[Game Thread] Chapter 1: Sellswords of Luskan

[TheHumanDynamo]

Throwing the body of Harbek into the wagon, Ginagel sits atop the corpse for the ride home, looking over their haul. As talk of the betting and fight breaks out, Ginagel seems about to speak until Baslim mentions Jaeron's inability to win the fight. The Dwarf grows confused and says nothing, and remains unusually silent until the reach the island.

Unloading the gear with the street toughs, Ginagel grunts and sweats under the weight of all of their plunder. Grabbing one end of the strongbox, he helps carry it up to Pendrax's room. When the talk of betting begins, Ginagel nods and smiles, "Course I can bet, how much you want me to be putting down? And what do I need the teeth for? The ears only want if we gettin paid for proof of our work. Otherwise I could care less."

[Ravenminded]

Pendrax follows Baslim's lead as they unload at the cargo dock "Well his type are all run in head first swinging. Beside's with the way he's been fighting lately...if he goes down that'll be all the reason we need to replace him, won't it?""

Once they reach his room, Pendrax chuckles as Baslim explains things to Ginagel. When asked about their funds, the Tiefling open his book "Hmm...We've four hundred and seventeen gold and 5 silver in un-split coin. With all the slave's we've brought back...We should be seeing a cut off around five hundred gold perhaps. And that's not counting all the extras. We just brought them around two hundred gold worth of grain and around another two hundred gold in armor...but that's being generous since we've made it well used."

Pendrax shuts his book with a chuckle, unable to hide his devilish smile "I'd say we're going quite well for a coming to Luskan with next to nothing. The wagon and horses are worth something as well but I'd suggest we hold on to them. Wouldn't hurt to have something to carry our things, now would it my boys."

He looks back to the chest and lockbox, tapping his chin "Hmm...I'm a little concerned with leaving all this money buy itself though. Makes me wish I'd bothered to study a lock ritual. Well I could ward room with a sentry but that would just make an alarm, wouldn't stop anyone."

OOC Actions: Aid Another: +2 to Baslim's Bluff

[FreeRange]

Zin hops up onto the drivers seat of the wagon and pull soul his wand to play a lively working tune, hoping that the others would understand that him providing entertainment would be much more useful than him actually trying to carry things... they had seen the size of his muscles right?

With the goods loaded Zin takes up the reins and cracks the whip to get the team started. "Yup, I drove a team or two back in my youth, parents where traders ya know. I find I have a way with animals, and driving a wagon of this size down the narrow streets of Luskan takes a deft hand, and two of em." This last with a wink at Baslim.

Back at the barracks Zin first aids Baslim in his attempt to bamboozle the Dragon's toughs with a rousing story of the momentous battle that will be taking place between the two warriors, bardic skill's in no small part include promotion, for if own cannot rouse interest in one's own deeds than who will?

The Zin follows Pendrax up to his room to look after the chest, it's not that he doesn't trust the tiefling exactly but Zin knows better than most that that much gold can make a man do some strange things. He also shares Pendrax's concerns about the safety of their booty. "Hmmm I have no locking ritual but I do have a spell that could create a false wall behind which we could put the chest, hiding it from the casual observer, sound good?

Without waiting for consent the little gnome pulls out a pinch of residium from his belt pouch and sets to creating the illusion.

Actions Aid Baslim's Bluff for +2 = 20 Ritual: Hallucinatory Item (phb p 206) Arcana Check = 34

[Ravenminded]

Pendrax nods in approve at Zin's illusion "Ah excellent my friend, it seems we're lucky to have picked you up after all." he chuckles and pats the gnome on the shoulder.

[DannoE]

It takes some time before the party gets settled. In the first place, you never even saw your rooms last night. It’s funny. You came into town as paupers—happy just to sleep on the floor in the Dragon’s throne room—and now you’re worried about strong-boxes and whatnot.

For his part, Thor is more than happy to show you the way. As he walks through the barracks common room, you can’t help but notice a strut in his step.

“Hey mate!” one of the local sellswords calls as Thor leads you through, “What’s got you so chipper?”

“Ain’t you got eyes, Dorgan?” Thor fires back. “Can’t you see we got plunder?”

The strongbox and chest are innocuous enough—even if they are filled with gold and other booty—but when Pendrax comes through with a load of bloody platemail floating on a magic disk, every eye in the room turns towards you. Even Ginagel can tell that the group’s standing in the local hierarchy just went up.

“Blimey!” Dorgan says under his breath.

Loo-Ting appears a minute later. He takes in the scene, and his eyebrows go up. “I was gonna ask how things went with Killian this morning, but I guess they must’a gone pretty damned well.” He shakes his head. “Tymora’s tits! I wish she’d let me go, too! I could’a used a new cloak and a nice feather quill. Ah well… such is the life of a wand-for-hire.” Loot-Ting pauses. Then he smiles. “Say... was that Michael Oversteegan I saw trussed up over by the slave barracks? Takes some stones to haul his ass in here. Ol’ Harbek’s gonna lose his mind when hears you got his boy Michael in the lockdown.”

Thor smiles. He spends a minute relating the events of the morning, including what happened with Harbek in the marketplace, and eventually Loo-Ting laughs. He looks at Jaeron. “So you killed old Harbeck, and now you’re gonna fight Michael in a Deathmatch? This I gotta see. Gods! Now I REALLY wish I’d gone with you. Damn it all! What’m I gonna wear to this thing?”

“What are you gonna wear?” Thor sighs theatrically, then prances around, presumably imitating an overly effeminate mage. “Oh what’ll I wear? Oh! It’ll be the event o’ the season! Oh! Maybe a handsome prince’ll show up and take me away from this life of toil and misery!” Thor laughs at himself and then swings one arm around Loo-Ting’s shoulders. “It’s a bloody Deathmatch, mate! Nobody gives a crap what you wear!”

Loo-Ting sniffs, unmoved. “It WILL be the event of the season and you know it. EVERYBODY will be there.”

“So what?” Thor replies. “Y’ain’t got to dress up for the whores, Loo. Even the boy-whores only care about yer golds.”

“Thor, you are a cretin.”

“I am what I am.” Thor shrugs. He turns to you. “You lot ready to go see your rooms?”

You walk out, and every eye in the place follows you. Of course, they’d all overheard your conversation, but as you go, it quickly becomes apparent that the few small words you’d dropped when you got off the barge have also had some effect. Several of the larger, more sober looking sellswords watch you closely, and one or two point—always at Jaeron. Moreover, you can hear them muttering.

“...wonder... say they’re gonna need a new...”

“...like a profitable little group. Bet I could jus’...”

You trudge up the stairs after Thor, eventually coming to a trio of rooms on the second floor. It’s a stone barracks, sure enough, and it’s cold and dry, but you notice that each room has both a small barred window and a small wood-burning stove. Moreover, a bit of fuel has been laid in each stove, though none have been lit. It’s a decent enough set-up—certainly you’ve seen worse—but as you’d suspected, it’s far from secure.

Thor shows you in, looking more than a little sheepish. “You’ll have to double-up, I’m afraid, but it’s not so bad. ‘Least you won’t have to worry ‘bout being knifed in yer sleep while you’re all alone, anyway. Anybody tryin’ to break in here’ll have to get to two o’ ye at the same time. That’ll probably keep ye safer in’a long run.”

Loo-Ting comes in a minute later. “Illyria will see you at the next bell. She also says that you can store your earnings downstairs until you get a chance to install a proper safe up here. She says she won’t buy the armor ‘cause it’s too small and it’s all banged up to boot, but she’ll give you a hundred fifty for the food stores and another fifty for the horses and the wagon if you have a mind to sell ‘em.” Loo shrugs. “You might do better out on the street, but she’s offering ready cash. I don’t know if that means anything to you though.

At last, Loo-Ting looks at Zin's illusion. "Nice work, mate. That'll work great 'til we get a chance to get this stored downstairs.”

[HFLep]

Jaeron lets the various glares and questions by the henchmen talking of his upcoming fight slide off him, keeping his face neutral as Thor shows the group to their rooms. He cracks a bit of a smile when Thor and Loo-ting talk of what to wear for the upcoming match, even going so far as to suggest that Loo-ting can just go naked, That'd be one outfit that'd be remembered for years. Provided you survive the frost bite.

Still, when the rooms are shown, Jaeron takes a careful look around, in particular to see if there are any heavier objects one can prop against the door or jam the door with from within. If there are, he'll point it out to the others. We should probably split them up so that there's a fighter in every room. So, maybe, Baslim and Ginagel, me and Pendrax, and Zin . . . uh, with Atropo?

He looks to the avenger, seeming a but surprised, I did not realize you're bunking with us. I thought the Dragon intended you only to help us on the one mission we were on. Are we to assume you'll be a more permanent installation of our group here?

Anyway . . . I say we get ourselves some of the food from that cart and eat something before the Dragon calls us up. I don't know if I want the hassle of going through and selling the food piecemeal on the streets when the Dragon's offering a decent amount of gold, but we should save some of it for our own use. He cracks a bit of a grin there, rubbing his stomach, And I am a bit hungry. I guess going through two gangs in one day tends to open up an appetite.

[Ravenminded]

Pendrax laughs at Jaeron's suggestion "I think we can eat better than grain now, my friend. Perhaps even her Ladyship will see fit to treat us to a fine meal...well anyway I agree lets just sell her the grain and be done with it, we're not street peddlers. I still think we should keep the wagon and horses for ourselves. As for the armor..." he grins "Well we might be able to put that to good use after I finish with Killian's books and we buy some supplies or we could just sell it to a smith or some of the Dragon's men."

The Tiefling yawns as he sits down and relaxes "At the very least I'll take care of our security problems once we can resupply."

[TheHumanDynamo]

Listening to the others, Ginagel snorts, "Aye, I'd be fine bunking with Baslim. At least with one hand I know he won't be trying to snatch me goods or me manhood, somethin I ain't so sure of with that Fairy. Zin, ya best be protecting your gold and your nethers, he might be trying to feel both in his palms.

As for the food, I was thinkin I could go try and sell it, I seem ta have a way with the locals after all," the Dwarf says with a wide grin, full of semi-rotted yellow teeth and whiskers shooting in every direction. "Sell it and be done with it if ya want though. As for the armor, I'd say start with the boys in the yard and give them first crack, anything they dont' want we can hock to a smith. By the way, them fools are up ta somethin with this fight. Jaeron, you kill the mook and I'll make sure none of them try ta even the odds in the favor of their betting...who knows? Maybe I'll be gettin ta kill someone during your fight."

[DannoE]

You’re escorted into the Dragon’s throne room a little while later. As before, you find Illyria sitting alone, attended by a few half-nude servants. When she sees you, she gets right to the point.

“Your golds are in those chests,” she says, pointing to a pair of large wooden boxes with heavy iron clasps and hinges. “You may count them if you wish; otherwise, I’ll have them taken downstairs and added to your pile.” She scowls. “I’ll store them for now, but I expect you to make your own arrangements within the week. I am your employer, not your counting house. Do not think that you can simply make deposits willy-nilly in my strong-room from now on.

“Now, with that out of the way, tell me what happened with that fool Harbek. Word of your little skirmish reached me long before you did, and indeed, a representative from the Shield of Mirabar has already been by to lodge a formal complaint.” You start to explain, but Illyria stops you with a wave of her hand. “Look, I don’t care that you got into a fight. This is Luskan, after all, and anyway, that bastard Harbek was a classless prick. But still… the Shield of Mirabar is an important organization to this city. They are practically the only check we have against Lucyan and his Church of Shar. Were it not for the Shield—and the food that they bring in—I’m not sure how the commoners would survive the winter. I suspect we’d be knee-deep in Shadovar priests, and believe me, we DO NOT want that.”

The Dragon shrugs. “I had to give them Michael. We could have kept him, I suppose, but really, it’s not worth the trouble. I mean, I don’t think that the Shield would mount a full-on siege of this place just to get back a single foot soldier, but they can be a tricky bunch. It’s all ‘Moradin and the Honor of the Clan’ with that lot. The stink they make about simple business!” Illyria shakes her head. “No, the Shield are not our true enemies. Fighting them is much more trouble than it’s worth, especially with Lucyan making moves. I’d prefer to pick my battles a bit more carefully than that. Besides, the Shield have the only skilled labor in the city; we may need them this spring… if things go well.

“So I gave them Michael… on the condition that he agree to meet you,” here she points to Jaeron, “in the Grand Arena a fortnight hence. We’ll make something of a spectacle of it, and one way or another, honor will be satisfied.” Illyria laughs. “He hardly required my encouragement, you know. Seems he fancies himself as something of a gladiator. He wouldn’t miss this fight for anything.

“So tell me Jaeron, has anyone explained the rules of the Arena to you?”

[TheHumanDynamo]

Being led in, Ginagel loses himself in his own greedy thoughts after the last meeting with the Dragon. All of those thoughts go crashing down around him though as they are chastized for the skirmish with the Dwarf. Never one to hold his tongue, the barbarian looks at the Dragon for a minute before speaking, "First, here is the proof ya asked for that Killian and his lot were dealt with," he says, tossing her the necklace of ears. It lands with a sickening thud on her desk before Ginagel continues. "As to the second matter, Harbek and his crew attacked us because of the 'cargo' you asked us to return to you. Ya best learn the facts fully next time before you decide to take on such a high and mighty tone. You may be our current employer, but that don't mean you are the only one who is willing to give gold to have their dirty work done, and the work we have done so far is nothing but that. Remember that before you decide to hand over our property again, cuz Michael wasn't your's. Damn the whores of Moradin, and damn Luskan for all I be carin. Had they let us be, your commoners would still have their food supplies without havin to come to anyone new. We won't be havin this talk again ya hear? You decide to hand out our things again, you'll be getting jewelry made from yer own men next."

After his speech, the Dwarf steps back to let Jaeron speak about the arena, listening with interest. It seems that gladiators and their craft are not lost on Ginagel. Indeed, the Dwarf seems fascinated by the prospect of the show.

[Nocturnal]

The avenger has been unusually silent for the entire trip back, not sharing in any of the revelry. All his attention has gone to keeping watch over the slaves and making sure they are transferred properly. His glower has a dark and moody cast and he speaks only when addressed, or to bark short orders to the slaves. That might just be normal, but the scowls he directs at Ginagel every so often hint to Jaeron and Baslim, the most insightful of the group, that he is probably spending the entire trip plotting ways to kill the dwarf, or worse. Jaeron speculates the Hunter must be infuriated at the barbarian for "stealing" Harbek from him.

When Jaeron inquires as to the sleeping arrangements, Atropo stiffly replies, "My mission is complete. If the Dragon needs me to accompany you for something else, she will say so. Rooms are limited. Don't take it to mean anything." He reaches up to fondle his sword hilt, glaring impassively at Ginagel. "Don't flatter yourself, little man," Atropo says in a deadpan voice. "What little manhood you might have may not stay attached for long."

The elf attends the meeting, but stays off to the side disinterestedly, occasionally patting one of the drakes until it snaps at him. He's seen an Arena fight or two during his time in Luskan, and thought his techniques should easily be able to take on any gladiator in it, but has yet to be given the chance to prove it. Perhaps if he has time off for the next few weeks, and a gladiatorial event is scheduled anyway, he may sign up for a fight as well.

[HFLep]

Jaron frown starts as Illyria explains what has happened, but deepens as Ginagel talks. He clears his throat after the dwarf has said his piece, nodding in acknowledgment to their employer, What my bearded companion says is somewhat crude, but correct, Lady. We gave the merchants from Mirabar every chance to simply move away and let us through. However, as soon as we even mentioned your name, Habrek attacked us, despite our attempts to talk our way past his men.

He motions around the group, We don't go around starting fights for the sheer fun of it . . . well, most of us don't. It's not profitable. If there wasn't for the loot in the wagon, our fight with Habrek would have been a complete waste of time. And while I am for testing myself with new challenges, there's no point in doing that when one is tired and at a disadvantage--as we were after our fairly impressive victory against forces that, to be quite honest, had 3-2 odds at killing us before our mission was complete. Killian's gang was much bigger and better organized than we thought. So, if anyone should be asking for reparations here, it's us, not the Mirabarans. We didn't attack them, they attacked us.

Still . . . he says, sighing, Since you did release the prisoner to their authority, what is done is done. Michael and I agreed to the fight already, so whether it's tomorrow or a fortnight from now isn't too important. I am not aware of the exact rules in the Arena, but I suppose it can't be all that different than most gladiatorial tournaments. You go in with your weapons and armor, and fight until one or the other drops. If there is more, I would appreciate you informing me of it.

[FreeRange]

The talk of business bores Zin and his eyes glaze as they talk. He doesn't let on, but he is just happy to have employment and the coin to know where his next meal is coming from. As long as the Dragon can keep the jobs coming, as long as there is gold involved, this bard is more than content.

The mention of the Grand Arena sparks his interest however. It's been years since he has seen a match but to his recollection they were always quite a show. Gesturing excitedly with his hands he jumps into the conversation.

"The Grand Arena you say? The GRAND ARENA?" The little gnome dances a little caper as he continues,

"Woohoo now this is gonna' be a hoot! Nobles from all around, exotic monsters, bloody battles fought to the death! More than enough raw material for a bard of my talents to compose an epic or two. "

He assumes a fighting stance and and points a skinny finger at Jaeron, "I can see it now, Jaeron entering the arena to the sound of blaring horns, armor polished and gleaming, the crowd restless and ready for blood, chanting your name."

"I can hardly wait! A fortnight you say? That may be enough time for me to see if some of my old family contacts are still about to inquire about making this a more profitable venture for all of us, if things haven't changed too much there is a healthy market for side bets to go along with the straightforward betting of who wins and loses"

He scratches his pointed chin as he thinks, "If we were so inclined we could probably also add ourselves to the lists of gladiators as well... though to speak truly I would probably be of more use making our bets and working the crowd than flexing my muscles in the arena"

Zin loses his train of thought and he trails off as he begins theorizing about what kind of side bets he would make, ... "Let's see there is first blood, first knockdown, most hits, most misses, most teeth lost... hmm what else..." By the end Zin has wandered to the far side of the room completely lost in the tabulation of all his imaginary winnings.

[Ravenminded]

Pendrax isn't really surprised when Illyria isn't pleased with their tangle with the caravan, it certainly isn't the first time that someone they hired has been unhappy when the unexpected happens in the field. He does frown however when she tells him Michael was released but that quickly disappears at the mention of the Grand Arena, a grin even break outs when Zin goes into his dramtics. "My my..." he says to himself as he also thinks about the potential profits.

The matter at hand draws him back however as he looks to the Dragon "As we have said, My Lady, we would have been more than happy to forgo a fight but what's done is done. On the upside perhaps now the Shield will sternly warn its men to no longer interfer with the Dragon's troops and certainly the food we've secured, and will sell to you for your generous offer, is not completely unwelcome." the Tiefling bowing politely as he addresses their patron. "I assure you we will also make arrangements for our things quickly and thank you for your care in the mean while...still as you've said the Shield is only but a thorn in your side, a useful tool at best, while Lucyan is the true threat. Perhaps then we can turn these bothersome events to our advantage and teach the thorn that sticking the Dragon will only burn the rose.

[DannoE]

"Now boys," the Dragon says, "no Dragon likes to be threatened in her own lair. I'll appreciate you more if you can mind your manners. Hmph.

"Besides, look at it like businessmen. As a slave, Michael wasn't worth the effort--trust me. Even if you dressed him up a like a girl and took him all the way to the markets in Calimport, you'd get at best 350 gold for him. Meanwhile, the purse for fighting him in the Arena is likely to be twice that. Of course, you do have to WIN the fight, but you've been such magnificent sellswords up to now, that I see that as no big obstacle. Do you?

“Now... the Arena’s rules are simple,” Illyria explains. “It’s a straight, man-on-man blood sport. By tradition, no heavy armor or shields are allowed. The mob comes to see blood! Quarter is neither asked nor given. You may wear a gladiator’s cuirass if you must, and you may carry a light shield. But I tell you truly, it’s deemed better form to show up bare.

“You MUST win over the crowd! Winning the crowd is as important as winning your match! The mob loves a winner and hates a loser. If you can win over the people, they will help you. If you lose them… well, I’ve seen a victorious gladiator stoned to death as he was climbing down from the Pedestal. It’s not a pleasant way to go. And for you, Jaeron, it will be all the harder since the Shield will be out in force. They will not make it easy on you. If you’re lucky, perhaps your comrades will help balance the scales, but it will take more than simple violence. I think that you’ll have to turn the various mobs against each other to truly have a chance at controlling the situation.

“Still, if you think you can win easily, I would advise you to try to save some of your strength for later in the evening. Once a gladiator has proven himself, he often becomes a target. You may be challenged right then and there for a follow-up duel that very night if there is another champion present. Or, if you appear too strong, a rival may try to take you after you’ve gone from the Arena. The Grand Arena is in the Underdark, after all; it is a place where there is no notion of personal honor.

“I, of course, have a box at the Arena. Lucyan has one as well, as do some of the local drow. There is also a large visitor’s box, which often hosts some of the high members of the Shield of Mirabar. We also see the occasional slumming nobleman from one of the surface cities, and sometimes we even get orcish nobles from Dark Arrow Keep. The nights when they show up tend to be… raucous. But I like them. They’re passionate, and they honor their bargains.

“There is usually more than one fight at the Arena, so if any of the rest of you would like a match, I can try to arrange one.” Illyria gestures to Pendrax and Baslim. “Spell duels are particularly popular, especially among the drow. Their people make excellent spellswords, you know. It would likely earn you great repute to defeat a drow spellmaster.”