Fast forward to the next morning:

The three of you each get a set of martin fur with lined legging and cloaks, all well oiled and in good condition, along with riding boots with fleece interiors (extra large for Agrax) to go along with the horses and the trail rations you've already bought.

You also purchase a small coffer for 8 silver, 4 boxes for storing the statues for 3 silver apiece (12sp total). The coffer will carry your remaining wealth and fits neatly into one of your saddle bags. What's left is 400sp (Equivalent to 20 gold).

The merchant offers to convert some of the silver 'for a small fee.' Conversions are typically 10%

Let me know if you want to convert any of the silver.
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Armed with mounts, beast of burden and some new clothes, you make ready to ride.

Now's the time for any last minute considerations. Let me know if you have something on your mind, otherwise we'll move things along.

ooc: go ahead and move things a bit, I want to re-read a couple things. We will probably buy extra food, some oil, etc...

ooc: all prices at standard PHB rates. If you want a wider selection, you can look at OSRICs list of supplies. FYI.

True to her word, Agrax takes off at a loping run. The stench of Lankhmar fades as the old manor comes back into view. Happily, no one is present outside to see them off. Soon they follow a well worn track heading northward. After about two hours of riding, Agrax comes into view standing beneath an old mile marker pointing in many different directions. One of the signs points north, the directional indicating northward is the route to the Northern Wastes. Faded, Northern Wastes looks more like N-rt-an Wast-s'.

"Not much around here. Only saw a few folk, mostly workers, on the road. None saw me."

Pointing, she added, "North is that way."

So saying, she began to lope again to the north. Soon after, the terrain changed from cultivated, to wild, with a gradual shift from plains to intermitant copses of trees to dense thickets, until at last you find yourselves in a thick, primal forest. Shortly after Kalmus leads Pious beneath the eaves, they come upon another marker where Agrax awaits them.

"There's an inn up ahead," she said in her hoarse, gutteral accent. "Maybe a mile. Had to come back to look for you. Thought you got lost" She yips in amusement at her wit.

Dusk is near. The weather's still mild, but there's a brisk taste to the air that speaks of colder climes to come.

Actions?

Agrax leads the way to the in. Called 'The Crossroads', as evidenced by the massive wooden sign atop the roof, the party takes in the site with some measure of appreciation. For a crossroads in, it seems to be doing a brisk business inside, with laughter and curses in equal measure filtering outside. Just as you catch the eye of one of the stable lads, a couple head toward the stairs, briefly acknowledging you with a nod before entering.

Once the lad takes the three animals in hand, the three of you enter within. Sights, sounds and succulent smells fills the place. It is a fine establishment, and nearly filled to the brim, though luckily you and your companions find three barstools in a row at the far end of the bar. A woman approaches. To say she was beautiful doesn't do her justice. It's obvious she has some fey in her, perhaps a bit of dryad as well, with just a slight taint of succubus to add some spice. She shows teeth that are blindingly white as she asks, "What'll you have?"

"What is it that's got the place smelling so good? I think I want some of that! Would you be a dear and bring me an ale to wash down the dust of the road? Agrax? Pious? what will you have?"

ooc: forgive me, been distracted with stuff last week or so, should wrap up this project at work this weekend though I suspect it will be an ongoing PITA for months. Sigh. I really, really don't get paid enough to put up with their crap...

The lass pauses, her smile expectant as the three of you decide on what to eat. This close, you can't find any flaw on her face, though her hands are callused, especially along the tips of her fingers.

As the party decides, she offers, "We've a fresh roast on a spit out back, mutton stew boiled and then covered in Darnut's secret sauce, or duck, chicken and wild turkey on the menu tonight. You canno' go wrong with any."

With a kind smile, she adds, "The mood has taken me, so I'll be playin' tonight as well, after the dinner custom. I'm called Elora, by the by. Holler if I don' get yere drinks fast enough."

Once the orders are taken, she makes her way toward the cutout between the bar and the kitchen and shouts out your orders to the cooks.

The place is a madhouse, the dining area wide open with plenty of tables, all of them full at the height of dinner time. A balcony overlooks the main dining room; above are private dining areas and even rooms on the third level. Quite frankly, it's one of the most ostentatious inns you've ever come across.

A look around the room offers a mixed blend of folk: Humans, elves and dwarves in large measure, but also orcs, half orcs, goblinoids of all flavors and even a group of gnolls having dinner in their typical unrefined way.

OOC: As with all bars and taverns, there could be a lot to learn here, or you could just ignore everyone and follow your own rede.

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I put a pic up that's a rendition of the lass if you like artwork.

Also, no apologies necessary. I get it.

"You play? Beauty AND talent? Rare. Can't wait to hear you. Bring me some of that tur-duck-en please. (Couldn't resist) And, luv? New to these parts, if you get a minute, I'll make it worth your while to tell me a bit about the place and people."

"In brief, we get folk from all points on the compass: sorcerers from the east, barbarians from the north, wizards from the west and south, ghouls from Lahnkmar...if things get out of hand, I've got ten bouncers on this level and each level up - 3 total, so 30 - to handle things. Never had a big problem, truth told, and folks who get thrown out are gone for good. Mind yer manners, enjoy what you came for and leave with smile...or don't come back.

"That said, what'cha want to wet yer whistle?"

She talks almost as fast as she serves; there are a couple other barkeeps behind the long, darkwood bar, but they're running a garden snails pace as compared to her kinetic energy.

Agrax asks for a honey mead, Pious asks for a dry red wine.

"An ale for me. I promise to behave. I didn't want you to think I came here to make trouble! Just passing through and making conversation."

She flashed a bright smile that was simply incandescent, then rushes off to fill you orders. Seems but a moment, but she's back with a runner holding a platter full of dishes, passing out food to each of you in perfect synchonicity. Then comes the drinks without a drop spilled.

"How'd I do?" she asked with a flirtatious wink and grin. Then she's off again as quick as she came, beckoned by another patron.

The three of you settle into your meals, which are simply delicious. As you push the dishes away, one of the barmen comes over and slides three plates toward the three of you. Each is the color of lime, with a soft creme set atop a thin crust. It smells somewhat of citrus, with some other aroma that you can't quite make out.

"Your dessert is on the Lady's tab," the man said, sketching a quick bow before retreating back to his duties.

The dessert is fantastic, as you expected - for a wayside inn, the place is of royal quality. Soon enough, you milk your drinks and feel the evening's lassitude take hold as the place slowly clears out. Still, most of the patrons stay, as rumor swirls that the Lady will play.

A sudden quiet falls, and a light shines upon a small stage mid-room. Standing at the center, she begins to sing without accompanyment. Her voice is a rich alto, like a creme-brulet, and the place grows preternaturally quiet as all listen in wonder. Soon, tears are falling among many patrons. Pious is no immune; freely his eyes rain as he stares at the lass in wonder. For once, Agrax has no grand retort, and even you, Kalmus, are not unmoved.

The song comes to a slow stop. A minute passes and then she begins to sing a jaunty, skipping and dancing around the stage. She's like a great gypsy queen, dancing, strutting, kicking her heels...all the while the patrons clapping to her fey beat. Several more songs, she plays, the last a limerick based tune that leaves the crowd filled with scandelous laughter. Her performance done, she steps behind the bar and pours herself a shot of bourbon, hoists the glass to the audience and downs it in one swift gulp. Slamming the glass on the bar, she points to Kalmus and says, "You, come with me."

Kalmus wiped his eyes then wiped the idiot's grin off his face. He stood, smiling and followed the lovely piper, seemed his lot was to be a rat these days, may as well enjoy the trip!

She grabs his wrist with a firm grip to catcalls and whistles from below, and leads him upstairs to an ornate chamber that at once serves as both office and boudoir. The bed is dressed in lace and lavender, and a warm fire burns merrily in a small hearth. A divan sits in the corner of the room, with a padded chair beside the bed. The room speaks to understanted opulance.

Somewhat breathless, she asked, "So, do you like my place?"

Before you can answer, she pushes on. "Been here some two decades," she said. "T'was a strange rede that led me this path, but I love it, love my patrons, love my food, love my freedom. Which is kind of why I pulled you from your reverie. Your lot seems competent, like you can handle yerselves in a scrap and aren't afraid of getting your hands dirty."

She pauses, breaks out a bottle of a mellow red and pours two glasses. Passing one to you, she continues.

"This brings me to my quandry," she said after a small taste. "I've need of a service, one that needs be discreet. The particulars are simple, another sad tale of unwanted attention from a man of ill manner who will not take no for an answer. His latest attempt at flattery found him tossed out on his arse by my guards, whereupon he threatened my home and hearth, and even my life. I would forestall that outcome if I could, but the noteriety of any countermeasures on my part could be devastating to my business. Thus, I would hire you to handle this problem for me in a discreet and permanent manner. Will you consider doing this for me?"

Her smile is winsome, but there is about her eyes a strain that you hadn't noted before.

"It's worth a hundred platinum if you do."

"I do like your place, yes. Very nice. Before we go further, before you think me a fool, I am Kalmus the Grey. May I have your name?" Kal was aroused. This woman was something else and he wanted her, wanted to help her but something just was. not. right.

"I am sorry, Kalmus," she said, abashed by her manner. "My name is Elora Din Dinan. I'm a mixed blood which sometimes leads me in twelve directions at once. I'm a bit of a scatterbrain to boot, a thought flitters then leaves replaced by another. That said, I can control myself with an effort of will when needs be. I can also focus as well. Ask whatever's on your mind and I will answer truthfully. What is it you would know?"

Kal smiled, "Elora Din Danin, it is a rare pleasure to meet you. Tell me of this man who troubles you. We're on a mission but it's not time sensitive, just very lucrative, and frankly, we'll probably be eaten anyway. Tell me what you know and of any weaknesses, peccadilloes, fetishes even. You mentioned he likes you, well, he'd be a fool not to find YOU attractive, so what else? Every man has his weak spot and it's not always his balls."

"I would not like it if you were eaten," she replied with a fey grin. "I'm only just getting to know you!"

She giggles, a silly, high pitched sound that is slightly painful to your ears. Still you can't help laugh under the influence of her charms. When she settles, she looks up as if in deep thought before finally turning back and saying, "He is feyborn of the Shadowold, a knight of the UnSeelie Court, the second son of a second son - not so auspicious when I count myself the fifth daughter of a fifth daughter, especially when I'm good friends with the seventh son of THE seventh son, which is no mean feat!"

"Anyway, he is smitten with me and has proposed mating, but I've no use for him. He is arrogant and uncouth and the scent of elderberry follows him in a foul miasma that I find distasteful. I tried to be nice, then aloof, even haughty but he would not take the hint. I am but prized game to him, a mark, nothing more, and his latest histrionics have left me no choice but to take action."

She speaks like a run-on sentence and her bosom heaves in delightful fashion. You are enamoured: please roll your save vs. magic

13:11, Today: Kalmus the Grey rolled 13 using 1d20 ((13)).

Kal saved but stood there with a grin trying not to drool anyway. "Fifth of a fifth? Bet there is power there though I am not familiar with the numerology that drives it. I doubt you'd need much luck, you're beautiful and talented, can't say I blame the man for wanting you but I do kinda hate him now. Say on, dear lady, I would hear (and see) more."

"Oh, you are strong," she said, her voice coy. She looks at you a bit more intently, speculative, before saying, "Well, this changes the game a bit, for you, for me and for my would be paramour."

Standing, she makes her way toward a small curio chest and opens it. After tossing a few trinkets on the table upon which the curio resides, she comes back with a brooch and offers it to you. "This is called "FeyShield and it counters fey enchantments, almost guaranteed to protect you against spells of the Seelie and UnSeelie court. It has two latent characteristics: first is protection from said enchantments, which covers pretty much every spell known to fey. The second accelerates your normal bodily functions to match the speed and efficacy of the fey."

Pausing for air, she adds, "You also an active component as it fires three magic missiles at at a time against enemies, three times per day."

Offering a winsome smile she asked, "Will you challenge him? Please?"

Kalmus nodded, "I think I will, Elora. My companions and I need some rest tonight but we'll set out in the morning. Thank you for the protective amulet. I'm sure this will come in handy!" The woman had just tried to ensnare him with magic but he figured, what the hells?

"Any chance we could have a cup of wine, leave the maneuvering behind and you just be Elora and I can just be Kalmus for a while?"

"Oh, Kalmus, you've read my mind." Elora wraps long arms and legs around him as her lips shower him in kisses. Soon enough, clothes are pulled off and tossed to the floor as both pant and moan with desire.

Pausing briefly to light a candle and dim the lamps, she leaps on top of Kalmus with a girlish shriek and thus they begin the serious art of loveplay.

Kalmus gave himself to the night and the woman. He had had dreams far worse than this reality! He made love to Elora and let her do what she wanted then just let her be Elora after, holding her as long as she wanted.

After a night of bliss with a feyborn princess who apparently had a diverse education in physical pleasure, followed by several hours exhausted spooning, Elora wakes up and prods you with an impatient finger.

"Up, up, sleepykins," she said with an all too bright smile. Frankly, with the scent of lavendar in the air and her perfectly coifed hair, it seems like she didn't engage in rigorous coitus at all.

"Time to fulfill your promise!"

Hopping naked from the bed, she shakes her ass a few times with a giggle (a delightful sight that leaves you half-cocked), then says, "More of that when you finish your task. Now, let's get dressed and ready to face your rival! His name is Devlin Shadowbrook and he's a knight of the second order - you may recall me saying as much, second son of a second son, yada, yada...anywho, I have it on good authority that he'll be at court today with his parents to offer his petition for my hand in marriage - blech! - to the Unseelie Queen. While I don't think the old witch will agree to such a match because he's nto quite as august as the fifth of a fifth, I fully think that she's vicious and sneaky enough to match me up with someone of higher rank who is even more obnoxious than Devlin. Got it?"

Roll a save vs magic again, please.

Kal watched Elora spellbound, hanging on her every word, checking out her derriere often...


13:33, Today: Kalmus the Grey rolled 11 using 1d20.  save 2.

OOC: did he just lose his soul or wind up ten years in the fairy hill?

With her ass distracting you in fascinating ways, you barely hear what she as to say. Something about petitions and the unseelie queen. You nod absently as she dresses, then jump to as she said, "What're you waiting for, luv? We've got a court to crash! Let's go!"

She throws your gear toward you, helps (hinders) you get them on, then grabs you by the wrist and leaps through the wide mirror with you in tow. Your eyes close instinctively as you follow in her wake, but it's more like diving into a small lake, though you are still dry once you reach the the surface on the other side.

"Behold, my once and future home," Elora said. "Nice, huh?"

You are surrounded by manicured forests intertwined with suspended vines and other such things as you might find in a primeval forest. Still attached at the hand, she pulls you forth along a sandy path until you both arrive in a wide clearing. There is a crowd there of pixies and nixies, brownies and sylphs, dryads and all sorts of other strange and wondrous beings, myths mostly from where you come from.

In the middle of the clearing is a matron with fine, pale skin and daunting black eyes with no iris. To say she is beautiful is an understatement; rather, you find her haunting.

"She has that affect on mortals," Elora whispered, though not low enough as her eyes immediately turn to find her at the sound.

"Hi, Gran," she said, cutting through the crowd like the proverbial hot knife through butter. "Miss me?" she asked with an impish smile.