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Chapter 3 by AnotherAnt AnotherAnt

What happens to poor Shadowheart?

Raising Money

Adventuring parties tend to be... Glamorized a bit. It's all glory, and heroism, and godlike weapons and untold treasure! And sure, that can be the case. But when the treasures are already taken, dungeons plundered and bodies looted, the budget can get... Tight.

Even if you use secondhand weapons and armor-- Food, health potions, basic necessities aren't cheap! Something Shadowheart's party was learning firsthand.

"Right... You're taking the piss a bit, aren't you?" Karlach laughed shakily. Before her sat a huge assortment of trinkets! And a thoroughly unamused shopkeep, looking through the heap on her counter. "I've brought you a load of treasure and you're offerin' me nothing!"

"You've brought me a load of junk." The merchant responded. "Books, damaged weapons, candlesticks, cheap paintings-- What, did you just pick up everything you could and hope to turn a profit? Give me something valuable or get lost."

That's exactly what they'd done. Anything they could carry, really. Karlach cleared her throat. "Right. Let me just uh... Confer with my associates for a minute here."

The towering Tiefling returned to her teammates, who had been looking longingly at the assortment of weapons that were eternally out of their price range. Shadowheart, the half elf cleric. And Lae'zel, the no nonsense Githyanki fighter.

"So? How'd it go?" Shadowheart pressed, turning toward Karlach.

"Could be better... They're not buying our lovely trinkets. Literally." Karlach sighed. "I'll be honest-- It's not looking good. No healing items, nothing worth a damn to sell, and worse than that, no food. We won't last long like this."

"Can we..." Shadowheart leaned in, whispering. "Steal what we need?"

"Or perhaps a blade to the throat would convince them to be more charitable?" Lae'zel offered, reaching for her hilt.

"None of us are particularly stealthy. Both of those options would land us in jail... Though, least then, we might get some grub." Karlach laughed, rubbing her nearly stomach.

"No girls, I'm afraid that **** times call for **** measures..."

How are we Talking?

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