[Eberron] The Forgotten Forge

[MadMaxim]

Gannon is rather insulted by the dwarf's remark about leaving these things for the city watch and not even get a thank you for stopping the murderer. "Considering that the city watch obviously cannot be everywhere at once, upstanding citizens have to help each other out once in a while, wouldn't you agree?" he says to the dwarf.

 

[Old Fezziwig]

The dwarf looks at Plonk. "I'll take that as the compliment it might have been intended as, I think." He then turns to Gannon, frowning. "Considering that upstanding citizens aren't paid to keep the peace and trained in the investigation of crimes and their prosecution under Brelish law, wouldn't you agree that the Watch should probably handle most criminal matters? You're on fairly thin ice. I'm letting you go because I like your friends, especially the gnome, and I think I like you well enough. I don't trust any of you, but I trust her," he points to the woman that spoke on your behalf, "and that's good enough for me to let you all walk. I've heard too many tall tales and plain out lies to believe a group of misfits standing around a corpse and a decimated warforged without having a decent gut feeling about them. I feel good enough about the lot of you to let you go. Be happy about that, and remember my advice."

The crowd backs off a bit as Rawhide jumps off the warforged (sometime during the dwarf's monologue). When the dwarf finishes, he smiles at the shifter. "Thanks, lad." Then, to his compatriots, "All right you two, let's get some back up and pack these bodies up." The woman blows a couple of short shrill blasts on the whistle, summoning a few extra members of the Watch to help with the heavy warforged.

 

[Krug]

"Well, the Watch will do its job now laddies," says Plonk. He's DYING to read what's on the note. "And I think we should gather for a drink since we managed to avoid being put in a jailcell today yess?"

Plonk will try to find an excuse to read the note, perhaps going to the little gnome's room.

 

[MadMaxim]

I may not be a part of the city watch around these parts, but if it weren't for us that killer machine would still be roaming Sharn. Stubborn dwarf... Well, it probably won't do me any good to object any longer, so I'll just keep cool and see what this murder was all about. The city watch is probably not going to do a thing about it, because people get murdered everyday in the city for as little as a couple of silver pieces... He turns to face the gnome, bows and introduces himself: "Gannon Relstorf, traveling cleric. And that is the best proposal I've heard all day, my good gnome. I would be happy to join you for a drink."

 

[Knight Otu]

As the city watch leaves, and people start introducing each other, Flawed turns towards them. It does not quite understand the need to celebrate, but it hopes that it can talk about the assault if it accompanies the others.

"I am Flawed. While I have no need of drink, it does not harm me. I would like to come with you. But if you excuse me first, I need to take care of my repairs."

(OOC: Use my scroll of repair light damage, even if I retained my casting)

 

[Ashy]

The crowd backs off a bit as Rawhide jumps off the warforged (sometime during the dwarf's monologue). When the dwarf finishes, he smiles at the shifter. "Thanks, lad."

Rawhide gives the dwarf a turt nod followed by a deep-throated, short, snorting sound. He then plucks a half-eaten piece of fruit out of his matted mass of hair and armor and begins absent-mindedly gnawing on it...

When the gnome mentions a drink, Rawhide stops as if frozen on the spot. Looking directly at the gnome with wide, wide eyes he nods and speaks slowly, "D-r-i-n-k."

He grins knowingly...

 

[Old Fezziwig]

Flawed: You tend to your injuries [Repair light damage, roll of 5 on 1d8+1, 5 hp repaired, scroll expended].

Everyone: The closest tavern nearby is a semi-respectable hovel called the Breland Night Owl in Delannan Tower. Its sign depicts a midnight blue owl with stars for eyes stretching its wings out as if taking off. You can see cobwebs in the crook where the sign's support beam meets the building.

When you enter, you see that the clientele are semi-respectable citizens engaged in their usual (and, likely, semi-respectable) business. What food they serve smells good, and the house ale is a rich copper with a slight scent of nutmeg and cranberry. A table sits empty in the corner, half engulfed in shadow, half out, an everbright lantern bathing it in a weak golden light.

The bartender calls over to you from behind the bar. "Sit whereever ye like, fellahs. Someone'll be over to tend to ye in short order."

Plonk: The satchel is a little heavy for just a piece of paper. You feel some quills in there, as well as what feels like a book.

OOC for Knight Otu: Since I already ruled on it, you keep the spell, but in the future, we'll follow the rulebook. Thanks for the heads up.

 

[Ashy]

Rawhide lopes over to the table, and springs into one of the shadowed chairs. He starts banging on the table, chanting, "Drink!--Drink!--Drink!--". His words are rough sounding, almost like the bark of a large dog.

 

[Krug]

Plonk can't stand it anymore, and opens the satchel in front of everyone. "From our victim, laddies. Let's see what he's got. This is all in an archaelogical curiosity sense, and not a tomb looter kind of way, just in case you're wondering, I'm a gnome, not a (coughs) halfling," says Plonk. "By the way, name is Plonk. Clock repairer by trade, adventurer by divine design." Plonk continues to examine the Warforged. By gosh. Look at those... those gears! He turns away if Flawed finds him staring.

 

[MadMaxim]

Gannon nods to the bartender, walks over to the table and sits down on one of the chairs. He puts his shield next to the chair and looks at the shifter. What could possibly be going on in that creature's head? I always thought shifters were more intelligent and had better manners, but I guess I've come across one of the really feral ones. I never really understood why the Church of the Silver Flame hunted them down. They may have lycanthrope blood running in their veins, but still... Gannon snaps out of his philosophical thinking when the gnome who goes by the name of Plonk opens the satchel. I wonder what man was killed for. It has to be in there...