St. Ulthar's Medallion


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Coreuth listens to the terms. "Oh yes, these gravediggers should pay for defiling the grave!" she states in mock indignation, giggling. "...but what of our compensation?"
 

Day One: Meeting with Mael Loïc

Coreuth listens to the terms. "Oh yes, these gravediggers should pay for defiling the grave!" she states in mock indignation, giggling. "...but what of our compensation?"

Loïc frowns. "I asked for a counter proposal, not mockery aimed at my faith. Do you have something constructive to add?"
 

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a bunch. I'm only teasing." Coreuth deliberately taps her lips with her index finger as her eyes glaze over in thought. "How 'bout...a thousand gold each, for the mission you propose?"
 

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a bunch. I'm only teasing." Coreuth deliberately taps her lips with her index finger as her eyes glaze over in thought. "How 'bout...a thousand gold each, for the mission you propose?"

Loïc's frown deepens. Overhead, the birds' rustling grows still again. The merchant prince waves dismissively at Coreuth and says, "You may depart now. I shall negotiate with these others instead."
 


'Despite her lack of decorum, she is going to be typical of what you will face if you hope to revive your faith. Perhaps as a way to find some common ground, a upfront payment of 50 gp or a potion of Cure Light Wounds, and then another 250 gp at the end, along with whatever disturbed items we can reclaim from the goblins. It's not cheap, but if viewed as a necessary down payment to getting the public to take notice of St. Ulthar, as well as your own personal business, could end up being beneficial in the long run." Quillian, well versed in negotiations over salary, leaves the elf no more time to comment.
 
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Holphin steps ahead. "Do please forgive my companion, her ways are not ours. In any case, I would believe Quillian is approximately correct. A purse of a value of 500 gold coins, plus whatever equipment we deem worth keeping from the goblins, would be acceptable. If half the purse were made payable in advance, I would suggest that it be delivered in a Potion of Cure Light Wounds for each of us, as proof of dedication to the cause. We would, of course, not partake in any graverobbing of any kind, as we are all good, cultured individuals."
 

Bozzago let out a cluck of annoyance at Coreuth's blatant greed, perhaps as rustled as the birds overhead. A thousand gold each would have sounded about right to him a year or so ago, but he had turned over a new feather since then. Well, at least he was trying to.

"This one will accept whatever you can afford to give," he said at last, "the rest can come off whatever those vile creatures might hold."
 

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