(Though a cleric who is unpracticed with arcane magicks, Corwin himself has observed the Cloudkill spell firsthand, and he remembers the day that his mother Gwenlyn first unraveled the mysteries of the Cloudkill spell--and of spells of the Fifth Circle in general, in her words. Her first act of using the Cloudkill spell was in purging a den of wolves who had taken up residence near her hovel; Her second casting of Cloudkill was done to lay waste to the livestock and the barley field of a farmer who had annoyed a neighbor, a neighbor who was willing to pay a considerable sum to the dark witch of the South Ainsley Wood just to see his rival ruined. But the Cloudkill spell has no material components; It is simply produced with a few arm movements to beckon the darker powers of Elemental Air, with a short litany of venomous words in the Draconic tongue. Cloudkill potions are not known to exist, but if one did--and it would certainly be a potion best thrown or uncorked, not ingested--Ruprecht might be the one to know which reagents would be vital in their concoction.)


Ruprecht responded agreeably to Corwin's speculations, glancing to and from with a serpentine gaze. "Well, that's quite the question there. The naughty deed would bear a degree of risk, of course, but it should not be too terribly dangerous a task, not even if the guards were summoned to the spectacle of several soupy gray clouds wafting through the bazaar. And I would stand to profit greatly from such a deed. Perhaps I would be grateful enough to yield a clandestine gift of, say...60 Gold to my mysterious benefactor. Perhaps he would accept this sum as compensation for the risks he had faced, yes?"


Corwin >

"I think such a rogue would be more than willing to accept such a fee. It's always best to see a local get one over on those sharpers." Corwin replied casually. "As it happens, I'm headed over in that direction myself. There's been a number of wolves around our place and I thought I'd take a look to see about a charm or some such to ward them off."

(((ooc Corwin will pocket the small vial.

"I don't suppose you could hold those purchases ready for me when I return? it would be a shame if some villain causing mischief happend to ruin them."

"Ah, ah, ah!" countered Ruprecht, taking the empty vial from Corwin's hand with a shifting gaze, "That vial is empty. But, in a brief while, it--and several others like it--will be full. How many vials will that be? Oh, that depends on how many herbalist carts there are. I would be quite happy to keep your purchases here behind the counter, and they will be waiting with several vials of what may or may not be Ruprecht's Enchanted Hair Tonic upon your return. I'll see you shortly then, eh?"

Corwin discreetly waved his goodbye as he returned to the street.



Even in such dismal weather, the bazaar still boasted a goodly number of carts, wagons and tents. Many were not open for business; The weather meant few customers and cold bones which could only be warmed at the hearth of the nearest inn, and so many travelling merchants had closed their shops for the day. But some of the wandering shops remained open for business; The majority of the peddlers huddled within their tents and covered wagons, but a bold few stood out in the crude muddy streets of the bazaar, loudly hawking their wares to any who would hear. Those same muddy streets were sparsely wandered by errant townsfolk in search of provisions or exotic goods, by the two town guards assigned to the bazaar--bored and perpetually anticipating the arrival of a thief or other scoundrel at any moment just to break the ennui--and by one such scandalous heart seeking to sow discord in pursuit of his own gains.





If there were indeed charms against wolves, this would be the place to find such items. But finding all of the travelling herbalists in this expansive, tangled, distracting bazaar through this dismal weather...it would indeed be a daunting task to find all of the peddlers of herbs and tinctures. Would it do to keep Ruprecht waiting?

[Corwin may either accept the Search result, finish a hasty search of the bazaar and report immediately back to Ruprecht with his findings--however accurate or inaccurate they may be--in order to distribute the stinking herbicide and receive his gold as quickly as possible...and if not all of the herbalist shops are sabotaged, Corwin will still be long gone by the time Ruprecht finds out. Or he can Take 10, try again and spend a little more time scouring every last inch of the bazaar for every last herbalist shop. Ruprecht probably wouldn't mind the wait. It depends on how intent Corwin is on keeping his word (and how Lawful or Chaotic he's feeling today...).]

Corwin >

The rain beat down on Corwin as he plodded through the dismal yet bustling bazaar. From within his covered wagon, a grizzled old fisherman extolled the virtues of his dried cod and trout. A dull yellow tent wavered in the wind, its owner humorlessly seated behind wooden racks laden with salvaged weapons and armor pieces. Virtual slabs of pork jerky and dried beef hung from display rods beside an unkempt mess of a man who looked far too grimy to be peddling foodstuffs.

Crude wooden signs and drenched, painted banners indicated which shops sold which wares, even if the goods could not be readily seen. "Olafsen's Mines -- Fine Gemstones and Baubles" proclaimed one sign which leaned from the birchwood roof of a covered wagon. "Charms and Evil Eyes sold here! Fortunes told!" read another banner, twisting and flapping in the wet breeze. Another sign staked in the mud near its wagon humbly read "Cartwright". Corwin rounded a bend in the path to find a cart listing on a bad wheel, its merchant clad in a cheap traveller's dress and holding a mandrake root in her raised, weathered hand. Accosting Corwin, she squawked her call of commerce through sagging jowls and crooked teeth. "Hullo, me bonny lad! Mandrake oil makes men of boys and fetching maidens of girls! I sell mandrake an' all manner of herbs and medicines, assured of lendin' yuh health and vitality and whatever your desires...."

Ahhh, mused Corwin. One found. Others remained hidden. But not for long.

"Come o'er to Auld Mama Berty's wagon, lad, and I'll show you all I've to offuh! Yuh look like a smart young lad. Maybe we can come to a deal on bulk, aye? How much cookin' yuh do?"


Corwin >

I do some cooking. I'm looking for some blue onion skin and bay leaf if you have any

"Ach, blue onion?" Mama Berty snorted. "I ne'er touch the blasted things. Break open the skin o' blue onions afore they're ripe an' ya get a lungful o' reek that'll put yeh down for a few days. A nasty plant there. But bay leaf? Aye, I 'ave bay in a few bushels' worth! 'Ave a looksee."

Her leathery fingertips plunged into a waiting box within the cart and tore out a whispering fistful of papery leaves and shoots. "A pound o' good bay for two coppers. What say yuh, me bonny lad?"


Corwin >

Two coppers eh? I suppose I could spare that. only if it's quality goods though. <Corwin will accept 1 pound of bay leaves for 2 coppers, and go looking around for more merchants... damn this wet weather sucks....

"Ah, yeh wound me to the quick, me boy! These're the finest bay leaves an' other herbs to be found! Picked 'em meself, I did. Aye, there you be."



The bay leaves still held a smooth texture like that of lambskin, Corwin noted, not the crispness of old paper...very fresh indeed. If all the travelling herbalists were offering such agreeable goods at prices which the lowliest peasant could afford, then Ruprecht was indeed facing an earnest threat to his business.

Corwin took his time scouring the bazaar despite the vexing rainfall; there would be time enough to warm himself by Ruprecht's hearth later. And before long, Corwin found three more herbalist shops seated among the ranks of the bazaar. White Willow Herbs and Remedies stood at the edge of the bazaar, facing the dark forest eastward. Croduk's Wagon of Homegrown Delights boasted an ample supply with a meager variety; his green-stained wagon squatted along one the northern passages through the crude marketplace. And the most difficult herbalist to find was that of a small black tent, its sloppy handpainted banner proclaiming "Bloodwort Hollow" in an untrained hand; the wreath of bird skulls dangling over the tent's aperture suggested herbs and tinctures of a darker or less wholesome bent, and the nigh-skeletal elder seated within, fixing Corwin with a half-blind gaze, looked as if he wouldn't endure another winter.

Few ventured into that last dark, narrow avenue where Corwin had wandered. A burly hired hand helped his matronly employer break down a small wagon, its weathered, woodburned sign declaring the shop to be "Kiora's Semi-Precious Stones and Baubles". Their mules were yoked and eating a heaping bushel of oats from a deep pan, no doubt being prepared for a long journey home. And against the town wall, four dirty vagrants and knavish fellows were huddled within a cast-off pinewood merchant booth and seated around a small beer cask within, handing their coins and their well-worn playing cards back and forth in a boisterous game of Four Kings' Folly. If the bazaar guards knew of the idlers and their card game, they surely thought nothing of it.


Corwin >

i'll head back to ruprects to get the number of vials needed

Corwin shook the water from his hair and leaned at ease beside the hearth as Ruprecht emerged from behind the counter, a steaming glass retort held firmly between his spidery hands.

"Well, my lad," the alchemist addressed him, raising his voice over the fire and the seething contents of the brass cauldron which murmured in the hearth beside Corwin, "how did you fare? How many raggedy herbalists did you find?"

"There were four. No fewer and no more."

"Four? Ah, very good, young Corwin, very good!" Ruprecht beamed as he brought the retort to the vial rack on the countertop. "I had anticipated only two or three of them in this dismal season; I may need to pay you a bit more for your work, should you succeed in getting the vials to their recipients with all due clandestinity. Ah, there we are."

The retort's foul-smelling solution was gently and slowly poured into each vial. Ruprecht gave the vials of gray fluid a minute to air out and settle before squeezing a cork stopper into each of the four small glass mouths.

"There...yes, that will do quite nicely. Remember, Corwin, that you must not break any of the vials. Simply shake the vial vigorously, place it where the herbicide can do the most damage and get well away. After half a minute or so, the growing pressure within the vial will blow the cork out and the noxious gas will spill forth, polluting anything it touches. And above all, don't get caught by the merchants or the guards...oh, especially not the guards. So...that being said, is there anything else you might need from me before you go forth and earn your pay?"


Corwin >

what would happen if someone breathed in this stuff?

"It's an herbicide, a defoliant," Ruprecht explained. "It smells very foul indeed, but though it will kill and rot plants on contact, its repulsive vapors are not poisonous to most creatures. Insects tend to sicken and die when exposed to Ruprecht's Gray #4, but greater creatures who draw entire breaths of the herbicide will experience nothing more than nausea, possibly vomiting and, later, indigestion. The odor will cling to anything it touches--at least for a short while--but my concern with getting far away from the exploding herbicide was simply so that the guards answering the merchant's panicking cries won't find you at the scene with several more vials of suspicious gray chemical on your person."

The alchemist readjusted his spectacles and regarded a parchment of formulae in his hand. "So, then...was there anything else I might help you with?"


Corwin >

"If I could get 6 of the gold up front, I can get this taken care of quickly for you Master Ruprecht" (what were the stakes that those cardplayers were playing for, copper? silver? or what?)

"Hrrrmph!" Ruprecht snorted, fishing six Gilders from the lockbox beneath the counter and sliding the coins to Corwin. "Very well. Consider it an advance on your pay, then. I will see those vagabond herbalists driven from town in short order, yes?"




Corwin >

(((((it's more on the nature of hiring some thugs to do part of the dirty work)

"Not a problem sir, you know the saying, sometimes you have to spend money to make money, and you should see reults within the next hour"

"No truer words, my lad. Very well, then. Spend your gold wisely, and be sure to let me know how the errand goes!"

The pattering rain was there to greet Corwin as he opened the door and returned to the streets. Soon, the bazaar stretched before him, its miserable air still somehow attracting customers who continued to wander its muddied paths and crude streets.




Corwin >

Corwin returned to the dingy path in the bazaar, slipping past Bloodwort Hollow's sour-faced proprietor as he went. The subdued voices murmuring from the merchant booth at the alley's end still hung heavy in the dense misty air.

"Oy, Bragg!" one of the vagrants called to the laborer who dismantled Kiora's shop. "Our game's still open! Bring some of those gems to our table, eh?"

The strongman shrugged off the request and returned to his task of packing bags and wooden boxes into the wagon's belly. The card players' attentions had just begun to pass from Bragg and return to their game when they beheld a new figure approaching them through the mist and the rain....

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Is this a private game, or can anyone join in?"

The foremost scoundrel turned to his three fellows for guidance, but his bearded cohort across the cask from him could only stroke his beard and regard Corwin with inquisitive eyes. Somewhat encouraged, the one nearest Corwin returned his gaze and tipped his broad-brimmed hat in salutation. "Oh, our game be open to all, so long as your coin is good. What's your name, my friend?"

Actually, the game has a little less interest for me than yourselves. I have need of three men for a little job. he'll take out one of the gold lile he's going to ante' up with it, frown, and then put out some of the coppers he has left.

I can see that there's four of you though, but I only need three... maybe that's what the stakes of the game can be? it's really a simple job, and i offer one gold up front, and one after.

The wall-eyed scoundrel to Corwin's right looked to Corwin, looked to his cohorts, looked to Corwin again and looked to his cohorts again, trepidly, as if hoping for a decision. The scar-faced vagrant across from him made one.

"One hand. Low hand sits here, others get paid and do the job. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Aye."

"Deal."



Big Beard, the dealer for that round, gathered all of the cards and shuffled the deck one more time. Corwin looked on with some interest as each man was dealt his cards. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Wall-Eye immediately threw his hand down on the cask without the slightest smile. "Three tens."

"Two pair. Jacks and sixes." Big Beard's hand joined Wall-Eye's cards on the improvised table before them.

Both Big Hat and Scar-Face looked displeased. "I got nothin'."

"Me neither."

"High card?" Big Beard asked with a shifting glance.

Big Hat nodded. "Queen."

Scar-Face paused a brief moment before throwing his cards to the cask in disgust. "Eight."



From where he could stand, Corwin could see no queens in Big Hat's hand. His highest card was also an eight.

"It's settled, then," Big Beard declared, ignorant of the deceit as he rose to stand. "Peet, you stay here an' keep the lamp burning. Dungan an' Needles, you're with me. Now, stranger," Big Beard turned to Corwin, "if you got the gold, we got the time. What's this job about?"


Corwin >

while they're figureing out who is going to win, I'll cast "fleeting fame"



It's pretty simple, 1 gold up front, one on completion. (corwin will go along to explain the locations, assigning big hat to the herb shop where he spoke with the vendor earlier) it's simple, just shake this up by your assigned place, and discretely put it in place, and walk away. oh, and the important part of this.. don't get caught. meet me afterward in the inns common room for the rest of your pay.

Now you may be thinking, "I'll just take the money and the hell with the job".. I wouldn't do that... I'd just do the job, and take the generous pay.

[Corwin makes his next Bluff, Diplomacy or Intimidate check at +2 due to his Fleeting Flame spell.]

[Corwin -- Diplomacy check (DC : Passed (13)]
[Fleeting Flame expires.]

Corwin could perceive the Devourer's dark graces touching the minds of the three scoundrels, though in truth the magic was not so needed after all. They didn't even think to ask why they would be paid gold in halves for so simple a task--nor did they question if Corwin would indeed be at the inn to pay them for the completion of their task--so blinded were they with greed. Even Big Hat--who had cheated to get the job in the first place--seemed trustworthy and entirely compliant with Corwin's wishes.

"Why, you must think us mad, good sir!" Big Beard protested through crooked teeth. "We'll not at all slight the chance at bein' paid double for such good, honest work...will we, lads?"

None disagreed. Satisfied with their concord, Corwin planted a gilder in each of their hands, followed closely with a stoppered glass vial of gray, nasty fluid. "Remember: we meet in the common room of the Gilded Lyre afterwards. Do not tarry once you're done."

"Very good," Big Hat surmised as the four walked to their errand. "Our generous employer has given us our directions and our equipment, gents. Let's take these suspicious alchemies and go test our fortune for some filthy ale coin, aye?"

But then, from the merchant booth receding behind them, Scar-Face's anguished shouting could be heard. "Oy! Oy! There's no queens in this hand, yeh rotten cheat...!"

"Aye, let's go...very quickly indeed," Big Hat added, quickening his pace without daring to look behind.

The bleak tent of the Bloodwort Hollow shop rose before them to their right. Corwin shortened his pace--allowing his three hirelings to move ahead--and, shaking the vial of Ruprecht's Gray at his hip, he made his move.


[Corwin -- Move Silently check (DC : Success (]
[Corwin -- Hide check (DC 5): Success (6)]
[Bloodwort Hollow vendor -- Spot check (DC 12): Failure (3)]

At the mouth of his vendor tent, the grim, old herbalist eyed watched Big Beard and Wall-Eye uneasily as the two scoundrels strolled past. So distracted, he did not notice Corwin steal up to the side of his tent, lift the tent's edge and roll the vial underneath.

But Corwin's boot came down a little too heavily in a growing mud puddle as he turned to leave. Alerted, the old man leaned out of his tent and craned his head to where Corwin had sunken into a low crouch. The poor vision of old age worked against the hedge mage, and he failed to notice the low, rain-sotten profile crouching aside his shop. Questioning his own senses, he withdrew into the dry confines of his tent. And Corwin, seeing the threat passed, circled back to the path and strode casually past Bloodwort Hollow, nonchalantly waving to the merchant whose day was about to meet far worse than mere rain showers and imagined noises....

FWOOOOMMPH!!! Somewhere behind him, Corwin heard a chemical reaction come to its telling conclusion. A glance back confirmed what he suspected: A thick, gray fog was spilling forth from the flaps and edges of the Bloodwort Hollow tent, and the old man was doubled over in the muddy street, hacking and wheezing. The fresh nightshade and garlic vines ringed around his displays began to rot and fall away in blackening flakes, a sight beheld even to the old man's tear-fettered eyes.

"No! No! What is this? I'm ruined! I'm ruined!"

The heavy air carried his words to two nearby bazaar guards, who came running to the old herbalist's aid and immediately faltered at the unwelcome sight of the drifting cloud of reeking herbicide, its reek grown even more pungent in the mist and the rain.


[Corwin -- Hide check (DC 12): Critical Success (19/Nat 20)]

Wisely, Corwin slid sideways between two wagons, staying low as more shouts were raised and more guards approached. From where he knelt, he could hear another loud, angry voice storming past: Scar-Face, howling for retribution. "I'll get ya, Needles! You stole my gold! Where're ya? I'll get ya...."

And then, a familiar noise, this time from the next street over. FWOOOOMMPH!!! Corwin's gold was beginning to gain its return.

FWOOOOMMPH!!! Another vial went off elsewhere. Corwin slid and crept even more deftly through the bazaar, taking winding side avenues around the alerted patrols. Guards cursed and ran about as a fourth FWOOOOMMPH!!! was heard across the bazaar from where Corwin lingered.


[Big Beard -- Hide check (DC : Success (18)]
[Big Hat -- Hide check (DC 12): Failure (]
[Wall-Eye -- Hide check (DC 10): Success (15)]

Doing his best to allay suspicion, Corwin returned to the road, tumbling a few coins in his hand as if he were another commoner out to do some shopping. He passed within a stone's throw of Croduk's shop and found his laments of "I'm ruined! Help me, my shop here is finished!" to be somewhat satisfying. He then made a deliberate pace back to the city gate and was drawn by a commotion not far from it: Big Hat, his characteristic hat soiled and drenched in the mud near where he lay, held to the ground by a burly guard bearing down on his shoulders. Three more guards attended the scene, with a stout-bodied, accusing Mama Berty and a wrathful Scar-Face standing amid them.

"Cheat me out've gold, will yeh? Gimmeh your gold, yeh bastard!"

Breaking away, Scar-Face raced in and delivered two solid kicks to Big Hat's ribs before two of the guards tackled him, sending mud flying and redoubling Scar-Face's curses and bitter vows. Mama Berty angrily shook a withered and rotting mandrake root in her thick hand, demanding justice.

Not a good place to be.


Corwin >

nope, not good at all place to be. i'll definately head to Ruprects to let him know about the sucess of the mission. i'll take a roundabout way, in case i'm being followed.

also, is it at all misty out? if so i'll be using obscuring mist, if not, i won't