Malls of America: A Post-Apocalyptic D&D Adventure - GAME Thread

Tolr'ax wrote:She will purchase 10 torches and pay the man a silver. "Keep up the good work." She wandered around the livestock. "Braxton, do you know how many heads of cattle we have currently? We might want to purchase some if Patrick comes for a visit." Grim and Reaper stay by her side, but one head sniffs the animals as the other watches Nirotia.

She looks at the horses with interest. She looks for a stable hand to help her.

Braxton shrugs. "Not my wheelhouse," referring to the cattle. Apparently. Because he didn't specify.

A young man, possibly a teenager, comes over. He is wearing denim overalls and nothing else. "Allroyt lady, what can I does fer yaouw?" His strong Dixie accent makes it rather difficult.

"Show me your horses." She says coldly not looking at the boy. "And address me by my title. I am the Duchess of Untinvale." She rubs Grim's fuzzy head.

Tolr'ax wrote:"Show me your horses." She says coldly not looking at the boy. "And address me by my title. I am the Duchess of Untinvale." She rubs Grim's fuzzy head.

The boy's eyes popped wide and he fumbled his words. "Oh, Holy God Above! I'm sorry, Miss Duchess. I ain't mane nothen by it. Roight this woy." He does his best at deference, and blushed brightly doing so, prattling on about these horses, if it please you ma'am, Lady, Duchess! There's a gray mare, a chestnut stallion, and a black gelding.

She smiles a smile that could be taken for evil or kind at the boy's blathering. "Which is fastest and which is strongest." She looks at her finger nails as the boy answers. "Actually boy, which one would YOU choose for me."

Tolr'ax wrote:She smiles a smile that could be taken for evil or kind at the boy's blathering. "Which is fastest and which is strongest." She looks at her finger nails as the boy answers. "Actually boy, which one would YOU choose for me."

The boy blanches, squeaks, and mumbles apologies, all while trying to explain the strengths of each before pointing a finger at the gelding and speaking in very physiologically accurate language that means "he'll be better trained since he's been neutered." He then blushes crimson for having said as much and stands there wringing his hands, unsure where to go.

Braxton snorts.

She lays her hand on the boys shoulder. "That one will be adequate. I like the color too. Pay the boy Braxton." She walks to the horse and strokes it's neck. "Have him delivered to my estate."

Tolr'ax wrote:She lays her hand on the boys shoulder. "That one will be adequate. I like the color too. Pay the boy Braxton." She walks to the horse and strokes it's neck. "Have him delivered to my estate."

Braxton sighs. It was a small thing, but definitely different from his usual overweight-induced labored breathing. No, this was aggravation. He paid the boy all the same, and scribbled something onto a note for the boy to produce upon delivery so the House would know what this was about. The boy backed away bowing about forty times, and began to gather the horse for delivery.

Braxton stood silently, stoically. Heavy eye lids looked like they were going to fall shut in deep slumber, but he was undoubtedly scanning the crowd for any dangers to the Duchess.

Nirotia took note of Braxton's behavior. She meerly chuckled. "Come Braxton. Let us go to my favorite jeweler." She started to head that way.

The Opal Emporium, as it turns out, was closed. A sign on the door suggests that Madame Jade was out on pilgrimage. They're to return in a couple of weeks.

"Damn Jade. I wanted to get something flashy. Well, Braxton, I guess we should return home. I must prepare for the night. Hmm. Maybe we should swing by the apothecary to get some potions." She headed to the apothecary.

Tolr'ax wrote:"Damn Jade. I wanted to get something flashy. Well, Braxton, I guess we should return home. I must prepare for the night. Hmm. Maybe we should swing by the apothecary to get some potions." She headed to the apothecary.

Potions and Beakers, an alchemical shop run by a wizened old human man named Brun Peacebloom, is situated in the northeast corner of the market. Upon entering, you are keenly aware of the smell of dirt and various herbs, both sweet and savory in scent. In a low voice, he calls out, "Welcome, My Lady! Come for some of your, eh..., experimental goods? I've a fresh batch of, oh! Hello, Braxton." Brun suddenly cuts off, and looks sideways at you and Braxton.

Braxton picks up three healing potions and sets them on the counter, then looks at you, eyebrows slightly raised as if awaiting instruction.

"Three should be enough." she says to Braxton. Grim and Reaper wander around the shop sniffing all the smells. "How much for the healing potions, Brun? And hello, always a pleasure to see you." She breathes in the air in the shop, it reminds her of a graveyard, her favorite place to relax.

"You know I love your shop." She smiles an actual smile. "Braxton, pay Brun here and then step outside for me. I have business to conduct in private."

Tolr'ax wrote:"Three should be enough." she says to Braxton. Grim and Reaper wander around the shop sniffing all the smells. "How much for the healing potions, Brun? And hello, always a pleasure to see you." She breathes in the air in the shop, it reminds her of a graveyard, her favorite place to relax.

"You know I love your shop." She smiles an actual smile. "Braxton, pay Brun here and then step outside for me. I have business to conduct in private."

Braxton dutifully paid and fucked off. But not without giving another one of those so minor sighs that expressed a hint of irritation. He positions himself just outside the door, and bars entrance for anyone else that might be looking to enter.

"What do you have for me, Brun?" Nirotia says in a pleasant tone as she browses the shop's ordinary wares. "I might have a few goblins to practice with, if you need anything harvested, let me know." Nirotia knew Brun would be interested.

Brun's bushy eyebrows peak over your shoulder towards the door where Braxton stands impromptu sentinel, then waves you to the back room. The walls are lined with tables, drying racks, and various vials and bottles of this or that. In the corner, two blonde boys were busily racing one another to prepare the most of... whatever that was. Possibly some sort of nightshade by the pile of shriveling purple flowers on the ground at their feet. Brun opens a floor to ceiling cabinet, and reaches into the darkest corner out of sight. The false back gives way with an audible click, and down a few steep steps there is another room.

The smell here is different. Behind the scents of the natural world were dominant, but here they dwindle and give way to the sharp, almost caustic 'scent' of the arcane. The room was not large, perhaps fifteen feet square, but it was fully-laden with copious amounts of scrolls, tomes, formulaic rantings on the rough stone wall, and in the center a table that was the only place in the entire facility, above or below, that might be called "clean."

Four bowls, several tools, a heavy leather bag, and a bright red book with an exquisitely detailed script lay on the table. Brun scooped up the book and flipped a few pages, consulted the pages, and then selected a handful of components and found a weathered belt pouch to stash them in. Scribbling in his neat scrawl, he folds a piece of parchment and sticks it in the pouch as well. All the while he is mumbling to himself - the sure sign of madness or genius.

Finally, he settles himself and presents you this pouch. "Now, I know you all the appropriate tools, ah, except maybe a proper calcination furnace, but any flame will do if you know what you're doing - and I know you do! But here's a few things, and a couple of recipes. Now that sweetpulp is a bit hard to come by in these parts, but the lichen and the spore pods are prodigious if you fancy a proper hike for it. Oh... and here," he fetches another slender book. Inside are hundreds of sketches of various plant and animal parts that can be utilized for alchemical use. "So you don't get the wrong one. Some of those are tricksy and can kill you if you get the wrong one."

Dusting his hands, he bobs awaiting your approval.

Nirotia takes the goods. "Thank you Brun, you always know how to make a woman happy." She hands him some gold. "I'll take my leave. Come by my estate sometime, we'll have tea." She said this knowing Brun would not dare take her up on it.

She has Brun lead her out. Opening the door, she has Braxton follow her again. "Good job, Braxton. You are magnificent at guarding doors." She sarcastically compliments him. She elegantly leads the way through the street. She hums a dramatic tune as she walks.

Tolr'ax wrote:Nirotia takes the goods. "Thank you Brun, you always know how to make a woman happy." She hands him some gold. "I'll take my leave. Come by my estate sometime, we'll have tea." She said this knowing Brun would not dare take her up on it.

She has Brun lead her out. Opening the door, she has Braxton follow her again. "Good job, Braxton. You are magnificent at guarding doors." She sarcastically compliments him. She elegantly leads the way through the street. She hums a dramatic tune as she walks.

Braxton follows silently to her left, Grim/Reaper to her right. The populace melts away from her path with hurried apologies and hushed whispers. To where does she go?

She will look through the market some more then she suddenly gets quite a craving. "Braxton, could you go for an ale? I am craving a glass of wine like a fish craves water. Let's head to the tavern." She doesn't wait for his response, she heads to a tavern that she knows has good wine.

Tolr'ax wrote:She will look through the market some more then she suddenly gets quite a craving. "Braxton, could you go for an ale? I am craving a glass of wine like a fish craves water. Let's head to the tavern." She doesn't wait for his response, she heads to a tavern that she knows has good wine.

The Lazy Jester was located two blocks away to the southwest of the Square. It was a squat structure, located on the exposed corner, juxtaposed by the three-story housing unit next door. The sign at the tavern was that of figure, the titular Jester no doubt, lying in a hammock apparently asleep. It was a half-stone foundation, and half-timbered walls, with a heavy thatched roof. Inside, though it looked cramped from outside, the common room stretched the full city block, and there were two score patrons inside scattered across the two dozen tables. The tavernkeep, a Halfling named Monder Orbyth, was a well-known adventurer in his time; the blackened skin on the left side of his body giving reason for why he no longer partook in that form of employment.

There are ample seats available, and no self-respecting tavern bothered with hostesses.

Nirotia and her escorts will take a booth if they are available. "Braxton, fetch me a wine. And some water for the dog. Get whatever makes you happy as well." Nirotia will take note of any note worthy patrons. Anyone interesting? Any shadowy figures lurking about that might have something to do?

Tolr'ax wrote:Nirotia and her escorts will take a booth if they are available. "Braxton, fetch me a wine. And some water for the dog. Get whatever makes you happy as well." Nirotia will take note of any note worthy patrons. Anyone interesting? Any shadowy figures lurking about that might have something to do?

Braxton placidly responds, "If it please you, m'Lady, I'm your guardian. Not your manservant. As it is, with your purchases today, I'll need a requisition to reimburse my pay." As he says this, he does wave a hand to summon a serving girl; a halfling youth, probably the daughter of the tavernkeep.

"What's your flavor, friend?" she pipes as she arrives, obviously attempting to keep a safe distance from Grim/Reaper.

"Braxton, you guard my life by doing simple tasks that I cannot be bothered to do. I might injure myself or get attacked if I am to request my own drink." She chuckles. "You will be reimbursed of course, once we get back to the estate."

She then turns her attention to the halfling girl. "Red wine. Your finest. And a sharp cheese if you have it." Nirotia pets Grim's head as reaper tries to lick her hand.

Tolr'ax wrote:"Braxton, you guard my life by doing simple tasks that I cannot be bothered to do. I might injure myself or get attacked if I am to request my own drink." She chuckles. "You will be reimbursed of course, once we get back to the estate."

She then turns her attention to the halfling girl. "Red wine. Your finest. And a sharp cheese if you have it." Nirotia pets Grim's head as reaper tries to lick her hand.

Braxton orders a meal. The halfling scurries away. Wine is delivered within a couple of minutes, and Braxton's meal arrives several minutes later. Grim places his head on Braxton's knee, looking up with sad eyes hoping for a bite, while Reaper simply pants hot breath in Braxton's direction. He eats quietly, efficiently, ignoring the dogs.

She will drink her wine. Are there any patrons of interest?

Tolr'ax wrote:She will drink her wine. Are there any patrons of interest?

There are several. One silverbearded man-at-arms is apparently recruiting for the mercenary company Ghost Sergeants, a veteran group of high renown.

Nearby at a table, several patrons were debating, with apparent earnest fervor, the pros and cons of the Klan, a... controversial social club.

Across the tavern, at the bar, a group of raucous youths in silver shirts, obviously members of the Silvershirts, a relatively upstart mercenary brigade, were singing and drinking.

Finally, a band of dwarves were seated in the corner booth, and appeared to be very busy hashing out some sort of contract. Two Longbeards stood guard several feet from the table to discourage eavesdropping, their characteristic zveril elaborately decorated.

Otherwise, it's your standard townsfolk taking a break on this marketday.