Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

A white haired dwarf dressed in colorful garbs enters the building cautiously. After bidding his greetings he would express interest in acquiring the dwarven waraxe called "deep bite".

"Are ya willing ta sell this piece? `t looks just like da ting i will need in days ta come."

mrm3ntalist wrote:Mendels' eyes light up at the mention of a Master assassin seeking vengeance against Orcs.

"Very interesting history. I am certain there is more about it..."

He pauses, looking at the cloak while listening to the female with great interest, chuckles at the comment about elves and their long lives.

"I would be willing to trade for that cloak... maybe give a bit more to learn more about its history as well."

After a small pause, Mendel looks towards herto notice her reaction. He then continues

"Gold is not something I have, however I possess a couple of interesting blades and swords"

She seems interested initially. As she's shown several blades she remarks:
"The scimitar is the only one I might make use of. The others are too small to be... weapons... or too barbaric."
Seemingly disappointed, she turns back to her tome and jots a hasty note.

"The cloak doesn't have much of a tale beyond what I've already told you, but the owner was quite remarkable indeed..."

She flicks pages at the corner of her tome as she lets the man consider.
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Progressive-Psy wrote:30.000 * he says and nods, then he opens up a bottle of some liquor and pulls down his mask before he takes a mouthful from the bottle* 30.000 is a fine price! *he looks at the woman and offers her a smile* Could I interest you in some Fighting Cock to seal the deal with? *he looks at her for a moment before he realizes what he has actually said..* Its the wine that is called Fighting Cock! *he chuckles then and offers her the bottle*

The woman smirks, amused. "I'll purchase the bottle I suppose. And whatever else you have remaining. Long nights can be a dire thing to quench sometimes."

She sets aside her tome temporarily and begins picking up the dress and it's associated notes. The neatly folded dress is then offered to the man as she holds the pages in the other hand, near a candle. Holding the notes threateningly close to the candle she asks:
"You just wanted the cloth, correct?"

She seems to have no opinion whether the associated story is important to the man or not.
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finneas wrote:*A bald young man with a windblown beard dashes from one point of cover to the next, a group of restless dead pursuing him in their typical, shambling gaits. The enrobed pilgrim, unencumbered by the bulk of protective armors surveys his surroundings, looking for a place of refuge from the pursuit. As the fearful man look frantically, he notices a light flickering in an enclosed portion of the ruins. Driven to desperation the monk sprints from his his place of cover, symbol of the Morninglord swinging wildly from its crude chain about his neck. Using his simple quarterstaff he vaults the last bit of distance, leaping and rolling into the enclosure. He rights himself quickly, head on a swivel, looking for the source of the light to determine friend or foe.*

The shopkeeper barely acknowledges the mans entrance, seemingly undisturbed by his condition.

"Feel free to browse as you wish." She concernedly reviews what was written in the previous page of her tome. "Everything is for sale."
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zyztem wrote:The wolf dashes super-naturally fast form the hill top to the undead mass, a burst of storm light his wake. With a great leap, as if it is weightless, it lands in the middle of the animated corpses, the remain of one unfortunate adventurer pinned down by its paws.

Brief sound of claws and teeth on bones followed by a deadly silence. The undead lie in a circle with the great beast standing in its center, all the unholy are put to rest again and non will be getting back up soon.

The wolf licks its paws clean, apparently not minding the scent of corruption. It then trotts lightly back to his hill top, sits down, and turns its gaze back to the small ruined building, patiently observing and waiting.

The shopkeeper still seems unaware the wolf is keeping watch. The threat of undead doesn't seem significant to the woman as she has no powerful divine wards in place, nor any posted sentinels. The several hundred square miles of Field of the Dead is often quiet, a passive trait apparently cherished by the shopkeeper.
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duracele wrote:A white haired dwarf dressed in colorful garbs enters the building cautiously. After bidding his greetings he would express interest in acquiring the dwarven waraxe called "deep bite".

"Are ya willing ta sell this piece? `t looks just like da ting i will need in days ta come."

The cloaked woman visibly chuckles at the question for several moments. When she finally speaks:
"This axe has a twin. Together, they've shed blood unlike anything you can imagine." She seems absolutely genuine in her statement, with cleric-like resolve that the axe has caused immense bloodshed.

"Drop for coin or pint for bar, the axe weighs much heavier." She glances to the dwarf briefly then returns to her tome. "I understand that dwarves measure everything in gold weight... but I'm afraid mountains of gold would fall short of the carnage this particular axe has inflicted."

She pauses in her writing for a long moment as if recalling the associated story.

The shopkeeper then stretches her quill-bearing hand, as if to reassert herself to her task. "Gruesome indeed. A polite dwarf-kin might not even want this in their grip. It was once the property of an orc."

A figure clad in black robes approaches the building "greeting there quite interesting you set up shop in our lands , as long as it's only trading the coven will allow you to live for the right cost of course " the hooded figure motions for the others to keep an eye on the trading hut .

The woman smirks, amused. "I'll purchase the bottle I suppose. And whatever else you have remaining. Long nights can be a dire thing to quench sometimes."

She sets aside her tome temporarily and begins picking up the dress and it's associated notes. The neatly folded dress is then offered to the man as she holds the pages in the other hand, near a candle. Holding the notes threateningly close to the candle she asks:
"You just wanted the cloth, correct?"

Aye just the cloth. *he says with a smile and gives her a few bottles of liquid* Should keep you warm for some time *he says and heads of with the cloth*

zyztem wrote:

The wolf dashes super-naturally fast form the hill top to the undead mass, a burst of storm light his wake. With a great leap, as if it is weightless, it lands in the middle of the animated corpses, the remain of one unfortunate adventurer pinned down by its paws.

Brief sound of claws and teeth on bones followed by a deadly silence. The undead lie in a circle with the great beast standing in its center, all the unholy are put to rest again and non will be getting back up soon.

The wolf licks its paws clean, apparently not minding the scent of corruption. It then trotts lightly back to his hill top, sits down, and turns its gaze back to the small ruined building, patiently observing and waiting.

*Kellan looks back out the opening and just catches sight of the white wolf tearing through his pursuers. Whispering a quick prayer of thanks to the Lord of the Morning he turns and gazes upon the woman seated and reading. After deciding she is not at least an immediate threat he begins examining his few possessions. He takes out a simple looking silvered kama and tests the edge before hooking it back through his sash. Spreading his hands wide he gently flexes the mundane quarterstaff and winces as he hears the subtle crackling sounds of overstressed wood. He sighs, letting the useless staff fall out of the vestibule before turning once more to the oddity within. With a soft voice he speaks, cautiously.*

"Milady, are you trapped out here amongst the dead? I fear I have ventured far in an area more dangerous than I expected. Even still, should you require aid, I would offer it and perhaps, by the grace of the Lord of the Morning, we could both make it out of these dreaded lands."

The dwarf would look slightly indignated, hearing the woman laugh at his statement. When he is able to he will inspect the axe further looking for signs of it`s maker.
"Oi. Ya sure tis fine piece was in posession of orc kin? Tis is definitely not o deir makin. It as been forged by my kin and it shall return to dwarven hands if i can elp it. Just name me yar price, miss an tell me why ya wuld tink it a mistake ta part wit it."

A solitary traveler in a green hood is traveling across the Fields of the Dead. The hooded figure stops suddenly when it listens a melody. Following it, the figure comes near some ruins, where a light can be spotted. Intrigued, the traveler slowly and carefully approaches the light source, inside a building. She lifts the head in surprise watching the reinforced walls and the magic runes inscribed on them. The hood falls, revealing the traveler as a young wood elf woman, which continues examining the walls with curiosity. After some seconds she realizes she is not alone, as some people is inside, and looks like one of them has some kind of shop in the building and the others are costumers.

More intrigued, she cautiously approaches to the cloaked vendor, looking to shadowy corners as she frowns. Finally, she comes close to some items exposed and she examines them, ignoring the other costumers. Strange place for a shop, she says with a low voice. Although I must admit you have some interesting items here. I wonder where did you obtain them... She asks to herself. But an unsheated blade quickly catches her attention and she completely forgets about her question. Just a second later, two amulets make her eyes glance, and she grabs them with care and puts them next to the blade. After a while, she does the same with a pair of gloves. She looks to the items she has gathered narrowing her eyes, as she was trying to discern something she has not watch yet. She points to them looking to the shopkeeper. I may be interested on purchasing these items... May I ask how much do you ask for each of them?

Selande wrote:Bolt (Rapier)
+4
1d4 electric

Crimson Choker (Amulet)
+3 Natural AC
+10 hp
+1 universal saves

Talent (Gloves)
Bard bonus spell slots: 2, 4, 5, 6
+3 Perform
Req. Bard

Forsaken Idol (Amulet)
+3 Natural AC
Feat: Spell Penetration
Magic Missile (5) 5/day
Req. Warlock

A day after stepping into the ruins, Draviir returns. Pulling his hood back he enters the chamber and heads toward the solitary figure within.
"Greetings once more trader, I return on my way home to Soubar. Tell me, have you had time enough to consider my offer?"
Draviir waits patiently for a reply ...

After a time spent scouting Thunder's Ride all the way through the fields of the dead Cranston would notice the flickering lights emanating from the near ruin of a structure. Curious, he would spend a time watching from afar, perhaps noticing the occasional traveler wander in. Once certain those traveler's who enter also exit with regularity Cranston would carefully pack up his campsite as if no one were ever there and approach.

Upon entry he would give a wary nod and a small smile - causing a triangular scar on his left cheek to twist in a grotesque fashion his beard failing to hide all, but a small portion of the unhealed wound - to the woman and peruse the various wears. After a time he would approach her, pointing to the various stealth related items while offering greetings.

"A'fair day to ya lass, a right fine collection ye've amassed, sure as certain. I've an interest in some o' yer goods what might help a man stay hidden from tha beasts what stalk hereabouts. I'm not fer knowin' if'n I got any goods what ye'd consider tradin' fer, but 'ave a look an' see if ye'd be willin ta part wit any of 'em, yeah?"

Cranston would then take a sack held within his pack and show the elf woman various items he'd be willing to part with in exchange for a pair of clothing, gloves and perhaps the cloak she has on offer.

Loric closes his eyes and concentrates on taking in the vibrations of the world around him. He can feel them coursing through the ground, coursing through him as he falls in-sync with the rhythm of the world. He takes in a sharp breath and starts to hum in an extremely deep bass voice. He maintains this low drone as he travels through the troll claw mountains, the pitch such that it resonates perfectly with the returned echo. A slight disturbance in the resonance causes him to glance towards the fields of the dead. Seeing a dim light emanating from distant ruins, he decides to investigate.

He readily moves beyond the mountain pass and heads towards the ruins. After dispatching living skeletons with his black handled greatsword, he strides confidently towards the glow. Wearing a suit of armor made of the finest dark mithril, the grey-skinned Earth Genasi doesn't seem bothered by the macabre setting. He studies the woman and the layout of the display a few moments before speaking, "I am Loric Earthsong. Seeker of Knowledge in Oghma's name." He speaks with a pure, crisp bass and bows slightly. "Your presence here intrigues me. I feel there are stories to be told and songs to be sung. Perhaps, with your permission, I could start the exchange with an Earth song?"

A bronze skinned Elf walks up to the secluded ruins within the barren fields. He wears a a laurel crown of colored leaves around his short, nutty brown hair, and he is dressed in a simple, yet elegantly crafted tunic and trousers. Emblazoned on his chest is a mithril shaping of a Setting Sun. //DC check Lore: Religion 15 to know whether or not it is the symbol of Labelas Enoreth//
He approaches cautiously, his step one of confidence and control, with eyes ever alert. After stopping briefly at the entrance, noticing the body within with the goods sprawled out, he scans outside one time more then steps in. Although her attention is down to some parchment, he speaks regardless, his voice deep yet melodious.

"You put quil to parchment in the most unusual of locations, strange one. And yet, I cannot blame you. I myself have pondered in some rather unusual locations. The wilds inspire me, as does the city, as does the barren wind swept plains." He gestures around. "Even here, there is a certain...inspiration."

After speaking, he gazes down to the wares, reading bits and pieces of each of piece. His gaze stops at a particular set of gloves and he makes his way over, eyeing it ever more closely. "And what is the tale behind this one, I wonder?"

Pitfighter Handwraps (gloves)
+3 eb
1d4 acid
1d6 sneak attack
Req. Monk

Selande wrote:She seems interested initially. As she's shown several blades she remarks:
"The scimitar is the only one I might make use of. The others are too small to be... weapons... or too barbaric."
Seemingly disappointed, she turns back to her tome and jots a hasty note.

"The cloak doesn't have much of a tale beyond what I've already told you, but the owner was quite remarkable indeed..."

She flicks pages at the corner of her tome as she lets the man consider.

Mendel nods to her and after considering it for a while

"What if I add this greatsword and falchion to the offered scimitar?"

// Greatsword +3EB +1d8Cold +1d4magic VS giants
Frost Falchion +4EB +1d4Cold
Flaming Flanchion +3EB, Keen, +1d4Fire

finneas wrote:*Kellan looks back out the opening and just catches sight of the white wolf tearing through his pursuers. Whispering a quick prayer of thanks to the Lord of the Morning he turns and gazes upon the woman seated and reading. After deciding she is not at least an immediate threat he begins examining his few possessions. He takes out a simple looking silvered kama and tests the edge before hooking it back through his sash. Spreading his hands wide he gently flexes the mundane quarterstaff and winces as he hears the subtle crackling sounds of overstressed wood. He sighs, letting the useless staff fall out of the vestibule before turning once more to the oddity within. With a soft voice he speaks, cautiously.*

"Milady, are you trapped out here amongst the dead? I fear I have ventured far in an area more dangerous than I expected. Even still, should you require aid, I would offer it and perhaps, by the grace of the Lord of the Morning, we could both make it out of these dreaded lands."

The woman is flipping through the earlier pages of her tome, searching. She speaks aloud, though almost as if to herself. "Trapped? We're all trapped somehow. But no, I'm not concerned with the undead." She then looks up at the bald man as if realizing for the first time she even had a guest.

"Oh. You're in danger? Well I wouldn't consider this any safer than outside, but you're welcome to explore perils as you wish." She motions to the items she has laid about the room.

"Try to not touch anything though. Not everything is friendly." She has already returned to searching through her tome.
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sir_blacksoutalot wrote:The misshapen dwarf who arrived a day prior remains encamped just outside the collapsed hovel. Of dour expression and twisted posture, his boots and garb encrusted with mud, the dwarf observes the comings and goings of passersby: a darkly clad figure, a white-haired dwarf, a wild wolf. He offers no salutations but rather continues his silent vigil….waiting, with chin perched on axe and eyes focused on doorway.

There would be a great many empty hour and even days between visitors. The shopkeeper doesn't seem to mind the lengthy gaps. She never leaves the remnant building and rarely strays more than a couple paces from her tome.
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duracele wrote:The dwarf would look slightly indignated, hearing the woman laugh at his statement. When he is able to he will inspect the axe further looking for signs of it`s maker.
"Oi. Ya sure tis fine piece was in posession of orc kin? Tis is definitely not o deir makin. It as been forged by my kin and it shall return to dwarven hands if i can elp it. Just name me yar price, miss an tell me why ya wuld tink it a mistake ta part wit it."

The woman nods quickly, confirming that it was Orc-owned. "They might not be well known for making axes but it's not uncommon to see them with weapons of many different origin."

She scribbles a hasty note, as if suddenly remembering something she had forgotten. Satisfied with her writing for the moment, she further responds to the dwarf. "I don't recall if the orc ever had dealings with dwarves, now that you mention it. Nearly everything else that lived and breathed, however..."

The shopkeeper absently reaches her free hand to adjust her hood. "I couldn't fuel that sort of gluttony by trading it for mere gold."

She sighs heavily, almost disappointed. Setting her hands sprawled over her book, as one might to feel the warmth of a campfire, she looks to the dwarf. "I'm looking for a few things that might undo tragic tales such as those of that axe. If you wish to see it returned to dwarven hands, perhaps you and your gold could find me something a hero of legend might use."

She says 'hero of legend' as if she were struggling to find a more apt term that the dwarf might relate to. It might be noticable that she has had relatively few encounters with dwarves.
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freekender wrote:A solitary traveler in a green hood is traveling across the Fields of the Dead. The hooded figure stops suddenly when it listens a melody. Following it, the figure comes near some ruins, where a light can be spotted. Intrigued, the traveler slowly and carefully approaches the light source, inside a building. She lifts the head in surprise watching the reinforced walls and the magic runes inscribed on them. The hood falls, revealing the traveler as a young wood elf woman, which continues examining the walls with curiosity. After some seconds she realizes she is not alone, as some people is inside, and looks like one of them has some kind of shop in the building and the others are costumers.

More intrigued, she cautiously approaches to the cloaked vendor, looking to shadowy corners as she frowns. Finally, she comes close to some items exposed and she examines them, ignoring the other costumers. Strange place for a shop, she says with a low voice. Although I must admit you have some interesting items here. I wonder where did you obtain them... She asks to herself. But an unsheated blade quickly catches her attention and she completely forgets about her question. Just a second later, two amulets make her eyes glance, and she grabs them with care and puts them next to the blade. After a while, she does the same with a pair of gloves. She looks to the items she has gathered narrowing her eyes, as she was trying to discern something she has not watch yet. She points to them looking to the shopkeeper. I may be interested on purchasing these items... May I ask how much do you ask for each of them?

Selande wrote:Bolt (Rapier)
+4
1d4 electric

Crimson Choker (Amulet)
+3 Natural AC
+10 hp
+1 universal saves

Talent (Gloves)
Bard bonus spell slots: 2, 4, 5, 6
+3 Perform
Req. Bard

Forsaken Idol (Amulet)
+3 Natural AC
Feat: Spell Penetration
Magic Missile (5) 5/day
Req. Warlock

// The shop would probably be empty for each new customer //

The shopkeeper looks over her selection. "Oh those are some of my favorites. The sword I've used personally."

She ponders for a moment. "I'd hate to see the sword for less than a few hundred thousand. That might sound steep... but it's perhaps one of my favorites in the shop."

"The choker." The woman leans forward to examine it, gripping her book tenderly in her lap. "The last person to wear it was strangely... hanged. I've heard several similar stories about it. Always something to do with... choking. But it is rather pretty, isn't it? Fifty thousand would be a fair price I think."

"The gloves are quite a prize. There was once a man who was quite a famous musician and... womanizer. I have heard his name mentioned in a dozen or more stories. They say that everything he owned when he performed took on qualities of him. Though, other stories say the items took pieces away from the man. In any case, these gloves were once his."

"A hundred thousand I think for them. Strange that I can't remember his name..." She does seem quite perplexed.

Turning her gaze to the idol, she almost seems as if it were on fire. "Oh yes, THAT. I've only ever seen this one, but the stories of it are... Well... I'll not mention..."

"It's quite valuable to some. Admittedly, I'm eager to be rid of it. Seventy thousand I think is a bargain."
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AC81 wrote:A day after stepping into the ruins, Draviir returns. Pulling his hood back he enters the chamber and heads toward the solitary figure within.
"Greetings once more trader, I return on my way home to Soubar. Tell me, have you had time enough to consider my offer?"
Draviir waits patiently for a reply ...

The shopkeeper seems glad to see the man return, setting down her book immediately and addressing the man. "I have. The swords are both very interesting, but not quite something I can make use of. It has peaked my interest in what other trades you might produce, however. You said something of a..." She promptly flips to where she had written it down and reads it aloud. "Soubar, yes? Is anything else that could be useful to trades in that region? I travel often and might be able to find something of use."
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/////// Will respond to further posts tomorrow! Sorry! //////

Draviir thinks ... "Hmm, I have many blades but no more swords that you request. In the meantime let me make an offer of five hundred thousand coins on the gloves. These are most precious to me and they are what I truly seek. I shall dispatch a message detailing my other goods more accurately on my return to Soubar. Does my offer on the gloves sound fair?"