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Post by Kai Wren on Jan 17, 2019 8:17:18 GMT
The gnome smiles easily. As far as Smee could tell, he seemed genuine enough; just a cheerful, jovial sort, on his way to town.
“Thank you, Sir.” He said, inclining his head towards Nolul, before his attention was demanded by the woman apparently threatening him. He let out a bark of laughter, even taking that rather brusque and menacing sentiment in his stride. “Oh, it’s terrible luck to attack a gnome on the road, m’lady.” He said, “You never know what tricks we might have up our sleeves, and my sleeves are deeper than most!”
He winked, and dipped his head to her as well. From the look of his horse, he’d probably been travelling for a few days. There was a faint scent about the cart and its owner, though; an acrid and sour one which was masked under sweeter perfumes. Perhaps the gnome’s tricks were of a chemical nature.
“I’ve not encountered much trouble myself, y’understand.” He continued, “But I make it my business to avoid unpleasantness where possible. I did pass a burned-out wagon a day hence back along the way, but I didn’t linger. Looked like those poor souls did have guards, not that it did them much good. Bandits always get bolder in the winter, when it is harder to hunt and the chill makes them regret their miserable lives.”
He shrugged, an expansive gesture, and then began to urge his horse on again, before pulling up short.
“Oh, before I carry on, none of you fine ladies and gents are in the market for dyes, ointments or poultices, I suppose? If I lighten my cart, I’ll make it before sundown for certain!”
There didn't seem to be any immediate danger of ambush, as far as Crucible could tell.
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Alxolex
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H.J. Smee, sailor and thief (3) // Caligo Drogo, ranger (1)
Posts: 41
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Post by Alxolex on Jan 17, 2019 16:33:15 GMT
"Well met, Master Alchemist!" exclaimed H.J. as he hopped down from his perch next to the driver. He ambled over to where the gnome had stopped his cart.
The smells wafting from his wares assaulted his large pink nose, strong herbs and eye-watering camphor, sweet flowers and woodsmoke, good cheese or bad meat; he was at once fascinated and revolted by the varied texture of the olfactory experience.
"Phoo-ee! Ye be brewin' potent medicines, me matey." He coughed once in his cloak. "That be the true sign that they be high quality. The best whiskey sets yer eyes a'waterin', I always say!"
He got closer to the gnome, looked over his shoulder to his companions, and leaned towards him. "Don't ye mind the sourly missus back there," he whispered to the gnome, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "she be grumpy but doesn't bite." He glanced Astra's way, but her face was in the shade under the cart's canopy. He couldn't tell if she was glaring or not. "Anyway, she hasn't bitten my head off yet, or turned ol' Henry James inter a dung beetle."
He parted his cloak and patted the coin pouch looped on his belt. "Show me what ye got, Master Gnome, an' see if I can lighten your load for the last leg of yer journey."
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Post by Kai Wren on Jan 19, 2019 8:15:27 GMT
“Don’t worry, I don’t take it personally. Let’s have a browse, friend!”
Without much further ado, the gnome took H.J. – and any of the other adventurers who wanted to follow – around the cart. There, he kicked the back of it, causing it to fall into a ramp that he used to climb up inside, and start opening boxes.
“I’ve got tinctures for hair loss and potions that’ll close any wound, I’ve got dyes for every colour in the rainbow and a few you’ll find nowhere else. I’ve got panacea for disease, and poison for your enemies – though, I’d be grateful if you kept that last under your hat, eh friend?”
He shared a wink with H.J., apparently confident that he wouldn’t’ get in trouble for his admission.
(To speed things along a little, the gnome’s wares cover all standard alchemical goods, including healing potions, but also a few special things.
His ‘panacea’ claims to cure all diseases, he wants 200 gold per dose.
His ‘hair loss cure’ claims to do exactly that – apply to the scalp for three days and your baldness will be cured, he wants 150 gold per day of treatment.
His ‘poison’ is a dose of ‘Light’s Bane’. It is kept in an enclosed steel box and must be kept out of sunlight. It can be applied to any piercing of slashing weapon – I’ll accept a medicine check to guess at the results if someone wants to examine it. He only has one dose and it costs 200 gold)
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Post by pastels on Jan 19, 2019 12:59:26 GMT
Astra relaxed a tiny bit as soon as she found what she was looking for. All was well. The gnome chattered on, but her thoughts had long left his person. If her younger self were facing the very same predicament, she would have felt impossibly foolish for balking at such a mundane individual. The smallest infraction could have toppled her world back then; that one had her eyes set on the very top of the ladder, on heroes and rulers enshrined in collective memory and resplendent in eternal glory. Each step towards that end was clear and bright as candlelight under a pitch-black sky.
It seemed like an eternity ago.
She sniffed, brought back to the present by the faint rank scent around the gnome, and her expression shifted from a blank slate to a grimace. One couldn't be blamed for believing that it came about in response to H.J.'s remark. In truth, Astra was rather soothed with what she thought was a backwards way to mention her professionalism.
Biting was an inefficient way to deal with one's enemies.
"He speaks true," Astra nonchalantly interjected as she approached the cart as well. She stopped just beside Smee then added, "I prefer casting spells."
A ghost of a smile fluttered across the elf's features before her attention was drawn back to business.
As advertised, there was a wide array of bottles and containers, each filled to the brim with mysterious liquids or reagents. "Unsurprising. I thought I caught a sour odor from your cart," Astra said and fished out a crumpled pouch from within her robes. "I'll take a potion of healing, should you have one."
While the others milled about to pick their poisons and hair tonics, Astra remembered something. She glanced at the gnome, suddenly curious. "Tell me about the burnt wagon. Is it along the road to the Goldenfield Abbey?"
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Post by 3personal5me on Jan 21, 2019 20:48:44 GMT
Crucible lifted himself up, now standing in the cart and leaning over the side to see the salesman. He way he'd as two of his companions went about business, purchasing their potions. The warforged looked out, towards their destination, while he thought. She was right to ask about the cart. It could be a trap, or a popular ambush site, or a hundred things he couldn't think of yet. "Did the wagon look looted? Were they stopped for their wares or was this something else?"
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Alxolex
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H.J. Smee, sailor and thief (3) // Caligo Drogo, ranger (1)
Posts: 41
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Post by Alxolex on Jan 23, 2019 0:45:46 GMT
When H.J. heard Astra's remark right next to him, he glanced at her. He had a well-honed knack for reading people, but this elf was opaque at the best of times. He wanted to make sure she wasn't uttering an incantation or anything, just in case she actually was going to turn him into something... unpleasant. But he only caught the shadow of a fleeting smile. Thank Valkur for small mercies.
He turned his attention back to the gnome. "Like friends Astra here and Crucible yonder say," he nodded to his companions in turn, "any details 'bout that bend o' the road could prove handy. I love me a bit o' trouble, but I rather this borrowed cart survive the trip." He patted the gnome's own cart. "'Cause these land-bound contraptions be a pain to fix, ain't they?"
He was glad no one in the party had revealed the abbey was their final destination, though he did cringe inside when Astra mentioned the place. There always was a trade-off between better information and privacy, or between an uneventful delivery and an ambush. But there was nothing to be done about it now but to trust this finely-dressed alchemist.
He lifted his red bonnet and passed a hand over his receding hairline. "Dear Master Gnome, this ‘hair loss cure’ of yers be mighty interesting to Ol' Smee." He sighed and plopped his floppy hat back on top of his head. "But I be afraid me coin pouch be too light fer it. Unless..." He had an easy smile for the gnome. "Unless there be something an ol' salty dog like meself could do for a gent such as yerself?" He shrugged. "In any case, make that a health potion for meself also. And a flask of whiskey, if ye have any. I cannot forgive meself for forgetting mine... somewhere in the Dock Ward o' the city."
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Post by Kai Wren on Jan 23, 2019 5:32:54 GMT
The alchemist smiled from ear to ear as the travellers took him up on some of his wares. Sturdy glass bottles, stoppered and filled with a thick, pungent red fluid were duly exchanged for cash – the gnome nodding happily as he passed one to Astra and one to H.J. “Healing potions are always a classic. Easy to make, easy to use, and always in demand. Enjoy, my friends, enjoy!”
He pursed his lips as he considered the question.
“I suppose it’d be on the way to the Abbey.” He admitted, “You’ll pass it soon if you carry on. I didn’t linger, bad luck to poke around at such things you know.”
Well. Bad luck might be one way to look at it – if you’re a travelling merchant with a loaded wagon, hanging around the site of another such merchant’s misfortune was probably just asking for trouble.
“It didn’t look like there was much left. Whatever they had, it wasn’t left behind, I’ll tell you that much. Now.”
He clapped his hands together, “I don’t have any whisky, but I do have a flask of wonderful cherry brandy. Yours for just six shiny silver pieces, Sir!”
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Post by pastels on Jan 24, 2019 14:51:03 GMT
“I see. Then that way must be avoided,” Astra nodded at the gnome’s explanation. There was no reason to distrust this one, in her eyes. Her deductions about him have proven correct—there was no more reason for her to consider the wandering alchemist a threat. Convinced of the infallibility of her logic, the elf handed over her payment in exchange for the potion, which was promptly tucked into the depths of her beaten old knapsack. As her fingers pull the opening shut, the unmistakable scent of strong brine and rotted fish permeates the air—but only for a second. Astra kept a straight face, but the quick twinge at the corner of her mouth showed that she noticed this slip. “Thank you. Fare you well.”
With her business concluded, Astra headed back to the cart. She paused, a foot firmly planted on the ground with the other on a raised bar, and spared a furtive glance at their surroundings before getting seated. Before she entered, Mitja coughed and half-jumped, half-flew from its perch to the top of the cart.
Well, time to wait for the others to conclude their transactions.
Her back now set at a comfortable position against a solid surface, the woman crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes, almanac all but forgotten on the spot beside her.
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Post by 3personal5me on Jan 24, 2019 21:40:44 GMT
Crucible dropped down into his rear facing position again, the cart groaning in protest beneath him at the sudden shift in weight. He began to inspect his arms and armor while he waited. It wasn't from impatience, but habit. He had personally craft his mace by himself. His shield, he had helped with. And while he had no hand in the creation of armor plates he wore, they were like his second skin and warrented the attention. Small Knicks, gouges, and scratches were easily fixed with a quick casting of the Mending cantrip. Furrowed metal smoothed and cracked wood knit back together as he worked. He inspected the cart he was on, each imperfection greeted with the Mending cantrip. He always found himself fixing things when he was bored.
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Alxolex
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H.J. Smee, sailor and thief (3) // Caligo Drogo, ranger (1)
Posts: 41
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Post by Alxolex on Jan 28, 2019 2:22:37 GMT
H.J. was relieved that he'd found a flash of spirits this early in their journey. The added weight in the inside pocket of his coat was a much greater weight off his mind. A quick swig eased the thirst that had been gnawing at his gullet for a while now.
The health potion looped on his belt with a clever knot also helped ease his mind off of potential trouble ahead.
There's one thing he couldn't do easily shake off, though. That hair tonic. Why must it be so expensive? Why would closing gasping wounds be an order of magnitude cheaper than stopping the retreat of his hairline all the way back to his nape?
The world was a cruel place indeed.
He base his farewell to the gnome (with a sigh for the hair tonic) and hoppdd back on his spot next to the half-orc. He did the polite thing and brandished his new flask as if to offer a gulp to the driver, but didn't wait for an answer and got a gulp for himself before spiriting the spirits back in the folds of his cloak.
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Post by Kai Wren on Jan 28, 2019 21:40:22 GMT
The little alchemist nodded cheerfully and bid his new friends farewell as they carried on their journey. The driver gave Smee a sidelong glance as the spirits were squirreled away too fast for him to actually partake, and there was a grunt as he urged the cart once more into motion. The rolling, winding road was soon once more upon them, with all the mundanity that such a long journey tended to inspire.
After several hours, when the sun was starting to hang low on the horizon, the dark, burned-out carcass of the unfortunate other caravan was soon in evidence. Visible up against a boulder on the side of the road, smashed and broken, what had clearly once been a wagon is now little more than splinters and ash. No doubt before too long, some officials would come along to tidy it up, but that did seem to be what the merchant had warned would be found.
(If people want to investigate the wreckage, please give me investigation rolls – it is starting to get late, though, and camp will have to be a consideration in the relatively near future.)
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Post by pastels on Jan 29, 2019 6:29:10 GMT
They continued on their merry way, to Astra’s relief. She never felt more at ease than when she was on her way to fulfilling a goal.
After a few hours and a couple of rough turns—a pebble or two grinded against the cart wheels—and they eventually happened upon the wreck that the gnome had warned them about. She stuck her head out from behind the canopy, Mitja mirroring the action from its perch above, and watched the horizon. It was nearly dark.
“There it is… As we’ve been told. Don’t let me stop you from investigating,” Astra addressed her companions as she let go of the canvas and let it fall back to its place. She inhaled deeply through her nose and leaned back, primly folding her bony hands over her stomach. In the next breath, her senses became tethered to another form.
Above, the silken black raven let out a raspy caw, before flapping its wings outward and gliding into the wreckage. Mitja landed amidst shattered planks and ash, pecking around like a carrion bird on the hunt for a scrap of meat.
“Let’s see how they met their end,” the elf muttered, her voice coming out in a disembodied echo. Were they attacked? How, when, and how well-equipped were the brigands? Dust and charred wood made for poor timestamps. If she could just find a clue about the types of bandits plaguing this certain road…
Investigation: NlWLGmvd1d20+4
1d20+4
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Post by 3personal5me on Jan 31, 2019 7:11:23 GMT
Crucible hopped off the cart, leaning against it as he watched. He was certainly curious as to what had happened here, but was wise enough to approach cautiously. He scanned the treeline on either side of the road, looking for any sign of ambush. Sometimes bandits would use traps, just like this one, and it was important to be wary.
Perception check, please:
|xhDRbJ41d20+5 1d20+5
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Alxolex
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H.J. Smee, sailor and thief (3) // Caligo Drogo, ranger (1)
Posts: 41
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Post by Alxolex on Jan 31, 2019 22:51:03 GMT
H.J. pulled a cover out of his pack and wrapped himself in it like a furled sail. "Y'all can go spelunkin' in the wreckage, but Ol' Smee be tryin' to stay outta the cold." He squinted at the fading daylight. "The sun be gettin' lower, and so be the temp'rature."
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Post by Kai Wren on Feb 2, 2019 17:47:06 GMT
Though the caravan had obviously been attacked and there were signs of struggle, much of the more grisly evidence had been lost by now. There were few bloodstains remaining, though Astra's keen perception picked out details amongst the wreckage. This was a violent and bloody end for at least a half a dozen people, if she didn't miss her guess; from the signs of struggle and the few stains of blood and scraps of clothing that did remain. It took some time to piece it together, but it looked as though they'd been attacked by a far greater force.
There were signs of about a dozen foes; clawed footprints spoke to one of the more bestial races - fitting, in fact, with the way they had moved as groups of three or four, the gnolls that the group had been warned would find their particular cargo tempting.
There was also, amongst the wreckage, a very deliberately desecrated mark; a sheath of corn which had been carved into the wagon has been smeared with foul, pungent faeces. Disgusting and clearly a sign that the group had waited around after the initial burning and slaughter - and there's no sign at all of any bodies, or any flesh at all for that matter.
Crucible also notes that there's no immediate danger. Though there's a copse of trees perhaps half a mile off, the main structure here is the boulder the wagon is smashed before - he'd guess that it was the ambush point, though it seems hard to imagine that fully twelve adult-sized humanoids could have hidden behind it.
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