Etoile, Zeratuu and Kal Templux
Zeratuu touches the collar, a sick look on her face while Etoile rushes to gather up his notes and possessions. ”Always knew where this one was. Hid in wagon under grain, found Zeratuu. Ran into forest and hid in log, found Zeratuu. Hid in rafters in family house, found Zeratuu. Never knew why Zeratuu so bad at hiding. Evil-evil gnome cheat with magic, yes he does.”
As the two leave, Kal, walking by, sees a flash of copper scales on the arm of the shorter figure as it adjusts its cloak, hood turning back and forth as it looks around carefully. The two head down the street in the opposite direction. Only a minute later, a scowling dwarf and a gnome in robes come closer, the gnome muttering incantations to himself while holding a dowsing rod in his hands. He breaks his mutterings for a moment to talk crossly to the dwarf. “It’s still going that way. We’d better find it soon though, I can’t keep this up all day.”
((Etoile knows that Volioker Briskalberd, a dwarf, is the town locksmith. He knows where his ship is located, though it’s a good question if he’s there on a festival day.))
Steven Westiron
The two of you take up the first practice muskets and sight on your targets in unison. The crowd watches closely as you each take aim with care.
((*roll*: 1d20 + 6 – 4 vs Armor AC : 22 Crit
*roll*: 1d20 + 6 – 4 vs Armor AC (Crit Confirmation) : 8 *fail*
*roll*: 1d4 (damage) : 3))
((*roll*: 1d20 + 6 – 4 vs Armor AC : 18
*roll*: 1d4 (damage) : 3))
((*roll*: 1d20 + 6 – 4 vs Armor AC : 21
*roll*: 1d4 (damage) : 2))
Each hit is solidly in the inner rings, but there are no bullseyes yet.
Meanwhile, Dexter is taking his own shots, but his aim is poor. The first thuds home in the outer rings, and the next two miss the target entirely. There is some jeers and laughter from the crowd as he puts down the last musket with a sigh.
“Wilhelmina… she was a crack shot like you, sir. Certainly wouldn’t have embarrassed herself like that, I tell you! My poor shooting aside, I congratulate you on a fine display.”
Dexter offers Steven his hand to shake, and hands him a pouch containing 50g. “The prize for winning the shooting competition.” He explains.
((From the top range to the bottom range. After his first shot hits with a 16, his next two rolls were a 3 and a 1.))
Aloisturm
Widdershins is giggling happily to himself as the two of you walk away from the marshal arts exhibit. “Excellent, excellent! Well done, Aloisturm! I didn’t exp- I mean, I don’t think anyone expected you to dominate those competitions so thoroughly!”
He pats his bulging belt pouch smugly. “Sadly, I think that was the end of my little side bets. Tales of you will be everywhere, and I doubt anyone is going to be so eager to take me up on a little bet now. Hm hm hm…. Tomorrow, we’ll visit the House of Blue Stones and I can claim my prize, yes yes…”