04.02b - "Downtime in Baldur's Gate" (post-session RP)

Able entered Purvis' Patio, and the tiefling beamed at him. "Welcome!"

Able was stunned by bookhat. "Uh, hello. Is this Purvis' Patio? Am I in the right place?"

Purvis smiled even more broadly if that was possible. "I am the one known as Purvis. You are always in the right place if you want to be.

Able glanced around the shop, " "I am in the market for something a little less...well, look at it." Able pulled out the Song of Night Screams polearm and showed it to Purvis.

Purvis began to laugh, "What the hells is this shit? Some sort of commercial kitchen utinsil designed by a sadist?"

Able smirked. "Well, I got it from a sadist, for sure"

Raising an eyebrow, the hat moved slightly as he cocked his head, "will the owner, by chance, be coming to look for it back? I am not a fence, my metal clad friend"

"Not unless you can speak with the dead" Able told him.

Purvis' interest seem piqued, "oh? Do you have the corpse with you?"

"Not...all of it" Able replied.

Purvis, already rifiling under his desk for something, stopped, the top of his head peeking back over the desk, "... oh, pity." Standing back up, he reached out his hand expectantly, to inspect the item, and Able handed the polearm to him. "ooh, nice . . . let's get this out on a tray." Pulling a large rectangular tray from under the desk, he set the spear on it, the ends hanging far beyond the edges of the tray. Unseen runes suddenly began to glow when it made contact. "Ugly AND Magical . . .nice." Purvis gestured over to the arms and armor section of the shop. I have similar propertied pikes, glaives and a lance. . "

"Do you have anything more pole-axey? Less..." Able made a *poke-poke* gesture "and more..." he then motioned like *chop chop*

"... Do you not know what a glaive is, Mr. Plate Man? Unless you actually mean wanting to CHOP down especially aggressive trees, a glaive can kill a man at a distance with a chopping motion. I can take this fascinating thing and 35g in trade for one of those glaives."

"Sounds good then" Able replied. "Also...can I ask what you have under your desk that made you ask if I had a corpse?"

"This is a magic shop, friend, filled with many curiosities . . . I'd be a pathetic representative of the trade if I didn't have a scroll or two that allows me to speak with the dead."

"I can do 20 g, and...these." Able puts Frulan's finger bones on the counter. "From the original owner." Able smiled the way he has seen other humans smile.

Taking the bones, Purvis placed them on the metal tray. Which remained metal and tray-like with no glowing. "... pity"

"While I appreciate your offer, I'm already giving you a discount because I'm sure someone will taking a keen liking to this murder hobo stick you've offered. Does it have a name perhaps? Something that would assist in marketing?"

"It's the Song of Night Screams"

There was a pause and then raucous laughter filled the shop, coming from the back. A feminine voice calls out, "Was it named by one of those kids that dress all in black and think they're vampires?"

"I'll . . . think of something better." Able said, giving him the 35g, taking the bones and the glaive and leaving the shop. Against his better judgement, he stuck his head back in the shop's door. "Did this one have a name?"

"Spite's Razor"

After his shopping, Brynne took Able with her to dwarftown to look for riding boars. Talking its handler, Landrin Gateson into letting Able try to ride it, Able was able to hold on for a second and half before getting kicked off. Landrin showed Brynne the three boars that they had for sale, Huey, Dewey, and Lewie, but after convincing Landrin to a tussle in the hay, Brynne returned to find Dewey gone.

A'postrofae had snuck in and speaking to the animal, convinced it to follow her as they snuck back to the stables at the in they were staying at. The next morning, Apostrofae presented the beast to Brynne, who was, of course, ecstatic.

That evening at the inn, Brynne, Gamble, and Able sat around watching Blak performing as patrons brought tips up throughout the evening. Leaning over to Able, Brynne asked "hey son, what's your clan name?"

"Corso. Grandad says its from Thay." Able told her.

"Tha's no exactly dwarven." she replied. "How about Corson? Whroeson? Nah, Rockson." Brynne said, looking at Able's new weapon. "Maybe Orcspike... err.... Shieldcarver, Mebbe Steelspike?"

"Maybe Shakes Spear?" Able offered. and the two launched into a discussion on clan names, after which Brynne revealed that she was quite old, and Blak that he was quite young for a drow - 23 turns.

"Moradin's nutsack!" Bryne exclaimed. "How'd ya get out, Blak?"

"Were you in prison?" Able asked, confused.

"Nah, tha's not what I meant. How'd you get out at tha' age? I'd've whipped me son from here ta waterdeep if he tried to leave home at tha age"

Blak paused, closed his eyes and smiled. "we've been travelling a fair bit, so I guess I'll tell you. When Drow raid, they raid. Rain, snow, or pregnancy. One such night, 24 years or so ago, a host of drow attempted to raid Waterdeep. They overran the outer city." Brynne's eyes widened as Blak told the story. "During the conquest and before hey could be stopped, my mother went into labor. When she saw the babe was a boy and bot bade with the power, she left it hungry and squealing with one of the peasants. Human peasants - not worth the burden to carry it along."

"That's just awful", Able said.

Brynne's eyes returned to normal. " Holy shit, son - tha's right fucked."

"Naw, that's just the way of things" Blak explained. "But what was remarkable, was that that peasant didn't take a rock to the babe. He raised it with his 4 other blood-sons."

"Those are the brothers you mentioend a few days ago?"Able asked.

Blak continued. "The peasant managed to come into money at some point and we moved into the inner city. I learned how to make friends and adapt. I guess that describes me well enough. I think you've heard a summary of the rest."

"That's an incredible story." Able said

"It is not tha way o things, son!" Brynne pipe up. It's not nat'ral"

Listening quietly at the table, Gamble spoke up. "I grew up in waterdeep as well, but not in the inner city. It's the way of his people, Brynne. Natural is relative in my experience."

Blak continued. "I was lucky. I'm told that if the priestesses know a babe born will be male and they are at their quota, it is forcefully aborted."

"It's a hard knock life, friend." Gamble told him

""It worked out. How about you, Gamble? What's your story? I have to wonder if i've ever seen you around waterdeep." As he barely had the words out of his mouth, Brynne wrapped her arms around him in a huge bear hug.

"Meh, typical Waterdeep story." Gamble started. "orphaned, raised in the streets pretty much. I didn't stick around."

"Wha's wrong with the world??? I got half a mind to track down your mothers and", Brynne started, devolving into a long string of dwarven curses.

"Nothing wrong, Brynne. That's the way for most of us bugs. Mother? Well my mother is dead." Gamble told her.

"Soudns like ya both took tha best shine on a shite situation." Brynne said.

"Meh, being a tiefling is bad enough, but being cursed, or thought to be cursed... doesn't help. doesn't matter either, i've found my way in life. That's good enough." Gamble pointed out.

"A curse?" Blak asked.

"IT'S NOT A CURSE!... but some think it is. and to be a tiefling as well, double th etrouble. My magical proclivity is natural, not learned, but it comes at a cost." Gamble explained.

"What sort of interprative effects and costs?" blak wondered aloud.

Gamble explained. "Well, sometimes things happen. It's just life. Nothing special about it. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. If you haven't noticed in the past, then more power to you. Tregardless, because of my infernal heritage and this "curse", no one trusts me. Hardly half our group trusts me. That's fine. I'm used to it now. Had to beg my way on to the merchant train today. - nothing new for me. I'm sure you can empathize, blak, the drow aren't loved."

Blak threw up his hands, frustrated. "They wouldn't let me bring my own wagon. Even with a forged merchant's writ! I thought it was good. Planned to hire us that couldn't generally get on as guards. Plan fell through though. I apologize."

"So you know what I'm talking about. racist bastards." Gamble said.

"Yeah, I just make them like me and give me what I want." Blak pointed out, tying up his coin purse with the tips he raked in. "I thought abou tit with the wagon lady, but... then she ased if i played. I played for her and she hried me on as entertainment, so meh"

"I figure they hate me, so let em hate. Give them a reason. Least it makes sense then. The wagon lady seems okay, she just helps everyone be racist by proxy." Gamble observed."

Blak asked "So what did you get picked up for in the train while we're ... investigating?"

Gamble rolled his eyes. "Pfft, slave labor. Gotta be the first to volunteer for shit work... 'Yessa right away sahh. May I wipe ya ass, massa? We'll see how they feel about me by waterdeep. I'm tired now, though, gonna hit the hay."

Blak perked up. "know any neat tricks? I mean, I was hired for entertainment. What could be more entertaining than a drow plunking away on a zither and a tiefling performing in some fashion? Beats shit labor and comes with tips"

"No offense, but i've never been one to entertain these shitheels." Gamble said with a snarl "Not going to start now. I'll just stay out of the way." Gamble got up and started walking for his room. "Good night."