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<blockquote data-quote="covaithe" data-source="post: 5067249" data-attributes="member: 46559">The man's face falls.&nbsp; He sighs quietly, then moves to the door and flips a small sign into the &quot;closed&quot; position.&nbsp; &quot;Tell me what happened,&quot; he says in a shaky voice.&nbsp; The next hour is an awkward and painful one, as you explain your story to him as gently as possible, showing him the corroded belt buckle and what goods you were able to recover from the wagon.&nbsp; His youngest son, a teenage boy named Conrad, comes in halfway through, prompting another round of retelling and a fresh wave of tears.&nbsp; At last all the explanations are done, and the elder Marchwand takes a deep breath.&nbsp; &quot;Thank you kindly, strangers, for bringing me this news.&nbsp; At least now we know.&nbsp; I can't offer you much for a reward, but I'd be grateful if you would take these potions.&nbsp; They don't sell, in a town like this, and, well, I'd rather folks like you have 'em than they just go bad sittin' on a shelf.&nbsp; Sister Anemone made 'em, and they pack quite a punch, I'm told.&quot;&nbsp; He takes four dusty vials off of the shelf behind the counter, pressing them on you.&nbsp; [sblock=ooc]Sorry for rushing through this; I was getting blocked on this scene and, RP-a-riffic though it is, it's not really central to the story.&nbsp; I'd rather move on.&nbsp; The potions are Cure Moderate Wounds, caster level 3.&nbsp; [/sblock]</blockquote>

[QUOTE="covaithe, post: 5067249, member: 46559"] The man's face falls. He sighs quietly, then moves to the door and flips a small sign into the "closed" position. [color=tan]"Tell me what happened,"[/color] he says in a shaky voice. The next hour is an awkward and painful one, as you explain your story to him as gently as possible, showing him the corroded belt buckle and what goods you were able to recover from the wagon. His youngest son, a teenage boy named Conrad, comes in halfway through, prompting another round of retelling and a fresh wave of tears. At last all the explanations are done, and the elder Marchwand takes a deep breath. [color=tan]"Thank you kindly, strangers, for bringing me this news. At least now we know. I can't offer you much for a reward, but I'd be grateful if you would take these potions. They don't sell, in a town like this, and, well, I'd rather folks like you have 'em than they just go bad sittin' on a shelf. Sister Anemone made 'em, and they pack quite a punch, I'm told."[/color] He takes four dusty vials off of the shelf behind the counter, pressing them on you. [sblock=ooc]Sorry for rushing through this; I was getting blocked on this scene and, RP-a-riffic though it is, it's not really central to the story. I'd rather move on. The potions are Cure Moderate Wounds, caster level 3. [/sblock] [/QUOTE]

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