Renew the Pact: Time of our Lives, part 3
Log Info
- Title: Renew the Pact: Time of our Lives, part 3
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Paenitia, Aryia, Seyardu, Fallon, Lyme
- Place: Goldcoast of Veyshan,Tashraan
- Time: Friday, June 11, 2021, 9:08 PM
- Summary: The adventurers are in Tashraan's market, scoping out the competition. Paenitia, with Ramirez, and Lyme are in one group; Ayria and Seyardu are in a second, and Fallon is drifting between the two. Pae and Lyme sucessfully indentify a big spender, who absolutely must have a Rust Monster. Aryia and Seyardu, with Fallon's assistance, determine there's a couple that appear to be at odds, who aren't. The party returns to the Medusa's Gaze and informs Farland. He cheers up, insists everyone buy better clothes for the auction. Clothes he selects. Clothes they would never, ever wear. Seyardu ends up in a rainbow-feathered suit, with wings and a tail extension, resembling a Couatl. Paenitia gets platform shoes that resemble a tower with a moat, complete with turret, which bring her up to human height. She becomes the damsel in distress in the tower. Aryia, the heavily scarred shadow elf, turns out in a frilly green dress, a round hoop gown with too many beads, a wide green hat and rainbow feathers also. It is the time of rainbows. Lyme sports a pure white suit, wide brimmed hat with a swan's tail of feathers. Fallon dresses in a festive doublet with far too many buttons and ruffles. He looks royal, regal, and dashing. Farland himself turns out in pink and purple, also with a feathered hat. No, the feathers are not because of anyone's bird-horse. Leader and entourage complete, they head to the auction site, find a good place to wait. And wait. And wait some more and try not to fidget.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-= Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Aryia 4'8" 110 Lb Shadow Elf Female A heavily scarred mul with a curious look about her. Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. Fallon 5'6" 145 Lb Half-Elf Male A short hooded man. Lyme 7'2" 435 Lb Orc Butch Black-skinned oruch of suitable stature -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Farland Friendly Gnome Male A sorcerer and a Resurrectionist, and a gentleman. Akorinil Belvade Shadow Elf Female Diplomatic Delegate, Priestess of Taara, Aristocrat -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Previously
The Adventurers are in Veyshan, to bid on a relic, and have spent a tense night in an inn.
In the morning, the party divides into two groups, which Fallon will both shadow, to venture into the market and observe bidding behaviour. Paenitia and Lyme watch an exchange over a rust monster, with the little knight sacrificing one of her pole arms to it. Seyardu and Aryia are less successful, having located interesting targets but being unable to really overhear them or watch their process. Back at the inn, mission leader Farland is surprised by the last person he wants to see. High Priestess Akoniril Belvedae of Taara, of Charn.
The Rust Monster is an orange colored, carapace-having quadraped with long antenna on its head. The antenna swish around and reach towards the bardiche's tip and, on contact with it, immediately rust it until its nothing more than fine dust that falls away from the wood. So much for that weapon.
On the other hand, Paen has a mighty fine stick now.
The sourfaced girl looks satisfied that it can do what's expected and and immediately launches into a fresh bidding war with her counterpart, who seems pleased as well. The price is going up, up, up, up.
This could go on a while. They're definitely making a show of it, and people *are* noticing. This is exactly what Farland described.
Fallon is able to slip thorugh the crowd to the other group while giving no indication of the groups links. In fact, if anything, the opposite seems to be true thanks to how smoothly he's done that.
Seyardu and Ayria, however, notice that the woman with the enormous dress seems to be speaking to the modestly-garbed man. This contrast is sharp enough to draw their attention -- but they're going to have to get closer to hear...
Fallon continues his unusually convincing lost tourist charade. Maybe it's because it's not -entirely- a lie? The universe may never truly know. He's taking mental notes on how the sour Lucht and the bearded man interact with each other -- maybe they can use that hostility to their advantage -- and the way they seem to regard Paenitia. His attention is drawn towards the second group, and the two strange rich people they've now spotted. One clearly being richer than the other. Is it eavesdropping time? He thinks so.
The Red Knight seems satisfied and bangs the end of her stick on the ground a few times to ensure it's finished rusting the blade off, and then she replaces it in the weapon candleabra attached to her saddle. Having 'paid in' to the fate of the rust monster, so to speak, she lingers to watch how it plays out. Her peacock-andalusian is backed up a few steps as well, she doesn't want to lose more things.
Lyme's presence is noted and ignored, best to pretend they're not connected. She relaxes into following the spectacle.
Now
The mission, go to the market, see who bids big, take notes for later. Scout the big spenders. People watch. That kind of thing. They all look like they are spending money. The auction is later, near to the current local. The people who will be attending it are making a public showing of themselves and their wealth to discourage and demoralize their rivals. Identifying potential buyers is useful to Farland. One can imagine a few different reasons. Blackmail, for example.
Lyme is just there, looking at the people and the bidding. He's serious. So serious.
Paenitia listens to the bidding between the sourfaced girl and her opponent, attempting to catch their names and memorizing their appearance. She's watching for 'tells', hints and twitches on that lemon-sucking face of hers that indicates she's going to go higher, or hesitating.
GAME: Aryia rolls sense motive: (8)+9: 17 GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (7)+11: 18 GAME: Paenitia rolls sense motive: (13)+10: 23 GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (15)+4: 19 GAME: Seyardu rolls sense motive: (15)+3: 18 GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (5)+3: 8 GAME: Lyme rolls sense motive: (15)+3: 18 GAME: Lyme rolls perception: (15)+4: 19 GAME: Fallon rolls perception: (17)+10: 27 GAME: Fallon rolls sense motive: (5)+3: 8 GAME: Fallon rolls bluff: (20)+1: 21
Really, the bidding and more is going to die down before long. The Rust Monster is purchased with the sour-faced girl winning.
The modestly dressed man and the sharply, outrageouslyt dressed woman on the other hand is a sitution that's more difficult to get a read on, but after a lengthy study (especially when Fallon gets close enough to seemingly gormlessly eavesdrop on them), it would appear that the two of them are in some degree of cahoots.
Interesting, and good to know.
It would appear, after another hour of observation, that you've accomplished all you can here in the market. Time to return to Farland, right?
Right.
Fallon really shouldn't be as good at this as he apparently is, but he's not going to complain. He gets the intel without being noticed, and swiftly retreats from the duo before wary eyes can find him.
Aryia finishes up her evesdropping, filing away the information to scribble it down on the way back to meet back up with Fallon, her sticking with Seyardu as they go.
Seyardu saw what she could, which wasn't a lot, to be honest. Once it died down, she turned back to where they were returning, staying close to Aryia and others nearby to not get lost or sidetracked.
"Ramirez! Cantina!" Paenitia orders, and her peacock-andalusian whirls and prances off towards the tavern where Fallon is waiting. She looks around at the magnificent sights, while he is looked upon as a magnificient sight. Occassionally, he snorts and squawks.
Arriving back at Farland's side at the inn, Farland seems to be ... glum.
Like he's gotten some unfortunate news. Very unfortunate news.
When you arrive, he looks up towards the lot of you and gives a thumbs up.
"Are we good? What did you learn?" he asks, curiously, lifting his head. As your findings are shared, he's tapping his chin, "Right, then. That's good to know -- especially those two in cahoots rather than opposition. That's important. If they show up, we can use that against them. And a Rust Monster for sale? Curious. The aucton is due to begin later today and we'd best be ready. I, uh ... I don't suppsoe any of you know how to dress for it, do you?"
"I was unable to deduce their exact intent, but yes, they're coordinating for something," Fallon concurs. He then frowns at Farland. "What I'm wearing now won't suffice...?" It's been working wonderfully so far!
Aryia looks down at her incredibly simple clothes, to Farland, back to her clothes. She tucks her shirt in and gives a thumbs up.
"Ha!" The Red Knight laughs, then says, "Oh, that is not the joke. My vows are that I will not show my face, and will wear these clothes. So they are the ones."
She thumps her guantlet on the table. "What is wrong my friend? You are as frowning as the day is hot. Have the owner raise the nightly rates?"
"I was not able to find out as much as I wished, save for two that were working in tandem, seemingly."
A pause, a look down to her clothes, and back up. "These are one of the few sets of clothes I have. I hope they will be satisfactory, at the very least."
There is a long pausde from Farland.
He puts his hand over his face.
"No, no. This won't do at all... Right. WE're shopping for clothes. I have to get you all garbed appropriately!"
... oh no...
Fallon eventually finds himself buttoned up in a festive doublet made of a heavy brocade fabric and sporting far too many buttons and ruffles to be practical. He may look royal, regal, and dashing... but he's still a ranger, underneath it all. "How am I supposed to breath or move in this thing? Leather is much more supple..." He's probably going to tear something at some point.
Fancy clothes. A.. vest? Maybe? Perhaps some slacks? Maybe a hat?
Oh no. Oh no no no no.
It's the completely opposite of everything Aryia is used to. Somehow, through a combination of miscommunication, desire to get this over with, and a tinge of curosity, Aryia was stuck in a dress.
A large, frilly green dress, a round gown with too many beads with a massive, wide-brimmed verdant hat with several rainbow feathers sicking out of the side and white, arm length gloves pulled on. She was completely covered up, but it could not hide the massive frown she wore behind the hat.
"I hate this," she complains, pouting. <Handspeech>
Lyme's face gets a look of /glee/. SHOPPING! Size is a restriction, but eventually he finds a pure white jacket and breeches to set off his skin, a grand, wide-brimmed hat with a swan-tail plume of white feathers, and a mauve half-cape. It's fucking dashing, he simply won't hear otherwise.
Seyardu can't quite tell herself, but even she didn't feel quite right in the outfight that was picked out for her. It seemed many of the clothes fitted for Sith'makar in the area were colorful and bright, to go with several of the paints that so many vendors hawked. She stepped out of her room in a long dress, made almost entirely of multicolored feathers, a veritable rainbow of color that shifted with each movement. Even her tail two the dress went down somewhat, covering much of it with more of the feathers, with a few brass bangled clasped over it as well to complete the 'look', and a wide brimmed hat with more, even larger feathers adorning one side. Almost long enough to get Ramirez jealous, but not quite.
"It is not that bad, is it? I know most people really enjoy colors." The sith'makar chuckled.
The Red Knight is reluctant to change her costume, Farland's suggestion are all too tame, normal, and inappropriate as far as she's concerned. Until there is a perfect one.
Paenitia has two platform shoes that give her the height of a normal human. Instead of tapered legs, or simple tall shoes, they widen from her feet all the way down, each a half of a tower. The lower half, the feet, are clear glass with fish swimming around. Up to her actual feet, the shoes are decorated with tiny bricks and small arrow slits. She has a dress that covers her actual feet, which looks like a turret, complete with matriculations. A minarette style top, with a window she's looking out of, surrounds her. She has a long blond wig, straight hair, which hangs to the floor. Her Smiling Man mask has been replaced with a crying woman's, a stylized tear beside one eye.
The Red Knight has been switched out for an Off-White Rook, and her shoes weigh as much as her armour did, so she still clunks about, and only in straight lines.
Farland looks so pleased with himself, nodding.
Finally, it's doine. All of them.
"Right! This is excellent." He's dressed in his own finery, as well, silks of bright colors, pink and violet. A large hat with a feather in it, a plume of vibrant crimson. No, it's not becaue of anyone's bird.
So there he is, nodding. "Whew. Just in time. Now to put on a show. Come on, then. We're going to make a big display of our arrival. You're my entourage." He snaps his fingers, allowing a brilliant light to flare up above him, turning into a winding sigil of his name that spins in place. Illusion magic.
And then he's leading you all to march down the sttreet to the stares of many.
Fallon doesn't like being stared at, so he tries his damn best to blend in with the group. His outfit may be one of the less loud ones, so it might not be impossible. He does not quite appreciate the pretty illusions as much as the crowd may. "Rich people..." He mutters under his breath.
"Yes, I am following. Do not turn so fast." Paenitia says, clunk, clunk, clunk. Rooks are supposed to be swift, perhaps that comes later. She's fast for a tower, in that they don't move and she is able to.
Her fish are disturbed, swimming rapidly with each step. She is used to drawing a lot attention, this is no different. It's a nice view, very nice. Being able to see across a room is a treat.
To Aryia, it felt like she was being paraded again. She tips her hat low to block out the stares, her just keeping the rainbow sith'makar in front of her to follow as she stares at the ground. How could she ever kick anyone in this thing? And it was so hot! She was uncomfortable. Please, deck cleaning duty was far better than this.
It's largely been cleared of people, however, at this point. No doubt that's preparation for the auction in question. Farland steps into it and takes a deep breath.
"Early. Exactly how we want to be. Let's take a seat, everyone, and relax until the others get here. They'll trickle in as they make a show of things."
He takes a comfortable seat at one of the fashonable and functional cushions arranged everywhere. So. Much. Finery.
It's all for show.
"What do you plan to do with those shoes afterwards, Paenitia? Those shoes, while, tall, are not large enough for long term use." The sith'makar asked as Paenitia clunked along. Just the restriction on her tail was odd, and it made it flick around more than usual, sending the dress into a flurry of rainbow feathers. She didn't mind the looks either, not seeing most of them. It wasn't that different from showing up to Alexandria in her Am'shere leathers, anyways. And at least it made decent cover for the mul.
Lyme saunters out along with everyone else, feeling the power of the white and mauve. He /likes/ it. Striking a pose, he casually leans behind Farland, arms folded.
"I doubt they're meant for long term use. How are you supposed to feed the fish?" Fallon notes. He chooses a cushion of his own, and engages in silent people-watching once more. For now.
Aryia quickly takes a seat, her gloved hands fidgeting together. She wishes she had a book. If only reading wasn't such a chore. "These shoes, they do not bend. There is no seating to take." Paenitia explains, clunking around. Finding a position flanking Farland. "I stand here."
She keeps looking at Seyardu, especially when her tail flicks and the colours cascade. Perhaps she misses Ramirez; the silverscaled rainbow serpent-bird makes for a great substitute. "There is a hatch in the top to feed the fish. I am not sure what I do with this dress after. It is too heavy to dance. Yet, it is marvelous."
Seyardu looked around for something to sit on. the couches were a no go, so she took one of the cushions, and stacked another next to it so there was enough space to kneel down. She looked around, feeling just as out of place, and more than a bit uncomfortable in the dress. It wasn't made for ease of movement, and she hadn't warn something that long before.
"Perhaps you can cut off the excess length, and sew the new edge clean. It might be light enough to dance in, since it already fits the rest of you." She offered.
The Off-White Rook clunks around so she is near Seyardu, "I think the tower go with the Couatl. The trimming idea, that is good." She leans a little out of her window, looking around, then asks Farland, "How early we are?"
GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (6)+4: 10 GAME: Fallon rolls perception: (17)+10: 27 GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (15)+11: 26 GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (11)+3: 14 GAME: Lyme rolls perception: (1)+4: 5 (EPIC FAIL)
Lyme is INTO his look. Where's a mirror!
Workers begin to show up. They're setting up for the auction, of course. Getting the last bits of the podium and stage in place. They seem to be keeping an eye on you. Never trust the early squad.
Shortly threafter, well ... rich people begin to arrive. Rich people or their representatives. That's just how it is. Some of them you recognize from the market, a few of them being people you dismissed at the time, but by and large it would appear you did an adequate scouting job. The ones you noticed properly show up. The sour faced girl. The lady in the ridiculous dress. The modest man. They're all here.
And so is the Rust Monster. She brought it with her. It's on a leash.
Finally, the auction is nearly ready to go and a young, half-elven man is taking up the spot at the podium.
"Welcome, one and all! You've had your invitations scouted well ahead of time and we're glad you all could make it. This auction is going to be one you won't regret coming all this way for, for is Tashraan not worth the trip *Every* time?" He smiles, widely, then wiggles his fingers.
"We will begin bidding in five minutes, starting with the first item on our list: the Blade of Balance, a relic straight from the Demon Wars and held in private collection for over three centuries."
Aryia sits quietly, watching all the people roll in, set up, and flaunt. It all felt artifical, and detached. Then bidding started. By this point, sweat was dripping off her jaw. Yet she didn't move, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself.
What even was a Blade of Balance anyways? Aren't all blades supposed to be balanced? Just go to a smith, not hold an auction over one, duh.
"Wow," Fallon replies, feigning interest in the relic. Well, it -did- sound interesting, but also sounded like something he could not afford. His true interest lies in the reactions of the newcomers.
Paenitia watches the setup, the arrival of the various bidders. She keeps track of the Rust Monster, her shoes at least are mostly glass and something else, but not an affectable metal. "There is a story there I want to hear."
Lyme looks up in his best impression of suave style. A blade! Cool! He ruins it.
Seyardu sat, and tried to look engaged with the auction. But she mostly relied on the descriptions given, which were both extravagant, and completely lacking in useful detail. Whatever sword they brought out was a nondescript blob to her.
Held aloft is a simple looking, battered blade. It is etched with runes that glow faintly in a pulse. One of the workers pdraws the blade from its hilt far enough to see, lifting it up so that it's gold pommel glints in light. He raises it up higher, then shifts its weight to to rest the blade the hilt of the blade's bottom in the palm of his hand. It stands straight up.
He grabs the hold with his other hand and rises it up to place it atop the tip of a finger and it, again, stays there. Perfectly balanced as all things should be, as some serial murderer said somewhhere.
Fallon blinks a few times at the glowy, apparently perfectly balanced blade being shown. "Neat..." That's really all he had to say about it.
"Yes," The Off-White Rook says, "This is a thing I do not see often. It is beautiful. The stories it would tell about the death it has dealt. I wonder how much it will go for."
<OOC> Seyardu says, "Aryia's dress goes into a box, never to be seen again."
<OOC> Aryia says, "takes it out once in a while to try on, remembers how much she hated it, and puts it back. only to have to wear it because someone invites her to a fancy party and that's all she's got"