|
Post by Naerwen on Nov 13, 2012 20:12:05 GMT -4
Naerwen slightly raised an eyebrow as the glass was slid to her. When it came to rest she inquisitively inspected it. She looked at the ruby red colour and gently gave the drink a small swirl and watched to see if "legs" ran down the glass before she held the drink close enough to smell. She often times smelled things before she consumed them in order to gauge how much she would (or wouldn't) enjoy the taste. "So what is the name of this drink Sarna?" As she waited for the reply she glanced around to see if there was any bread or cheese lying about just in case the drink was more than what she anticipated. OOC: Challenge accepted. The "legs" she is looking for is something that generally happens when you have at least 12/13% alcohol present. What would be the rough equivalent to what they're drinking Sean? Something like Everclear, Whiskey, Vodka, Brandy, Liqueur, Hot Damn (Cinnamon drink), Red Wine, Mead, White Wine, Etc... ? That way I know how to properly gauge her reactions to it. =^.^= Perception: [dice=20] +14Modified per GM request. ^.^[rand=642299319980400976391485823122320034728324337514055397089168137885]
|
|
|
Post by zeferin on Nov 14, 2012 0:16:01 GMT -4
As two more cups of the ruby liquor is poured before her, Trazish looks over at Naerwen as Sarna pours the elf her own cup of the substance. Naerwen looked at the cup as if to gauge how much she was going to enjoy her challenge, and Trazish couldn't help but chuckle at the question of how much of a light-light the elf was. Trazish couldn't help but feel she wasn't trained well in the art of the drink being a druid and as studious as she appeared to be.
Just then, Sarna came back over and dished out her own plate of mutton, and, giving a deep whiff, Trazish's mouth started to water. Giving a quick thanks to Sarna and a small pray to Pharasma, Trazish started to dig in. The meat was tender, full of juices, and spiced with a flavor even her new keen senses couldn't identify. Whatever it was, though, made it some of the better mutton Trazish had had in a long time.
Finishing most of her plate, and licking any extra sauce off of her snout, she turned back towards the drinks in front of her. Looking over at Naerwen, Trazish gave a cheers sign and downed both of the cups in a blink. Fort: [dice=20] + 6 - 1 Fort: [dice=20] + 6 - 2
As a warm, soothing heat filled her mouth, Trazish felt the liquor flow down into her stomach, warming ever bit of her on the way. Sighing out an even larger puff of smoke than before, the alcohol slowly started to tickle the back of her head. She thought about the last time she had been drunk and how much Koil had yelled at her and scolded her on how alcohol only hindered a person and blinded them from their problems. Only, Koil wasn't here and Trazish didn't care.
She wasn't sure if it was just the drink talking, but she couldn't help but think that Koil was too much of a prude to enjoy the living part of the job that he fought so hard to keep in balance. Picking up the empty cup, Trazish twirled it a bit in her hand, lost in thought. After the hell that had broke loose in the last two days, she didn't know exactly where she stood anymore. She knew that her place was to be the sword of Pharasma, but whom was she to strike? The archmage that brought all this madness here? He hadn't planned this, but it didn't excuse him from opening the door for the monster that came through. What about his assistant, Aya? She was a necromancer, but she had the most bizarre interpretation on her magick. What if she encountered more like Fireoak that weren't involved with the undead, but get in the way and hinder her pursuit of the undead? If they stand in the way of killing the monster, then they might as well be on the same side as the monster.
But, putting the glass back down, maybe she was just over thinking it. Maybe her job was simply to keep the living alive, kill the undead and those that make them. Maybe..... OOC: Of course the only saves I can make would be for drinking....[rand=779822941869497303944145492278039541945497319102290013948970008641481]
|
|
|
Post by blackhawk on Nov 14, 2012 0:46:18 GMT -4
(OOC: Quick, Deekin! Take advantage of the intoxicated She-Kobold!)
|
|
|
Post by Naerwen on Nov 14, 2012 0:57:45 GMT -4
Naerwen found the aroma somewhat unpleasant, but refused to show any signs of the odoriferous offense to the nostrils. This was a challenge after all. As the liquid ran down the side of the glass leggy trails of alcohol seeped down to the ruby red reservoir at the bottom. The drink smelled of the harsh essence of pure alcohol steeped with the the hottest pepper one could imagine. It was nothing like the delicate, sweet elixir that Elven wine was, which produced delicate and intriguing aromas that fascinated the senses.
She braced herself and returned the cheers sign that Trazish gave. Holding her breath she downed the contents of the glass. As she breathed in again she could feel the fiery warmth of the alcohol's path as it began to be absorbed. Finally the warmth settled in her ears and she smiled.
Fortitude: [dice=20] +5[rand=758272905719893125598248850631393149858877209353727402655608284]
|
|
|
Post by zeferin on Nov 14, 2012 0:58:34 GMT -4
OOC: Hush you! She is drunk and can shoot lightning out of her mouth which, btw, has just been coated in alcohol. Can't wait to see what would happen.
|
|
|
Post by Naerwen on Nov 14, 2012 1:02:41 GMT -4
OOC: That's what I was thinking. When it comes to drinking you can make saves. lol Maybe next combat we'll blindfold you and tell you you're rolling for a drink. That would be amusing. Drunken Kobold romance Bwahaha =^.^=
|
|
|
Post by blackhawk on Nov 15, 2012 11:38:37 GMT -4
Vulgrim wipes his mouth as he finishes his meal and drains what was left of his mug. He turns to watch the steadily more tipsy Kobold and the elf as she downs the red liquid.
He smiles and chuckles a bit as he watches them.
"As much as I would love to get into a competition of drink with ye, I'll hold off this evening."
(OOC: I really want to put a drunken brawler together sometime. That was a neat specialist class.)
|
|
|
Post by Naerwen on Nov 15, 2012 12:28:52 GMT -4
Naerwen let out a light chuckle. "I don't think it would be much of a competition. I don't drink much. Besides, I'm used to Elven wine. I'm not quite used to something this ... different."
|
|
|
Post by zeferin on Nov 16, 2012 2:04:04 GMT -4
Hearing Vulgrim say something, Trazish came back from her drunken thoughts. With Naerwen chuckling, Trazish added, "And I'm not to sure how well this little body of mine can hold its liquor," as the numbness started to set in. "I think I might be heading to bed myself."
Placing a few coins to cover the meal and drinks, Trazish climbed slowly off the bar stool and started off for bed. Suddenly, a drunken thought ran through her head and she turned to to Deekin and said, "Drunk or not, don't expect too much out of me Deekin. I like the bed to myself." And with that, she stumbled slowly off to bed.
*OOC and just for fun, Acrobatic check to see how well I walk off* Acrobatic: [dice=20] -3 [rand=5870776656083763839420739328488709560329886153345078636163379997]
|
|
|
Post by Naerwen on Nov 16, 2012 2:17:20 GMT -4
Naerwen laughed at Trazish's comment to Deekin and somewhat mumbled, "It looks like he's holding his drink fairly well."
"I suppose I should head off to bed too. I still need to prepare things for tomorrow." As she started to pick up her bag to rummage for her coin purse Naerwen looked to Sarna. "How much do I owe you for the drink Sarna?"
|
|
mith
Junior Member
Posts: 90
|
Post by mith on Nov 16, 2012 13:31:20 GMT -4
OOC: I'm working on a long catch-up post, but have some questions about how we're handling 'craft' checks. According to the rules, it could take even Grumple an awful long time (days - weeks) to make just a few useful items. Given that we seem to be really rushing through the campaign (no sleep yet?!), that doesn't seem feasible without leaving my guy behind for a whole chapter. How do you want to handle this?
|
|
|
Post by myinsanemind on Nov 20, 2012 13:41:15 GMT -4
Ayame watched the rest group drink and ordered a quick bite of food. She wanted to eat some before going to bed. Dumbles was already drifting off next to her, nibbling on the napkins. Ayame yawned.
It also seemed like some of the group had task to do in the morning. Maybe Aya would join one of them...
|
|
|
Post by irishmagician on Nov 23, 2012 20:47:01 GMT -4
(OOC: After Mith makes his post, I'm going jump every forward 8 hours for your rest/recharging spells/etc.)
|
|
mith
Junior Member
Posts: 90
|
Post by mith on Nov 24, 2012 1:01:14 GMT -4
As Grumplestiltskin and Naerwin followed Deekin to the door of Morganna’s shop, the cat jumped down from the counter and ran in front of the Halfling. He stopped at the door and turned around just as the old shopkeeper poked her head over the counter again. “You know, we’ve got a fair bit of glassware in the back, if you need a place to work, dearie.”
Turning back to Naerwin, he poked his head outside the shop. “Yeah, you go on and follow Deekin, I’ll be back at the Inn eventually… we can follow the Dwarf or do your errand in the morning.”
Inside, he took Morganna up on her offer and followed her behind the counter, down a twisted flight of stairs to a set of old wooden doors in a well-kept basement landing. The cat followed, and darted into one of the rooms as Morganna opened the door. After lighting a pair of lamps on the side walls, the old woman gestured into an earthen basement room, to a reasonably stocked alchemical lab on a lone solid oak table remarkably free of the sort of burns and pits that characterized lab benches at the Academy. “Why thank you, that will do nicely,” Grumplestiltskin thanked her. “I’ll endeavor to leave it in no more pieces than it is now.”
Laughing softly, the shopkeeper turned for the door, “Oh no, I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Don’t bother trying to open any of the cabinets yourself, you just give a shout at the door if you need anything.”
The Halfling looked around curiously at the apparently empty room as she disappeared. Perception: [dice=20] + 11
Glancing around the room, Grumple noticed the cat's eyes in a shadow of the lamplight, and behind it a barely visible outline of a large cabinet set back into the earthen wall. The shadows cleverly concealed the edges, and there seemed to be no obvious handles. "Erm, of course. Well then, thanks much, I'll just get started then," said the Halfling somewhat awkwardly to the apparently empty room.
Without much delay, Grumplestiltskin gets to work, laying out his reagents on the table and selecting the appropriate glassware. Once he had things set up to his liking he reached into his satchel again and took a swig from a small vial, nearly indistinguishable from the others in the torchlight. Crafting Unstable Accelerant: [dice=20] + 18 + 2 (lab) + 5 (Crafter’s Fortune) vs DC 25
Time: 50g / (28*25/7) (*2, Swift Alchemy) = 2.5 = 3 hours
Despite being thoroughly shaken by the day's events, he managed to put together 3 flasks at a time. In 2 hours, he had 3 small flasks on the table in front of him, stoppered sealed and marked. Unsatisfied, he called to Morganna for bread and an ale, and glanced around for the cat, but did not see it. Later, feeling slightly revitalized from the food and drink, he continued his work.
Crafting Unstable Accelerant: [dice=20] + 18 + 2 (lab) vs DC 25
Time: 50g / (26*25/7) (*2, Swift Alchemy) = 2.7 = 3 hours
Again, his head felt muddled by the strain of the past days, and he failed to put together more than a single flask in his second attempt. The hours grew long, and he moved to making something he knew a bit better: Craft Smoke Pellets: [dice=20] + 18 + 2 (lab)
Time: 25g / (28*20/7) (*2, Swift Alchemy) = 1.56 = 2 hours
This went slightly better, and at the end of two not-so-frustrating hours of work he had a small handful of 5 smoke pellets.
At long last, the Halfling sat back on the smooth old wood bench and wiped his brow. The basement room had grown warm from the lamps and his chemical reactions. His hands shook, and Grumplestiltskin remembered how long the day had been, the many fights and battles of the past two days, and how little rest he’d gotten the past few nights. Work in the crowded Academy workshops seemed long ago already.
Picking up his creations and sorting the remaining piles of herbs, minerals, and other things into his bag, the Halfling quietly stole out of the room and up the stairs to the shop. Feeling something against his knee, he nearly shouted in the stairwell before recognizing Morganna’s black cat. “Well, now, I suppose you’ve been keeping an eye on me, haven’t you?” The creature trotted just ahead of him, leading him to the door. “Mmm, don’t suppose the old shopkeep would want to stay up so late herself, should she? I don’t imagine there are many up an about at this hour at all.”
It dawned on Grumplestiltskin that wandering the streets of Oakdale at two in the morning the second night of this disaster might not be the best idea he had had recently. But he didn't want to wake Morganna, and felt quite confident he could manage the quarter mile to the inn, which seemed to be safest spot in town. Moving quietly and watching for trouble, he made his way back towards the tavern. Stealth: [dice=20] + 10 Perception: [dice=20] +11
[rand=81237779557704934140766479540616164736871607601642521693704184145]
|
|
|
Post by irishmagician on Nov 24, 2012 19:33:10 GMT -4
As Grumple leaves the shop, his perceptive eyes catch a quick glimpse of something through a set of windows opposite from the door. The halfling spots a young, exquisitely beautiful maiden walking amidst a rather unusual looking garden; her incredibly pale complexion and snow-white hair reflecting the light from the waxing moon high in the sky. He is unable to see the maiden's face, a branch obscuring all of her features beyond a slightly curved smile from view during the brief glimpse, as the door to the shop closes behind Grumple. This sight aside, the halfling makes it back to the Dragon's Claw without incident, the alchemist surely collapsing on a bed in the Inn for a well deserved rest.
The rest of the party passes the night as they choose, enjoying conversation with good food and drink before retiring for the night. The evening passes swiftly, with the morning sun rising beyond the windows of the Dragon's Claw like any other day in Oakdale. No cataclysmic occurrences await the party upon their waking, the town rising to go about their daily activities as much as they can given the current circumstances. In the distance, the pulsating Rift remains above the Wizarding School; still occasionally shooting out scintillating beams of purple energy far out over Dorien in all directions.
Sarna and Flog make good on their appreciation of the group's efforts in the morning, refusing to take any payment whatsoever for their rooms at the Inn. The breakfast served is also on the house, a rather tasty porridge and left-overs from last night's meal available from the kitchen as the guests to go about their business for the day.
Party takes an 8-hour rest, regaining spells/abilities as appropriate.
|
|