[IC]
Archer's Log-Moonstair
Moonstair in an interesting place. Their whole reason for being appears to be geared toward supplying adventuring parties and selling looted treasure to fetishist dilettantes trying to be trendy. Friendly merchants have set up their wares along every street, and there is more than enough action to keep someone interested at the two major taverns.
After picking up Squeaks over at Lord Obsidian's joint (actually more like throwing some oil on his hungover carcass to bring him around, followed by some hair of the dog to keep him interested), we headed out into the vendors to see what we could scare up in the way of supplies. We found the Alchemist's shop (closed for lunch), a Relics and Curios shop (closed, "at the ruins"), and a couple of armorers in among the more "Specialty" establishments. I decided to dig through the old weapons and ammunition in the dusty back area of the less reputable looking shop, in hopes something of value would turn up while Squeaks tottered off in search of whatever it is he eats. As luck would have it, I came across some charred-looking arrows which turned out to be Firestorm Arrows! The old guy running the store figured that 2 of them were Level 8 enchanted, and the rest of them were Level 3. After some intense haggling, I bought both of the Level 8s and as many of the 3s as I could afford (9), reserving some Gold for the Alchemist after lunch.
After heading back over to Lord Obsidian"s place for some lunch and an Ale (5% discount!), I headed back out. The Alchemist was in, so I bought a flask of Alchemist Fire in case things get dicey later. Then, went over to the other Armorer to see if he had a decent whetstone for sale (no luck). Mine is not as effective as it used to be and both of my swords need a hone. Looks like I am going to spend my evening stoning the blades again.
Walking around the center of town, it was hard not to notice the look of apprehension on most of the faces. It is hard to tell if this is fear, or hope, or a mixture of both. Everybody was pretty friendly though, even the old guy at the fishmonger's hut. Although, with that much damage to his face, it might just have been scar tissue instead of a smile.
Walking the perimeter of town, I spotted some good vantage points for ranged defense. The main wall defenses, though, are in such disrepair that no credible defensive action would last very long. They would have to trench a moat and fill it with burning oil to have a hope, and as rocky as the soil is it would take an army of giant trolls an entire month to do anything substantial.
Finished the day having dinner with the barbarian again. I think I've figured out what's going on with him. He hasn't had a chance to do any serious butt-kicking in a while and he's lacking direction. I almost feel sorry for him...
Vanèäron
No comments:
Post a Comment