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<blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 7493477" data-attributes="member: 6971069"><p><strong>Flint Rock and the importance of tipping (9/13/2018)</strong></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"><strong>Flint Rock and the importance of tipping.</strong></p> <p style="text-align: center"><strong></strong></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The odd thing, is that while people always are trying to get my attention and talk with me, I’m not really a people person. Most people aren’t worth the screed they spout; and in turn, I’m not inclined to spent time with them. On the other hand, when I talk…people take notice. I’d like to credit good breeding or looks, but its more than that. Must be the eyes.</em></p><p></p><p>Working my way back I found the sign. It was in front of a dilapidated Inn, that had signs of recent work. Some new wooden boards side by side by old ones. The sign to the inn itself was a simple yellow flower, painted on a sign that had carved on it “The Frost Touched Frog Inn.” I’m honestly not sure which one was better.</p><p></p><p>Strangely enough, with me taking my time I a had arrived <em>ahead</em> of the dirty pair; The owl gave it away with that awful “Beeepoooo” sound somewhere on the road behind me. So, I quickly darted inside.</p><p></p><p>Inside the Inn appeared…serviceable. The bar itself seemed to be new, but the tables, chairs, and stools were mismatched castoffs; old but sturdy. A hearth and a low fire, gave the Inn a slightly smokey atmosphere. But for as bad the Inn looked outside, daylight didn’t break through the walls, and a bit of work had been done to return it to use.</p><p>Inside, the Tinman was already seated at a table, not far from the bar itself. He glanced my way as I entered; clearly expecting the pair, and quickly returned to his cups when he saw it was me. I quickly moved to the bar and found a seat that was close to where the Tinman was, trying not to be obvious. And then I flagged down the barkeep. </p><p></p><p>“G’day Lass, welcome to Dandelions! What can I ge…” and like that his voice trailed off once we made eye contact. He stood there and just blinked with a wide-eyed look of shock on his face.</p><p></p><p>Sighing, I leaned a bit over the bar, reached for his apron and pulled him closer to me. And said slowly and quietly; “Please, it’s been a long day. Yes, they look different, and yes I can see you just fine. I want a strong ale, a meal, a room for the night, and later I’ll answer questions If you’re nice.”</p><p></p><p>The barkeeper, recovered quickly nodded “Of of course! Yes…yes…just a moment.” And scurried off to get the ale. At that point the dirty pair entered the Inn. And it became apparent that my placement at the bar really didn’t matter much.</p><p></p><p>The reason being, is once the gnome saw the Tinman it was apparent that he had only one volume for his voice; Obnoxiously Loud. It wasn’t hard to listen in. Pretty sure the kitchen could have listened in.</p><p></p><p>“So…you are the one that ran into us into the square. Who are you?” the Gnome demanded.</p><p></p><p>The Tinman looked pained, clearly expecting a quieter discussion. “You know, I wasn’t trying to talk to <em>you</em>. And you are speaking a bit lo…”</p><p></p><p>“Never mind that! If you want to talk to my associate here, you are talking to me! Now, who are you?” he barked…or more yipped and puffed up his chest in response.</p><p></p><p>Giving up on the lack of discretion the Tinman continued, “Who I am is a man looking for his master. You may call me, Daneath.”</p><p></p><p>“And what does that have to do with us?” the gnome asked archly.</p><p></p><p>“With ‘us’ nothing. With him however,” pointing at the dirty human “I have been informed by some…friends of mine that he might know the way.”</p><p></p><p>The dirty human blinked and spread out his hands, “Whoa, look I have no idea what you are talking about. I don’t know about anyone’s ‘Master’ so I don’t kno…”</p><p></p><p>He was cut off by the Tinman, “You do…you just don’t know it.”</p><p></p><p>“It doesn’t matter in the slightest!” said the gnome. “This one is in my debt and he already has a job to pay it off. And I am in some haste, so whatever you want will just have to wait!” and with that, the gnome again puffed out his chest and looked indignantly at the Tinman.</p><p></p><p>“Is that so?” and the Tinman looked at the dirty human “And, what are you doing for this Gnome that is so important?”</p><p></p><p>The dirty one replied, “He wants to go to ‘Flint Rock,’ He claims he’s trying to find his father.”</p><p></p><p>The gnome turned and looked at the dirty human, “I didn’t say you could discuss that with anyone…er…what was your name again?”</p><p></p><p>“You didn’t say anything about it being a secret either. And since you finally asked, Iesa.” the dirty one retorted.</p><p>At this point, the barkeeper slid me a clay mug and said, “Supper’s coming out,” and headed to the trio to find out what they wanted. I sat there sipping the ale (which wasn’t half bad, if a bit strong on the hops) and remarked to myself that this was the strangest discussion I had heard in a while. Not the content mind you, but the fact it was out in the open as it was. Granted it was mostly because the gnomes voice carried, but that seemed to lead to everyone raising their voices. After a bit of talking to the barkeep, the orders for drinks made and they continued.</p><p></p><p>The Tinman regarded the gnome “’Flint Rock’? That is an odd coincidence. That is where my master left to.” Both the gnome and the Tinman looked at the dirty human. “So how do you know the way to a sacred cairn in Elk tribe territory?”</p><p>“Elk tribe!” the gnome sputtered, but the other human ignored the outburst, “Let’s say I liberated that knowledge some time ago…”</p><p></p><p>Well <em>that</em> confirmed it; he <strong><em>is</em></strong> a Knight of the Post.</p><p></p><p>“…and I have been making my way south to go there myself. But why would your master want to go to an Elk tribe cairn, and why would a wizard be insane enough to go to Elk tribe territory at all?”</p><p></p><p>The gnome glared at the ‘Knight’ with that, “I didn’t know it was in Elk tribe lands! And I know full well their reputation on how they treat uninvited guests…and especially uninvited wizard guests! And considering my father was a powerful wizard, he must have had a good reason. But I must find him, and I must complete my work!”</p><p></p><p>“Your work?” both humans together said looking at the gnome intently.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, yes. I am building a device that will allow me to breach planar barriers and let me travel! I suspect my father was building or had a device. But I haven’t heard from him in years. So, finding him is imperative to me to accelerate my work!”</p><p></p><p>I am now fully paying attention to this conversation. So much so, that I hadn’t even noticed that the barkeep had slid a slice of meat in front of me some time ago. But here is a possible way home; either the device or the father of the gnome, who I am now certain is a Fingerpainter.</p><p></p><p>It isn’t going to be quick to get home, but at least the berks can show me around this mudball of a prime. Now it is a matter of how do I join in on this?</p><p></p><p>The Tinman spoke “So…what in the Hells is your name?” looking at the gnome.</p><p></p><p>“Ah, of course! You have the pleasure of addressi…”</p><p></p><p>“The <em>short</em> version please.” The Tinman said holding up his hand before the gnome really got started.</p><p></p><p>The gnome glared, “Ahem that’s just rude! But I am Beepu, Beepu Tilteepockey of Silverymoon. But despite your lack of manners, I think we should stick together, as it sounds like we are heading in the same direction for the moment. Let me get some meals from the barkeeper and we can formalize our plans!”</p><p></p><p>The Fingerpainter then hopped off of the chair and made his way to the bar. Since the barkeeper was in the back, the ‘Painter climbed up on a stool next to me and was shouting repeatedly to get the barkeeper’s attention.</p><p>At that point I decided to dive right in, and hope for the best. It beat banging around the town, and pike it; at least I wouldn’t be bored. So barely turning my head, I address the ‘Painter, “So…you’re looking to travel into the planes?”</p><p></p><p>“Hmm? You were listening to our private conversation!”</p><p></p><p>“Private? I bet the barkeeper and the cook in back heard your ‘Private’ conversation.”</p><p></p><p>“Still! That’s not proper manners to listen in!”</p><p></p><p>“It’s rude to shout.”</p><p></p><p>“I’m not shou…ting.” And the Painter realizing that his voice was indeed carrying managed to lower his voice a bit. At this time the two humans were in a quiet dialog between themselves but were looking at the Fingerpainter with puzzled looks.</p><p></p><p>“Well, you aren’t now. Anyway, what do you know of the planes?”</p><p></p><p>“It’s all very technical, for a common woman like you to understand. For example, places like the Nine Hells…”</p><p></p><p>“Baator.”</p><p></p><p>The Painter blinked, “What did you say?”</p><p></p><p>“Only clueless primes call them ‘the Nine Hells.’ The plane is Baator, it is inhabited by the Baatezu, and they take a very dim view of primes wandering in uninvited.”</p><p></p><p>He blinked again, “Yes…yes that’s right. Who are you exactly?”</p><p></p><p>“Someone who is willing to trade a bit of sweat and stuff to help you achieve your goals, in exchange for a trip home.”</p><p></p><p>“Home? And where is that might I ask?”</p><p></p><p>At this point, I turn to him, smiling and look the gnome in the eyes, watching them grow wide. </p><p></p><p>“Sigil, th…”</p><p></p><p>“The City of Doors…” he said quietly looking into my eyes. He blinked and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but your eyes…I have never seen anyone with eyes like that.”</p><p></p><p>I shrug, “They’re because I’m planetouched; An Aasimar. I just happen to show it…stronger than others do.”</p><p></p><p>“So, you aren’t fully human?”</p><p></p><p>I pause a second. I’ve never been asked that question…or at least in that way. I’ve never thought of myself as either human or part human.</p><p></p><p>Awkwardly, I answer, “Well, I really don’t know the answer to that question really. I’m a foundling…so while I know my father was some type of celestial, my mother…I have no idea.”</p><p></p><p>“How interesting, and do you have skills that can help us on our journey? What can you tell me about planar mechanics? Who is your father? What are you doing in Triboar? How did…”</p><p></p><p>At that point I place my hand gently on his lips. “Tell you what, your friends might have the same questions, so perhaps we can discuss it with them?”</p><p></p><p>“Of course! That makes sense…Once I get the barkeeps attention!”</p><p></p><p>Smiling I turn my head towards the kitchen and barely raising my voice said, “Hey barkeep!” to which he almost instantly appeared from the back. He walked up straight to me, and clearly ignored the Fingerpainter.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, yes…did you need something more?”</p><p></p><p>I nodded, “A round of your ale for four on me, and whatever…Beepu wants on him.” Tossing the barkeep, a jinx and said,“Thank you.”</p><p></p><p>The barkeep smiles and catches the coin and looks at the Painter with some disinterest. “And you want…what?”</p><p></p><p>“I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while! How do you expect to make any money with service like this!”</p><p></p><p>“By making room for patrons who actually tip,” was the retort. </p><p></p><p>---</p><p></p><p>Eventually the barkeep and the Painter come to some arrangement involving stew, and I then dismount my stool, and grab my plate and move to the table where the humans were talking.</p><p></p><p>Neither was startled by me sitting down with my meal, but both did quiet down and look at me quizzically and then at each other. Their eyes narrowed in suspicion and the Knight was about to say something when the Painter came back to the table.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, well food is on the way and I found someone that will be very hel…”</p><p></p><p>“Who is she?” the Knight asked, “And what’s with the hair and eyes?”</p><p></p><p>I smile, “So nice of you to notice. It’s a rarity, or so I’m told. You can call me Myrai, and you might say I’m interested in his success.” Leaning my head toward the Painter.</p><p></p><p>“And you want what?” the Knight asked.</p><p></p><p>“Simple things, a tour, a way back to the Cage, jink…” Seeing the blank looks, I realized I needed to be clearer as the Cant was going over their heads. “Let me…rephrase, I come with you while you explore and find your way to ‘Flint Rock’ and do what you need to, Beepu gets me back to my home city, and I get a cut of money along the way. Does that make sense berks?”</p><p></p><p>“I can assume you can pull your own weight, seeing you have got a number of blades on you. But some of the words you use…like ‘berk’. What does that mean?”</p><p></p><p>“Where I come from we call it ‘the Cant’ …It’s a form of slang. And berk? Berk means…partner.” I lied.</p><p></p><p>“And this place…the Cage?” </p><p></p><p>“You mean Sigil? Well imagine a place that is the crossroads of the multiverse. It’s a place that has doors to and from anywhere if you have the key. Because of that it is the trading hub, where anyone can do business with anyone they want. And before you ask, it’s called the Cage as getting in and out requires that key, and keys change often.”</p><p></p><p>The Knight and the Tinman both looked at me, processing my words. I took a good look at them for the first time; both had black hair and brown eyes, but where the Tinman, Daneath, was all muscle the Knight, Iesa, was wiry. Both had appeared to have quick reflexes, when the ale arrived and both going for the tallest filled mug. The Tinman was clean shaven, where the Knight had thick stubble on his face. The Tinman had a sword and a large bow strapped to his pack, while the Knight had his short sword and dagger. The tinman of course had chain mail and a shield was leaning against a nearby post, while the Knight seemed to have some leather buried beneath his rags. Perched on the shoulder of the Knight was the brown, short furred animal…I should know what it is, but it’s not coming to mind. </p><p></p><p>By contrast, Beepu the Fingerpainter did not appear to be the most athletic. Standing about three feet in height which made the two humans twice his size easily. He too had dark brown nearly black hair and green eyes. More notable was the wide assortment of trinkets and gizmos hanging from belts and straps. But it’s the owl that really stood out.</p><p>The owl wasn’t real. Well, no it is real, but it isn’t alive. It’s like a modron; all gears and wires and stuff. Even sitting there quietly on the back of the Painters chair it made quiet clicking and whirring noises as it surveyed the inn.</p><p></p><p>At this point I can’t imagine what they thought of me. But since someone is going to read this journal, I might as well describe myself. I stand about five foot, with my shoulder length hair worn free. I wear a set of soft leathers, that looks like a crazy quilted mess of blacks and red (they were leftover cuts, that I helped stitch together), with a light leather cloak, and a boiled leather chest piece. A dagger on my hip off a belt, which on the other side supporting a pouch that drops down and has a strip of leather keeping it place with my right thigh. If they paid enough attention they would have seen more daggers; one in a bracer and one in a boot. That left the two necklaces I wore; one a…personal momento and the other a symbol of my faith.</p><p></p><p>An eclectic mess. But it was comfortable, and easy to keep clean from the brimstone infused rain of the lower ward.</p><p>The Tinman spoke “Well, if we are going to Elk territory, we’ll probably need all the help we can get. You can handle yourself, right?”</p><p></p><p>Smiling I reply, “I can take care of myself, but while I don’t know what this Elk tribe is, from the sound of it they wouldn’t like me better than the Fingerpainter…sorry, wizard here. But I’ll manage.”</p><p></p><p>Then from behind me a voice said, “So there you are Iesa! If you are planning on running, we’d better talk…now.”</p><p></p><p>The Knight turned his head slightly and was looking at someone behind me and said, “Well, running now would be a waste of an ale. What do you want Korsos? It’s not like I’ve done anything.”</p><p></p><p>“Done anything <strong><em>yet</em></strong>,” the voice intoned. “But truth be told, your fine is paid for, so you are indeed free to go. I’m just here to give you…advice.” Which I then heard a chair scraping behind me and the sound of someone taking a seat. Turning my head, I saw a mid-aged human; with greying hair and beard and vivid green eyes. He had a deep tan and wore leathers that had seen plenty of time outdoors. A sword was belted to his side and a bow, on which he leaned forward on, holding it in both hands with one end on the floor as if propping up his frame. He was sitting on a chair backwards, facing towards our table. The final thing I noticed was a chain around his neck, with what looked to be a badge of office, with three pig heads? No…Boar heads…</p><p></p><p>Oh, I get it now. Triboar. Great; a guvner of sorts I suppose.</p><p></p><p>The Knight was giving Korsos a look that sat between suspicious and curious. “Advice? You could have given me that the first time you had me thrown in that cell.”</p><p></p><p>“True. But then it would have been lost on you boy. Plus, I wasn’t around for the second time. At that point I normally wouldn’t have cared one whit about you. But…you surprised me. I wasn’t expecting you to be the altruistic type.”</p><p></p><p>“Fat merchants shouldn’t kick kids,” spat the Knight.</p><p></p><p>Korsos frowned, “No…no they shouldn’t. But threatening the merchant at sword point till he soiled himself was a bit strong of a response. Granted he didn’t notice you lifting his purse at the same time. And because that purse was dropped in those kid’s hands, is the only reason I’m not bringing you back to the tower.”</p><p></p><p>I looked at the Knight closely; and my gut just told me his story. A street kid, living by his wits, but not alone. Probably was with other kids supporting each other, and by extension to any other group of urchins around him. I could easily see him being a lightboy in Sigil, and later in life, keeping an eye out for them. We might have a little bit in common.</p><p>His voice brought me back to the present, “So, what, ‘don’t do that again’ is that it?”</p><p></p><p>Korsos shook his head, “No…you need to leave town. The merchant has made a stink of what you did, and while Darathra might be inclined to believe you, she’s out of town and not due back for weeks. Malton, her second seems to have taken a shine to you…but in not the most pleasant of ways. In fact, if he was at the tower today, it would have been doubtful that your friend here,” to which he pointed at Beepu, “and that annoying, noisy construct would have been able to spring you loose. However, he isn’t back from hunting yet, and won’t be until late tomorrow. If I were you, I would arrange to be elsewhere by then.”</p><p></p><p>“Now wait a minute! Foggle isn’t noisy!” Beepu said defensively. “He is a state of the arcanotechnical machine.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh…so you admit to him being annoying?” Korsos said mildly.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, I do mean…wait…NO…that isn’t what I meant at all!” Beepu replied flustered at the turn of the conversation.</p><p></p><p>At this point I decided to intervene before the gnome escalated it, “So where do you recommend that Iesa go?”</p><p></p><p>Korsos looked at me for the first time and did a double take. But he recovered and quickly answered “Ah, well he could head north on the road to Longsaddle or south to Amphail or Waterdeep. But I admit, Iesa might get chased in either of those directions by Malton. You might be safer heading to Yartar if for no other reason is they aren’t likely to help anyone in authority from Triboar. What I wouldn’t do, is head off into the wilds.”</p><p></p><p>“Something wrong in the wilds?” I asked.</p><p></p><p>“Well, two things. The first is that the Elk tribe which normally patrols and harasses wagon caravans haven’t been seen in a while. That’s odd enough, but whatever caused that, has also led to a sudden increase of gnolls. That tells me that the Elk are truly concerned with other matters; they wouldn’t just let gnolls run rampant in their territory.”</p><p></p><p>Gnolls; spawn from Yeenoghu, one of the Demon Lords of the Abyss. An extreme rarity in Sigil as they weren’t exactly civilized. When they were brought in, they were handled like dangerous pets. And usually a fatality would happen and the Guvners would point out that’s why you don’t bring them into the city, and the Red Death puts them all to the sword; including the responsible party. But I didn’t realize they were present on primes. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought.</p><p></p><p>Korsos continued, “Although, I’m not sure in your case which would be worse; a pack of gnolls or a patrol of Elk tribesmen. Your appearance might be…interpreted in the wrong way. They barely tolerate elves, and the Elk know that they deal with magic. It’d be unfortunate if you crossed their paths, as I have no idea what would happen to you. Beyond being painful that is.”</p><p></p><p>I had caught on that this ‘Elk Tribe’ were a bunch of superstitious primitives and they didn’t like magic. Considering that people reacting shocked or surprised around me, made me believe the Elk might take it a bit farther. And I really didn’t want to become a petitioner to my god just yet.</p><p></p><p>Shrugging I comment, “We’ll just have to avoid them…no matter which way we end up going.”</p><p>Korsos nodded, “Well, I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision, and then leave Triboar. Good-day to you all.” And with that, Korsos stood up and left the Inn.</p><p></p><p>It was getting near dark, and the Inn was getting busier with merchants and some locals. I start to cut into the now cold dinner, take a bite and chew and looked at the others.</p><p></p><p>They in turn looked at the Knight, who’s brow was furrowed in thought. Eventually he spoke, “So if we all want to get to Flint Rock, we should leave tomorrow and head to Yartar.”</p><p></p><p>“Because of you annoying the merchants here?” started the Painter “You really should control yourself and focus at the task at hand; <strong><em>MY</em></strong> task!”</p><p></p><p>“No,” and the Knight gave a level gaze to the Painter “It’s because from what I know, it is closer to Yartar, than here.”</p><p></p><p>“Well…that at least makes some sense.” The gnome remarked.</p><p></p><p>“How exactly do you know the way to the place?” the Tinman asked</p><p></p><p>“I saw a map once, and I have a good memory for these things,” the Knight commented.</p><p></p><p>I looked at the Knight carefully; something was amiss, but I couldn’t figure out what. It was like he was trying to hide something. It was the way he was looking with his eyes; defensive and suspicious.</p><p></p><p>After a quick swallow of the ale, I asked “How far is it to Yartar exactly?”</p><p></p><p>“About sixty miles east…” the Tinman replied, “so almost three days march, assuming we don’t find a ride in a caravan. But we can see if any of the caravan’s is headed that way on the morrow and get whatever supplies we need. You all have rooms here?”</p><p></p><p>The Painter and the Knight shook their heads, while I gave an affirmative nod. “Well, seems that two of us do, so you should consider staying here. Otherwise, we can do what we like until then…within reason,” giving a hard stare at the Knight.</p><p></p><p>The Knight lifted his hands, palms up and half shrugged, “I don’t want to spend more time in jail if that’s what you mean.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, I for one do not want to pay another set of fines for you, so you should be on your best behavior!” started up the Painter. “And another thing, you keep your pet away from Foggle! It’s not a toy!”</p><p></p><p>“What? Mo?” The Knight pointing to the animal on his shoulder, “I don’t even think it likes that contraption much. Too noisy.”</p><p></p><p>“Anyway,” interrupted the Tinman, “Let’s meet here in the morning and start out. I’m going to retire for the evening, and get my gear situated. Till tomorrow” And with that he rose and headed to a set of stairs at the back of the room.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, yes, that is a good idea. I must return to my studies! Much to do.” And with that the gnome wandered to the barkeep and started shouting about a room…leaving his stew untouched behind him.</p><p></p><p>“Think he’ll miss that?” the Knight pointed at the gnomes forgotten bowl.</p><p></p><p>“Doubtful. He looks like he has enough on his mind right now,” as I looked over at the Painter and watched him unsuccessfully bargain down the price of the room.</p><p></p><p>“His loss. I’ll be turning in as well; the cell wasn’t exactly comfortable and I need the sleep. I guess we can talk more in the morning…Myrai right?” to which I nodded. He then drained his bowl, took the one left by the Gnome, and walked to the barkeep. It seemed he jumped in front of the Painter in the line, got a key and headed upstairs, annoying the painter even more. Finally, he manages to get a key and stomps off upstairs as well.</p><p></p><p>Leaving me alone at the table. I sat there a moment deciding what I wanted to do. And after thinking about it, I realized that I was mentally drained, and the pains and bruises from jumping down two stories were being felt. I really wanted a warm bath to soak in, but I hadn’t seen or even heard anything resembling criers for them here.</p><p></p><p>I rose, asked the Barkeep for a filled mug of ale and a key and also took my leave of the bar, and headed upstairs. Soon enough, I entered the room, closed the door and leaned against it, slowly beating it with the back of my head. I was truly hoping I had made the right choice.</p><p></p><p>I then realized it was dark, and I reached within and I projected some of myself onto a nearby lamp. I felt a warmth running up and down my back, and then the lamp glows with a soft yellow light. No flames or smoke, just a solid light. Gulping down some of the ale, I start removing my armor and leathers and laid them on the bed. Sitting beside them, I start muttering to myself some incantations. First the armor and leathers changed; the dirt and grime of the day dissolved, and then became polished and shined. Then I start to do the same to my skin, because while I couldn’t get a proper bath, I at least could keep myself clean. </p><p></p><p>I check my blades, and my pouch of coins and once all is accounted for, I moved my things on to chair near the bed. And then I kneeled next the bed and remove one of the medallions from my neck and clasp it tightly in my hands, holding it so I can see the front face clearly. I run my fingers over the raised surface of it, over the skeletal arm, and the scales. </p><p></p><p>And I close my eyes and prayed:</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"><em>No one should be alone, in life or death,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>Death is part of life, not an ending but a beginning</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>Death is without deceit and has meaning,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>I will strive to help those to live, </em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>So, they can die at their appointed time,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>I will honor those who have died before me,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>For it is their lives and deeds that give us the world today,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>Bless me to live until my appointed time, </em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>So, my deeds will live forever,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>May Death grant us peace.</em></p><p></p><p>And with that, I kissed the medallion and placed it again on my neck. I then crawled into the bed, and with the same rush along my back the room darkens. </p><p></p><p>Tomorrow would be an interesting day.</p><p></p><p><strong>Session Breakdown</strong></p><p><strong></strong>During this part of the session, we were now starting to feel out the character’s relationship to each other. Some of the conventions of personality start in these early sessions.</p><p></p><p>One of my character development, was a contradiction. Sigil and Planescape talks about powers and there is some dynamic between some of the factions. It describes temples. But it doesn’t really cover faith and how faith fits with the citizens. But I wasn’t thinking in terms of a cleric, but a truly devout lay person. </p><p></p><p>But the deity I wanted to base it off of was Kelvemor, the ‘new’ deity of death from the Forgotten Realms. Normally you think of sending prayers to Chauntea for rain and crops, Tymora for luck, even Umberlee for safety from drowning. But why does a lay person worship a god of death? And that it itself started a story.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nthal, post: 7493477, member: 6971069"] [b]Flint Rock and the importance of tipping (9/13/2018)[/b] [CENTER][B]Flint Rock and the importance of tipping. [/B][/CENTER] [I] The odd thing, is that while people always are trying to get my attention and talk with me, I’m not really a people person. Most people aren’t worth the screed they spout; and in turn, I’m not inclined to spent time with them. On the other hand, when I talk…people take notice. I’d like to credit good breeding or looks, but its more than that. Must be the eyes.[/I] Working my way back I found the sign. It was in front of a dilapidated Inn, that had signs of recent work. Some new wooden boards side by side by old ones. The sign to the inn itself was a simple yellow flower, painted on a sign that had carved on it “The Frost Touched Frog Inn.” I’m honestly not sure which one was better. Strangely enough, with me taking my time I a had arrived [I]ahead[/I] of the dirty pair; The owl gave it away with that awful “Beeepoooo” sound somewhere on the road behind me. So, I quickly darted inside. Inside the Inn appeared…serviceable. The bar itself seemed to be new, but the tables, chairs, and stools were mismatched castoffs; old but sturdy. A hearth and a low fire, gave the Inn a slightly smokey atmosphere. But for as bad the Inn looked outside, daylight didn’t break through the walls, and a bit of work had been done to return it to use. Inside, the Tinman was already seated at a table, not far from the bar itself. He glanced my way as I entered; clearly expecting the pair, and quickly returned to his cups when he saw it was me. I quickly moved to the bar and found a seat that was close to where the Tinman was, trying not to be obvious. And then I flagged down the barkeep. “G’day Lass, welcome to Dandelions! What can I ge…” and like that his voice trailed off once we made eye contact. He stood there and just blinked with a wide-eyed look of shock on his face. Sighing, I leaned a bit over the bar, reached for his apron and pulled him closer to me. And said slowly and quietly; “Please, it’s been a long day. Yes, they look different, and yes I can see you just fine. I want a strong ale, a meal, a room for the night, and later I’ll answer questions If you’re nice.” The barkeeper, recovered quickly nodded “Of of course! Yes…yes…just a moment.” And scurried off to get the ale. At that point the dirty pair entered the Inn. And it became apparent that my placement at the bar really didn’t matter much. The reason being, is once the gnome saw the Tinman it was apparent that he had only one volume for his voice; Obnoxiously Loud. It wasn’t hard to listen in. Pretty sure the kitchen could have listened in. “So…you are the one that ran into us into the square. Who are you?” the Gnome demanded. The Tinman looked pained, clearly expecting a quieter discussion. “You know, I wasn’t trying to talk to [I]you[/I]. And you are speaking a bit lo…” “Never mind that! If you want to talk to my associate here, you are talking to me! Now, who are you?” he barked…or more yipped and puffed up his chest in response. Giving up on the lack of discretion the Tinman continued, “Who I am is a man looking for his master. You may call me, Daneath.” “And what does that have to do with us?” the gnome asked archly. “With ‘us’ nothing. With him however,” pointing at the dirty human “I have been informed by some…friends of mine that he might know the way.” The dirty human blinked and spread out his hands, “Whoa, look I have no idea what you are talking about. I don’t know about anyone’s ‘Master’ so I don’t kno…” He was cut off by the Tinman, “You do…you just don’t know it.” “It doesn’t matter in the slightest!” said the gnome. “This one is in my debt and he already has a job to pay it off. And I am in some haste, so whatever you want will just have to wait!” and with that, the gnome again puffed out his chest and looked indignantly at the Tinman. “Is that so?” and the Tinman looked at the dirty human “And, what are you doing for this Gnome that is so important?” The dirty one replied, “He wants to go to ‘Flint Rock,’ He claims he’s trying to find his father.” The gnome turned and looked at the dirty human, “I didn’t say you could discuss that with anyone…er…what was your name again?” “You didn’t say anything about it being a secret either. And since you finally asked, Iesa.” the dirty one retorted. At this point, the barkeeper slid me a clay mug and said, “Supper’s coming out,” and headed to the trio to find out what they wanted. I sat there sipping the ale (which wasn’t half bad, if a bit strong on the hops) and remarked to myself that this was the strangest discussion I had heard in a while. Not the content mind you, but the fact it was out in the open as it was. Granted it was mostly because the gnomes voice carried, but that seemed to lead to everyone raising their voices. After a bit of talking to the barkeep, the orders for drinks made and they continued. The Tinman regarded the gnome “’Flint Rock’? That is an odd coincidence. That is where my master left to.” Both the gnome and the Tinman looked at the dirty human. “So how do you know the way to a sacred cairn in Elk tribe territory?” “Elk tribe!” the gnome sputtered, but the other human ignored the outburst, “Let’s say I liberated that knowledge some time ago…” Well [I]that[/I] confirmed it; he [B][I]is[/I][/B] a Knight of the Post. “…and I have been making my way south to go there myself. But why would your master want to go to an Elk tribe cairn, and why would a wizard be insane enough to go to Elk tribe territory at all?” The gnome glared at the ‘Knight’ with that, “I didn’t know it was in Elk tribe lands! And I know full well their reputation on how they treat uninvited guests…and especially uninvited wizard guests! And considering my father was a powerful wizard, he must have had a good reason. But I must find him, and I must complete my work!” “Your work?” both humans together said looking at the gnome intently. “Yes, yes. I am building a device that will allow me to breach planar barriers and let me travel! I suspect my father was building or had a device. But I haven’t heard from him in years. So, finding him is imperative to me to accelerate my work!” I am now fully paying attention to this conversation. So much so, that I hadn’t even noticed that the barkeep had slid a slice of meat in front of me some time ago. But here is a possible way home; either the device or the father of the gnome, who I am now certain is a Fingerpainter. It isn’t going to be quick to get home, but at least the berks can show me around this mudball of a prime. Now it is a matter of how do I join in on this? The Tinman spoke “So…what in the Hells is your name?” looking at the gnome. “Ah, of course! You have the pleasure of addressi…” “The [I]short[/I] version please.” The Tinman said holding up his hand before the gnome really got started. The gnome glared, “Ahem that’s just rude! But I am Beepu, Beepu Tilteepockey of Silverymoon. But despite your lack of manners, I think we should stick together, as it sounds like we are heading in the same direction for the moment. Let me get some meals from the barkeeper and we can formalize our plans!” The Fingerpainter then hopped off of the chair and made his way to the bar. Since the barkeeper was in the back, the ‘Painter climbed up on a stool next to me and was shouting repeatedly to get the barkeeper’s attention. At that point I decided to dive right in, and hope for the best. It beat banging around the town, and pike it; at least I wouldn’t be bored. So barely turning my head, I address the ‘Painter, “So…you’re looking to travel into the planes?” “Hmm? You were listening to our private conversation!” “Private? I bet the barkeeper and the cook in back heard your ‘Private’ conversation.” “Still! That’s not proper manners to listen in!” “It’s rude to shout.” “I’m not shou…ting.” And the Painter realizing that his voice was indeed carrying managed to lower his voice a bit. At this time the two humans were in a quiet dialog between themselves but were looking at the Fingerpainter with puzzled looks. “Well, you aren’t now. Anyway, what do you know of the planes?” “It’s all very technical, for a common woman like you to understand. For example, places like the Nine Hells…” “Baator.” The Painter blinked, “What did you say?” “Only clueless primes call them ‘the Nine Hells.’ The plane is Baator, it is inhabited by the Baatezu, and they take a very dim view of primes wandering in uninvited.” He blinked again, “Yes…yes that’s right. Who are you exactly?” “Someone who is willing to trade a bit of sweat and stuff to help you achieve your goals, in exchange for a trip home.” “Home? And where is that might I ask?” At this point, I turn to him, smiling and look the gnome in the eyes, watching them grow wide. “Sigil, th…” “The City of Doors…” he said quietly looking into my eyes. He blinked and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but your eyes…I have never seen anyone with eyes like that.” I shrug, “They’re because I’m planetouched; An Aasimar. I just happen to show it…stronger than others do.” “So, you aren’t fully human?” I pause a second. I’ve never been asked that question…or at least in that way. I’ve never thought of myself as either human or part human. Awkwardly, I answer, “Well, I really don’t know the answer to that question really. I’m a foundling…so while I know my father was some type of celestial, my mother…I have no idea.” “How interesting, and do you have skills that can help us on our journey? What can you tell me about planar mechanics? Who is your father? What are you doing in Triboar? How did…” At that point I place my hand gently on his lips. “Tell you what, your friends might have the same questions, so perhaps we can discuss it with them?” “Of course! That makes sense…Once I get the barkeeps attention!” Smiling I turn my head towards the kitchen and barely raising my voice said, “Hey barkeep!” to which he almost instantly appeared from the back. He walked up straight to me, and clearly ignored the Fingerpainter. “Yes, yes…did you need something more?” I nodded, “A round of your ale for four on me, and whatever…Beepu wants on him.” Tossing the barkeep, a jinx and said,“Thank you.” The barkeep smiles and catches the coin and looks at the Painter with some disinterest. “And you want…what?” “I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while! How do you expect to make any money with service like this!” “By making room for patrons who actually tip,” was the retort. --- Eventually the barkeep and the Painter come to some arrangement involving stew, and I then dismount my stool, and grab my plate and move to the table where the humans were talking. Neither was startled by me sitting down with my meal, but both did quiet down and look at me quizzically and then at each other. Their eyes narrowed in suspicion and the Knight was about to say something when the Painter came back to the table. “Yes, well food is on the way and I found someone that will be very hel…” “Who is she?” the Knight asked, “And what’s with the hair and eyes?” I smile, “So nice of you to notice. It’s a rarity, or so I’m told. You can call me Myrai, and you might say I’m interested in his success.” Leaning my head toward the Painter. “And you want what?” the Knight asked. “Simple things, a tour, a way back to the Cage, jink…” Seeing the blank looks, I realized I needed to be clearer as the Cant was going over their heads. “Let me…rephrase, I come with you while you explore and find your way to ‘Flint Rock’ and do what you need to, Beepu gets me back to my home city, and I get a cut of money along the way. Does that make sense berks?” “I can assume you can pull your own weight, seeing you have got a number of blades on you. But some of the words you use…like ‘berk’. What does that mean?” “Where I come from we call it ‘the Cant’ …It’s a form of slang. And berk? Berk means…partner.” I lied. “And this place…the Cage?” “You mean Sigil? Well imagine a place that is the crossroads of the multiverse. It’s a place that has doors to and from anywhere if you have the key. Because of that it is the trading hub, where anyone can do business with anyone they want. And before you ask, it’s called the Cage as getting in and out requires that key, and keys change often.” The Knight and the Tinman both looked at me, processing my words. I took a good look at them for the first time; both had black hair and brown eyes, but where the Tinman, Daneath, was all muscle the Knight, Iesa, was wiry. Both had appeared to have quick reflexes, when the ale arrived and both going for the tallest filled mug. The Tinman was clean shaven, where the Knight had thick stubble on his face. The Tinman had a sword and a large bow strapped to his pack, while the Knight had his short sword and dagger. The tinman of course had chain mail and a shield was leaning against a nearby post, while the Knight seemed to have some leather buried beneath his rags. Perched on the shoulder of the Knight was the brown, short furred animal…I should know what it is, but it’s not coming to mind. By contrast, Beepu the Fingerpainter did not appear to be the most athletic. Standing about three feet in height which made the two humans twice his size easily. He too had dark brown nearly black hair and green eyes. More notable was the wide assortment of trinkets and gizmos hanging from belts and straps. But it’s the owl that really stood out. The owl wasn’t real. Well, no it is real, but it isn’t alive. It’s like a modron; all gears and wires and stuff. Even sitting there quietly on the back of the Painters chair it made quiet clicking and whirring noises as it surveyed the inn. At this point I can’t imagine what they thought of me. But since someone is going to read this journal, I might as well describe myself. I stand about five foot, with my shoulder length hair worn free. I wear a set of soft leathers, that looks like a crazy quilted mess of blacks and red (they were leftover cuts, that I helped stitch together), with a light leather cloak, and a boiled leather chest piece. A dagger on my hip off a belt, which on the other side supporting a pouch that drops down and has a strip of leather keeping it place with my right thigh. If they paid enough attention they would have seen more daggers; one in a bracer and one in a boot. That left the two necklaces I wore; one a…personal momento and the other a symbol of my faith. An eclectic mess. But it was comfortable, and easy to keep clean from the brimstone infused rain of the lower ward. The Tinman spoke “Well, if we are going to Elk territory, we’ll probably need all the help we can get. You can handle yourself, right?” Smiling I reply, “I can take care of myself, but while I don’t know what this Elk tribe is, from the sound of it they wouldn’t like me better than the Fingerpainter…sorry, wizard here. But I’ll manage.” Then from behind me a voice said, “So there you are Iesa! If you are planning on running, we’d better talk…now.” The Knight turned his head slightly and was looking at someone behind me and said, “Well, running now would be a waste of an ale. What do you want Korsos? It’s not like I’ve done anything.” “Done anything [B][I]yet[/I][/B],” the voice intoned. “But truth be told, your fine is paid for, so you are indeed free to go. I’m just here to give you…advice.” Which I then heard a chair scraping behind me and the sound of someone taking a seat. Turning my head, I saw a mid-aged human; with greying hair and beard and vivid green eyes. He had a deep tan and wore leathers that had seen plenty of time outdoors. A sword was belted to his side and a bow, on which he leaned forward on, holding it in both hands with one end on the floor as if propping up his frame. He was sitting on a chair backwards, facing towards our table. The final thing I noticed was a chain around his neck, with what looked to be a badge of office, with three pig heads? No…Boar heads… Oh, I get it now. Triboar. Great; a guvner of sorts I suppose. The Knight was giving Korsos a look that sat between suspicious and curious. “Advice? You could have given me that the first time you had me thrown in that cell.” “True. But then it would have been lost on you boy. Plus, I wasn’t around for the second time. At that point I normally wouldn’t have cared one whit about you. But…you surprised me. I wasn’t expecting you to be the altruistic type.” “Fat merchants shouldn’t kick kids,” spat the Knight. Korsos frowned, “No…no they shouldn’t. But threatening the merchant at sword point till he soiled himself was a bit strong of a response. Granted he didn’t notice you lifting his purse at the same time. And because that purse was dropped in those kid’s hands, is the only reason I’m not bringing you back to the tower.” I looked at the Knight closely; and my gut just told me his story. A street kid, living by his wits, but not alone. Probably was with other kids supporting each other, and by extension to any other group of urchins around him. I could easily see him being a lightboy in Sigil, and later in life, keeping an eye out for them. We might have a little bit in common. His voice brought me back to the present, “So, what, ‘don’t do that again’ is that it?” Korsos shook his head, “No…you need to leave town. The merchant has made a stink of what you did, and while Darathra might be inclined to believe you, she’s out of town and not due back for weeks. Malton, her second seems to have taken a shine to you…but in not the most pleasant of ways. In fact, if he was at the tower today, it would have been doubtful that your friend here,” to which he pointed at Beepu, “and that annoying, noisy construct would have been able to spring you loose. However, he isn’t back from hunting yet, and won’t be until late tomorrow. If I were you, I would arrange to be elsewhere by then.” “Now wait a minute! Foggle isn’t noisy!” Beepu said defensively. “He is a state of the arcanotechnical machine.” “Oh…so you admit to him being annoying?” Korsos said mildly. “Yes, I do mean…wait…NO…that isn’t what I meant at all!” Beepu replied flustered at the turn of the conversation. At this point I decided to intervene before the gnome escalated it, “So where do you recommend that Iesa go?” Korsos looked at me for the first time and did a double take. But he recovered and quickly answered “Ah, well he could head north on the road to Longsaddle or south to Amphail or Waterdeep. But I admit, Iesa might get chased in either of those directions by Malton. You might be safer heading to Yartar if for no other reason is they aren’t likely to help anyone in authority from Triboar. What I wouldn’t do, is head off into the wilds.” “Something wrong in the wilds?” I asked. “Well, two things. The first is that the Elk tribe which normally patrols and harasses wagon caravans haven’t been seen in a while. That’s odd enough, but whatever caused that, has also led to a sudden increase of gnolls. That tells me that the Elk are truly concerned with other matters; they wouldn’t just let gnolls run rampant in their territory.” Gnolls; spawn from Yeenoghu, one of the Demon Lords of the Abyss. An extreme rarity in Sigil as they weren’t exactly civilized. When they were brought in, they were handled like dangerous pets. And usually a fatality would happen and the Guvners would point out that’s why you don’t bring them into the city, and the Red Death puts them all to the sword; including the responsible party. But I didn’t realize they were present on primes. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought. Korsos continued, “Although, I’m not sure in your case which would be worse; a pack of gnolls or a patrol of Elk tribesmen. Your appearance might be…interpreted in the wrong way. They barely tolerate elves, and the Elk know that they deal with magic. It’d be unfortunate if you crossed their paths, as I have no idea what would happen to you. Beyond being painful that is.” I had caught on that this ‘Elk Tribe’ were a bunch of superstitious primitives and they didn’t like magic. Considering that people reacting shocked or surprised around me, made me believe the Elk might take it a bit farther. And I really didn’t want to become a petitioner to my god just yet. Shrugging I comment, “We’ll just have to avoid them…no matter which way we end up going.” Korsos nodded, “Well, I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision, and then leave Triboar. Good-day to you all.” And with that, Korsos stood up and left the Inn. It was getting near dark, and the Inn was getting busier with merchants and some locals. I start to cut into the now cold dinner, take a bite and chew and looked at the others. They in turn looked at the Knight, who’s brow was furrowed in thought. Eventually he spoke, “So if we all want to get to Flint Rock, we should leave tomorrow and head to Yartar.” “Because of you annoying the merchants here?” started the Painter “You really should control yourself and focus at the task at hand; [B][I]MY[/I][/B] task!” “No,” and the Knight gave a level gaze to the Painter “It’s because from what I know, it is closer to Yartar, than here.” “Well…that at least makes some sense.” The gnome remarked. “How exactly do you know the way to the place?” the Tinman asked “I saw a map once, and I have a good memory for these things,” the Knight commented. I looked at the Knight carefully; something was amiss, but I couldn’t figure out what. It was like he was trying to hide something. It was the way he was looking with his eyes; defensive and suspicious. After a quick swallow of the ale, I asked “How far is it to Yartar exactly?” “About sixty miles east…” the Tinman replied, “so almost three days march, assuming we don’t find a ride in a caravan. But we can see if any of the caravan’s is headed that way on the morrow and get whatever supplies we need. You all have rooms here?” The Painter and the Knight shook their heads, while I gave an affirmative nod. “Well, seems that two of us do, so you should consider staying here. Otherwise, we can do what we like until then…within reason,” giving a hard stare at the Knight. The Knight lifted his hands, palms up and half shrugged, “I don’t want to spend more time in jail if that’s what you mean.” “Well, I for one do not want to pay another set of fines for you, so you should be on your best behavior!” started up the Painter. “And another thing, you keep your pet away from Foggle! It’s not a toy!” “What? Mo?” The Knight pointing to the animal on his shoulder, “I don’t even think it likes that contraption much. Too noisy.” “Anyway,” interrupted the Tinman, “Let’s meet here in the morning and start out. I’m going to retire for the evening, and get my gear situated. Till tomorrow” And with that he rose and headed to a set of stairs at the back of the room. “Yes, yes, that is a good idea. I must return to my studies! Much to do.” And with that the gnome wandered to the barkeep and started shouting about a room…leaving his stew untouched behind him. “Think he’ll miss that?” the Knight pointed at the gnomes forgotten bowl. “Doubtful. He looks like he has enough on his mind right now,” as I looked over at the Painter and watched him unsuccessfully bargain down the price of the room. “His loss. I’ll be turning in as well; the cell wasn’t exactly comfortable and I need the sleep. I guess we can talk more in the morning…Myrai right?” to which I nodded. He then drained his bowl, took the one left by the Gnome, and walked to the barkeep. It seemed he jumped in front of the Painter in the line, got a key and headed upstairs, annoying the painter even more. Finally, he manages to get a key and stomps off upstairs as well. Leaving me alone at the table. I sat there a moment deciding what I wanted to do. And after thinking about it, I realized that I was mentally drained, and the pains and bruises from jumping down two stories were being felt. I really wanted a warm bath to soak in, but I hadn’t seen or even heard anything resembling criers for them here. I rose, asked the Barkeep for a filled mug of ale and a key and also took my leave of the bar, and headed upstairs. Soon enough, I entered the room, closed the door and leaned against it, slowly beating it with the back of my head. I was truly hoping I had made the right choice. I then realized it was dark, and I reached within and I projected some of myself onto a nearby lamp. I felt a warmth running up and down my back, and then the lamp glows with a soft yellow light. No flames or smoke, just a solid light. Gulping down some of the ale, I start removing my armor and leathers and laid them on the bed. Sitting beside them, I start muttering to myself some incantations. First the armor and leathers changed; the dirt and grime of the day dissolved, and then became polished and shined. Then I start to do the same to my skin, because while I couldn’t get a proper bath, I at least could keep myself clean. I check my blades, and my pouch of coins and once all is accounted for, I moved my things on to chair near the bed. And then I kneeled next the bed and remove one of the medallions from my neck and clasp it tightly in my hands, holding it so I can see the front face clearly. I run my fingers over the raised surface of it, over the skeletal arm, and the scales. And I close my eyes and prayed: [CENTER][I]No one should be alone, in life or death,[/I] [I]Death is part of life, not an ending but a beginning[/I] [I]Death is without deceit and has meaning,[/I] [I]I will strive to help those to live, [/I] [I]So, they can die at their appointed time,[/I] [I]I will honor those who have died before me,[/I] [I]For it is their lives and deeds that give us the world today,[/I] [I]Bless me to live until my appointed time, [/I] [I]So, my deeds will live forever,[/I] [I]So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faith[/I] [I]May Death grant us peace.[/I][/CENTER] And with that, I kissed the medallion and placed it again on my neck. I then crawled into the bed, and with the same rush along my back the room darkens. Tomorrow would be an interesting day. [B]Session Breakdown [/B]During this part of the session, we were now starting to feel out the character’s relationship to each other. Some of the conventions of personality start in these early sessions. One of my character development, was a contradiction. Sigil and Planescape talks about powers and there is some dynamic between some of the factions. It describes temples. But it doesn’t really cover faith and how faith fits with the citizens. But I wasn’t thinking in terms of a cleric, but a truly devout lay person. But the deity I wanted to base it off of was Kelvemor, the ‘new’ deity of death from the Forgotten Realms. Normally you think of sending prayers to Chauntea for rain and crops, Tymora for luck, even Umberlee for safety from drowning. But why does a lay person worship a god of death? And that it itself started a story. [/QUOTE]
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