Chapter 13: A Ghostly Glow

[Dave W.]

"I suppose I should protect the rear then," Adamant replies

[Dave B.]

Shorak nods to Condign and joins him to lead the group to the places they need to go. "Armorer first then. We should be able to find suitable weather wear near there as well." He pops one last piece of cheese into his mouth and heads out the door.

I assumed Shorak had a letter of credit from the bank for the funds he got from Larest. If not, we can just make some withdrawals when we get to the bank. Does Shorak have a rough idea of how much healing potions will cost?

[Jeff]

Out into the rain you go, with Shorak once again leading the way and Adamant serving as rear guard. Through Dannel's Pride and the rest of Cross you travel unimpeded except by rain. There are moments when the rain lightens and light resembling early dawn—though it is actually late morning of Sul, the 15th of Aryth 998 YK—but it never actually stops. There are moments when you have to slosh through ankle-deep water again.

When you enter Marketplace, the streets are not empty, just thin. Most have sought shelter from the elements, but you still some people out and about, either because the rain doesn't bother them or they have no choice.

Once Shorak sees the colossal red tent that is the Bazaar (and which itself staves off the rain just fine, so it's bound to be packed inside), he steers around it until he sees Black Iron. It's a slab of dark stone three stories high with two doors: one is clearly giant-sized and probably leads to some kind of foundry or smithy. The other is human-size and looks like where customers would go. The words BLACK IRON are carved into the rock face in both the Common tongue and Giant.

Just outside the place of business, a group of the red-caped Stormreach Guard are gathered. Most of them stand around what appear to be two bodies, while two of them stand to one side interrogating some people. All of them look bothered to be out there in the rain at all. Shorak knows there are various places throughout the city where the Stomreach Guard don't bother to go (and the city's lawless nature becomes more evident) but Marketplace isn't one of them. Here they are even more swaggerish than ever.

To enter Black Iron, you will need to excuse your way through the group.

---

As far as letters of credit (from Larest), and except for the note Condign recently found, they were all initially processed here and the bank total in my signature accounts for it all.

The most minor (and commonly found) potions of healing are 50 gp. Jorasco or Cannith enclaves always sell them, but sometimes herbalists and apothecaries do, too.

[Brian]

Shaking the rain from his cloak (which he realizes does little good given the constant downpour), Condign gives the Stormreach guards a respectful bow. "My pardon, gentlemen, but may we pass? We have business in the armory."

[Jeff]

Most of the soldiers completely ignore Condign. One of them, a rather short middle-aged human whose scowl looks permanently etched into his face, turns and regards the tiefling. He pats the pommel of his sheathed sword and gestures at Condign. "This here is a crime scene, right? You can wait, sod off, or surrender your weapons and spend a few nights in a leaky dungeon. What's it gonna be, devil man?"

Shorak, seeing the man's bossy attitude, is not surprised. As always, Stormreach's amoral watchmen are a force to be wary of—on the whole, no match for seasoned soldiers or criminals, but they're backed by the Coin Lords themselves and they're as likely to commit crimes as to prevent them. Ultimately, they serve only the Coin Lords' interests.

Rinti grabs at Kal's arm. "Let's just go."

[Ken]

Belarin steps up. "Oh?" he asks innocently. "Who was killed?"

[Jeff]

"No one said who to the likes of you," the guard answers Belarin. But standing a little closer, Belarin can try to get a look.

---

Make a Perception check.

[Darren]

Kal gently pats Rinti's hand, then removes it from his arm. "Please, Rinti, you must remember yourself. Certain things are not proper, especially in public. We will talk more later." Moving forward, Kal steps close to Shorak and lowers his voice. "Could we not just find another armorer? In a city this large, there must be more than one, and we do not need to draw any additional attention."

[Dave W.]

When they are stopped, Adamant trusts his friends to resolve the situation with the Watch and instead remains alert, watching for trouble to the sides and rear of the group.

---

Just an "I'm alert" post.

[Ken]

Belarin, quietly pleased by the confirmation of his wild guess that someone had been killed, cranes his head for a better look, but he can’t see over the guard’s blocking shoulders.

__________________________

I rolled a 3 on Rolz.

[Brian]

"I believe there is a Kundarek outpost here in the Marketplace," says Condign. "We could head there for now and return here later, after this situation has been resolved."

[Jeff]

Adamant is satisfied so far that no one else around seems to take notice of the group. Except for the guards themselves. A couple more of them now see who their companion was speaking with. They straighten and reach for their own weapons.

Belarin indeed cannot make out any details around the two bodies. Except, perhaps, that they're both human-sized.

Just then the ten-foot door that seems to be the proprietor's entrance to Black Iron opens. A broad-shouldered, very athletic woman who who would stand possibly a few inches taller than Starg takes a step out. She is clad in sleeveless leather armor and bracers, but holds no weapons—though she looks like she could throw normal-sized people as weapons. Shielding her face from the rain, she surveys the scene and sighs loudly, deliberately. "Sergeant," she calls out in a voice not quite as gruff and deep as you'd suspect, "if you do not wish to cart the deceased away, please make some space. Detain all the suspects you want. Please at least allow customers in. These are business hours."

The little man rounds on her, crooking his finger up at the half-giantess. He looks ridiculous doing so. "We'll take as long as we need, miss—"

"Wait." Now the woman steps out, letting the rain start to drench her long, dreadlocked hair. She looms over the man, seizes one of his hands in her mighty grip—which has all the guards drawing their swords in an instant!—and then presses what is likely a coin there. "Thank you for understanding," she says. Just standing there, the half-giant has created a gap in the guardsmen. They do not protest further, and the small sergeant is suddenly drawn to the coin in his hand."

Then she looks over to Condign. "Well? Coming or going?" she says with some irritation.

[Brian]

Condign smiles. "Coming, my lady," he says, and ushers everyone inside.

[Darren]

Kal grins at the giant. "My kind of diplomacy," he says.

[Dave B.]

"I figured it would work itself out." Shorak says as he follows Condign inside, nodding politely with a friendly smile to the woman.

I believe I've got the money situation understood now. We'll just need to discuss how much we want to spend on potions when we get to the bank.

[Jeff]

Into Black Iron you go, drawing further disdainful glares from the Stormreach Guard. Once inside, the fire-lit space is warm and dry, save for the instant puddles on the stone floor from the runoff of your own cloaks.

The "shop" portion is a single no-frills box of a chamber, though it is large. The ceiling is thirty feet up, the length twice as long. Black, wrought-iron braziers affixed to the walls keep the place bright. Between the braziers, whole suits of gleaming armor hang in presentation. A broad counter on one side is manned by two men—both clearly half giants, towering eight or nine feet height. Various weapons hang on the wall behind them, out of customers' casual reach. There area a few doors here, but you assume they're for the staff. Behind them, you can just make out the dull roar of some kind of furnace.

The only other customers in the smithy right now are two well-armored Tharashk-liveried half-orcs, both speaking with one of the half-giants—an elderly, wrinkled, but still hale-looking man with arms as thick as Condign's chest. The half-orcs immediately take notice of your party, and both home in on Kal—and his dragonmarked arm, quickly.

Rinti, seeing them, looks to Kal as well. "Did your mark...grow, my lord?" she whispers.

The female half-giant who let you in stands before you. "I am Solarca. What can I help you with?" She seems terse and frustrated, but not unfriendly.

[Brian]

Condign takes in the woman's demeanor. "I am in need of armor. I hear your craft is solid, and I prefer to support businesses who do not enjoy a stranglehold on any particular market." He pauses. "Is all well, my lady? You seem tense."

[Jeff]

"Just Solarca," the half-giantess answers, but gives him a puzzled look from his question. "I am well, though perhaps the city is not." She makes a gesture toward the door, where the Stormreach guard and two corpses are.

She moves on quick to business, sounding genuine but bored by her own words. "There is none better to be found in this city." Solarca sizes Condign up. "You do not wish for paper-thin chain mail. You need solid plates and thick padding. You are accustomed to receiving many blows." A half smile forms. "Am I right?"

She walks along the wall and indicates a few suits of armor that are clearly intended for large men—or tieflings. Most of Condign's companions would be swimming inside them. "You're a splint man, yes? Or perhaps heavier plate?" He can see a few options just between these two. The styles vary. None of them look fancy, but they do look new and well made. Pure utility, little ornamentation.

She gives him the prices, then gives him a harder look. "If you've more coin to spend, we can talk about enchantment."

---

Splint armor = 200 gp (AC 17, imposes disadvantage on Dexterity (Stealth) checks, 60 lb.
Plate armor = 1,300 gp, AC 18, imposes disadvantage on Dexterity (Stealth) checks, 65 lb.

FYI adding magic will mean upping the cost in increments of 500 gp, depending on what you want.

[Brian]

Condign visually inspects the armor. "Your craft is excellent," he says. "And yes, I receive many blows." His hand drops to the braid of hair on his belt. "Though some wounds hurt more than others." He looks at the proprietress. "Splint, I believe. And can we discuss enchantment? What can you offer?"

[Dave W.]

Apr 29, 2016 10:28:18 GMT -4 Brian said:

Condign visually inspects the armor. "Your craft is excellent," he says. "And yes, I receive many blows." His hand drops to the braid of hair on his belt. "Though some wounds hurt more than others." He looks at the proprietress. "Splint, I believe. And can we discuss enchantment? What can you offer?"

"Don't dismiss the plate, my friend," Adamant places a hand on Condign's shoulder. "We do have some amount of coins to spend."

"And don't you want to look like me?" He adds lightly.

---

Any reason not to spend 2k or so?

[Brian]

I have reasons for the splint over the plate, at the current time.

[Jeff]

"Very well." Solarca nods and excuses herself. She changes places with the much older man—there is a strong familial resemblance, though they are at least a generation apart—and he comes forward.

"I am Hular," he says, towering over Condign as he eyes the tiefling and strokes his short white beard. "My daughter tells me you would like to consider enchanted armor. I have, at present, three such offerings. Please, come this way."

The burly smith pushes open one of the doors in the main room and leads Condign into a smaller chamber, where three suits of shining armor are propped up by wood mannequins. He describes each one to Condign (and anyone else who wanders in), giving the tiefling a good idea of what each could do for him. From the way he talks about them, it's evident that Hular himself was the crafter.

"In the crafting of each of these, I gained the assistance and blessings of the followers of Rushemé."

The first is a suit of chain armor with a subtle greenish tint when it catches the light just right. "One who wears this chain, which was wrought thin and light, gains the eagle's sight under an open sky."

In looking at the splint mail, you can see the leather the metal strips have been riveted to are black, though it's hard to say whether they've been dyed that way or the hide it came from was naturally dark. "The giants of Rushemé were forced to trap and slay a displacer beast which had wandered close in madness. I purchased some of its skin and was able to incorporate a vestige of its power."

The plate mail has a platinum sheen to it. "The alloy of this suit is heavy, but lends its durability to its wearer."

Eyeing Condign again, the half-giant smith nods. "Most of these would fit you outright, but the latent magic within will stretch and reshape as necessary."

---

Nonmagical armor:

• Splint armor = 200 gp (AC 17, imposes disadvantage on Dexterity (Stealth) checks, 60 lb.
• Plate armor = 1,300 gp, AC 18, imposes disadvantage on Dexterity (Stealth) checks, 65 lb.

Magical armor options:

• +1 Chain mail = 1,200 gp (AC 17, disadvantage, 50 lb.; Grants +2 on outdoor, surface-world-based Perception checks)
• +1 Splint mail = 1,800 gp (AC 18, disadvantage, 65 lb.; Displacement effect kicks in for 1 round the first time the armor is struck each day)
• +1 Plate mail = 2,700 gp (AC 19, disadvantage, 70 lb.; When spending hit dice after a short rest, the wearer rerolls any "1".)

[Brian]

Condign considers Hular's words. Each armor has is benefits and its drawbacks; the worst of them is their weight. With the plate, he would be dangerously slow. With the chain, he would be under protected. That left one ideal choice.

"I think the splint will work best for me." Condign pulls out his money pouch and removes the fifty gold coins. "These are to hold the armor, if you please. I will be back soon with the rest of the money. Agreed?"

[Jeff]

The half-giant gives a slight bow and smiles. "That is more than fair. I will have it set aside from you, master warrior."

He accepts the coins.

---

50 gp deducted. Remaining 1,750 will be deducted when you hit the bank.

[Brian]

Condign nods gratefully. "We will return soon."

To the others, he says, "We can proceed to the bank now. I need to present the Black Wolf's note, and return here with the rest of the gold."

[Ken]

"One moment," Belarin says. He's been looking around the shop for some time. He walks over to the proprietress and says, "Solarca, I lack both the fortitude and the resistance to pointy objects that my tiefling friend here possesses. I also don't want to resemble an anvil. Can I see what you have in the way of studded leather armor, please?"

[Dave B.]

Shorak, standing right beside Belarin, adds, "Also, I would be interested in an enchanted hand crossbow or hand crossbow bolts, if possible and not too much trouble."

[Jeff]

Hular regards both Belarin and Shorak. "Leather...yes, some, but not enchanted. Would you like to see them?" You can see that metal is definitely the material of choice in this place. "I'm afraid I do not fashion tiny crossbows." The old half-giant makes an apologetic face, but it also looks like the very idea of a hand crossbow is silly to him. "Though, I have an old rummage box, I seem to recall seeing some wee bolts in there. I will take a look."

[Ken]

"Yes, thank you," says Belarin amiably. When Hular leaves, he turns to Shorak, holds up his thumb and index finger about 2 inches apart, and whispers, "Your wee bolt."

[Darren]

Kal swats at Belarin's hand. "Behave yourself," he says, then turns to see Rinti looking at them and his face turns red. He holds up a warning finger to Belarin, daring him to say more. "Behave."