For the 4th "homework assignment", I had the group each write an answer to the question in their character's voice what they would want to do with their share of the treasure found and the reward money for returning the Prism Crown. Had to name a personal item, a real pie in the sky sort of item, and 2 other miscellaneous items they might want to spend their money on. Also, they had to pick one item that another party member should get. After receiving it, I wove it into a story format and we presented it to the group every couple of days or so. This is the third one, Brendon Lake, the Thief...Scout!
Follows:
Brendon and Reward Money!
“Don’t let them get on your case,” Lyra said to Wyn, checking the links of her chainmail for signs of breakage, “I think your plans for your reward money was wonderful.”
“Wonderfully pedestrian if you ask me,” Lannis grumbled.
Kovid smiled, grabbing his second hammer and proceeded to rasp the edge sharp again with a small metal file. “I don’t think anyone asked you, Big Brain.”
“I like ta t’ink tha’ when dis be all over t’at I can be ‘appy wit’ wot I dun found and mayhap relax a bit, y’know?” Wyn said idly. “T’is ‘venture shoor seems ta be takin’ months instead o’ days!”
“Si, Senor Whistlie.” Abraxas had taken his boots off and was using the edge of his cloak to work the scuffs out of them. “But I can say that I’ve nunca en la vida done anything like this antes de!”
The group was keeping up a small banter back and forth about the elf and magic user’s possible purchases when Kovid noticed that Brendon was not participating. The Scout was on the far bed, going through the various picks and prods in his leather tool set, giving each one a critical eye before wiping them clean and testing the bend and flex of each before going to the next. “Hey, Brendon.”
He looked up, a Number 3 Center Prod held limply between his fingertips. “Yeah?”
“We boring you?”
He shrugged. “Nope. Just checking my picks.”
“Si, you should,” the Fighter grunted. “Don’t know if they worked so good.”
“They work fine,” Brendon replied neutrally.
“Mayhap,” Abraxas shrugged. “Mayhap not. Might be the skill of the user then, si?”
“Lay off, Abraxas,” Kovid rebuked. “Brendon is doing a good job under difficult circumstances. Does he get on your case when you flub a swing or fail to kill an enemy?”
Still rubbing his boot a bit more, Abraxas eventually sighed and nodded his head. “Me descuplo. You are right.”
Brendon gave a small tilt of his head in acknowledgement and went back to his picks before the dwarf continued with him. “Well? What about you?”
“Me what?”
“Yeah, what about your purchases,” Lannis asked.
Brendon put his pick down. “What am I purchasing?”
“When all this is over,” Kovid said, “what will you plan to do with your share of the treasure we've found as well as the reward the Academy is paying us for the return of the Prism Crown?”
“I’ll bet he buys a snazzy hat,” the Magic User suggested. “Or a red captain’s coat. Or maybe an eye patch?” He tilted his head. “As a pirate, do you have to officially lose an eye to merit getting an eye patch or is there a dispensation based upon job description that allows you to just get one without having to fill out a form?”
“Laugh all you want, Lannis, but I have a lot of love for the sea. It’s in my blood.”
“So? What would you get?”
Seeing the party looking at him intently Brendon gave a small sigh and drew his short sword from his scabbard, holding it up in the lantern light and staring at its blade. "As a kid of the sea, I've always fancied the stories about the Krakhulhu.
“Ze what?” Wyn asked, brows furrowed. “I t’ink you are pr’nouncin’ it wrongmixed, Monsieur.”
The Magic User scowled. “I expect such language mangling from Cookiemaking Gambit or Loading Dock Ken,” he pointed at Wyn and Abraxas, “but not you.”
“It’s a sword,” Brendon replied calmly. “And yep, it does have the name of possibly two of the worst creatures known to man, elves and…well…everyone else too."
“Made up,” Lannis interrupted. “Sounds made up. Made up thing.”
Kovid scolded the Magic User with a quick kick of the bed he was seated on. “Let him finish, Manling.” Turning back to the Scout, he motioned, “Go on. Krakhulhu you were saying?”
“Thanks,” Brendon smiled. "It's a beautiful piece. Caught sight of it at the Whaling Museum in Traladara, part of their Pirate and Privateer Collection.”
“Traladara? Are you making this shit up too?” Lannis smirked.
“It’s a real place, Senor Anus,” Abraxas frowned. “We would get trade vessels from there often.”
“I don’t know…”
He tried to continue but Lyra interrupted him with, “Didn’t you tell us that Tin Penny Ranch was the furthest you had ever travelled from Specularum?”
“Yes?” Lannis asked haughtily.
“It’s literally right off the Ducal Highway 1 mile from the city,” she said.
“I don’t have to travel someplace to know if it’s real or not.”
“Whatever.” She shook her head, “Continue, Brendon. The sword?”
Picking up his narrative, the Scout continued. “The hilt wraps around your hand and has the appearance of an octopus beak noshing on you. The blade holds the images of a crazed ocean storm raging.”
“Sounds real nice,” Wyn said.
“Stories say that when swung, tentacles strike out towards as many as 20 targets. I've been told of people who have been disassembled into a vaporous dust,” his voice took on a deeper timbre, eyes shining with excitement as he spoke, “or their souls ripped from their forms and shredded into a faceless void of eyes, all the while their essence is elongated through a veil of cries of endless despair."
In the silence the followed, Lannis held up a single finger and opened his mouth, uttering, “um,” before Brendon snapped his fingers and pointed at the wizard, "And just because YOU haven't heard of it Lannis, doesn't mean it doesn't exist."
The group chuckled at that, the Magic User miming turning a key against his closed lips and grinning as well. “Got it. Legendary pirate tentacle soul destroying sword of doom. That’s one.” He ticked off a finger. “What next? The Nautilus? Triton’s Trident? Basket of Ambrosia and Demeter’s Apples baked into a pie?”
"I don't know,” he shrugged, “I guess a pair of comfortable boots?"
“That’s it? Boots?” Lannis smiled, breaking into a laugh. “I guess after plundering the ancestral pirate weapon of twin dooms, you want to have comfortable feet and no bunions.”
Abraxas clapped his hands, “Yo pienso que Brasndein should get himself a wand or ring of a spell. What is the Majik call'ed... como dices... Servant Unseen?”
“Unseen Servant,” Lannis corrected.
“Whatever,” the fighter continued. “Someone that can open his puertos, and undo the traps for him, so that no one else can get hurt, including Brandes.” He gave the Scout a piercing glare and a smirk, “Tambien, it can help pull that stick out of his culo every so often, jajaja.”
“That is not how the spell works, Abraxas,” Lannis said with false exhaustion, “I would know.”
“Can you cast it, Senor?”
“No.”
“Then you don’t know, do you?”
“In the matters of the arcane, I would think that a doorknob knows more about magic and its capabilities that you do.”
“You don’t even know about Traladara!”
“But I know about magic! Do I question your ability to pick up barnacle covered barrels off a vomit inducing ship or the best way to shove a sharpened piece of metal against a bad guy’s neck?”
The group then went on about the possible uses of the Unseen Servant spell for a bit but both Wyn and Lyra who were sitting closest to Brendon noticed that the Scout still had a far off look on his face. “Something else in mind?” Lyra asked.
“Not really.”
“Monsieur, take it from someone who spends a lot of time a’thinkin’ ‘boot things, you are t’inkin’.” Wyn leaned a little closer. “What else you t’inkin’ o’ getting’ when t’is be dun?”
Brendon sighed, "I'm not really into items per se."
“But?” Lyra prodded, chin in her hands waiting.
"I think,” he said haltingly, “what I'd like most, is some land where I could settle down and start a family. Nothing fancy at first but something I could work into something bigger." Picking at the edge of his short sword, he ran his thumb along it feeling the burrs on it. "The killing and destroying is starting to wear at my edges, I wanna create life before I die.
“Sounds nice.”
“It does, doesn’t it? I'd building a wall around the house, more for feel then function. I have heard tales of homesteaders that have lost their families to the creatures of the night.” He sighed, “I feel for them, but they probably just didn't have the skill or knowledge to kill those things." He frowned. “Skills I have spent too long lately developing. It’s time for a change for me I would think.”
“Anyt’ing else?” Wyn asked.
"Of course there'd be chickens, goats and even a cow.” He smiled broadly. “But most importantly, there would be apple trees.
“Ah,” Lyra said knowingly. “There it is. Thought there was something else simple that you wanted.”
The Scout nodded, “Seems simple but by Poseidon, I’d love me some apple trees.” He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. “Yep, my own apples from my own trees. Mine. Apples to make pies, ales, wine, and even candies.”
Wyn chuckled, “I ‘ope ye share some o’ yer bounty wit’ us should we come an’ visit ye. I love me some apples too, mon ami.”
Brendon grinned broadly. “Everyone loves apples.” The smile though faded as he took stock of where he was and how far from home he really was. Looking absently at the door and in his mind’s eye the distance it was to home, his voice grew soft and thready, “I wish I had one now."
Seeing their friend feeling homesick, the cleric and elf leaned over and both laid their hand on his arm in support. “Us too. Us too.”
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