No tricks found? WutFace
The party starts off with the clinking of wine glasses. The bar room is filled with the nobility of Divinity’s Reach with everyone secluding themselves to cliques, never venturing out to talk to one-another. Sigh “Lively party, eh Watson?” Watson grimaces slightly before turning to see Lord Faren approaching. Without diverting his attention from the party-goers Watson responds, “I can’t believe this is all you do. It’s so incredibly boring.” “Well,” Lord Faren says “this may be all you do, but I am a world-class swordmaster. Remember when I conquered the jungle of Verdant Brink?” Watson chuckles, “Ah-hah. Yes, I remember quite well from the last time you told me that story. You know, I must admit Lord Faren, I am a bit envious of you. You’re able to escape this monotony to do what you love. I am forced to be here to keep appearances for my estate.” “Sir Watson, you are the head of your estate; under the command of nobody. While you do have responsibilities to your house, you should not dedicate your life to it. A balance must be struck. If you need to go out. Go out.” A woman’s yelp cuts through the crowd, followed by the crashing of glasses and clanging of a metal tray, coming from bar. Watson and Lord Faren look to the commotion. A bar maid was attempting to tug her dress free from the grasp of a rather inebriated nobleman. This particular nobleman was infamous for getting very drunk very quickly at every party. Watson set his glass down and walked to the bar, Lord Faren trailing a short distance behind. The drunk nobleman’s friends were have joined in the harassment. She slapped the man who held her dress and turned to get away, but he grabbed her wrist, balled his fist and reeled back to strike her. Watson grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the woman, shoving him into the bar. One of the drunkard’s buddies whacked Watson with a wooden cane, but Lord Faren quickly put him down with a swift punch to the jaw. By this time the original offender was back on his feet along with three of his friends. He had a wine bottle in his hand and swung at Watson’s head. Watson ducked under the clumsy swing and used the drunk’s momentum to drive his knee into the man’s gut. The drunk doubled over clutching his stomach. A second drunk threw himself at Watson, tackling him to the ground and landing a few heavy punches to his ribs. Lord Faren was busy dealing with his own drunkard, who had a broken wine glass in his hand and was trying to use it as a shiv. The drunkard lunged at Lord Faren, stabbing at his stomach. He put too much weight into his lunge, however, and toppled forward onto his face then laid still. Lord Faren sighed, “Well. That was a bit disappointing.” Watson was still struggling to get the last drunkard off of him when Lord Faren kicked the drunk in the side of the head. Lord Faren helped Watson to his feet. “You okay Watson?” Watson’s breathing was heavy as he responded, “Yes. Thank you for the assist, but I’m certain I could have handled him.” Lord Faren chuckled, “Of course! You definitely had him right where you wanted him.” They both surveyed the damage they and the drunks have caused. Lots of spirits and wine lay splattered across the floor. The other patrons have long since left and, judging by the damage, it seems they just dropped all their drinks onto the ground before leaving. The owner of the establishment poked his head in now that the commotion died down. “Oh my- Did you people just take all my drinks and throw them onto the ground?! Most of my drinks are low on stock and some bandits blew up my last shipment before it even left the Black Citadel!” Watson’s face turned blank, “Oh...Wh-who would do such a thing? Look, I’ll help you get a new shipment in as soon as I can.” The owner’s face lit up, “You will? Oh, thank you sir! If you do, you’re welcome to drink for free whenever you want!” “How exactly are you going to get him an entire shipment of alcohol? You don’t own a brewery. Are you just going to lug your own house’s reserves up to this place?” Lord Faren asked Watson as they exited. A sly smirk drew across Watson’s face, “Oh, I think I know of a way.” Early the next morning, Watson entered the Nicolas Traveler warehouse before everyone else to look for a shipment he could use to fulfill his promise. An hour into his search he began to lose hope, then suddenly light filled the warehouse. Kit the Traveler opened the warehouse doors wide and stood there for a moment, a little shocked to see Watson inside. “Watson? You’re here early? Well, this is a first.” Kit said. Watson let out an exasperated sigh, “Come on Kit, you know I don’t like being called that.” “Fine then ‘Rookie’, would you mind telling me why you’re here?” Watson lied and said a shipment of beer kegs was destined for the bar from last night, omitting the whole ‘bar fight’ thing, and that they needed the shipment today. “Well,” said Kit “we never got a shipment of ale, or any alcohol.” “Well, the owner of the bar said his last shipment was blown up by bandits before it left the Black Citadel.” Watson explained. “...Oh, well, uh.” Kit stammered. “Then ,I’ll tell you what. I’ll take care of finding a shipment for this bar and you can haul it up there. Don’t worry about helping me find it, I got this handled!” Kit backed out of the warehouse. Adventurers! Kit needs your help to replace a shipment of ale that was blown up due to Watson’s clumsiness last week. Send in 5 items of alcohol such as ale or wine to Kit so Watson can haul it up to the bar he and Lord Faren wrecked up.
Clop-clop, clop-clop The repetitive clopping sounds of the yak’s feet helps dull the stinging heat of Black Citadel. Clop-clop, shuffle-shuffle The sound of shuffling boots sneaks its way in; every now and then the sounds sync with each other for a fraction of a second. An exasperated sigh is let out, “Hoo, man! Who knew delivering cargo would be so boring?” The yak grunts in response. “I mean, why’s it gotta be so hot? What’s up with this weather, eh?” The yak simply grunts in response. “Humph, some conversationalist you are...” Meanwhile, nearby in a dark alley, some no-do-gooders are up to do no good. “Hey, boss. Look over ‘ere. Isn’t that that traveling kit who stoles your gold?” “Hey, yeah, you’re right. It’s think it’s time for a little impromptu, yet very coincidental, payback! We’re pulling out all the stops for this one. Gregor, give me your last bomb.” Clop-clop, shuffle-shuffle, tssssssss boom! An explosion rocked the yak and traveler and startled everyone else nearby. The bandits hooted and hollered while coming from the nearby alley. “Nice throw, boss! You got ‘em dead-on!” A wide smarmy grin was painted on the bandit boss’s face, but it soon turned to a grimace when the smoke cleared, revealing a stumbling cloaked figure. “What the-? Grrr… Gregor! What kind of bomb was that, anyway?” The bandit boss shouted. “A...smoke bomb?” Gregor stammered. “You idiot! Why would you give me a smoke bomb?” “You asked me for my last bomb, not an explosive. That was the only bomb I had!” A distant voice shouts, “Uh, guys?! I don’t think this is who we think it is!” The bandits turn to find one of their own being held-up with a dagger to his throat, the previously-cloaked figure stood behind. “What?! You’re not Kit. Who are you?” The boss demanded. No longer covering his head, the young-looking man removes his dagger and kicks the bandit toward the boss. “I’m-” “Rrrrrookie!” A woman’s voice cuts through the air, interrupting every sound in the area. Even the insects now lay silent. Kit and Mr. Sprinkle storm onto the scene. Kit halts in-front of “rookie” while Mr. Sprinkle bowls over the bandits, knocking them all dozens of feet aside. Kit continues her berating, “How could you let this happen to your first shipment?! I told you to watch your back!” “They used an explosive on me! How could I possibly have predicted that?” “It was just a smoke bomb. Also, where is your yak? The poor thing must have run off all terrified.” The rookie points, “She must have run in that direction. There’s the cart over..turned...” Kit stares daggers at him. “You lost your first shipment, rookie. You know what you have to do now, right? I’ll go find your yak while you go get more cloth.” Kit ordered. “Where am I supposed to get more cloth? I can’t just conjure up this stuff out of nowhere. Can you?” The rookie sarcastically stated. Kit looked back at him with a sly grin on her face. “Okay rookie. You’ll get off this time if you can find your yak. Afterward, I’ll show you how a seasoned Traveler gets things done!” Adventurers! Kit, or more accurately, her rookie, needs your help. He’s lost his shipment on his first day on the job. In order to show him up, Kit needs to replace the cloth shipment. Please send in 5 pieces of cloth to help replace what the rookie lost due to his obvious carelessness!