"Dragon? Do tell, what do you know?"

Jarvak stood with folded arms aside his party, content to let this skirmish of egos play out, until he heard the word dragon. The would-be taxman now commanded his full attention.

Her bowels clench at the thought that she might have wandered into the den of a dragon, even if they had not seen such a thing.
Legend told of how jealous they were of their gold, she hoped that did not extend to silver.
She would have to change hers in to something they would not recognize...

Leo follows Einhard, saying, "If you are so worried about the poor, why don't you give them your pay?"  He rides on.

Dwarghar listens and says little. He grunts a greeting and waits to hear of the Dragon.

Einhard ignored the man, until he mentioned the dragon. The knight tugged on the reins and turned his steed to the right. "Dragon? Now that is interesting," he paused dramtically. "and much more profitable than some troublesome goblins. Please, enlighten us with what you know of this dragon." Einhard reached in to his coin purse and tossed a hand full of silver to clatter at the man's feet.


-16 sp
04:53, Today: Einhard rolled 16 using 1d20 ((16)).

Brodd waits patiently for the tale and the tax. How much do they want now that civilization was here.

Listening from the back, Alietra wonders if there is a job here waiting table, as that sounded safer than tangling with a dragon.

The Exchequer walked past the guards towards the Knight, who collected the coins for him.

"Legends tell it was Zhirran'thrax of the Crimson Wing who destroyed the Sentinel, for she wished to lair in the caves below, but the colossus and its magic beacon disturbed him. When the beacon fell into the valley below, however, it caused the waters to churn until they flooded his den. He tried to pluck the Beacon from the waters, but for reasons we do not fathom, the wyrm could not lay claw upon it. Zhirran'thrax flew north to find a quieter lair, but left its spawn behind."

He looks up at the knight on horseback.

"We still see a dragon with red scales attacking caravans from time to time."

He adjusts his fur collar.

"Thank you for paying your share. Considering you've come back after a single night, I will trust that it is accurate. After all, word gets back to the noble houses when a knight acts unchivalrous..."

He points back to the party.

"I trust you will gather the remainder of your retinue's share as well?"

"Pray tell, what is, our share?"

In reply to Brother Brodd (msg # 15):

"One-tenth of what you have recovered, Brother."

He holds a large sack open.

"It all goes back to the tithes eventually, doesn't it?"

In reply to DM (msg # 16):

Brodd counts out 59sp and puts them in the bag.

Unhappy, but unwilling to cause trouble, Alietra pays her share as well. It was the price of going in to town, and she wanted that...

Leo kept going, hoping to get lost in the shuffle of things.

In reply to Leohart (msg # 19):

A guard steps in Leo's way.

"And you, magician."

With a deep sigh, Alietra makes it very clear her hands are well aware from her weapons. If things get tense, she will get on her knees to even further reduce her potential threat level.

In reply to Alietra (msg # 21):

A guard looks down at Alietra and grins.

"Look at that posture! You must be a barmaid!"

"Correct sir, that I am. And I have been wounded out in the fields. Is there a place in town where I might get some divine aid?"

Turning his attention from the guard confronting Leo, Jarvak engages the Exchequer by stepping forward with arm extended holding up a single, well worn golden crown between thumb and forefinger.

"In my pursuits I seek a different type of treasure entirely. In place of a tax, please render my contribution to Caywick's poor. I only hope it to be worth the price of admission."

He smiles and offers the coin to the official atop an open palm.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:19, Tue 05 Jan 2021.

Leo looks at the guard and turns back and hands the thief.. I mean tax collector 40 SP.  Sorry, my mind was wandering.

"A tenth?!" gawked the knight enough that his steed stirred beneath him. "Tis outrageous. Worse than the church." He looked at the guard that picked up the coins. "How much did you collect?"

"16, sir"

Einhard sighed and dug out the rest of the silver due and dropped it in the sack. "Surely, if some brave adventurers risked their lives to rid you of this Zhirran'thrax, it would warrant quite the reward? Given the legends of red dragon's love of treasure, simply waiving the tax on such treasure would be a just reward in and of itself." The armored warrior adjusted himself in his saddle. "Besides, think of how many more caravans would fill the road to Caywick once it is safe. That would bring so more money to your town than your nuisance tax, and surely word would travel back to my family about the generosity of..." he hesitated. "I apologize, I didn't catch your name. I am Sir Einhard of Masodain. Brother-in-law to Baron Masondain."

Dwarghar pays 59 exactly without a word and moves on.

Pock ponies up the coin, happy to have procured any at all for himself. He flipped a 60th coin back into his heavy coin-purse and smiled up at everyone.

OOC: Sorry for the delay folks, the holiday season and new year has been relentless on my end!

Creston counts out 59 silver, the same as almost everybody else. As he forks it over, he mutters, "I should have stayed in camp."

As they walk away, Creston leans over to Pock and asks, "Why are we just letting this guy rob us?"

"Well, why not? I'm sure he has a family, children, or whatever--or a love of beer and good food, at least. And the coin I have left is certainly enough to enjoy myself, I should think." Pock Oneshoe knew, deep down, that this was hardly an explanation at all, and contented himself with that much.