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Adventures of Chance: Excerpt (IRC)

Chance: I get dressed, grab a quick bite to eat and head out into Tel Akbar for another day at the library. It's about time to check out the Bards' College.

DM: Its pleasant outside, birds chirping, sun shining... and a nice walk to the library later. You arrive at the library, which is closed... doh, you forgot today was the celebration of Greengrass...

Chance: I enjoy the sun as I walk to the Bards' College. I wear black breeches, a light yellow shirt and walk barefooted.

DM: You make your way through the crowded and dusty streets until the great red bricked building of the Bard's College stands before you, between you and its front doors is a high, black, cast iron fence with spikes on top. The red slate of the tall building's roof glares the sun brightly in the noon of the day.

Chance: Are the gates open or closed?

DM: The college is nearly 12 stories tall, making it one of the tallest buildings in the city.

Chance: I stand in awe at the sheer size of the edifice.

DM: The gates remain closed. A single unarmored guard stands just beyond the gate with a spear leaning lazily against one of the two brick pillars that are on either side of the entrance.

Chance: "Hey. Don't tell me the Bards' College is closed today too?"

DM: The guard is startled at your question and straightens up then looks down to you.

DM: Guard-- "Well, no, not to members." he smiles.

Chance: "Well, I'm looking at becoming a member. How does one go about doing that?"

DM: You notice a golden plaque mounted upon one of the pillars to the side of the gate, it has some words inscribed in it and you wonder why it hasn't been stolen yet.

DM: Guard-- "Well, first thing I would do is come back tomorrow." He grins again, "the administrators won't be seeing anyone today for certain, its one of the few days they have totally for themselves and their own musics and hobbies."

Chance: "Okay. What is a good time to come tomorrow?"

DM: Guard-- "Anytime lad... anytime at all."

Chance: "Alright. Thank you. Good day to you, sir. What is your name?"

DM: Guard-- "Holdan, young sir."

Chance: "Thank you. I am Chance. See you tomorrow. Enjoy the sun," I bow and tip my cap to Holdan. Then, I decide to go check out the Mercenaries' Hall. By then, it should be lunch time.

DM: The Mercenaries Hall, like always is open. After the two-hour walk it takes to get there you are plenty hungry for some grub.

Chance: Well, I go in and see what the bulletin board says for caravans to the Eastern Empire. Mainly in the general region of where Elsaz'z tower is at.

DM: Tanos leans over the desk, "Sign in lad."

Chance: "Oh. Sorry, Tanos. I was just checking the board," I say as I sign in.

DM: It seems you have missed most of the richer caravans by a couple of weeks, but you notice that another will leave in a couple weeks time under the name of one of the more wealthy lords of Tel Akbar.

Chance: I check out to see how to contact the merchant.

DM: There are, of course, numerous small caravans.

Chance: More money, more protection; more protection, less chance of me getting whooped on.

DM: It says that interviews are held in the Valorious Drink, a tavern near the High Quarter, at the beginning of every week. Since today is Nineday, that is only two days away.

Chance: I decide to wait until Firstday to check out the interviews. I ask Tanos if I can buy him ale.

DM: Tanos-- "Rot yer gut out. Heh, but I appreciate the offer. No thanks."

Chance: "Alright. I thought I would offer."

DM: He nods.

Chance: I leaves the Mercenaries' Hall and head for the Tuckered Boot.

DM: Well, the Tuckered Boot is in the middle of spring remodeling...try telling these people its a holiday! But they still serve a wickedly cold drink for any who can put up with a little extra noise.

DM: Bartender-- "Ain't you too young to be drinking kid?" He has to shout a bit to carry his voice over the hammering noises in the background.

Chance: "I'm 27 years old. I'm a halfling...we're just short." I check to see if there are any people in need of a good story or if they are all drunk.

DM: Bartender-- "Well, I'll be." he slaps the bar, "so what you wanna drink?" Louder the bartender shouts to carry over the pounding and sawing racket. Looks like most of the patrons are being distracted by the new waitress you haven't seen before.

Chance: What does she look like?

DM: She's kind of tall for you... but seems the humans don't mind that. Nice hair... wouldn't hurt to remember her when you are telling stories about beautiful women.

Chance: I wait for her to come take my order.

DM: The bartender is still waiting for your order. "Did you come to see the tits and ass or to buy a drink son? I'll ask you to pay for either one."

Chance: "Oh. I'd like a stout ale and a bit of roast beef and cheese," scanning the room for interesting conversation or people. Chance mentally notes that this bartender is a poet and don't know it.

DM: He nods and goes to get your drink. "Here's yer drink. Three silver for that and the meat."

Chance: I toss him the coins.

DM: He goes away to another customer.

Chance: I scan the room for conversations that might look interesting--reading lips when necessary.

DM: Most of the talk here is about work... that's drab. A couple of men in the corner whose lips you can't see; a brightly armored fellow with blond hair is chatting with the guard at the entrance to the place.

Chance: I check out their conversation.

DM: Guard-- "Ask around buddy. I'm the last person you wanna have sing."

Chance: I make sure that it doesn't look like I am staring.

DM: Armored man-- "Well, thanks anyhow. When's this construction gonna end?"

DM: Guard--"When it gets done. You sure have a lot of questions."

Chance: I think over how to introduce myself.

DM: Armored Man--"Don't you hate all the noise?"

DM: Guard--"Look buddy, order a drink or get out. I'm not paid to answer stupid questions like that."

Chance Gods, this guy asks more questions than I do.

DM: The armored fellow strides meaningfully across the bar and whaps on the wooden bar. "I'd like a cold WATER," he says loudly.

Chance: I hurriedly eat the rest of my food and get ready to leave. Also, I look to see if the waitress comes to get drinks from the bar so that I could talk to her.

DM: To the sound of hammering and pounding of construction, the attractive yound watiress saunters towards where you are sitting.

Chance: I ask the armored gentleman what his name is.

DM: She glides over to him, "You wanna drink or something, honey?"

DM: Armored Man-- "Hey, know anyone who can sing?"

DM: Barmaid-- "You sure you don't wanna drink fellow?"

Chance: "I can't sing, but I can tell a good story or two," I interject.

DM: Armored Man-- "Um...water? Do you sing?"

DM: Bartender-- "We only serve water to paying customers...buy something to eat buddy!"

Chance: I toss three copper on the counter and ask her politely to get him a glass of water seeing as the armor has obviously left him parched.

DM: Barmaid-- "Look, you need to order something to get water...whaddya want? My breasts?" I guess she noticed his staring.

Chance: "I would like a glass of water, miss."

DM: Barmaid-- "Thanks kid, he's all yours." To the bartender, "Give him a water Bruce!"

Chance: "Miss, what is your name?"

DM: The bartender brings over a steaming plate of what you hope is roast beef and a glass of water for you.

Chance: I slide the glass of water to the guy and then wait for the girl to respond.

DM: Barmaid-- "Earina. Thanks." She walks off to help another customer.

Chance: "Like I said, I can't sing, but I can spin a tale or two."

DM: Armored Man-- "Did you say something about stories?" He looks at the water funny-like, then picks up the glass very carefully and begins to drink.

Chance: "I did. What is your name, sir?"

DM: Armored Man-- "Garrid. Sir Garrid of Zeaburg."

Chance: "Might I be of assistance? My name is Chance," I say with a nod of my head and a tip of my cap.

DM: Garrid-- "Can you sing?"

Chance: "I told you, I can't sing, but I am a well trained storyteller," I try to hold back my budding annoyance.

DM: Garrid-- "Pleasure to meet you, most honorable Chance." He slaps the bar for no reason and the bartender looks over in your direction with irritation.

Chance: **Does the guy look drunk?

DM: Garrid flicks a wisp of his blond hair out of his face. He doesn't look drunk.

Chance: **Does he smell like booze?

Chance: "Might I be of service to you, sir?"

DM: Garrid-- "SO! You look like you have done some traveling." He notices your sniffing and he proclaims, "Did I step in something?" He smells like polished steel. Tired of waiting for an answer he asks, "So where have you traveled?"

Chance: "No, you don't stink. I have done some traveling in the Eastern Empire as well as the mountain area near Karthay." I don't know who this guy is so I am not going to give him very open answers.

DM: Garrid-- "Karthay! I have a brother in Karthay, perhaps you've met him. Allan ap Carrol!"

Chance: "Not that I know of. Sorry to say. What about yourself? Where have you traveled? I check out his outfit. He doesn't seem like he's been around very much.

DM: Garrid-- "I have traveled from Zeaburg to here, a fantastic distance of beautiful country side, but dreadfully boring, nothing but incompetent bandits to get in your way!"

DM: He mutters, "Dreadful!"

Chance: "How did you get your knighthood and what need you of a singer, Garrid?" I want to hear his knightly story.

DM: Garrid-- "'Tis a story worth more than just the ears of you and I. I'll have to get the rest of this bar's attention if you wish to hear the great tale," he grins and flicks more hair from his face.

Chance: I think to myself how incredibly boring this man seems and how good a storyteller he is with the rest of his social skills wanting as they do.

DM: Garrid-- "Why, to sing of the great deeds I intend to perform...as soon as I...well...I will surely need someone who can sing soon..."

Chance: **Ah crap. He's a newbie adventurer.

Chance: "I should be on my way to the Eastern Empire within the next few days if you would like to accompany me. I could tell of your great deeds along the way." I can't believe I just offered to do that.

DM: Garrid-- "How much do you charge?" Garrid pats a meager looking and very cleanly kept purse at his side.

Chance: Well, I would like a traveling companion and I am always in search of a good story to tell. I have no charge. I think of the money hidden about my person.

DM: Garrid-- "Good Sir, I most certainly can afford that. Perhaps in your stories you can elude to what a rip off it is to buy a decent sword." He shakes his head as though it were one of life's great tragedies.

DM: Bruce the Bartender-- "You done with that water?" He looks at you then at Garrid, "You bought your sword?"

Chance: "I have a meeting on Firstday with a merchant who plans to travel to the Eastern Empire. I would like it if you could come along." What am I doing? I guess I need someone to tag along with me.

DM: Garrid, looks Bruce straight in the eye, "Indeed my good Sir!" Then he pauses and looks kind of embarrassed.

Chance: I look at his sword. Is it anything to write home about?

DM: Bruce-- "Heh heh." He goes away to help other customers.

DM: The wrappings on his sword show only slight wear. The scabbard is fabric and fancily stitched--looks hand made.

Chance: "Well, how about you meet me here in another three days and I will tell you of the news."

DM: Garrid-- "Excellent! I am sure my great skills would be a fantastic addition to any caravan traveling through perilous lands. You can tell them that!" He stops to think of the journey and mumbles, "Three days."

Chance: I open my belt pouch and hand the kid a gold piece so that he might be able to afford the cost of living for the next few days. "Take this."

DM: Garrid turns to a burly guys next to him and says, "Hear that, I'm headed to the Eastern Empire!" He sounds almost in awe. He takes your coin then hands it back to you, "But no! 'Tis I who should be paying you! Three days then and I will see you here."

DM: The burly man totally ignores Garrid.

Chance: I excuse myself and walk over to Earina. "Would you like to chat? I am obviously not some lecherous drunk. Only someone who understands your position in this world. I understand that you are still working but I would be happy to come back when you are off. I would be wary of these men if I were you," I say with a cautious glance around the bar.

DM: Earina-- "What would you know of it, kid?" She plants her hands on her hips and gives you a defensive look.

Chance: "I tended bar and waited tables at my family's inn for 15 years. I understand what it feels like to be in your place."

DM: Earina-- "I seen a lotta men kid... what makes you think I wanna hang out with a short kid like you?" She grins.

Chance: "Because I am not interested in your--'gifts'--only in an honest conversation with you. Perhaps a chance at a life outside of waiting tables." I check to see how old the girl looks.

DM: Earina-- "I'm waiting to be impressed kid.... Here's your chance to show me how you're different from these drunks here." She looks like early twenties for a human.

Chance: "Hey, I haven't checked your breasts or anything else on you since I walked in the door. I did notice how the other men in here were looking at you. Honestly, I'm worried about you getting home safely," Chance comments with a quick glance around the room.

DM: Earina-- "You're starting to sound like the others kid... you gonna make yourself original or am I wasting my time?"

Chance: "And for your information, miss, I would consider the fact that I do probably have a few more years of experience in this world than you."

DM: Bruce watches you two from across the bar.

Chance: "I'm an adventurer on my way to the Eastern Empire. I have tired of this town and I thought that you might like to travel with me for a way," I keep my voice low. "If I were going to talk you into anything, I would have tried it by now and we both know it."

DM: Earina leans her head to the side so Bruce can't see her talking and says, "If only I could afford to get outta this dump kid. Trust me." She grins.

Chance: "Give me five minutes when you get off work and I'll help you out of this dump. No strings. I promise. Now, Bruce is watching us so I better get out of here. When you get off, come to room 213 in the Lion's Rest. No strings."

DM: She watches you for a second, and seems to be weighing it out. "Ok kid. See you after midnight. Don't be late though. You're gonna walk me there ain't you?" She grins shyly.

Chance: "I'll be here at midnight. Take care of yourself, girlie. Doesn't help your cause if you aren't in one piece."

DM: Earina-- "See you then kid." She heads off to help the patrons who have been waiting.

Chance: I head on towards where I think the greatest merriment is going to be taking place. I bet I could make a gold or two by telling tales.

DM: Well, most of the celebrations will either happen in the southern parts of the city, in the parks, or outside the city walls.

Chance: It's only about 1pm or so, so I should have plenty of daylight left. Is there a park near the area that I have been living?

DM: A bit closer to the Garden Quarter yes, and that isn't so far away.

Chance: I'll stop by the Lion's Rest and get my red cape so that I can be more expressional whilst telling stories.

DM: Things are pretty quiet at the Lion's Rest.

Chance: I stop by the Laughing Frog (where Chance has been waiting tables part time) to see what's going down at work and to see if there are any revelers there.

DM: You approach the old tavern and hear the sounds of some argument going on inside.

Chance: I carefully approach the door and peek in to see what's going on.

DM: You peek in the door and see four burly looking ruffians, two with crossbows - one pointed at the barkeep (your boss) and people around the bar laying on the floor.

DM: Voice1-- "Well I just don't think that's going to work!"

DM: Voice2-- "Shuddup and grab the fucking coin." One of them is behind the bar and you can hear the clinking of coins from there. There's a body on the floor near the door with a dagger in its temple.

Chance: I check out the street around me to see if there is a guard nearby.

DM: No guards around...in fact, there are very few people in general around here at the moment...probably due to the festivities in other areas of the city. The Mill, next door looks closed and the curtains are down in the business across the street. Looks like most businesses are closed.

DM: Voice3-- "We need to get the fuck outta here, get the gems and lets go."

DM: Voice 2-- "Hold your fucking horses. I can't get this unlocked."

Chance: I check around to see if there is anywhere to hide outside the bar.

DM: The street outside is fairly empty... hiding in an empty street wouldn't work very well.

Chance: Any alleys?

DM: Next to the bar there is one, on the right side.

Chance: Okay, I throw two daggers at one of the guys and then duck down the alley and hide in the shadows. I make sure I make contact before I run.

DM: Who are you throwing it at? (Voice1 is by the bar; Voice2 is behind the bar; Voice3 is near the entrance; Voice4 (crossbow, also voice3) is across the bar from the entrance.)

Chance: I throw at the guy near the entrance.

DM: Your two daggers slice through the air, the first missing your target and sailing into the back of the bar, the second though strikes him in the lower back!

Chance: Does he fall? Or at least drop the crossbow?

DM: Nope, he whirls about and crookedly levels his crossbow at you in haste before it launches its bolt at you. The bolt sails between your legs... you lucky bastard.

DM: Ruffian1-- "Fuck, its the guards!"

DM: Ruffian2-- "Nah, just some unlucky kid, kill him!"

Chance: I'm out of the way...I jump into the alley, draw my short sword and dagger and hide in the shadows. "Wait `til they see how mean this unlucky kid can be," Chance thinks to himself with a wicked grin. (When did I become this rotten?)

DM: Ruffian3-- "Fuck, he got out... hurry up before he gets help!" Ruffian4 appears from around the corner of the alleyway searching for you.

Chance: I wait for him to go by me...unless I notice that he sees me.

DM: You hear the door of the tavern that leads to the alley open and see Ruffian1 step through with a metal box and shortsword in his hands.

DM: Ruffian1-- "Here he is!" Ruffian4 charges you. You hear more movement coming from inside the bar to the door that opens into the alley.

Chance: I whack him and parry with my dagger.

DM: Before you can get your sword thrust in he plunges his shortsword down in a deadly arc, which you block just in time, but the force of the blow knocks your dagger from your hand.

Chance: Ouch.

DM: The force of the blow must have set you off balance cause you miss with your dagger. You notice Ruffian4, your opponent is limping and gasping from your prior dagger wound.

Chance: I whack at ruff 4 with my sword and draw another dagger.

DM: You hear footsteps running away behind you in the alley from the direction Ruffian1 was. Ruffian2 emerges from the doorway into the alley.

Chance: I throw my dagger at ruffian 1 and whack at 4

DM: He misses you with a second swipe, but yours connects and blood gushed from his stomach, causing him to collapse, moaning.

DM: Ruffian2-- "Fuck, I can't walk! Help me!" You turn around and see Ruffian2 grabbing his foot, looks like he stepped on something bad. Ruffian1 is at the end of the alley, undecided as to help his companions or run. You feel a bolt thwack into your back.

Chance: I throw 2 daggers at ruff1.

DM: Ruffian3-- "Ill get the fucker."

Chance: "Ouch!"

DM: Ruffian1 runs back to help Ruffian2 who is holding a bleeding foot. Ruffian4 is lying on the ground groaning. Ruffian3 draws a longsword and charges you.

Chance: Okay, I have already thrown my 2 daggers at 1. What was the outcome of that?

DM: One of your daggers clatters off the alley wall while the other misses him and sticks into a crate that ruffian1 ducks behind.

Chance: I stand ready for Ruff3 with shortsword and dagger (to parry with).

DM: Ruffian3 gets the jump on you as you face him, but his thrust is waaay off. Your shortsword also misses its mark and you two square off to face each other. You hear Ruffian1 helping his wounded companion with his foot behind you.

Chance: Okay, I wade into Ruffian3 with both weapons.

DM: He's fast, though, and, as your weapons fly at him, he dodges both and skillfully cuts you with his longsword.

Chance: "Ouch!" Attack and parry. I make sure to keep track of where the other two guys are so that they don't get away.

DM: You stab your shortsword into his chest, but he backs up before any real damage can be done. He swings at you again and stabs his longsword deep into a crate behind you, sticking it fast.

DM: Ruffian3-- "Fuck!"

DM: You hear Ruffian2 limping off with the help of Ruffian1.

Chance: "Die, asshole!" I lunge at him with both weapons...envisioning great attacks I've made in the past...cause the ones today have sucked.

DM: Both find their mark easily and this time he forgets to dodge while he tries to pull his sword free. His body slumps to the ground, leaving his longsword stuck in the crate, he doesn't move.

Chance: I turn my attention to Ruffian1. When I reach him, I stab him in the back with both weapons.

DM: Ruffian1 tries to turn before you stab him, but is unable to do so with his companion hanging onto him and the heavy metal box in his other hand. You stab him deeply and feel your sword strike through his ribs. He drops his friend who falls against the alley wall and leans over grabbing his belly, not quite dead but incapacitated.

Chance: I finish him off. Then I question Ruffian2 about who he's working for.

DM: You look about you, two ruffians lay bleeding or dead on the ground while the other two are too messed up to fight any longer. He slides off your blade, eyes dead, as your shortsword cuts deep into his side. Ruffian2 tries to limp off, holding the wall for support.

Chance: I trip him and grab his bleeding foot. With a little squeeze, I ask him whom he works for.

DM: Ruffian2-- "Your gonna DIE man, your gonna fucking pay!" Ruffian2 groans in pain as you squeeze his bleeding foot.

Chance: "Who're you working for and I might let you live." By this time, Chance is pretty pissed off by having been attacked and having to get some of his good clothes dirty.

DM: Ruffian2-- "Barishan... ooow! He'll have your guts torn out... ouch!"

Chance: "Who's he? Tell me and you might live past the pain." I give his ankle a little twist.

DM: You hear guards in clinking chainmail heading this way and Ruffian2 gets a panicked look in his eyes, you see a dagger flash into his hand.

DM: Guards-- "Halt!"

Chance: "Guards, I found these men attacking the patrons of the..."

DM: Ruffian2 stabs it into your belly, easily done at this range.

Chance: I swing my shortsword before he gets up. (Obviously self-defense)

DM: He falls dead before a cry can escape his lips, your sword piercing him through the throat. The dagger clatters to the ground and you see a dark green substance at its base. The guards rush up to you.

Chance: I turn towards the guards and drop the tip of my sword to the ground to show that I mean no harm.

DM: Important Looking Guard-- "What's the meaning of this?!"

Chance: "I think that his dagger was poisoned, guard. I don't know how long I have."

DM: Four other guards accompany the captain-looking one.

Chance: As I said, he and his friends were robbing the inn that I work for and I tried to stop these men. Please, I must get to a healer."

DM: Guard2-- "Who are you sir?" You see the barkeep step out into the alley, holding his side, which also bleeds.

DM: Barkeep-- "That's my help there Sir..."

Chance: "Accompany me if you must, but let me get to a healer." I hold my side, acting as though the pain from the poison is getting worse.

DM: You see the silver box that the ruffians were stealing away laying on the ground near the body of Ruffian1.

DM: Barkeep-- "Those men robbed and stabbed me, and KILLED one of my patrons! They deserved what they got!" He spits at the bodies the litter the streets...your handiwork.

DM: Guard4-- "Is this true?" He looks to you. Guard3 goes to pick up the silver box. Guard2 pokes around at the dead ruffian's bodies. Ruffian3 groans still on the ground. Guard2 picks up his dirty hide, "Who are you!?"

Chance: "That's what I saw and then I acted. I had the day off and came by to check on the patronage. This one," I point to ruffian 2, "said something about a Barishan."

DM: Important Guard-- "Who?"

Chance: "That's what the guys said...Barishan. Who's he?"

DM: Guard2 shakes Ruffian3 by the hair of his head-- "Answer the question knave!" Ruffian3 passes out.

DM: Important Guard-- "Pick that one up. The rest look dead to me." He looks to you, "What's your name son?"

DM: Barkeep-- "You should just kill em all, fucking robbing bastards." All the guards ignore the barkeep.

Chance: "Name's Chance." I make sure to keep back my full name, especially in front of the puke that I didn't quite kill.

DM: Guard4-- "He said Barishan, right? Wonder who that is."

Chance: "I don't know. I hope it's no one too important." I really hope it's no one important that will spend time looking for me. What a pain in the butt that would be. "What's your name, sir?" I ask the Important Looking Guard.

DM: Important Guard-- "Sir Harold. Good work here son...let's get you to a healer. I think it is pretty obvious what happened here." It occurs to you that now you have something exciting to tell Earina about.

Chance: Yeah. That's just what I wanted...to mess with thieves in Tel Akbar. I tell Niel (the barkeep) that I'll be back later. He may want to help with my healing costs. "I hope you're okay. You may want to have that looked at."

DM: Niel slips a fat silver ring off his finger and tucks it in your pocket as you go. "Good job there, kid. Maybe there's more to you then washing dishes after all."

DM: The guards escort you through the city to a small and clean looking home. People on their way to parties watch you and the guards with interest. You arrive at a small home, Harold knocks at the door and a kind-eyed, older man opens it wide.

DM: OldMan-- "What have we here? Come in come in."

DM: Harold-- "This man needs some assistance. By my authority you can heal him. The city will cover part of his expenses for his deed."

DM: Harold-- "You may ask him about the other half of your costs."

DM: Harold-- "We may be looking for you if we find out something about that man he spoke of or anything else. So if you leave your job, leave us a way to get ahold of you."

Chance: "What is the cost and I will pay whatever my share is." I look around the room to see what this old man is like.

DM: Harold-- "Stay outta trouble kid." He hands the old man a bag, sounds like coins to your ears.

Chance: "Sir Harold, I am supposed to be leaving for the Eastern Empire in a few weeks. I will take my messages at the Laughing Frog until then...if that's okay with the legal stuff."

DM: Harold-- "Sure, kid. Good job." He and his four guardsmen leave.

DM: The home is small, the downstairs is all one room with a set of stairs going up to the right and a fireplace to the left. A small couch is near the fireplace and another by the wall to your left. Curtains hang from the walls everywhere except near the fireplace.

Chance: "I am Chance. Who are you, kind sir?"

DM: Old Man--"Abrahm. Sit down there, I'll be back in a second." He gestures to one of the couches and says to make yourself comfortable. Abrahm leaves and goes upstairs. He comes back a few minutes later with a black satchel.

DM: Abrahm-- "Off with your shirt lad."

Chance: I take my shirt off and ask him if he knows any magic.

DM: Abrahm nods-- "Some... some.... you'll see, just relax, lay back and close your eyes lad."

Chance: I lay back and close my eyes most of the way. I am not going to let my guard down completely.

DM: Well, they look closed enough to Abrahm you guess cause he opens his satchel and takes out some soft white powder and rubs it over his hands. Next he washes your wounds out with a sponge. "Okay now, this might feel strange," he says, "so just relax and it will be fast." You watch as Abrahm closes his eyes and you feel his hands lay upon your skin where you are wounded. To your surprise, you see a brief light illuminate behind his closed eyelids and you feel a strange peacefulness fill your lungs and your skin moving beneath his hands.

Chance: I let myself go with the feeling of healing.

DM: The glow fades from behind his eyelids and you see him open his eyes again (which look just as old and kind as they were when you met him.) "There you are, young lad."

DM: Abrahm-- "There looked like some poison, so I removed that too... but you don't have to pay for that." He smiles contentedly at a job well done. There is no sign of your wounds!

Chance: "Thank you, sir. Are you a priest?"

DM: Abrahm nods, perhaps to answer your question and slowly gets up, closing his bag. "Are you well enough to stand now?" he asks you.

Chance: "I am. What can I pay you for this?"

DM: Abrahm looks at you-- "It wasn't so much, whatever you feel is right and can spare," he says softly.

Chance: I give him the fat silver ring that Niel gave me. "Will this be enough, sir?"

DM: Abrahm-- "'Tis enough." He accepts the ring and slips it into his pocket.

Chance: "Can you divine the powers of items thought to be magical, sir?" I think of the unknown power of my ring.

DM: Abrahm-- "Sometimes I make good guesses, but I am sure you could find more adept help elsewhere in the city. 'Tis not my specialty." He smiles and picks up his black satchel.

Chance: "Well, I thank you for your service. If there is ever anything that I can do for you, leave word at the Laughing Frog. If I am in town, I will get the message. Good GreenGrass to you, Abrahm." I bow to the priest and put my shirt back on and get ready to leave.

DM: Abrahm-- "Thank you. Enjoy the spring."

Chance: I wrap my cape around me a bit closer and go back to the Lion's Rest.

DM: You walk out the door. The streets here are pretty empty too. There is a crackling of static in the air and a grey, colorless disk spreads out before you... As it becomes 8 feet across its surface clears and you can see Theo standing on the other side. A strange looking ship is visible behind him, with strangely dressed people, very different from the ship he left Tel Akbar on.

DM: Theo, "Ho there!"

Chance: "Holy shit, Theo! Could you have been less obvious? I just got in a fight at the bar. How's everything with you guys?" I pick up my chin which has probably hit the street.

DM: Theo grins-- "Things have been fucking crazy. We aren't traveling with Captain Danny now... long story 'bout that. Anyhow, while we have a minute, here's that dagger I wanted you to have... err that you wanted to borrow."

Chance: "I'm going to go check out Elsaz's tower in the Eastern Empire. Tell Bolas I found a hot one for him...hehe. Now what brought this little visit on?"

DM: Theo offers you the familiar magical dagger. "Don't lose it like you do with the regular ones..."

DM: Bolas walks into view. "Hey there!"

Chance: "Hey, this'll work out great. Thanks, guys. I hope that you guys stay safe. I'll take good care of it. Doesn't look good for throwing anyway. Obviously you have a way to find me. I'll be heading east in a few weeks. If you need me, just drop in."

DM: Theo stands there looking funny and uncomfortable on the open seas.

DM: Bolas-- "Looks like home."

Chance: "Say hi to everyone for me. I hope you guys are having fun on the boat."

DM: Theo-- "Err... yeah, where are you--." The portal closes.

Chance: I hide the dagger amongst the others on my dagger harness. I do remember where it is. Now, I truck on out of the area and back to the Lion's Rest.

DM: The Lion's Rest is quiet.

Chance: I go upstairs and change my clothes. I check my door and room to make sure no one has gone through it.

DM: Everything is as it should be. You have a few hours before you should leave for your meeting with Earina.

Chance: I go downstairs and ask whoever is at the desk if they will wake me in two hours.

DM: The Innkeep nods-- "Two hours then."

Chance: "Thanks."

Chance: I go upstairs and write in my journal for a while and then take a light catnap. I sleep with my leather armor on and keep everything at the ready.