'Jock Thim' and he could use a wash; sitting at the same table was uncomfortable for those of a more delicate nature. They were palming and replaying cards, even passing them to each other. Shakes was oblivious to the crimes. He was still recounting that he could sail any craft, big or small through the shoals around Stormreach. Blindfolded. In the dead of night. The ale was far from the best, but palatable, and the time it took for the table to drink the pitcher was enough to see the crudity of their approach. Shakes, of course, was at their mercy, and Tremor's intuition told him that these two would happily rob him in an alley, if they had not fleeced him of his coin at cards. Falgor Finney served up gruel to the last of the waiting Tulita. In Tremor's estimation the dwarf's sentiments were as advertised. But a cynic might suggest that his attempts to make things better for his customers would not serve him well in such a cynical and harsh city. He addressed Tremor's query about the Crier with a nod at the halfling who was still writing furiously on sheafs of paper at the bar. When Tremor approached, the serious Capshaw looked up from his papers: "Do you realise that the Tulita are facing extinction?" | ||||||
"I understand." As Tremor backs away to the office door. "Ummm, who prepared the Tap Room last?" {*} Who opens with that? Must be obsessed with the Dark Elves. Naturalist? Historian? Tailor? By the Shadow this is a dismal place. How do I relate? Tremor hopped up on to a seat and put his hand out for the Dwarf. "How did you come to that? Isn't this their homeland?" When the proprietor comes and there is time to order, "I just lost all my coin in the card game. My new friend here is dis-wrought, can I pay you tomorrow? I am Tremor Valevine, I work at the Distillery." | ||||||
Tremor got the feeling that pressing beyond this would irritate the boss; or worse arouse suspicions. "It was their homeland. Since the Plantation Battle they have nowhere to truly call home. They cannot live where they did, it's all plantations. Their huts are razed and their villages planted with crops like kuryeva for export. And they cannot own property in the city, nor bear weapons. Within these walls they are prey, and beyond these walls they are hunted if they are seen. The young generation is growing up without the guidance of their elders, who are slain or in hiding. Even if they knew their rituals, practicing their old religion is forbidden in Stormreach and the environs." He sighed. "Even if the Tulita survive, when they lose their culture then it is as if the people died. The depression sets upon them; they drink to forget, or numb the pain. And the Stormlords collect the coin that the Tulita spend on suicide."  Falgor Finney"Humph. You ought not wager if you can't afford to lose. This ale is on me. One mug to remind you that all is fleeting." The dwarf also pushed over a quarter of a roast chicken. "The gruel's out. If you're looking for a meal you need to get here earlier. But I'm done with my dinner, so you can have the rest. Tonight. I'll be hungrier tomorrow." He waggled his eyebrows in an obscure gesture. Capshaw placed a handful of coins on the counter. "My friend will have at least one more with me, I hope. Finney is one of the bright lights in this dark time. Tulita know they can come here and avoid harrassment or poersecution. And while he'll give them a mug, it's never that kuryeva poison or worse... the dragon's breath. Still it's a slow death. The end of a great nation if it cannot be stopped. The Treaty showed us on the continent that even bitter enemies can co-exist; why can't we have that here? I just want a fair chance for the people who were here first." |
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