GM: The skies have been tinged with the faint touch of pink as the sun begins its downward decent toward the horizon. You have taken a brief break from your travels to enjoy some of the repast you liberated from the destroyed and wholly un-looted caravan of which you so recently were a prisoner of. However, you guesstimate that you have only several hours ‘til nightfall proper, and from the guards you were expected to arrive at the local garrison at about that time. Given that your only possessions are a scant few days’ food, Imperial uniforms that are rather unbecoming, and weaponry liberated from the recently deceased, spending time in the wilderness during the night seems an unpleasant, if not unhealthy, position to be in.
GM: You were unexpectedly hungry as you consumed your small repast, polishing off all the spare food you had managed to squirrel away not in your packs, leaving your stomachs full and your hands fry of the burden.
Riella glances up at the sky and to her compansions. She wears her ill-sized uniform proudly, uncaring about the bloodstains — if anything, she seems to prefer them. Shouldering her bow, she looks down the road, to their collective supplies, and finally to Zuhar. “What is your decision, bond-holder?” she asks, carefully looking at her shortbow. “I will go where you lead me.”
Zuhur: “The coming night, our rations and this alien land would have seem to have made our choice for us.” Zuhur says, looking over the oddly grassy plains towards the vague outline of the city near the horizon. “We must travel to the city, though what to do once we are near… that is another matter. We should make our way there, and decide on the way.”
Anemone: Anemone nods in agreement with Zuhur. " I agree with that assessment."
Dekniss: Nodding Dekniss agrees. “If you think it wise I can attempt to get closer to the entrance and see if there’s a way inside. Otherwise we can check the city’s perimeter for another way.”
GM: The road is a convienient slash across the land’s grassy rises and falls, albiet somewhat more unsteady and worn than those closer to the center of the Empire.
Peilor: Peilor yawned the long march had taxed him greatly and he really did not want to mess with any plans and just wabnted to get inside and find a warm place to sleep. “So if someone got inside do you think tere would be a way he could leave a door open or something open so everyone else could get in?”
Anemone: “Assuming there are doors in the wall that can just be left open…”
Peilor: “well… more like a water runoff grate or something less obvious and thusly less guarded.”
Dekniss: “The Empire isn’t in the habit of making doors in it’s walls unless they are guarded… but it’s possible that there may be some unofficial ways in or out.”
Zuhur: “Dekniss, is it typical for Imperial cities this far north to be heavily guarded?”
Dekniss: “The garrison isn’t likely to be in the city, so most of the guards should be there. Inside it would be mostly a few patrols and a man or two at each entrance.”
Peilor: “I might have a plan to get inside… but probably just me. Now if we can devise a way to sneak you guys in with my help on the inside that would be great, as i wount have your frostbitten deaths on my conscious and you can also hold my stuff!”
Zuhur: “Hmm.” Zuhur thinks, looking over the group. “Perhaps Dekniss could distract the guards at the gate with some manner of diversion, and allow us to slip in unnoticed?”
GM: As you continue to travel closer to the city, the cool wind proceeds to bite even harsher at your bared skin as the fleeing sun seeming to take what little heat residing in the air with it. The sky continues dark darken and the city draws nearer, illuminating itself with pinpricks of light that only grow as you approach. The proper city, as near you can tell as you approach, is encircled by tall and powerful walls of stone, around which has sprung countless buildings and alleyways which are, in turn, surrounded by a rough palisade.
Anemone: Anemone asks Peilor, “what is your plan?”
Zuhur: “There seems to be a more squalor ridden outer city, we’ll likely have less trouble entering there than continuing on to the main gates, whatever our plans end up being. They are likely used to refugees and vagabonds.” Zuhur says, adjusting her ill-fitting clothes.
Peilor: “I’ll approach the gates and tell them my family was on our way here to sell our wares but our caravan was attacked by raiders, unlikely I know but hang with me on this… I was the only one to get away and i’ll beg them to help them they’l either send a garrison out to help or at the very least take me in distracting them enough so you can slip in wherever you need to.”
Anemone: “I agree”, Anemone responds to Zuhur. “Although we may stand out in our outfits.”
Dekniss: “I can pass as a centurion in these clothes. The rest of you don’t really have the bearing of a centurion… but maybe in the dark we could get in the outer city.”
Anemone: “Dark could provide the cover we need, if we try to be as unassuming as possible.”
Zuhur: “Posing as a lone and traveling Centurian may raise more questions than it does dismissive glances. Peilor’s plan is a sound one, and if he is the best suited amongst us to lie with conviction, he may be the best choice for the disctraction, despite looking… rather too small for his clothes.” Zuhur says. looking betwen Peilor and Dekniss.
Anemone: “It seems worth a try. And worst comes worst, we only lose one of us.”
Dekniss: Turning to Peilor, Dekniss says, “You better come up with a reason for wearing a centurions uniform then. That’s highly suspicious.”
Zuhur: “These are uniforms? Truly?” Zuhur looks down at the loose and hastily bound cloth. “A drab and poor army to be sure.”
Peilor: “No problem there!” Pelior grins to himself as he begins to disrobe. tying his various trinkets and rubbish gather in his hirt and tying it off with a belt to make a handy bag which he sits down next to his companions with care. Then like a man possesed her throws himself to the ground rolling around in the dirt, pausing occasionally to slap himself about the face and chest just enough to produce welts he thien sits up calmly and musses his hair up before standing. " Watch my stuff okay?"
Zuhur grins at Peilor. “Inspired.”
Anemone: Anemone smirks. “Well then.”
Peilor: “Trust me i do this for a living, just stay out of sight for now” With that he took off in a sprint right at the main gate like the devil himself was after him exhaling paniced yelps when he could get enough air in his lungs.
GM: As you approach the gate the wind continues to pick up, inflicting itself onto the poor abused and exposed flesh of the disrobed young man. The entryway to the outer city becomes apparent as well, a series of lashed-together logs extending outward from the opening, two braziers burning merrily to either side of the road approaching the gate. And, at this distance you can make out a single guard standing at attention to the side of the gate, butt of their spear planted in the ground, the blade catching the light from the fires nearby.
Peilor: Peilor concentates on the braziers spuring him to get near them as close as possible.
Zuhur motions to the others. “We must get away from the road, hopefully there’s something nearby we can conceal outselves behind should the distraction work and the guard run past.”
Anemone: “A smart idea.”
GM: The guard continues standing at attention, oblivious to the group of would-be intruders and the nearly-naked man barelling toward the gates. Until, that is, he spills into the light of the fires.
Zuhur looks for a place off the road to hide.
GM: It’s harder than ever to find a place to hide in the deepening twilight, but make a… hmm, one sec.
GM: Spot check.
GM: The three of you manage to find nothing at all. The occasional tree scattered across the plains look like all there is to find.
Anemone: “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anywhere to hide.”
Zuhur: “We’ll have to make do.” Says Zuhur, attempting her best to hide behind one of the scattered, small leaved trees.
GM: “Halt!” the guard calls out as soon as she manages to recover herself from the shock of a naked man running toward her. The pennant beneath the blade of her spear catches the wind, flaring out briefly. She shifts her weight from off her spear, lifting it from the dirt.
Peilor: Peilor drops to his knees exhausted when told to stop, not the most physically fit and already tired he took in breathes in deep ragged draughts. “MIsss….Please…. my family… you must…” He coughed harshly looking up at her with pleading eyes, not 100% certain of the womans maternal instincts given her line of work but if he was cursed with looking much younger than he actually was then he might as well use it. “Brigands…. they came out of nowhere!”
GM: Let’s see a Bluff!
GM: “Brigands?” she asks, curiously. “You poor thing, you look like you’re freezing.” She peers into the darkness to either side of the gate for a moment. “Why don’t I take you to my superior so you can tell him what happened?”
Anemone: “I can hear them. I will relay back to you what I hear.”
GM: Anemone uses her powers of hand-puppetry to convey the conversation to the others, taking some artistic licenses.
Peilor: “Bless you miss! Bless you! What about my family they wont last long with those beastly men they did this to me just to take my silk clothing … Gods… My sister please! Her virtue!”
Anemone: Anemone continues to whisper to her companions a synopsis of the conversation Peilor and the guard are having.
Zuhur thinks Anemone’s hand gesture for ‘virtue’ is entirely inappropriate.
GM: “We’ll send a message to the garrison,” the guard promises, offering a smile to Peilor. “Come with me and we’ll get all of this sorted out,” she promises, glancing again to the darkness before leading the way into the Inner City. The gate, for some span of time, is left unguarded.
Anemone: “Now is our chance! We must move quickly.”
Zuhur grabs Peilor’s meager supplies. “Hurry! Through the gate! Avoid the torchlights as best you’re able.”
Anemone: Anemone moves towards the gate quickly.
Dekniss: Dekniss rises and moves quickly to the gate with the others.
GM: Considering the lights, intentionally, lighten the entirety of the gateway that may be difficult. But it isn’t long before you’re standing on the rough cobblestone road behind the palisade, surrounded by building and the sounds of evening life. Peilor, however, is nowhere to be found, having been led off by the guard.
Zuhur quickly looks at their surroundings, trying to identify a place that could serve as temporary shelter.
Anemone: Anemone looks around, trying to look as calm as possible. No need to draw unnecessary attention to herself.
Dekniss: Dekniss does the same and comments, " We need to find new clothes as quickly as we can. Don’t want to get caught wearing these."
GM: Technically speaking, any building could serve as temporary shelter. The sounds of life are, however, deeper in the inner city, only the backs of buildings facing the clearing around the gatehouse.
Anemone: “Better keep moving. We are still obvious here.”
Zuhur tries to identify a building that either looks or sounds uninhabited, where they can stay long enough to either gather their wits into a more thought out plan or if the nature of the buildings allows, procure less suspicious clothing.
GM: You can only see the backs of the buildings, a small few with windows allowing some light from the interior to spill out onto the street. The road you’ve been following for days continues deeper into the outer city, eventually arriving at the towering gate to the inner city, as imposing as it is closed. You can see other streets and alleys diverge deeper into the outer city.
Zuhur: “We should take a back alley, to get away from this central street. If anyone is familiar with cities, choose one, otherwise one guess is as good as another.”
Anemone: “That seems the best idea so far. We certainly need to get off the beaten path.”
Dekniss: Dekniss moves forward motioning the others. “Let’s go and see what’s ahead here.”
Dekniss: He moves ahead until he can get a better look at the buildings.
Anemone: Anemone follows Dekniss.
GM: Moving to the first intersection, you finally see the outer city for what it is. Hard dirt paths make their way off of the cobblestone of the road, winding around larger buildings visiblw. And the building themselves appear to be barely-constrained chaos. Various storefronts face toward the gate, to better reel in customers from the few travellers, and you can notice several larger buildings, presumably storeyards and trading houses. The majority of the buildings are constructed from wood, but a rare few are constructed from a dark stone, the most eye-catching of which is a fairly spacious building, its door hanging open and spilling laughter onto the street, a sign above the door proclaiming it the Drowned Drake, a picture of a mug with tail-feathers poking from its top evident. You can hear, off in the distance, the sounds of a smithy. Of course, all of the shopkeepers and passersby stare, trying to not be obvious about it, at the dischordant party as they emerge into the lights, but it doesn’t take long for the novelty to wear off and they go back to their business.
Anemone: “A tavern. That may be a good place to catch our wits. And blend in.”
Dekniss: Pointing to the tavern Dekniss says to the others. “We can probably duck in there. Find a dark table to hunch down in while one of us goes and gets some different clothing. Might have to sell some weapons first to get some money though, unless they can just steal the clothes.”
Zuhur: “Blending in may be out of the question.” Zuhur says, glancing behind herself at the gate. “But as long as they don’t wish us to pay for a dark and quiet corner, it may be as decent a place as any to quickly decide on our next action. Hopefully the… rather unsettling good liar can find us there.”
GM: Meanwhile, in a building deeper into the city, Peilor has been found a warm blanket and is sitting in a chair before a large desk and a larger man. He seemed fairly displeased that the guard (Juliana was the name he caught) had simply abandoned her post, but her explanation seemed to largely mollify him. Still, he doesn’t seem exactly pleased with him.
Anemone: “Stealing may not be a smart idea at the moment. I doubt we’ll get away with it, and I am not interesting in being arrested again. We’ll need another plan. We should see how much we have that can be sold.”
GM: “So,” he begins in a gravelly voice, “why don’t you tell me what you told my guard that convinced her to leave her post?”
Dekniss: “One of the swords should fetch enough for new clothing for us.”
Anemone: “That seems reasonable. Who among us could fetch the best price?”
GM: The mention of stealing catches the ear of one of the passerby, who hesitates for only a moment before continuing at a pace twice as fast.
Zuhur: “We should get to the tavern with haste.” Zuhur says, walking towards the building with purpose.
Anemone: “agreed.” Anemone goes into the tavern.
Dekniss nods and follows.
Peilor: “Sir please, my family is out there, I barely got away with my life and not much else you have to got help them….We are just wandering merchants, we linked up with some imperial troops moving between forts but the raiders they ambushed us out of nowhere and overtook us… there isn’t much time… my poor sister!”
GM: “Raiders attacking a caravan of imperial troops?” he asks, arching an eyebrow faintly. “And defeating them? How many did you say that there were?” Bluff check.
Peilor: “Only a handful… 5 or 6 they had came back late from patrol and missed the main troop movement… I couldn’t even count the raiders they kept attacking from the direction of the sunset and then retreating until all the soldiers were dead leaving us and our cart undefended”
GM: The doorway opens into a room flanked by two circular tables, both currently abandoned but with a candle burning into them. The laughter and voice comes from further in, through double-doors. Passing through those you come to the bulk of the inn, spread with tables far outnumbering the number of patrons. Two groups of patrons are drinking, three guards at a square table facing away from the doorway, and four decidedly rougher looking men sitting deeper into the room. The latter group notices when you enter, expressions darkening visibly. A young woman dressed as a serving wench, hair the color of copper, notices your entry and offers you a smile before moving to the back room.
GM: “Leaving your cart undefended?” He asks, noncommitally. “Why would they not simply raid your cart themselves?”
Zuhur: “Of course.” Zuhur whispers under her breath, spotting the guards. We should find a table near the back, where we can be inconcipicious. Or as much as our apperance will allow."
GM: It isn’t long before a middle-aged man, wiry and taut, emerges from the back to make his way to the four. “Ah!” he says, brightly. “I had thought that my daughter had been exaggurating with her tale of Centurians gracing my humble business, but I can see that her fancies haven’t gotten the better of her. Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to the Drowning Drake. It’s the finest establishment in the outer city of Halport, so I hear.”
GM: Any of the patrons that missed your entry earlier are presently staring at you over their drinks.
Anemone: “Hello! We’re weary from our travels, and are looking to collect ourselves for a bit. If you don’t mind, we’ll sit down.”
Zuhur nudges Dekniss, the most paletable Centurian in the group. If he speaks for them, hopefully she and the others will be overlooked.
GM: “Of course, my lady,” he says, bowing with a flourish. “Sit and rest; I cannot imagine what business could bring your business to my humble inn so far from the troubles of the Empire. And,” he flashes a bright smile, “I shall have my daughter soothe your soreness with a round of drinks on the house. Can’t have you complaining about my generosity, now can I?”
Zuhur: “Ah, yes. Thank you.” Zuhur says, trying to make an easy smile. “Something quiet and out of the way.”
Anemone: Anemone, a little surprised that the tavern-keep bought her ruse, sits down at a nearby table.
Peilor: He tilted his head a bit. “are you asking why the imperial troopers didn’t raid our goods themselves?” he shook his head getting visiably angry falling deeper into his role clenchign his fists and glaring up at the man through crocdile tears. “My family could be being murdered this very second… my sister raped and your here asking stupid questions! If my luck wasnt already bad enough, I leave my family to their fate to hopefully bring back help and who do a find a cold-hearted old man who doubts the truth when it stands before him naked and bruised… Well to hell with you sir I willfind someone no dead inside to lend me a sword and threadbare suit of clothes and I will do your job for you… I just hope when you get word for other travels about as wrecked cart and dead soldiers you feel this big…” He punctuated this statment by placing his index and thumb as close to each other as they would go without touching.
GM: “Why, of course!” he says, brightly, as he leads the four to a table. “Is there anything that I might be able to provide you with your drinks? We have some freshly baked bread of course, my wife can make bread that would bring tears to even the Bladestorm’s eyes. Of course, we have fresh venison if that is more to your palate?”
GM: Bluff, Peilor.
Zuhur: “Thank you.” Zuhur says, sitting down. “But we’re not… hungry. The drinks and a place to sit and rest will be fine.”
GM: “Sit down,” the captian says, sighing heavily. “It can be difficult to find truth these days, is all. It pays for a man in my position to be cautious.” He stands up slowly, a mountain of man, favoring his left leg every so slightly. “I will dispatch a messenger to the garrison; the guard has little authority outside of the city, you understand.”
GM: “Very well,” he says, beaming a smile again as he starts back to the back room, leaving you four in relative isolation, the guards and other customers largely having gotten over the surprise of your arrival.
Dekniss: When the man leaves Dekniss turns to the others. “We really shouldn’t have gathered so much attention, I fear we may be in trouble all ready. We need to get out of these clothes and away from here. Someone needs to get us new outfits.”
Zuhur: “Truly.” Zuhur says glancing at her and Anemone’s ill fitting uniforms. “Although I suppose it’s better we were taken as Centurians than the alternative.”
Anemone: “So far we seem to be passing as centurians fairly well. We may be able to use this to our advantage, at least for the time being.”
Zuhur: “I’d prefer to be taken as a nobody.” Zuhur says, watching the crowd at the inn.
Anemone: “Not even for a free drink after a long day?”
Peilor: He drops down in the chair visibly exhausted bowing his head. “I… understand and if those soldiers couldn’t… I wouldnt want more people to… I…. I just want…. to know I did everything… i could to save them…. i’m sorry… I said all that” He wiped the tears gathering in his eyes and looked at the man sternly.
Zuhur: “This is a dangerous gamble we’ve entered already. We should remain her only long enough to decide what our next move should be.”
Dekniss: Dekniss nods towards the rough looking men drinking in the back. “I don’t think they like centurians. And the guards will no doubt gossip about us being in here. It’s better to just look like weary travelers.”
GM: The ‘crowd’ consists of seven other people. Eight, when the proprieter’s daughter comes out from the back room, four mugs on a tray, making her way toward the table with a smile. “Well,” she says, as she arrives and begins to set the mugs down, "I don’t think /anyone/ is likely to believe we had Centurians in here tonight.
Dekniss: Dekniss nods to her. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long. It’s just been a long march and we need to quench our thirst with something other than warm water.”
Zuhur: “A pity.” Zuhur says, taking the mug and giving the server as much a smile as she can muster.
GM: He reaches out across the table, setting a heavy slab of a hand onto Peilor’s shoulder and nearly unbalancing him in the chair. “You did, son,” he offers gravely. “We will see your family avenged, of that I assure you.”
Anemone: “I suppose we’ll be long gone before you have a chance to prove it. We appreciate the hospitality.”
GM: She offers a smile to them again. “That’s a shame,” she says, peering at the more curious members of your ‘band’. “Don’t see very many foreign Centurians.”
Zuhur: “We’re not a popular troop.” Zuhur says.
Anemone: Anemone drinks the beverage, trying to look like she was who the tavern people thought she was.
Zuhur: “Underperforming or simply undesirable soldiers get shuffled into our ranks. We’re also rather low on the list of proper logistics.” Zuhur says, tugging her uniform.
Dekniss: “Speaking of which, you wouldn’t happen to know the closest place to get fitting clothes, would you? I think it’s about time we see if we can’t get those uniforms to fit properly.” Dekniss says addressing the woman.
GM: The drink is, blissfully, warm and heavily spiced to create a delightful mixture of heady delicious flavors that harkens back to before you were a wanted criminal and prisoner. “So which are you four?” she asks, Zuhur, smiling brightly. She turns to Dekniss at the question, thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Well,” she starts, “if you have the coin to spare, Madam Augusta is the most skilled hand with a needle that I’ve seen.”
Zuhur: “A mix of them all.” Zuhur says, a bitter twinge in her voice. She takes a sip of the spiced drink before responding to the suggestion of a tailor. “We haven’t seen a pay wagon in gods know how long. Is their a poor man’s tailor around or will we have to wait for command to deign to pay us?”
GM: “Well,” she says, “you could always pay Barias a visit if you’re less concerned about quality. He’s the proprieter of The Baroque Crimson. He doesn’t tailor, but usually has a wide variety of stock for surprisingly little.”
Peilor: “Thank you, it wont bring them back and i feel horible that i ran away… but it relieves me greatly to hear that at least people know what happened and hopefully it wont happen again…” He slumped in his chair more noting the fact that oddly enough he more than likely would not have been able to pull this con off had he had not been marched through the cold for days and spent the afternoon watching men die. Plus those bandits might be dealt with so no real harm came from his lie all in all he was pleased greatly with his preformance.
Anemone: “Where could we find Barias?”
GM: “Fear grips all mens’ hearts,” the captain says grimly. “Do you have a place to stay for the night? Relatives nearby, mayhap?”
GM: “Oh, the Baroque Crimson is right next to the Golden Bounty trading house; Barias runs it as well.” She pauses slightly. “Oh, but you haven’t been to Halport before, have you?” She proceeds to give some directions to the building; it’s not too far off of the road, but far closer to the Inner City.
Anemone: “I don’t suppose its open this time of night?”
Zuhur: “Thank you.” Zuhur says, tipping up her mug in the manner she’s relatively certain she’s seen imperial men who wish good tidings on others do. “And the drinks are wonderful. I’ll recommend this place to anyone who asks for a good tavern.”
Peilor: “Not really… as I said were were traveling merchants I believe i have and aunt that lives in a port town to the north or maybe the west… we stopped by once when i was much younger…”
GM: “It probably is,” she notes, shrugging expressively. “Barias keeps strange hours. And I’m sure my father would appreciate that, despite the lack of competition,” she beams again.
GM: “It would be days simply to villages,” he remarks, slowly. “I will have one of my guards find you a cot in the barracks. It isn’t much, but it is more than you would find for free in this city.”
Dekniss looks to the others and then says, “Perhaps it’s best if we try and make it there before it closes. We should try and be presentable before making it to the garrison.” Looking to the woman he nods and thanks her, finishing his drink he stands to leave.
Anemone smiles at the woman and thanks her. “We’ll be going now, but thank you for the hospitality.” She follows Dekniss out.
Zuhur: “Agreed.” Zuhur says, taking another drink and standing. “We apologize for rushing out. We’ll return whenever we’re able to spend proper coing again.”
GM: The room spins briefly as Dekniss and Zuhur stand; it has been some time since they’ve had cause to drink anything much harder than water. It doesn’t last, though, thankfully. “I’ll give my father your regards,” she offers brightly, before turning to see to the other customers.
Dekniss: Dekniss quickly moves outside.
Zuhur: “Let’s hurry.” Zuhur says, setting down her now empty mug. “We can work out how to pay for the clothes when we’re there. He may take these uniforms in trade for some poor quality clothes that fit, at least.”
Dekniss: “Let’s try and avoid people as much as possible. Just look like you know where you’re going, march with your head high and don’t stare at anyone. Let’s go.”
GM: Following the girl’s directions, you find yourselves outside of a gaudily-painted storefront, the traffic further from the gate lessened somewhat; most of the buildings around seem to be homes.
Dekniss looks to see if it is open and if it is steps into the store.
Zuhur steps inside, glancing about at the interior and looking for Barias.
Anemone follows her companions into the store.
GM: To call the cramped store chaotic gives chaos quite a bit of credit. Quite possibly everything is on display on the interior (barring weapons and armor, of course); clothing, equipment, and trade goods scattered about in half-organized piles. To put it planer, the store holds /too many/ goods for sale than a building its size would suggest. A large man stands behind the counter, dressed lavishly in reds, and glances over your attire as you entire. “Centurians?” he asks, disbelieving.
Zuhur: “Despite everyone’s best efforts, yes.” Zuhur says to the shopkeeper. “We’re looking for some clothes. Ones that actually fit, if at all possible.” The indignation of a thousand haggling customers bleeds from her voice.
GM: Let’s see… Bluff, Zuhur.
Anemone: “Clothes that fit would be LOVELY, sir. We’ve been walking in these ill-fitting rags for ages.”
GM: “Why,” he says brightly, “of course, m’lady. I just bought a shipment of clothes, actually, from a trader who was just positively /desperate/ to offload them.” He bustles from behind his counter, deftly maneuvering through the positive piles of trade goods to clear off one of countless nondescript wooden crates. Inside is a plethora of cloth in countless different cuts and materials. “Of course,” he continues cheerily, “if these don’t fit, I am sure I have other clothes about here somewhere…”
Zuhur: “Thank you.” Zuhur says, rather relieved. “Something you’d take in trade for our old uniforms would be wonderful.”
GM: “Your uniforms?” he asks, eyeing them for a minute. “I’m not sure,” he finally says, a little unsteadily. Whomever wants to convince him, hit him with a social skill with appropriate use.
Anemone: "I"m sure you could sell them at quite a mark-up!"
GM: Bluff, Anemone.
GM: “I’m afraid that I can’t do that, unfortuantely,” he says, sighing softly. “The guards take poorly to selling anything official, as I’m sure you can understand.”
Anemone: "I"m sure taking our uniforms could help generate some goodwill with the local garrison, though."
GM: “How, exactly?” he asks, flustered. Bluff.
Zuhur: “We were more or less counting on you taking the uniforms in trade.” Zuhur says. glancing about the store. “We’re out of coin otherwise. Is there some task or service we could do for you in payment for some basic clothing?”
GM: “Oh, nonono,” the shopkeeper says, defensively. “There is no way that I could ask persons of your stature to be simple day laborers. Why, if you’re that strapped for coinage, then I /insist/ that you allow me to treat you to one. It is the least I can do, until you find yourself in a more stable standing.”
Anemone: “We appreciate that,” Anemone says.
Zuhur: “Ah… thank you.” Zuhur says, somewhat taken aback. “I’ll be sure and tell our superiors of your generosity, if they ever decide to pay half a mind to us.”
GM: “Well, then,” he says brightly. “I shall leave you to your search.” He manages to manaeuver his weight back to the desk, leaving you with the box full of clothes.
Dekniss nods gratefully to the proprietor.
Zuhur searches through the box for something of suitable style and more importantly, fit.
Anemone looks through the box, hoping to find something a bit less obvious.
GM: There is an eclectic mix in there. Rough commoner’s clothing, elegant gowns of fine silks embroidered with patterns that show the designer’s lack of skill with a needle. It isn’t until Zuhur pulls out a creme gown that there’s a strange tickling of familiarity with some of the pieces in the box.
Dekniss finds underclothes that the armor can be worn over and then some baggy loose fitting clothing that can go over and conceal the armor.
Zuhur frowns, examining the gown more closely, as well as any other pieces that trigger her senses.
GM: It is a difficult find. The underclothes are easily enough, but the closest that he can find that matches the latter is a large tunic that /technically/ would conceal the chain mail, albiet the added bulk would be visible.
GM: It is a fine piece and one that reminds Zuhur uncannily of another gown of the sort she’d traded away some years past.
GM: A piece that, to the best of her knowledge, never made it to a market.
Dekniss: If it wouldn’t be too noticeable Dekniss wears it anyway.
Zuhur lifts up the gown, opening the neck and examining it in the light for an embroidered seal.
GM: Digging through the box, Aenemone manages to find a blouse and pair of trousers of rather simple make and dark material.
GM: In the light, she can make the seal out easily, a stark reminder in this curious box of clothes.
Zuhur: “…Curious.” Zuhur mutters under her breath. It was years ago, and the dress could have changed hands any number of times. Some may even have been legitimate. Still, to find one of their pieces so far north… She turns to the shopkeeper, holding up the gown, an authoratative edge in her voice. “Who exactly did you purchase these from?”
GM: “Hm?” he asks, glancing up from his ledger resting on the counter. “Was that in the box?” he asks, curiously. “I bought it from a gentleman… what was his name…. representing one of the larger trade companies. They usually operate in the Inner City, but they usually come to me to offload some of their more difficult goods.”
Zuhur: “I see.” Zuhur says, still watching the shopkeeper. ‘Difficult Goods’ was term she’d heard often enough. “We’d be very interested in talking to the man.”
GM: “That shouldn’t be too large a problem,” he responds. “He should be in the Tullius Trading building in the Inner City.”
Zuhur: “Thank you.” She says, turning back to the box. “And if you see him again before we do, I’m sure we’d all appreciate it if you didn’t let him know we’re planning on having a chat.” She looks through the box, half tempted on taking the cream gown for nostalgia’s sake, but knowing she’d likely need something more practical.
GM: “Of… of course,” he says, frowning concernedly.