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<blockquote data-quote="BoldItalic" data-source="post: 7342287" data-attributes="member: 6777052"><p>Seeing the poor man's plight, the three fellows, who were basically good-hearted and sympathetic, put their heads together and came up with a combined hat size of 21¾. "We know what to do," they announced. "You need to come to an arrangment with the Redbrands, for them to steal your cartloads of supplies as fast as they are returned, take them secretly back to Neverwinter by the other road and sell them back to Gundren Rockseeker in time for the next lot of adventurers to turn up on his doorstep. Then you go halves with the Redbrands for whatever he pays them. That way, there's only <em>one</em> actual cartload and it gets recycled."</p><p></p><p>The trader, whose name was Sellmore Barthen, thought for a while, then nodded. "So, I get a profit, the mob gets a profit, and no one's any the wiser?"</p><p></p><p>"Yes. It's win-win."</p><p></p><p>"See, my ol' dad Elmar allus tol' me, if'n it be too good to be true, it be too good to be true. <em>Where's Gundren get the money from</em>, to keep payin' out fur the same cartload over 'n over again?"</p><p></p><p>"You get the adventurers to steal the gold back from the Redbrands when they attack the hideout, then send them back to Neverwinter to deliver it to Gundren."</p><p></p><p>We leave the scene in the trading post, where Sellmore was moving around small pieces of cheese (representing carts) and copper pieces (representing sums of gold) as he tried to figure out the flaw in the scheme, and return to the two ladies in the otherwise deserted common room of the inn.</p><p></p><p>They had their heads together and were both talking at the same time, as ladies do, and to any passing eavesdropper it would appear that they were exchanging idle gossip and nothing of consequence was being said. Assuming the eavesdropper was male, of course. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth and when Sister Garaele came in looking for survivors of the recent combat to heal, she knew instantly what was going on and decided that if anyone was going to be weak, poor and oppressed it might well be Od. Being an agent of the Harpers, she was always on the lookout for someone to recruit and she thought it was just possible that Od might be a suitable candidate. Finding no one to apply her medical skills to, she gave a cheerful wave and left.</p><p></p><p>"So, no ten foot poles, then," grumbled Nord as they left the trading post. "I s'pose a quarterstaff would do instead. Shall we try the Lionshields place?"</p><p></p><p>"Good idea," agreed Herewulf. "I need some metal polish anyway."</p><p></p><p>You can see what's going to happen, can't you? As they were crossing the town green, who should they meet but Sister Garaele? "Oh my," she began, "You do look poor."</p><p></p><p>"Not at all, madam," replied Hereward, "We own fifty tons of gold. It's just that we've temporarily become separated from it."</p><p></p><p>"Yes, yes, of course you have. Do you often get these headaches? Why, your hands are as cold as ice!"</p><p></p><p>"Those are my gauntlets, madam." </p><p></p><p>"And you must be feeling odd too," she continued, quite oblivious to what Hereward was saying and looking down at the halfling (she was quite tall, for an elf).</p><p></p><p>"Yes, madam, Od the Bard at your service. Would you care to hear a song? I accept donations."</p><p></p><p>Nord had not been paying much attention to these exchanges, because he had seen something that the others hadn't ...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BoldItalic, post: 7342287, member: 6777052"] Seeing the poor man's plight, the three fellows, who were basically good-hearted and sympathetic, put their heads together and came up with a combined hat size of 21¾. "We know what to do," they announced. "You need to come to an arrangment with the Redbrands, for them to steal your cartloads of supplies as fast as they are returned, take them secretly back to Neverwinter by the other road and sell them back to Gundren Rockseeker in time for the next lot of adventurers to turn up on his doorstep. Then you go halves with the Redbrands for whatever he pays them. That way, there's only [i]one[/i] actual cartload and it gets recycled." The trader, whose name was Sellmore Barthen, thought for a while, then nodded. "So, I get a profit, the mob gets a profit, and no one's any the wiser?" "Yes. It's win-win." "See, my ol' dad Elmar allus tol' me, if'n it be too good to be true, it be too good to be true. [i]Where's Gundren get the money from[/i], to keep payin' out fur the same cartload over 'n over again?" "You get the adventurers to steal the gold back from the Redbrands when they attack the hideout, then send them back to Neverwinter to deliver it to Gundren." We leave the scene in the trading post, where Sellmore was moving around small pieces of cheese (representing carts) and copper pieces (representing sums of gold) as he tried to figure out the flaw in the scheme, and return to the two ladies in the otherwise deserted common room of the inn. They had their heads together and were both talking at the same time, as ladies do, and to any passing eavesdropper it would appear that they were exchanging idle gossip and nothing of consequence was being said. Assuming the eavesdropper was male, of course. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth and when Sister Garaele came in looking for survivors of the recent combat to heal, she knew instantly what was going on and decided that if anyone was going to be weak, poor and oppressed it might well be Od. Being an agent of the Harpers, she was always on the lookout for someone to recruit and she thought it was just possible that Od might be a suitable candidate. Finding no one to apply her medical skills to, she gave a cheerful wave and left. "So, no ten foot poles, then," grumbled Nord as they left the trading post. "I s'pose a quarterstaff would do instead. Shall we try the Lionshields place?" "Good idea," agreed Herewulf. "I need some metal polish anyway." You can see what's going to happen, can't you? As they were crossing the town green, who should they meet but Sister Garaele? "Oh my," she began, "You do look poor." "Not at all, madam," replied Hereward, "We own fifty tons of gold. It's just that we've temporarily become separated from it." "Yes, yes, of course you have. Do you often get these headaches? Why, your hands are as cold as ice!" "Those are my gauntlets, madam." "And you must be feeling odd too," she continued, quite oblivious to what Hereward was saying and looking down at the halfling (she was quite tall, for an elf). "Yes, madam, Od the Bard at your service. Would you care to hear a song? I accept donations." Nord had not been paying much attention to these exchanges, because he had seen something that the others hadn't ... [/QUOTE]
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