"Of course not! Not without knowing what we're in for first. All we need is to know where Merrywinter is and this halfling is our best chance. He can lead us to the guild and we can decide what to do then. You're better than any of us at this sort of thing, I'm sure you'll think of something handy!"
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Six From Gate Pass - Chapter 3: Shelter From The Storm
- Thread starter Gregor
- Start date
Adjuntive
First Post
Alric scowls at the mention of this halfling. "I mislike the sound of him, and I mislike giving him a share. He is not one of us, but he is our only chance, so we will employ him and I'll do my part in this by keeping my sword handy to split him in two should he try to betray us. I'll abide more betrayal to our group by mercilessly dismembering the transgressor."
At the mention of his plate arriving, "I don't remember ordering a delivery... oh... my..." Alric snatches up the parcel like a spoiled child flipping a silver piece to the courier as a last minute after thought, without looking or having very good aim. He then rushes to his room with it. He asks for some assistance since the buckles and straps are more complicated and far more numerous than his current set. As he dons the armour, he marvels at how well it fits as each piece slips onto his arms as if they were a second skin.
When Alric decends you see him clad from head to toe in a full-body suit of interlacing, lobstered steel plate that is both regal and menacing to behold. Each plate has an enameled pattern of splashing grey and white, as if they were flames, if not for the colour. As he moves, each one of the plates seamlessly fold and unfold, within each other with the soft sound of 2 smooth stones rubbing between each other, both providing Alric unparralleled protection and displaying the visual impression of a grey lobster made humanoid form. The helm has 2 steel wings, gulling down along his jawbone, each wing enameled with the same pattern as the plates, and a fan of black horsehair cascades backwards from it's top. Each plate is unblemished and smooth, but matte rather than reflective. It looks mercilessly heavy, but Alric stands tall and walks naturally. For those of you who have seen them, the armour is quite reminiscent of Ragesian champion footman armour, save one detail, it's colours.
Turning to Bannock, "Tis' good workmanship, no?"
At the mention of his plate arriving, "I don't remember ordering a delivery... oh... my..." Alric snatches up the parcel like a spoiled child flipping a silver piece to the courier as a last minute after thought, without looking or having very good aim. He then rushes to his room with it. He asks for some assistance since the buckles and straps are more complicated and far more numerous than his current set. As he dons the armour, he marvels at how well it fits as each piece slips onto his arms as if they were a second skin.
When Alric decends you see him clad from head to toe in a full-body suit of interlacing, lobstered steel plate that is both regal and menacing to behold. Each plate has an enameled pattern of splashing grey and white, as if they were flames, if not for the colour. As he moves, each one of the plates seamlessly fold and unfold, within each other with the soft sound of 2 smooth stones rubbing between each other, both providing Alric unparralleled protection and displaying the visual impression of a grey lobster made humanoid form. The helm has 2 steel wings, gulling down along his jawbone, each wing enameled with the same pattern as the plates, and a fan of black horsehair cascades backwards from it's top. Each plate is unblemished and smooth, but matte rather than reflective. It looks mercilessly heavy, but Alric stands tall and walks naturally. For those of you who have seen them, the armour is quite reminiscent of Ragesian champion footman armour, save one detail, it's colours.
Turning to Bannock, "Tis' good workmanship, no?"
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Lunch with a halfling
Around noon, Kirio, and whomever accompanies him, heads out into the streets and makes his way to Scholar's Respite for his lunch meeting with the halfling he met only yesterday. The inn is fairly empty but is warm, clean and dry. Fresh logs spit and sputter in the hearth, the floor is recently swept and the smell of baking bread fills the air.
The innkeep, happy to see his star performer return, invites you to sit at a table of your choosing and he then orders his staff around to prepare a meal for the group. As everyone sits down and makes themselves comfortable, a voice speaks out from behind you. Turning around, you see the halfling named Smeed. His dark cowl has been pulled back so you can see his weathered face, greasy blonde hair and dark green eyes. One hand sits on the hilt of his rapier and the other supports his body weight as he leans against a wooden pillar.
"Ahhhh Queerio! True to yer words eh mate? Time for a nibble n' a chat. Me eyes see you brought sum o' yer friends." He starts to walk over to the table. "Well order me an ale already ye silly elf. We be needin' a bite n' a quaff while we yammer 'bout me offer from b'fore."
Around noon, Kirio, and whomever accompanies him, heads out into the streets and makes his way to Scholar's Respite for his lunch meeting with the halfling he met only yesterday. The inn is fairly empty but is warm, clean and dry. Fresh logs spit and sputter in the hearth, the floor is recently swept and the smell of baking bread fills the air.
The innkeep, happy to see his star performer return, invites you to sit at a table of your choosing and he then orders his staff around to prepare a meal for the group. As everyone sits down and makes themselves comfortable, a voice speaks out from behind you. Turning around, you see the halfling named Smeed. His dark cowl has been pulled back so you can see his weathered face, greasy blonde hair and dark green eyes. One hand sits on the hilt of his rapier and the other supports his body weight as he leans against a wooden pillar.
"Ahhhh Queerio! True to yer words eh mate? Time for a nibble n' a chat. Me eyes see you brought sum o' yer friends." He starts to walk over to the table. "Well order me an ale already ye silly elf. We be needin' a bite n' a quaff while we yammer 'bout me offer from b'fore."
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The Bashar
First Post
Hrimr sits with Kirio. He nods at the Halfing when he begins talking to Kirio.
Waiting for Kirio to pick up the conversation, Hrimr has a look around the Inn to make sure no one suspicious is watching the party.
Waiting for Kirio to pick up the conversation, Hrimr has a look around the Inn to make sure no one suspicious is watching the party.
Adjuntive
First Post
Alric's scowl follows Smeed from the bar to the table, to his seat with intensity. Not expressing outright disgust, but just enough to show he wouldn't think twice about separating the halfling's head from his shoulders.
Seeing Kirio is rather distracted by the music or one of the wenches at the moment, Alric addresses Smeed in a voice that hopefully doesn't carry to other tables, but doing so without looking conspicuous, "Smeed I presume..." Alric's scowl momentarily curls into a wolfish grin for a moment, "If you wish to be paid in ale rather than a seventh of the spoils, that can be arranged." Alric takes a drag from a smoke, attempting to look casual and inconspicuous despite the fact he's wearing rather menacing looking full-plate mail in the middle of a tavern. "We accept your offer, on the condition that we move tonight if there's no good reason not to. We have little time to be wasted."
Seeing Kirio is rather distracted by the music or one of the wenches at the moment, Alric addresses Smeed in a voice that hopefully doesn't carry to other tables, but doing so without looking conspicuous, "Smeed I presume..." Alric's scowl momentarily curls into a wolfish grin for a moment, "If you wish to be paid in ale rather than a seventh of the spoils, that can be arranged." Alric takes a drag from a smoke, attempting to look casual and inconspicuous despite the fact he's wearing rather menacing looking full-plate mail in the middle of a tavern. "We accept your offer, on the condition that we move tonight if there's no good reason not to. We have little time to be wasted."
"Hmmm? Who be speakin'?" exclaims Smeed with a look of feigned confusion on his face. "All I be seein' is a suit o' armor. If there be a man b'neath that dandy's steel, he surely be makin' up fer a wee twig of a boyhood." He giggles to himself as lunch and ale are brought to the table. He rubs his hands together and digs in, grasping a chunk of warm bread, a bit of cheese and fills a mug with beer. "Right then. Fair share t'little ol' Smeed n' Smeed be showin' ye where yer marks be hidin'." he says through a full mouth. "Me birdies be knowin' the place. You be meetin' Smeed at the docks in the South Harbour t'night. Mid o' the night. Ye late, deal be off. Ye tailed by anyone e'er than who I be seein' here t'day ... including the oaf behind me there with the big ol' spear, deal be off. An if any o' ye venturers be even flirtin' with the notion that Smeed don't get 'is share when the bodies is still coolin' ... well, it ain't a good day fer ye then." He takes a bite of cheese and between chews he looks around the table and points his thumb towards Alric. "An sum of yous be tellin' this 'ere twat that he looks a right fool in that plate. T'night we spill blood n' take our fill o' gold. We've no time fer dressin' up like Sir Weedick."
Hrimr there are other people in the inn, but you don't notice anyone watching the party or looking suspicious.
Hrimr there are other people in the inn, but you don't notice anyone watching the party or looking suspicious.
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The Bashar
First Post
After looking around the bar while Smeed is talking Hrimr brings his attention back to the Halfling.
"What kind of opposition can we expect? Any idea how many of them there are in this hideout?"
"What kind of opposition can we expect? Any idea how many of them there are in this hideout?"
"Ahhh questions o' import from a dwarf wrapped up in the fur o' a wild sow!" says Smeed with smirk. He drinks from his ale, belches and continues. "Truth be tellin' ye bearded animal, Smeed don't be knowin'. There be yer mark n' his cronies, that be f'sure. Yer mark be a fella I be havin' eyes on fer a while. Has a boss f'sure as well, n' likely a fist full o' fellow killers. Others is likely, as be traps n' wards n' such ... t'least be the way Smeed'd kit out a hideaway. Me bridies be tellin' there may be sumfin' else s'well, fer where we be headed ... locals think it be haunted."
