G55: Carousing and Inter-Session

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Robert Hazart


Though his last attempt ended with him cast out of the Smoking Owl forever, Goldfinch was determined to master the spell that had eluded him previously. The elf's reagents and oils had been spoiled as surely as everything else his failed experiments had ruined, however, and now he had run out.

"My mandrake root, squashed! My basilisk's bile, curdled! Fire beetle powder, clumpy and worthless!" Goldfinch hurled his bug-ridden hat across the pavilion and moaned in defeat. "Ah, but it's maddening to be short on supplies so close to success." Squatting on a simple stool in the Company's makeshift quarters, Goldfinch mused over his options aloud. "Where to get the replacements? The Marais? Surely not - I fear our number to be in less than good graces with our benefactors at present. Besides, I've not been formally introduced, and they must have better things with which to occupy their time. No, no."

"The illusionist, Robert Hazart? He keeps his stores far away, in lofty Glantri City, where prices are rather too dear for one of my humble origins. Shan't work. Good friend Pritchard Hood? Richard Loubeau, the dabbler…? But they have their own, no doubt weighty, concerns at present." By now the elf was pacing, circling the tent.

Goldfinch thought of his wheedling, mooching cousin (or was it brother-in-law?) Wintergreen, who fancied himself a wizard. "No," he said firmly (to himself), "just… no. But what shall I do, then?"

The formerly sleeping Martin le Black groaned. "Trianoma's teats, man, just go and see Clamdiggair. And stop all ze babbling!"

After learning all there was to know of this remarkable man from his compatriot, Goldfinch replaced his bison-helm. "Obliged, good sir," he whispered (rather too loudly) into Martin's ear, and set off, a spring in his step.

(Goldfinch rolled a 13 on his save - barely successful - and a 4 on his spending roll. He manages to learn Detect Magic, but ends up owing 100gp to Clamdigger, with a promise to exact interest if not repaid promptly.)


Pritchard Hood

Hanna Darrowkin

Richard Loubeau

Richard hadn't been this nervous in a long time. It was a dangerous gambit, but he needed to ensure that his fate wasn't solely dependent on the courtly theater of the law-mage. Droplets of sweat formed on the back of his neck. He was escorted here by two men who, though unliveried, were certainly Marais men. As time passed, he began to wonder if he had misunderstood their purpose: What if they were not here to oversee his clandestine meeting with Gerard? What if his hinted proposals went beyond their audience's conscience? Was he about to be cut down in an anonymous Glantri cellar? He had worn Souk's Ruse as a precaution, and checked his brooch, but it all seemed unlikely to save him against two armored men in so confined a room.

He was relieved when the Marais finally arrived, though only partially. "My lord. Thank you for seeing me. Forgive me if I am direct; I lack some of the refinement of your more completely schooled servants."

"Your noble family has a right of first refusal of reclaimed Ambreville wealth within your domain. It is your right- the maison Marais has succeeded its former… liege."

"I am not so audacious as to pretend to know the heart of Marais, and, despite the recent rumors, know that your lordship has only a fleeting knowledge of what happens in the unruled depths of the Ambrevilles manor. Their manor, and crypt."

"I have come into possession of an artifact of the Ambrevilles much different than the moveables some have brought to your court. My companions and I were recently set upon by the unnatural presence of someone your lordship may have thought deceased: Vertume d'Ambreville. We were fortunate to have survived. When this thing was struck down, there was the cry of something more than a shambling skeleton. A glow where it's eyes had been. I believe I have her anchor to the world of the living. She was, of course, a noble. As the rightful prince of the lands we fought on, I thought you would best know how to put her to… rest."

"Lord Marais, I leave her in your trust. I am glad to have the thing off my conscience. Entirely. May I take my leave?"

Richard draws the skull of Vertume from his pack, and sets it gently before the Prince and gawking guards before turning to leave.

(it was at this point that Quendalon smiled wickedly, and suggested he had some things to say. Richard made his save rather easily— an 18, I think— and rolled a 6 in Glantri, for 900xp and 900g expended in bribes, inn rentals, and correspondence to arrange the meeting).

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