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Post by irishmagician on Oct 9, 2012 17:07:13 GMT -4
Wracking his brain a little bit, Grumple knows that most of the alchemical laboratories in Oakdale reside within the Academy's campus, close to the Wizarding Academy. However, it is likely that the 'Spells and Brews' shop would have equipment and ingredients necessary for most alchemical manipulations; available at a modest fee, of course. The Dragon's Claw seems to be the only establishment or vendor currently open in regards to procurement of food at this point as well.
The trip through the grounds of the Academy is slow for Vulgrim, the curling mists growing thicker the farther in he travels. More than once sounds can be heard, footsteps darting and soft growls seeming to come out of nowhere in the fog on all sides. When all sense of direction almost seems lost, a familiar sight seems to loom out of the mist. The sought-out forge sits silent in the abandoned square, though several bodies lie lifeless about its enclosure. Approaching the smithy, everything seems to be mostly in the same way it was left; with some tools strewn about on the ground, most likely knocked over from the wave of energy from the explosion of the Wizard's Tower. The silence of the mists weighs heavily upon the Square as the dwarf inspects his forge, the silence only broken by the occasional crackles of magick being cast in the distance near the Wizarding School.
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Post by blackhawk on Oct 9, 2012 19:49:51 GMT -4
Vulgrim grumbles to himself a bit about the delay in getting to the Smithy. Granted, he could expect no less in regards to the time it would take, as energies and strangeness.
Vulgrim sets about his workshop and puts things to rights, locking up and searching for a few odds and ends.
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Post by irishmagician on Oct 9, 2012 20:27:21 GMT -4
Vulgrim's task takes about an hour of effort, finding enough spare tools and materials to potentially be useful on the road for emergency maintenance if needed. When finished, the smithy is secured enough for a long term absence, if necessary.
Vulgrim gathers enough supplies to gain a 'Masterwork Artisan's Kit,' granting a +2 bonus to Craft (Weapons, Armor) checks. There are enough supplies for 3 such checks prior to returning to a town to re-supply again.
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mith
Junior Member
Posts: 90
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Post by mith on Oct 11, 2012 0:00:53 GMT -4
Temporarily satisfied by his snack, Grumplestiltskin wanders through the town towards the 'Spells and Brews' market. Naerwin, following, finds him a much more lively companion than he had appeared previously. He chatters almost non-stop, commenting on the damage to buildings, signs of recent repair or attempts at defense against the strange magic, and the likelihood that his various acquaintances survived or fled the assault. As they near the shop, Grumple shifts conversation to herbs, reagents, and medicines which might be useful. He lists over a dozen or so items that could be especially handy in alchemy and healing potions, and talks about their prices and availability in Oakdale, compared to smaller towns in the countryside. (OOC: Grumplestiltskin will invest in materials for a wide range of alchemical reagents for the manufacture of about 20 various standard alchemical items ranging in listed value from 20-75g each, as well as a dozen level-1 potions from his list of known formulae.) Though he tries to use the chaotic situation in Oakdale to barter down with the shopkeeper, it doesn't take much for Naerwin at least to notice that Grumplestiltskin is thrilled about going on such a shopping spree. (OOC: I'm not sure which skill is best suited for bartering, so I'll give you two to work with. ) Appraise: [dice=20] + 10 Bluff: [dice=20] + 11[rand=44099835274681476245138662387446360057488496823612039752825778397]
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Post by irishmagician on Oct 11, 2012 11:20:19 GMT -4
Entering the rather 'run-down' in appearance shop, Grumple and Naerwen find a rather homey interior to the building. A wooden counter serves as the front to shop's activities, with the area behind the counter looking for the most part like a country cottage in all respects. A cheery fire blazes in a fireplace, filling the shop with a warm aroma, smelling like fine oak and a hint of a lavender satchel thrown into the fire for good measure. Herbs hang from every available nook and cranny on the arched wooden ceiling, with jars containing every imaginable substance lining the numerous shelves and cabinets around the main room. A hunched, wizened crone appears to be chopping something on a large wooden table on the opposite side of the room behind the counter; with various ingredients and herbs already cut into very organized piles beside her. She turns as the the pair enter the shop, revealing a very kindly, yet exquisitely wrinkled and hideous, face framed by frizzled gray hair.
"Why, hello there, dearies," the crone says with a graveling voice as she wipes her hands on her apron. "Please, do come in. We are still in business, aren't we, my pet?" she says as the crone hobbles forward to the counter. An entirely black cat, with the exception of white fur 'boots' around each of its paws, jumps up on the counter as she approaches; staring intensely at the halfling and elf in the typical manner of the feline persuasion.
"Don't mind Midnight, dearies; she is always so suspicious of strangers," the crone says in her grating voice. "Do call me Morganna, won't you? Looking for anything in particular today, are you?" she asks in a grandmotherly like fashion. After listening to Grumple's shopping list and his haggling, she proceeds to barter with him quite enthusiastically, despite her age.
Opposed 'Haggling' Roles Appraise: [dice=20] + 12 Bluff: [dice=20] + 8
"My, aren't you the convincing one, dearie?" Morganna says amusedly, after Grumple in the end manages to negotiate prices with an approximate 25% markdown from market value. "The total today, dearie, would be 800 gold pieces, thank you kindly." After she depositing the money in a rather antique-looking register, the staring cat meows loudly. "My, you are right, my pet," Morganna says as she closes the register. "These dearies do look a little famished, don't they. Tell me, dearies, would you like a spot of tea and crumpets? I do say, you can't find better crumpets anywhere else in Oakdale!" she says, with a kindly twinkle in her eye.
(OOC: The derived cost mentioned above comes at the calculation below. I based the assumption on max purchase of 75 gp item components, and you can use the components to make items less than that if you so desire:
(((75 gp / 3) x 20) + (50 gp x 12)) x ~0.75
If I have forgotten any background traits/etc. that should affect cost, let me know.)[rand=20875439668073537672077798095744282635564276962466248873845304012]
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Post by Naerwen on Oct 14, 2012 15:46:19 GMT -4
Naerwen followed Grumple to the market as Tiriel flew above them. As she noticed Grumple's excitement in regards to shopping she couldn't help but grin in amusement. When the cat hopped up on the counter Naerwen smiled at the creature before beginning to inquisitively peruse the items and trinkets in the shop while Grumple bartered with the shopkeeper. After at least a minute or so Naerwen returned to the counter and attempted to gauge the cat's willingness to interact. If the cat didn't appear horribly antisocial she would hold out her hand for the cat to sniff or inspect before attempting to interact with the animal. If the cat seemed interested and approached her she would pet it. If not she would retract her hand. When an available pause in speech was convenient she hesitantly asked if the shopkeeper happened to have a silver mirror shaped like a bowl or if such a thing existed. OOC: I don't think I have any particular abilities and whatnot oriented towards bartering, so I suppose she's trying to barter by making friends with the cat if at all possible. I'm not entirely sure which check(s) I need to make though. Wild Empathy: [dice=20] +7 Handle Animal: [dice=20] +10Feeling a bit hesitant to consume foods prepared by someone who most likely knows a lot about potions and whatnot Naerwen thought for a moment of contemplation before responding to the shopkeeper. Sense Motive: [dice=20] +11[rand=87954366139503737179294627078262132152866767825236598190389849933]
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Post by irishmagician on Oct 14, 2012 20:55:45 GMT -4
While Grumple and Morganna haggle, the cat gazes at Naerwen solemnly as she proffers a hand. Sniffing once, the cat deigns a regal nod of sorts, in typical cat-like fashion, and suffers itself to be petted by the elf. It tolerates this for a moment, then stretches luxuriously away a brief distance and begins to wash its paws while continuing to watch Naerwen.
After the haggling is finished and the druid makes her request of the shopkeeper, Morganna chuckles softly as she hobbles over to a small kitchen area near the back of the shop. "Aye, dearie. I do believe I can procure such an item for ye; though on such short notice, it won't come cheaply!" she says loudly from the kitchen, the sounds of moving pots and pans echoing from the corner of the shop. A short time later, she returns carrying a tray laden with crumpets, three teacups and a small teakettle. Placing the burden on the down, she places a respective teacup in front of the two visitors on the counter and serves some tea with a calculating smile. "Ye be a worker of nature magick, aren't ye, dearie? I can tell quite easily, my dear, with ye smelling of loamy dirt and fallen leaves! This old nose of mine is quite sharp at mine age, hehe!" she says, with a very slight cackle at the end, as she plops a couple crumpets on a dish for Naerwen and Grumple. "I have a nice little garden out back of my shop, dearie; consider it payment if you could work some of your magick to help my garden grow, thank ye kindly," Morganna says with a smile.
Sense Motive Check Results: Naerwen definitely gets the sense that there is something more to the shopkeeper, and maybe the cat, than meets the eye. She is uncertain as to what, but she knows that the old lady is not attempting to be duplicitous or lying in her statements. Much of her sly manners appear to be related to her enjoyment of bargaining and trade. Naerwen also knows that Morganna's request is related to asking for the spell 'Plant Growth' to be cast, a common request of druids from local farmers in the area.
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Post by Naerwen on Oct 14, 2012 23:02:19 GMT -4
Naerwen seems to take some form of almost child-like delight when the cat allows her to pet it. A small smile escapes as a result. Seemingly content with the interaction she shifts her attention to the shopkeeper as Morganna and Grumple finish their bartering.
As Morganna moves about the shop and into the kitchen area Naerwen watches her attentively for a minute or so as the shopkeeper rummages through the kitchen. At the mention of Naerwen's "smell" she raises her eyebrows almost as if in wonder about why everyone says she smells like earth and leaves. With a quick glance to Grumple she inspects her sleeve for any hints of the aromas that people keep commenting on. Finally she shrugs to herself and gives a slight nod in regards to the shopkeeper's question.
After pondering for a moment Naerwen nods and replies, "I could do that for you, but it would have to be after I get some rest this evening so that I may properly prepare for a spell of sorts to help your garden." Naerwen picks up her teacup and takes in a waft of the aroma as she allows the cup to warm her hands. "Thank you for this by the way." She paused for a moment as she tried to think of a way to get a conversation started that would possibly reveal a little more to the mystery of the cat and the shopkeeper. After deciding she didn’t quite know what to say she gave in and hesitantly asked a semi-generic question. “So … what’s your story? … Have you and your friend been here long or …” As Naerwen mentioned the shopkeeper’s friend she nodded her head toward the cat. Slightly trailing off Naerwen waited for Morganna’s response.
OOC: Not sure if this is needed, but just in case?
Diplomacy: [dice=20][rand=809814826261848996773767200721052196261359274632738121833240449976]
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Post by zeferin on Oct 15, 2012 0:00:29 GMT -4
*OOC: Sorry about the last week or so without a post. My Internet died for a week and I finally have time to post! Also, I shall plagiarize Sean a bit because I liked the way you worded a few things!* Just as Trazish was about to leave her house, a chill ran down her spine. The room darkened and she went into a trance. The scent of myrrh, the sweet smell of decomposing matter, and the fresh loamy aroma of newly dug earth filled the air around Trazish, almost choking her. Just when she thought she the fumes would choke her into unconsciousness, a light, almost non-existent, touch of a woman's hand rested on her shoulder and the fumes lightened. With the air clearing, a soft, quiet, yet rippling with power and filled the mind with awe spoke into Trazish's ear, as if to tell her a secret. As the voice spoke, visions filled her head. Her fight under the temple with the mummy, which the voice spoke with a bit of satisfaction, to the graveyard outside the temple where a simple prayer Trazish knew rang out over an image of an angelic statue. Then, the grip on her shoulder tightened. The voice flared with such intensity that Trazish could feel her blood lust rise. Images of a dojo and a fighter taking on an undead creature, a Revenant. As the image disparate in front of her, the radiating heat of an otherworldly hate came from the presence behind her and said, "You know what must be done," and then all was silent. As the scents completely disappeared and the room came back into being around Trazish, she fell down from the shock of the visions and from the power in the voice. She had finally been summoned and spoken to her Lady. All those times that her master Koil had told her about Pharasma's messages, Trazish had never understood why Koil always scolded her for anything disrespectful that she said about them. Now she knew just how much power were behind those words and the feelings of wonder and awe, yet terror and feebleness that filled you when they were uttered to you. Picking herself back up, Trazish knew that she had to carry out her Lady's orders. No, she was compelled to carry them out. First of all, she needed to look for that statue in the graveyard. Thinking back to the vision, Trazish could see the statue, and scabbard that it held, and the pray she heard that would release the scabbard from its resting place. Trazish then, with her mind focused on the task ahead of her, set off to the graveyard. As she made her way across the town the the temple, she slipped into the graveyard, ignoring the few that were there to bury the dead and the even fewer that were there to pay their respects. Darting to where the statue should have been, Trazish finally found, in the back, an old, stone angel standing on a pillar looking skyward. With its right had it held a stone sword, crafted in holy symbols and even looked like it had at one time been sharpened, though rain had long eroded the masterpiece it once was. In the left hand, though, was the scabbard that Trazish had seen in her vision. Taking a deep breath, Trazish began her pray. "Lady of Graves, hear my pray. From dust we all came from. In life, we flow through fate and our own accord. In dead, to dust we return. May this pile of dust find favor in your judgment when I finally enter your palace."
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Post by irishmagician on Oct 15, 2012 23:57:51 GMT -4
As Trazish's prayer is spoken, a surreal hush seems to fall around the graveyard; the ambient noises of the local wildlife and individuals wandering the necropolis fading into silence. The scabbard takes on an otherworldly glow, outlining it in faint light that shines in the growing dusk. It seems to slide out from the statue's grasp quietly and easily, despite the fact it surely had rested there for centuries at least. The silence is broken instantly, along with a sharp sudden scent of myrrh that seems to fill the area for the briefest of moments, when the scabbard hits the ground; the 'thudding' sound of the item smacking into the dirt seeming to bring back all of the noise that had previously disappeared. The scabbard bounces, and rolls off a short distance amongst the gravestones out of view.
A sleepy groan and a short bleat can be heard from that direction in the graveyard, as the scabbard rolls into the side of a snoring female gnome and a goat resting against a headstone.[/i][/color]
Meanwhile, in the 'Spells and Brews' shop, the aged shopkeeper sips delicately from her teacup; listening to Naerwen's question, she cackles bemusedly as she sets the teacup down. "Aye, dearie, that would be fine with me. Just kip on by when ye be ready, and let Granny Morganna know when ye would like to start." She picks up a crumpet, and nibbles on it as she listens to the elf further. "Ye could certainly say that I have been here for quite sometime, indeed. I moved here...how long ago was it?" she asks herself, scratching her frizzled gray hair with a cronish hand. The cat meows loudly, as it settles down for a snooze on the counter. "Ah, yes, thank ye," Morganna says, smacking her forehead lightly. "Moved here about sixty years ago, from a nice little place down near Brynway Village. Ye could say that this one found me," she says with a nod to the snoozing cat, "some time before I came here. Beyond that, dearie, not much else to say! Opened this shop, and done quite good business at that, indeed!" Cackling softly, she produces a couple mason jars from behind the counter, pushing them lightly in Grumple's direction.[/i] "Here, dearie. Do have some honey or some of this lovely blackberry jam with your crumpets? So skinny ye are, ye need to put some meat on those tiny bones!" Morganna says kindly.[/color][/i]
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Post by blackhawk on Oct 16, 2012 12:41:32 GMT -4
Packing up the last of his things and clicking a final lock into place, Vulgrim picks up his pack once again. "There, thats that seen to. Now..."
Vulgrim leaves the shop, once again crossing into the eerie mists that have shrouded the campus. He turns about and clicks a lock into place, putting the key on its thong back about his neck.
Vulgrim makes his way back through the fog, glancing around the mist, and keeping himself on guard lest he manage to run afoul of something unpleasant.
He mumbles to himself as he goes. "Time te see where Strongarm got to. Don't see him as leaving his forge so quiet 'less something happened to him..."
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Post by irishmagician on Oct 17, 2012 18:31:10 GMT -4
(OOC: Great job with the RP, as an aside; it's really keeping me on my toes as a GM!)
Vulgrim's trip back through the misty Academy, while equally harrowing on the return trip, is uneventful. He returns to main Oakdale proper as dusk is slowly overtaking the town, the now increasingly purple sunset matching quite well with the occasional flares of purple energy from the direction of the Wizarding School. As the dwarf thinks about how to investigate Bryan Strongarm's absence, a couple options seem available to him. Directly searching his forge seems like an avenue to pursue, as well as questioning people in town to see if anyone potentially is aware of his absence. Other methods may even perhaps come to the smith, given time. He stands at the gates of the Academy beyond the cordon of guards, pondering his next course of action.
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Post by blackhawk on Oct 18, 2012 10:54:16 GMT -4
(OOC: Props to everyone else for their RP. I know mine has been a bit lackluster due to all the things I have been doing recently.)
Vulgrim emerges from the fog with a cough, nodding to the guards as they readmit him to the town proper. "Thank ye, sirs. I appreciate ye lettin me wrap up some things back at the forge. Had te leave in a hurry, and the current state o things might mean I donae get to go back to it in a hurry."
He starts to leave and then turns back, an idea striking him before he departs. "Don't suppose ye happen te know anything of Stongarm, the forgemaster in town? I noticed his forge was dark on me way in and was going te check on him, but I figured I would ask ye before I went about the hunt for a while this eve."
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Post by Naerwen on Oct 18, 2012 11:04:06 GMT -4
OOC: I'm going to post later today after my stats test o' doom, so don't kick us out of the shop yet.
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Post by irishmagician on Oct 18, 2012 18:00:59 GMT -4
(OOC: Make me a diplomacy check, thank ye kindly.)
(OOC: Five out of six people wouldn't find anything to worry about that. (OR -0.21 to 1.24, P = 0.06))
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