Conversation flowed easy enough among the members of the "new blood" table. They were accustomed to it. An adventurer's lot often relied on swiftly-made alliances, and they had to trust their lives into the hands of unproven strangers more than once. Yet they all knew that in this life the next morning could easily be the last they would ever see. Ever so more reason to enjoy what they had here and now, for the promises of treasure and glory made all else pale in comparison.

As the group talked and ate, they didn't notice the old mage until he was right next to them. He pulled a chair from one of the nearby tables and sat down with the group. His eyes were inquisitive and interested, and he had a small knowing smirk on his face. He nodded to the group in greeting. His voice was old and gravelly as he spoke.

"Welcome to Emberdell, strangers. I'd like to introduce myself. I am called Doromas. I am a wizard by vocation, and a historian by interest. I have resided in this town for several years now, and I find that there are things nearby that would keep one such as myself pouring over tomes and ancient texts for many a late night. But I haven't yet found all that I desire to finish my studies. I would be interested in chartering a group such as yourselves for a number of small tasks that my frail body and lack of experience would not take well. I have enough coin to make it worth your while."

He pulls a few coins from his robe's pockets and drops them on the table. They are shining platinum coins, five of them, with the mark of the larian crown on them.

"What do you say? I have plenty more if you agree to come into my service."

Angus looks at the pile of platinum. "You have our interest, at least, you have mine. Never saw platinum before. Angus is the name."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:30, Mon 27 Apr 2020.

Marille couldn't help, but notice the shiny coins. Her attention piqued she made her way over to the table. Holding her strap containing her sword in her hand. She took her eyes from those seated at the table, then spoke to the mage, "me name be Marille, but if'in ye have me. Me boulders will aid'in de journey." The bulky woman nodded to those gathered at the table.

"I should like to hear more," she said.  "My name is Aila.  Is there a particular task you might be willing to speak more of?  Or somewhere else where you might be more free to speak of particulars?"

Doromas' speech and manner were so like Petar's old Master that he almost imagined himself back inside the dusty tower, being schooled on some matter or another.  Perhaps that is why doesn't find the elderly mage's directness or aura of power intimidating; nonetheless the elf politely listens without interruption or frivolous comment and also makes a point of not looking too longingly at the platinum, a single coin of which would set him up for quite some time.

He lets a few of the others speak before adding his own name to the introductions - again a meaningless politeness for Petar assumes a man like Doromas already knew their names, as well as a great much besides.  He probably had already scryed the future, his augurs telling him precisely which would accept and for what main motivation.  Money?

There it was.  Despite what he knew to be suggested from a thousand tales, it was hard to honestly believe there was more to life than money when you yourself were always a few coins away from having none at all.  Petar smiles.  No, not anymore.  His motivation would be the stories these adventures would incur.

"I'm interested too," Petar says with the same smile.  He looks beyond Doromas to the priestess.  "Larissa mentioned Camille, there?  Is she to be a part of this?"  If so, it almost ensured the tasks would be wholesome - or at least legal!
This message was last edited by the player at 21:58, Mon 27 Apr 2020.

Phelan is hunched over her ale like a child hunched over a cup of warm milk. As the coins are tossed on the table she raises an eyebrow, lifts her head and wipes the foam from her mouth.

 "You have our interest, at least, you have mine. Never saw platinum before. Angus is the name."

"Angus. A fellow after my own kind. I believe you may stand to gain greatly from my projects. I am sure you understand?"

"Me name be Marille, but if'in ye have me. Me boulders will aid'in de journey."

"Boulders, oh dear. If you can throw boulders, not only will I have vastly underestimated you, but you will indeed be a great asset to this endeavor."

"My name is Aila.  Is there a particular task you might be willing to speak more of?  Or somewhere else where you might be more free to speak of particulars?"

"Of course, of course. Yes, I agree. it would be a good idea to keep our discussion private. There are better places to talk."

"I'm interested, too. Larissa mentioned Camille, there?  Is she to be a part of this?"

Doromas' smile wavers for a moment at the metion of Camille.

"Only if she chooses. There's been a... tragedy... perhaps. You see, it is possible she may have lost a sister in cloth. It is too early to tell. It would be best if she spoke to you personally."

Doromas shakes everyone's hand, including the dour quiet dwarf hunching over her ale like a child.

"But first things first." He glances over at Camille for a moment. "The elder, Master Garrel, you will want to speak with him. Find him in the morning in the central round, in the town hall. He holds the list of bounties for Emberdell. He'll pay... well enough. Before you and I finish our business it would be beneficial if you were to help this humble town to clear some of the more rapacious nuisances that have come to visit us lately. I believe there are reports of goblins, orcs, and even an ogre or two, in the wilds nearby. The guard have been doing the best they can, but they have suffered losses over the last few weeks and have their hands full with highway robbers. They are fine men, but there's not enough of them to look everywhere."

Doromas turns his head to the back of the room, where the guards sit. They are talking among themselvse, but are clearly paying attention to your table. One of them nods in acknowledgement.

"They are looking to replenish their ranks. You should expect an invitation to the guard from them soon."

He turns to evaluate Marille.

"Especially for you. With your strength, you could easily take on two or three opponents at once. They are looking for strong candidates," he smiles. "But I will leave such decision to your own judgment. After all, you may stand to make more profit in 'independent employment'".

Doromas


Angus nods understanding, the offer of spells and such.

"Only if she chooses. There's been a... tragedy... perhaps. You see, it is possible she may have lost a sister in cloth. It is too early to tell. It would be best if she spoke to you personally."

The idea of the priestess suffering a tragedy impinges on Petar's emotions and for a moment it is almost as if he was sharing her pain.  He glances over to where the woman was, and hopes she would ask for help in this matter.

Then there was talk of such mundanities as orckin and road thugs.  Yes, such things were dangerous but surely a wizard like Dormas would just snap his fingers and they'd be fried in a fireball.  Aha!  Petar understands suddenly.  This was a test of some sort, a proving ground, to see which of them were heroes and which would rather join the highwaymen.  Very clever, Dormas!

"They are looking to replenish their ranks. You should expect an invitation to the guard from them soon."

I said bard, not guard!  Petar grins, always first amused at himself before others.  Well, most others, and, maybe a guard.  There'd be pay and probably a dozen stories from the veterans to pick up.  And if not a dozen, he'd settle for one good one.

It seemed the logical steps were to see this Master Garrel, prove themselves by routing lesser threats, and then discuss the platinum-coated matters with Dormas after.  Petar sighs, then shrugs.  No sense biting off too much at once.

Before retiring for the night, there was one last task.  He wasn't going to sing for his supper, but he would speak for it.  Petar sits cross-legged in a corner, weaving a tale or two with embellishments of accent and a voice that rose and fell in synchrony with his story.  With any luck, he'd have those two silver coins he owed Angus, and maybe one more beside.

"Intriguing," replied Aila.  "And is there a place you would recommend to continue our discussion?"

She tilted her head, seeming to be settling several things into place in her mind--Master Garrel in the center round, invitation from the guard (which seemed rather less appealing, as it was almost certainly a tiedown that would preclude the breadth of experiences she was meant to encounter), Marille and boulder throwing, Camille and tragedy and loss, and the range of foes that seemed to be afflicting the area.

Marille shook her head slowly at the mention of her throwing boulders. Her smile was warm, but she nearly had a malfunction of her leather armor when she lifted her right arm and made her bicep bulge. The woman is obviously a physical freak of nature.

"Me boulders be me right here." The fighter pointed to her massive bicep.

Liriel listened to Doromas' proposition with interest.

"I am Liriel, and I would join in ridding the area of these nuisances. My people have long fought such-"

The epithet that followed wasn't in common or elvish, but was goblin for 'One-who-wallows-in-latrines'. Liriel was proud of her knowledge of the enemies' languages.

Her stoic manner cracked when she grinned at Marille's remark about her boulders.

"I may not be as strong, but I can still puncture goblins and orcs."

She was trying not to think about ogres, though.

Phelan finally gives out with more than a grunt or growl. I don't take orders from some uppity guardsman. However, I would rather take my chances doing some bounty hunting than with any more of this stew. Master Garrel in the morning. Anyone else?
This message was last edited by the player at 13:49, Wed 29 Apr 2020.

"Intriguing," replied Aila. "And is there a place you would recommend to continue our discussion?"

"We'll talk again. I have a small shack I am presently renting only an hour away. Allow me to get some details in order and we ought to be able to talk tomorrow."

"Me boulders be me right here." The fighter pointed to her massive bicep.

Doromas laughed hearthily in surprise.

"I never knew they were called that. I am a lucky man. I learn something new every day."

Liriel's stoic manner cracked when she grinned at Marille's remark about her boulders. "I may not be as strong, but I can still puncture goblins and orcs."

Still amused at Marille's remarks, Doromas added with a smile, "Yes, that would be the idea. My concerns are more exploratory, while the town will need your support immediately. I am glad you bring a talent for armed confrontation. It is, unfortunately, sometimes the only coin goblins understand. Orcs, on the other hand, well, that depends on who you are dealing with, I suppose."

Phelan finally gives out with more than a grunt or growl. "I don't take orders from some uppity guardsman. However, I would rather take my chances doing some bounty hunting than with any more of this stew. Master Garrel in the morning. Anyone else?"

The wizard nodded at the present agreement with the group. Even the quiet dwarf had something to add.

"Wonderful! I am glad there is some much agreement here. But please don't take the guardsmen in ill light here. They are not looking to 'order people around'. They are decent folks trying to undertake the task of keeping these people safe. Yes, they can be abrasive at times, but then, if you had to do their job, would you not as well?"

He fished into his pocket and dropped another platinum coin on the table.

"There. That should be one for each of you. Consider it a good-will promise for employment to come. Let's talk tomorrow after you have finished your business with Master Garrel. You'll find me at the western farms, only a short walk away. Ask anyone there, they will know where to point you."

He stands up nodding to everyone. As he passes Marille he pats her on the shoulder and whispers appreciatively, "Nice boulders!"

With that, he walks to the door, pulls his cloak tightly around him, and opens the door. Outside, the rain is falling with intensity. With a wave of his hand and a few choice words, Doromas casts a spell that creates a small bubble of light around him, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He steps out into the rain, unconcerned, and you notice that he isn't getting wet. The drops are falling around him.

OOC: You are free to carry onwards to next morning, or continue talking amongst yourselves or to someone else, if you wish. Let me know.

Angus picks up a platinum piece and puts it in his purse. "Well, tomorrow with Garrel then. Followed by Doromas. Eat, drink and sleep?" he looks at the others.

Phelan picks up the platinum piece reluctantly. She doesn't like the idea of being indebted to anyone and intends to promptly give it back if the terms of employment aren't to her liking. For now, she's had enough stew and company for one evening and calls the barmaid over to inquire about a room.

"Do you have a room for the night and, if so how much?" Inside she is hoping the beds here have fewer lice than the last inn she stayed at.

"I would like a room too if one is available?" He tells the maid.

The powerful fighter had no intention of paying for a room for the night. She got the attention of her barkeep and asked how much for a stable. Straw may not be as soft as a pillow. But Marille knew she wouldn't sleep anyway. As is custom for her before a fight, she will spend the hours sharpening her sword with stone. She might catch a few glimpses of sleep, but she will envision skewering monsters.

Aila took the single platinum coin and slipped it away into the pouch at her waist.

 "I also would like a room," she said.

He steps out into the rain, unconcerned, and you notice that he isn't getting wet. The drops are falling around him.

Nice trick!  Petar grins appreciatively.  Magic was all around, like the currents of air.  Even so, around humans you didn't see it being used like that every day.  The elf shrugs.  He liked rain, for without it nothing grew green or wide or tall.

Speaking of wide and tall, he looks from one erstwhile drinking companion to the other as he also slides the platinum coin away.  With a wink to Angus, Petar glides to the bar to make change and returns with a lot more coins to his name.  "Two silvers," he passes to the elderly man with a grin.

He wishes them all a good night before announcing he'll be staying by the warm fires for a while longer, telling stories and hopefully listening for new ones.  Then, when Petar can not keep sleep away any longer, he also gets a room and prepares for a dreamy reverie.

OOC: Petar's stories fill the room during the evening. How well does he do? Let's find out: make a storytelling roll.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:15, Thu 30 Apr 2020.

Whether telling gentle children's tales or unabashedly switching to more lurid fare, Petar generally tries to keep one eye on the audience and switches things around based on reactions of boredom.  Most of the trouble the incipient bardling has is overdoing it, for he tends to go all out when perhaps, less would have been more.

Check result 15 vs CHA 12, oops!

13:07, Today: Petar the Elf rolled 15 using 1d20.  Storytelling check.

And so it is here that he unluckily wraps his oratory hour with the tale of the Lost Orc, a story where a young guardsman goes missing on routine patrol only to be found months later enslaved by the foul humanoids.  Sadly, he's been taken in with Orc culture and even learned some of the bestial tongue (here Petar really over-embellishes, with real Orcish curses and worse) and when he's finally rescued, he turns on his would-be saviours in a fit of fury and savage madness.

Only when he notices a hush has fallen and he's faced with severe and stony faces around the tap-room does Petar let his voice die down.  He bears the silence with an ever-so-slightly recalcitrant look.

Petar had a reasonably good night telling many varied stories. But it seemed to come to difficult close when he told the story of the Lost Orc. While the story wasn't bad, it seemed to hit too close to home here in Emberdell, where the risk of orcs coming close and attacking was all too real during these last few days.

As he finishes, the guardsmen rise and approach him, quietly sizing him up.

"Good stories, bard. Play again tomorrow? Something different?"

They drop a few coins for him, nod, and leave for the night.

OOC: Overall, Petar made 16 coppers in total. Enough for room and board, and a few coins to spare.

Petar feels terribly at this blunder; back home orcs were boogeymen and far-flung menaces while here in Emberdell they were all to close for comfort.  He knew this, but just had got swept away in the moment.

"Yes," he says weakly.  "Something different."

I'm very glad to see that in this game, a failed skill check does not mean disaster :whew

15 coins given for room and breakfast, with one luck penny placed in a small slot in the left bootheel explicit for this purpose!

OOC: Yes, this was a "non-pressure" situation. If you had rolled a 20 you might have insulted someone. And you certainly were not performing in front of an irritated despot emperor who would have you thrown to the pits for some imagined slight or not liking the color of your vest.

But as is more common, if you aren't doing well, people just stop showing up. =)