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Post by Kai Wren on Jan 8, 2019 18:45:39 GMT
The Junison Bakery, one of the finest bakeries in all Watersdeep, has a lucrative contract to deliver sacred Blessing Cake to the Goldenfield abbey. This will be a journey taking several days and the adventurers will only be paid if the cake reaches the abbey unharmed. There's a lot of cake, and rumour is that it is highly attractive to gnolls.
It is a cool and refreshing winter’s morning when the gathered adventurers have been told to meet outside Waterdeep’s city limits, on the main road, to receive their wagonload of cake and the initial half of their payment. The wagon itself is larger than they might be expecting. A full-on covered affair which requires two large, sturdy draft horses to pull. The driver is an old and grizzled half-orc who looks as though he has seen more than his fair share of winters already, and doubtless knows this trail better than he knows the back of his hand. This close to the City proper, there should be relatively little chance of danger – the road to Goldenfield Abbey is a well-trod one, and it would be a brave bandit indeed who imperilled trade around the city proper. Nevertheless, the half-orc has dressed for the occasion, with a stout iron helmet and a battered breastplate which has definitely seen action In the past. He definitely looks like he’s seen action in the further reaches of civilised lands, and the stout club he has laid at his feet is further testament to that. The baker is a portly halfling woman who has a clipboard and an air of eternal impatience. She’s completing yet another circuit of the wagon right now, checking off the fact that the driver, horses, cake, and basic supplies are all present, for the third or fourth time most likely. “Where are they, where are they?” She mutters to herself, “Always late, always late, they’re never on time, and this simply must get to the Abbey before the festival, or there’ll be no cake for the children! None at all!” 3personal5me Alxolex Lunion pastels
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Post by pastels on Jan 9, 2019 11:32:24 GMT
The first adventurer’s arrival was heralded by a loud croak coming from somewhere near the halfling woman.
“Good morn.”
The greeting was delivered without ceremony, with the cheer one would expect from the passing of a death sentence.
The elf was a head-and-a-half taller than average company, dressed in faded robes that might have been elegant once but were now worn thin and tattered from arduous travel. She stood with her legs slightly bent and her arms tense, as if cradling a secret close to the chest. Her right hand seemed to be bandaged with several strips of dark cloth. Strangely enough, it didn't seem as though the croak came from her mouth... or anywhere on her person, for that matter.
Astra lowered her stony gaze from the cart to her employer. As she did so, a small bundle of black feathers stirred from a curious hole in the snow, hopped up and flew to her shoulder.
“Good morn,” Mitja croaked out once more, shaking one wing free of ice, in a voice unnervingly similar to its mistress.
Noticing that she was the first to arrive, Astra stepped to the side and waited with her arms crossed over her chest. She assumed that the woman would launch into her cautionary tales and warnings once the entire company was present. Judging from the baker's frantic movements, she had a lot of words to spare. In the meantime, Astra would nurse her silence.
It was her arm they bought, not her tongue.
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Lunion
Approved
Currently playing the cheerful Dwarf Nolul Forgebar
Posts: 27
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Post by Lunion on Jan 9, 2019 13:03:51 GMT
After a night passed in Sebastian's home, he knew my thirst for adventures told Nolul about the Junison Bakery and their request for protecting their cakes in their way to Goldenfield. After a good breakfast, Sebastian guided Nolul towards the bakery, to present themselves to service. To their surprise the day was today and both of them rushed towards the gate.
Arriving at the gate, they see a halfling woman readying her goods, next to her an elf and a half-orc sitting on the wagon. Closing in Nolul askes – “Good morning, young ladies and gentlemen, may I ask you if this is the wagon that is going to deliver the cakes to Goldenfield?”
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Post by 3personal5me on Jan 9, 2019 20:34:18 GMT
Crucible strolled down the street, enjoying the crisp air. While he didn't normally deliver baked goods, he certainly wasn't going to argue with the pay. He hummed tunelessly as he strolled, taking in the city around him. As he neared the gate, he could see the small group congregated around the wagon. "This must be the baked goods delivery group! I hope I'm not too late"
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Alxolex
Approved
H.J. Smee, sailor and thief (3) // Caligo Drogo, ranger (1)
Posts: 41
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Post by Alxolex on Jan 9, 2019 21:28:25 GMT
This morning was a fine morning indeed. H.J. woke up with a hangover, but it was only a small annoyance that a warm grog took care of in short order. A bigger annoyance was the ever increasing lightness of his coin pouch.
But that annoyance would be dealt with as soon as he stepped outside this wretched, cramped, scurvy-riddled City of Splendors. There, half of his payment for escorting a wagonload of cakes across a well-trodden, patrolled road would weigh down his belt in a most pleasing way. “It be too good to be true,” Salty Jack had told him over tumblers of spirits the night before. “Mark me words, ye bilge-eating dog: sumthin’ be smellin’ fishy ‘bout this job o’ yers.” H.J. had smiled. "Ye be the bilge-smellin' one." Jack had downed another tumbler, grimaced, slammed it on the sticky table. “A thousand dragons fer a cake delivery?" He shook his head. " It just don’t sound right, matey.”
Salty Jack was right, of course. It was too good to be true. But it was a lot of gold. And that sounded just fine by him. So he adjusted his belt, hoisted his backpack on his shoulders, strapped his greatclub to his back, and set off towards the city gate.
The morning was fresh, even pleasant. He looked forward to the open road. The city walls and looming buildings had grown oppressive. Sure, he could stare at the horizon from the docks, but it was always the same bit of horizon. He longed to be able to see it all around him once more, and this job seemed just the thing.
Also: cake. Lots of it. A wagon load of it. Surely he’d be allowed to sample one little Blessing Cake from the Junison Bakery?
His mouth watered at the thought.
He took the time to stop at a supplier on his way to buy a big sheet of heavy canvas. He rolled and tied it to the side of his pack. He didn’t know the road too well outside of Waterdeep, but he knew the job would take a few days on the road. In winter. And he hated the thought of sleeping under the stars at the mercy of the winter winds. “Better safe than sorry,” he thought.
When he stepped outside the city gate, he spotted the party. Everyone was there. The brooding elf, the jovial construct, the stout dwarf, the wiry baker, and the grizzled half-orc driver. That wagon was huge, and so were the draft horses. Maybe he wouldn’t have to walk the whole way to the Goldenfield abbey after all.
“There ye be, ye lovable scallywags!” he called to the assembled crew. “Ye be ready to scamper o’er the ol’ chilly road?”
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Post by Kai Wren on Jan 10, 2019 13:57:34 GMT
The baker flapped around a bit more as the group assembled, and she counted them off one after another on her fingers. “Yes, yes, good morning, good morning, certainly, very good, of course.” She muttered, “One, two, three, four – good, that’s all of you.”
She clapped her hands together loudly, and then stuck her fingers in her mouth to let loose an earwax-melting whistle, just in case there was any chance that anyone wasn’t going to be listening to her in the immediate future. This may have the unfortunate side effect of partly deafening some of the assembled troupe, but such was the importance of her words that she couldn’t worry about a little thing like that.
“Okay, listen up!” She exclaimed, “You’ve got four days to get to Goldenfield Abbey. That shouldn’t be a huge problem. It usually takes three, but there’s rumours of trouble on the roads.”
There’s always rumours of trouble on the roads, of course, nobody ever really took it seriously, not around Waterdeep.
“And the cake is the single most profitable commodity we sell, all year round. It is imperative that we don’t lose this contract! If we do, the whole family might just go under.”
That might explain why she was so anxious about it – then again, she had the look of someone who was perpetually anxious about something, so perhaps that was just an excuse.
“Golius will be your driver, and we’ve packed you a few pastries and edibles along with the usual trail rations in the back. Just make sure someone is watching the wagon at all times! Sneaky bandits and monsters might try to get in there and ruin the cake. If there’s even one mouthful gone, the Abbey will find someone else to bake their treats next year, and we’ll be ruined! So please, be careful.”
She took out four little leather pouches from her apron, and tossed one to each of the adventurers in turn.
“That’s your downpayment.” She said, “Any questions? I can’t think why you’d need to check anything, but if you do, make it snappy! The only thing worse than a bitten cake is a stale one!”
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Lunion
Approved
Currently playing the cheerful Dwarf Nolul Forgebar
Posts: 27
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Post by Lunion on Jan 10, 2019 17:42:43 GMT
Knowing he was on the right place, Nolul felt alleviated that he reached this mission on time - "Don't worry, lady boss, we'll take good care of your cakes. " - said Nolul proudly.
Turning towards his new companions he presents himself - " Well since will be going to be with each other for a while, it's better to present ourselves, my name his Nolul proud Dward of the Forgebar clan. I'll help you all with some magic and some druid stuff. Hope we all get well with each other." - concluded Nolul, waiting for the other's response.
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Post by 3personal5me on Jan 10, 2019 20:27:28 GMT
Crucible stood a little straighter as he listened to the introduction. "I am Crucible. I will be standing watch at night, healing the injured, and protecting the cart. As I do not eat, my portion of pastries can be split between the others". He pocketed the small leather pouch and hoisted himself up onto the cart, making himself comfortable with a rearward facing position. "I'll watch out backs, if someone else would watch the horizon".
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Alxolex
Approved
H.J. Smee, sailor and thief (3) // Caligo Drogo, ranger (1)
Posts: 41
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Post by Alxolex on Jan 12, 2019 3:35:22 GMT
Advance payment? A ride in the cart? Rations and pastries? Graces to Valkur, it was too good to be true. And that suited H.J. just fine. "I be Henry James Smee, and I be tickled pink to meet the lot of ya," he said, bowing slightly. He went to the front of the wagon and hopped next to Golius. "How 'bout we ol' salty dogs share the front seat and a few stories, eh Golius me matey?" He didn't wait for an answer from the half-orc before dropping his pack, hoisting behind him in the cart, and setting his greatclub at his feet along Golius' own club. Seeing Golius' looking at his weapon, H.J. leaned towards him and whispered, "Don't worry, me heartie. It be not the size that matters, but how ye be usin' it." He patted the old driver on the shoulder and settled next to him, lounging on the bench with one leg hanging off the side of the cart like he were in his own boudoir. He turned towards the back. "Oi, Crucible, ol' friend, would ye be so kind to pass a pair of puffy pastries to Golius an' ol' Henry James? I'd be oozing with gratefulness."
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Post by pastels on Jan 12, 2019 5:35:29 GMT
Direct to the point. Astra respected that, but she couldn't help but wince when the halfling produced a disproportionately loud whistle. The elf stifled a sigh and ran her fingers across the sides of her delicate, tapered ears. There was no need to catch her attention when it hasn't strayed in the first place.
The objectives were relayed, the first half of the payment was handed over, and questions were entertained. None were raised; she thought their goal was perfectly clear. Three days to deliver a cake, at maximum four days. A day was enough room for error.
"Thank you. We'll do our job," Astra replied before turning towards her companions for the journey. Immediately, she noticed two familiar faces. The only stranger was a gentle-looking dwarf with a flowing beard.
"Call me Astra. This is Mitja. Worry not, he knows better than to eat our ward." The raven, swaying in place, croaked its agreement. Astra glanced over at Crucible and Smee. The latter was raring to go, from the looks of it. "We work better in the rear guard and the night watch. If you need something done, ask me. I might have a spell for it."
With the pleasantries done and over with, Astra walked over to cart and sat opposite of the Warforged. Mitja dropped down onto the seat as well and began to hop to and fro.
"Ready."
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Post by Kai Wren on Jan 13, 2019 13:06:18 GMT
As the adventurers took their places, the baker nodded her satisfaction. No questions, and they were already organising the defence of the precious cargo amongst themselves. That was a relief; she’d been worried when she put out a general call, but it looked like all of them were taking the job as seriously as it deserved.
The grizzled driver grunted at Smee, and then gave a sharp jerk on the reins for the horses. With a lurch and a squeal, the wagon rolled out and onto the road; the load heavy enough that it was no real difficulty to keep up, and even to board if the adventurers wanted to take some shelter within the confines of the covered wagon. Though it was packed densely, there was still enough room for a couple of people to settle amongst the supplies without being wedged in too uncomfortably, so long as they don’t mind sitting on crates.
The pastries, for those who wish to sample them along the first few hours of travel, are fresh and fine indeed. It is easy to see why the bakery has managed to keep such a lucrative contract. The scale of the festival should also be quite clear from the number of crates in the back of the wagon. There’s enough of the sweet and flavourful yellow cakes to serve many hundreds of people. Literally tons of cake, which must have represented a colossal amount of work on the part of their employers; no wonder they are willing to pay so much to keep it safe.
As the day winds on, there’s plenty of opportunity for conversation, stories and general chatter. Golius proved to be a rather taciturn sort, but he didn’t complain about stories from his new companion at the front of the wagon. Nevertheless, it seemed as though it was going to be a relatively uneventful first day.
When the sun reached its zenith, another wagon was visible coming into view on the road ahead; bright purple fabric shining in the cold winter’s sky, pulled by a single horse it was far smaller than the adventurer’s load, and a gnome man sat in elegant finery at the reins of his horse, almost comically outsized – he tipped his cap. “Howdy, friends! How far to Waterdeep?” He called, slowing his horse as he approached the party.
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Lunion
Approved
Currently playing the cheerful Dwarf Nolul Forgebar
Posts: 27
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Post by Lunion on Jan 15, 2019 17:04:50 GMT
During the first hours of travel, Nolul had the opportunity to know his new companions better and as well their driver. As the morning comes to the end, we see in the long road ahead a shadow approaching, from it another wagon travels the road towards Waterdeep. From it, a little person could be seen guiding the horse, or better said a gnome as his companion refers to him.
"Hello, little brother, we depart in the begin of this morning, if you continue up ahead" - pointed Nolul towards Waterdeep - "You should get there before the sun sets." - responded Nolul.
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Alxolex
Approved
H.J. Smee, sailor and thief (3) // Caligo Drogo, ranger (1)
Posts: 41
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Post by Alxolex on Jan 15, 2019 19:26:13 GMT
The little yellow cake had simply melted in H.J.'s mouth in the most sweetly delicious way. It wasn't so sugary as to give him a nasty toothache like Lesi's tortes over at The Thirsty Sailor. Then again, Lesi was a tavern cook, not a pastry chef from a bakery renowned all over the Sword Coast. He now understood why the cakes were priced the way they were. And, craning his neck to take in the sheer volume of the load of crates filled with the patries, he had a better understanding of the value--the pricelessness-- of their cargo, and the great wage that came with their delivery.
Just around midday, after even the story of his rose tattoo failed to elicit more than a sigh from the grizzled driver, a lone boy in fine dress on a horse-drawn carriage hailed them. Why would a boy dressed in elegant bright purple ride to Waterdeep?
It's only when Nolul replied that he understood the lad was a gnome. "Yay, me lad, but a half-day to the city. Tell me, we heard rumours o' troubles on the road. Any idea what that might be about?" <H. J. keeps a sharp eye on the gnome's body language for untruths and the like.> Insight roll sbGWEHnn1d20+7 1d20+7
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Post by 3personal5me on Jan 15, 2019 23:05:26 GMT
Crucibles ears perked up (or they would have, if possible) when he heard the conversation behind him. Rolling his mace in his hand, he scanned the trees around and behind the cart. It's not that he didn't trust the stranger. He just knew that an ambush could be coming, and the stranger could be a distraction.
Perception check: FlvAMCnL1d20+51d20+5
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Post by pastels on Jan 16, 2019 1:48:21 GMT
The journey began in relative peace. Astra was content with nodding along to the anecdotes the others shared, although she preferred reading the book she brought along for the trip. It was an aged “mini-almanac” a bunch of enterprising gnomes had compiled—it contained a bit too many footnotes and scribbled interjections than she would have liked, but it made for adequate entertainment. Thankfully, the most talkative of the lot situated himself up front.
Astra declined eating her share of the pastries this early on. She wasn’t hungry yet, and too much richness could ruin her stomach—it had gotten too used to measly servings of dried fruits and unflavored rations to receive a shock of sugar well. Mitja, on the other hand, didn’t share her frugality. It had the time of its life pecking after crumbs and stealing the occasional leftover. Last she saw, it ducked under the seats, presumably for a mid-afternoon nap. Lout.
The hours passed, and eventually the first signs of activity rippled through the wagon. A lone gnome, dressed in high finery, hailed their group. She noticed Crucible reaching for its mace as she turned towards the stranger.
“Forgebar speaks true; you might want to make haste. Perhaps if you do, you can make the city by nightfall,” Astra replied, curt and business-like as usual. Her cold gold eyes ran down the gnome’s appearance, and she tilted her head to the side. On her other shoulder, the suddenly-active Mitja swayed and copied the movement. “You would make for fine pickings in that finery. Have you no guards?”
Disregarding how her statement could be received, her gaze travelled farther down, down to the horse’s hooves. One could tell from the mud tracks and dirt on a mount how far its master has travelled, and how rigorously he cared for it. Nobles could always afford to keep their horses well-maintained, presumably by a poor squire or a hired stable hand. It was a matter of pride. More importantly, it was a way of keeping them apart from the rabble and their dull-eyed beasts of labor.
Was this one the same?
Investigation Roll: 6zsCdqAo1d20+4 1d20+4
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