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Post by lloyd on Mar 17, 2016 21:33:14 GMT -5
Once the meeting with Clive Weston concluded, Olek jogged outside the building and breathed the city air deeply. Pockets full of money, the city smelled a lot less like piss, shit, and poverty and a lot more like opportunity. He waited for Jaz to appear from the building, and waved him over. "Smalls, you may recall when we got our shares of 20 gold from the chest, I was very happy. 20 gold is a lot of money-- 200 days of hard labor for the average man in the north." He let the words sink in. "We have 300 gold from our assignment with Sir Weston, and then there is the loot we are about to sell." His perpetual smirk widened again into a grin as Jaz's eyes widened at the fortune they made today.
He approached an urchin begging for coppers; an easy front. This is how they got their marks. People that threw them coppers usually had more money, so a gang of urchins would later surround the person begging for more money, and in the commotion and confusion they would rob the person blind.
"Copper for an orphan s--"
"Shut up and tell your friends that Urduk has an old friend wanting to sell him something."
The orphan was baffled for a moment and then sneered. "Messenger's fe--" he was interrupted by Olek drawing a dagger meaningfully. This all looked absolutely terrible from the side-- a large man pointing a dagger at a poorly dressed, filthy child-- but this was the language of the dregs of society. Olek was making it clear he was not new to this.
The kid stood up grumpily and yelled in the barely understandable port-dialect, and shuffling of feet could be heard behind shutters, crates, and burlap sacks. He sat down. "There, your message is going to get to him. Anything else, you mangy prick?"
Olek laughed. "No, but consider taking up a sailor's job, you'll probably have more food. Your operation is so badly set up I smelled the others from across the street."
He walked away from the urchin with Jaz, and sheathed the dagger back into the boot, and headed for the market quarter of town to find a smith. The greatsword and longsword were sheathed in a bundle of rags under his armpit and he whistled as he walked.
"You see, Smalls, here on this continent, there is one thing that rules above all; money. They say wizards wield power unfathomable, capable of changing the very fabric of existence, and that is true," he paused. "But money can buy wizards. Wizards need money to buy their expensive books and scrolls and inks, and are not above making a shiny silver in return for a little magic. Sure, the more powerful wizards are likely in the employ of richer individuals and would not be swayed by whatever we offer them, but the lesser, more desperate kind..." and he goes off on an explanation about how money is the true ruling force of the world, and how even the most powerful individuals depend on it at one point or another.
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Jaz
Plebian
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Post by Jaz on Mar 18, 2016 6:07:37 GMT -5
Jaz looks up at the big guy walking beside him, "Well said boss. You know how they say gold cannot buy you love...but it can surely buy you a fancy carriage, and you can go out looking for love." He winks. "And do not forget all these gold watches. If I can find one that works, I might hold on to one. You want to keep one?"
Jaz starts going through those watches one by one as they walk, giving each a wind, holding it up to his ear, giving it a shake or two if need be, before moving on to test the next. The he rambles, "From what Sir Weston said, I will not need stilts or any other disguise. I sure hope he is right about that. I never thought I would return to that land, and certainly not so soon." He fingers the fresh gash in his forest green surcoat before resuming his stream of consciousness, "Think I will get some new clothes. Something purple perhaps, in a fuzzy fabric, with a matching top hat. What do you think boss? And a hand crossbow would be nice. I am a pretty good shot you know. And I do not want to be carrying all this gold. Do you think we can trade it in on platinum coin? Or better yet, gems. And what is with those two guys in the privy? Do you think they are...you know..." holding out a wavering hand, palm down. "And a flute, I sure would like to have a flute again. And what about that Mr. Smoggs? That is the first dwarf I have met on this side of the sea. Are they all as sour as him?""
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2016 23:04:29 GMT -5
(Purchases, already deducted and entered in char. sheet.
1 healer's kit, soap, ink, ink pen and playing card set (15.54 gold)
35 gold in tithes and donations)
Arthas turned to Blank and Mercator "Would you mind accompanying me into town for a bit? I've got a few things to pick up and would appreciate the company... and it's a bit safer than walking alone."
The three meandered down the city streets, stopping briefly at shops along the way picking out supplies for the impending trip. The group stopped again at a shrine to Driast where Arthas entered and handed the priest an offering for safe journey and again at a shrine of Mortomal where he handed over a small bag of gold as a tithe.
Arthas watched Blank curiously as she slipped gracefully past the groups of people crowding the streets; her hood drawn over her head covering her features. As they entered a quiet side street Arthas slowed and commented "It can't be easy having to hide all the time like that. Why do you do it? I mean ah.. surely you've thought of returning to the ah.. underdark where.. you know, it would be easier for you."
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Post by lloyd on Mar 20, 2016 14:02:23 GMT -5
Olek laughed at the torrent of questions the gnome unleashed, and adjusted the bundle of swords from one armpit to the other as he spoke.
"If you have doubts about a situation, it is best to assume the worst and prepare for that. So, if we are unsure how they will act towards your kind, we should be ready for the worst. What does it cost us to bring stilts? Nothing. So we will bring stilts. Fate has a strange way of ignoring what we want and sending us where we ought to be, so either something tremendously good or tremendously bad will come of your return to that land." He paused to look around at the crowds of people and listened carefully for the familiar sound of a hammer striking a work in progress on an anvil, and pinpointing the direction, headed towards it and continued. "You are free to buy what you want around here, and if someone tells you otherwise they can speak to me. Up north, where I am from, there is much less petty discrimination and people are judged by actions. Yes, we still leer at drow and squint at gnomes, but if one proves themselves useful to the rest of us, we accept them and move on-- no sense wasting energy on non-immediate problems." He readjusted the bundle again. "If you are a good shot, I think I know a fellow that sells crossbows and holds competitions. Sadly, that will be in a few months, but there is usually a prize in it for the winner-- he changes it up every year. Last year he gave the winner a hunting horn embossed with silver-- a beautiful thing. As for clothes, I may not understand your fashion choices, but they are yours to make. You are here for that, no? To make your own decisions? As for the gold, you can exchange it at a vault, though I doubt for platinum. Most of the richer folk store their wealth in jewelry, so gems are a safer bet. As for those two," and he repeats the wavering hand gesture before continuing, "I think I overheard them planning to do something with that Syphon, some identifying magic or the like, without being bothered by that dwarf. Hell, I do not possess a third eye, I cannot see into the minds of strange men, and one way or another, you and I owe our lives to them. I am willing to overlook some flaws in that light. Look, we're here."
Olek stood in the smithy, watching the master working on something on the anvil, sweat forming as fast as it was evaporating. Olek stepped forward closer to the blistering heat of the forge with a smile. "Hello master smith, I am here to sell you works of your trade. What you do with them I do not care, but you can appraise them fairer than others here."
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Post by chris on Mar 20, 2016 22:46:37 GMT -5
Mercator went with Arthas gladly, needing some supplies of his own, but also wanting to avoid being alone. His stress over Octavie was intensifying, but for the first time in weeks his angst was mixed with... hope? Although he knew Weston may discover nothing about Octavie, at least it was a start. Perhaps Olek's contacts could produce some leads, and lord knows what Jaz might find out at the docks.
Knowing that Blackpool would not likely kill Octavie outright, there was still time to save her as long as he could find out where she was being held. Mercator vowed that he would never give up, even if it cost him everything.
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Post by Adam on Mar 21, 2016 18:05:15 GMT -5
Blank had decided to join Arthas and Mercator on their trip into town. Partially to watch them for anymore rash decisions, and partially because she needed to pick up a few things, and people tended to act less suspiciously towards her if normal people accompanied her.
Things had proceeded fairly benignly until Arthas asked about the Underdark.
She stopped in the side street they were currently in and sighed. She would have to educate him on the Drow.
"If I was the kind of person welcome in the Underdark, you all would be dead. Or at best on your way to a life of slavery. The Drow do not make friends with other races, any dealings they have with them are usually one-sided. To put it simply, the are racist and supremacists. Anyone who isn't a Drow is chattel, to used and abused as they see fit."
She paused for a moment and then continues, "I... didn't share their beliefs. And as a result, they made it painfully clear that I was no longer welcome among them."
"Now I am done talking about my time in Underdark. If you wanted to know more, too bad. I don't trust you enough." She turned away from them, hiding the tears that began to form as memories of the Underdark resurfaced, and continued down the street.
After walking a bit further with them, she wanted to redirect some of the attention off of her. "Wizard," she asked Mercator, "Who is this Octavie and Blackpool? Why are you so set on finding them?"
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Post by chris on Mar 23, 2016 7:43:08 GMT -5
Mercator replied by pushing his glasses up his nose, and saying "Octavie is my partner. She helps me collect maps, sometimes at great risk. Together, we have been working to obtain a very rare specimen called the Hereford Mappa Mundi, and Blackpool possesses the only one I have been able to locate. When she disappeared, Octavie had gone to Blackpool's estate intending to procure the map." "Blackpool himself is a noble, treacherous and cunning. His family has been one of the controlling interests in Blackwater City for generations, some say back to its very founding. His immense wealth is matched only by the brutal ends to which he applies it. Mostly, Blackpool makes his business supplying weapons and armor to warring countries, but he also runs large mercenary bands that he will use to tilt the balance of wars all over the world." "Also, Blackpool is cultured and highly educated. A collector of priceless artifacts --mostly paintings from the lost Elven Empire--, Blackpool fancies himself an historian. His own ambitions are driven by his connection to the past and his belief that he can restore what he calls the 'fallen magnificence.' He thinks the world has fallen into decay, moral and technological, and he aims to take us back to some fanciful age -- by any means necessary." With that, Mercator shuddered. (OOC: This is the story of what happened to Octavie, from Mercator's Character Bio:) Part 2: Octavie Goes Missing |
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Post by lloyd on Mar 23, 2016 14:42:04 GMT -5
(OOC: DM, I'll assume Olek can sell the swords and rope for the prices mentioned; half the price of the buying price in the PHB, equaling a total of 38 gold made, then 80 spent on a chain shirt, shield, ink bottle, and a silk rope; 42 gold spent)
Olek watched the smith test the swords with the usual tests; flexing the blades, testing the balance, and striking them with a hammer a couple of times to test the quality of the work. After that, the smith nodded quietly and Olek negotiated the price; 25 gold coins for the greatsword, and 7 gold coins with 5 silvers for the longsword, which the smith happily accepted. As Olek pocketed the cash, he looked at Jaz. "I never swindle hard working men like blacksmiths-- after all, it is their work that often keeps me alive, and keeps the villages alive. Without blacksmiths, hardly anything would get done, we just would not have the tools." He jingled the new coinage. "Three hundred thirty two gold coins, and five silver coins all in a day's work, Jaz. Almost a decade of work for a peasant, which I will gladly spend on something a little sturdier," he said, rubbing the gash in the leather chestpiece, the Drinking Skull emblem split from the cranium to the jaw by a wicked blade. He surveyed a chain shirt hanging next to other projects, and pointed at it as the smith watched him.
"I will take that, and perhaps a shield-- yes, that buckler."
The smith crossed his arms. "That'll be 60 gold, mate."
Olek poured out 60 coins onto the workbench, the lustrous metal reflecting the fire of the forge onto everyone's faces, counted them out, then poured them in a pouch for the smith and handed him back the same pouch he paid for the swords with. The smith took the chainmail shirt off the rack, and picked up the buckler, putting the mail in the backside with a smile; a good day for him, as well.
Satisfied, Olek walked out of the smithy and headed for the section of the market with the finer goods, talking and joking with Jaz. Laughing, he entered a musty shop, looking quite out of place, having to weave between shelves of vials of various things. He stepped up to a counter and pulled on a string that rang a bell twice. As the small man appeared from some hidden room, Olek had already counted out 10 gold coins and put them in a neat stack. "Ink, my friend, like last time." The man squinted from behind thick spectacles, and smiled. "Ah, Olek. I assume the expedition went well?" As the man put the coins away in some hideaway and searched for a vial of ink, they talked about the expedition a bit. He then went to the port to the corduer, and bought a silk rope, selling his hempen one for five silvers. Soon Olek was outside with Jaz again, and he spotted the now-familiar figure of Mercator. "Archie!" he shouted, waving and walking towards them with his bundle of things. As he neared, he spotted Blank and Arthas as well and grinned at all of them in the beaming sun. "I recall saying I would buy all of us drinks once we got back. Any objections?"
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Jaz
Plebian
Posts: 28
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Post by Jaz on Mar 24, 2016 17:06:24 GMT -5
While at the smith's, Jaz bought some studded leather that was intended for a youngster (45 gold) and a nifty hand crossbow (75 gold)and 20 blots (1 gold). Then, probably only because Olek was there, he managed to haggle 5 gold pieces out of the smith his old leather, then changes behind some shelves. (116 total)
While in the musty place, Jaz spread out an array ((all but the one I kept))of 18 gold watches with chains, "Good day sir, and a fine day it is! Do you see anything your like? Any thing at all?" He fiddles with one of the nicer ones, "I could be persuaded to let go of the whole lot...for say 200 gold?" Jaz puts on his friendliest smile.
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