Name: Mark (Mark) Redding, Race: Human

Ht: 5'10, Wt: 160, Sex: Male, Archetype: Wizard

HP: 5 / 5 Mana: 12 / 39 MCU: 300 / 300

Stats:

Physical: 2, Moxie: 2, Spiritual: 2, Luck: 2,

Agility: 2, Magic: 3, Mental: 3, Energy: 4.

Relevant Skills: Gather Mana, Moxie Deceive, Mental - Deduct Rationale, Physical - Awareness

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Mark rubbed the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As he calmed, he felt himself gather mana out of reflex.

Even as the magical energy flooded into him, Mark dismissed using any of it. Letting out part of that deep breath, he looked up at Todd.

"I get it; we all make mistakes. I understand you were trying to help." Mark looked to the side at Henderson, sitting across the table with his back to Mark and Todd. "I just," Mark pressed both index fingers to the center of his forehead and used his thumbs to rub the sides of his temples. He pondered if the game stats limited actual ability; perhaps Todd didn't have the mental capacity to know better.

"Again, I'm sorry. I just wanted to do something since I couldn't get inside." Todd said as he lowered his head until it almost touched the glass before him.

Mark struggled as he withheld comforting words for his friend. In the back of his mind, he knew Todd was already facing the consequences of his actions. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over and touched his friend's shoulder. "We all make mistakes; it's going to happen. We can control how we react or recover from them."

Todd's head slowly rose, and he looked at Mark with red eyes. "I thought I'd screwed us completely." He said as he wiped away some wetness from his eyes.

"You may have. Sorry, sorry, man, but I have to be honest. Until Jax and Reggie return, we don't know. We haven't heard any alarms, so that it couldn't have been that bad." Mark tried to offer a supportive smile.

"Liar," Todd said as he glared at Mark.

"Ok, maybe, but nothing we can do about it." Mark smiled at his friend being able to at least see through his lie. "We may have to rescue Charisse and take a swing at the target tonight. Maybe get supplies. get everything that could possibly come in handy." Mark reached into a pocket and pulled out his coin pouch. He placed it on the table and slid it toward Todd. "Should be a couple of hundred gold in there. Go get supplies, but stay away from the rich areas."

Todd stood up and grabbed the pouch of coins. As he stood up, Mark held up a hand.

"Remember your character in Reggie's campaign? Who was it, Nickolas?" Mark said. He waited for Todd to acknowledge that he remembered. "Remember how he always had something for any problem, no matter the absurdity?"

Todd started to smile and nod. "When in doubt, throw the kitchen sink full of alchemist fire," Todd said as he smiled. "Got it." He nodded and promptly exited the tavern. Mark resumed rubbing his temples as he tried to work out some plans and contingencies.

Mark looked toward Henderson and pulled out another pouch that clinked as he placed it on the table. "I need a wagon, preferably covered. Something big that would make a good cover. Possibly a team of horses as well." Mark paused, then added, "We also need a lot of cargo for it, something big and bulky and heavy but could be arranged to hide inside."

"Alright," Henderson opened the bag and counted the couple dozen gold coins inside.

"We don't need to buy; just rent the wagon and team for the night, and we'll buy bags of dirt if necessary." Mark added.

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"What are you planning?" Henderson said.

"It is time to show High Fucknuts that the most dangerous person is a wizard with some free time. Now go; I gotta start planning and thinking of some creative methods to free my friend or friends."

Henderson nodded and quickly left. Mark watched him go as he mulled over what options he had. He didn't have time to dig through the manual, but honestly, he didn't feel there was a good solution. Any spell he did discover would start at a low level, and he'd have to train it up to get it usable.

He glanced at his character sheet and saw the Mana Containment unit had expired. He closed his eyes and briefly prayed to all the gods, "To whoever is out there, help us free Charisse and defeat King Bartholo, and I will pay whatever price owed." After a minute of no response, he opened his eyes and started working on preparing.

Mentally, he tried to calculate the odds of successfully creating a Mana Containment unit of 400. He would need about 40 successes, which would be an average of 4 per, and at the odds of… He stopped as his brain started trying to run the calculations. He had never been that good at math. He mulled briefly over if there was a way to keep this mental insight outside of the game. With a shake of his head, he took a deep breath and started the ritual.

He took in a deep breath before checking the log. He'd been able to do 300 easily in the past. The odds were good he could easily do 400, especially with the bonus from rank.

His heart sank when he read about the failures. His mind ran through the calculations. Didn't he have a forty percent chance that each roll would be seven or greater? He started sketching the numbers on the table using his finger as he tried to work through the math.

"Fuckity," Mark caught himself actually talking aloud. He scanned the room to see if anyone took note.

He didn't see anyone in the area looking at him or taking note of his small outburst. He stopped running the numbers and just accepted he made a huge error; now he had to work out what the next step was.

Mark approached the bartender before slapping a gold coin on the counter. With the bartender's attention, Mark asked in a low voice, "I'm looking for an alchemist who can help me out with a…" he cleared his throat and glanced around to ensure no one else was nearby. "Certain problem."

The bartender took a step back. A look of disgust replaced the friendly smile he previously wore. "Sir, I cannot help you."

"An apothecary, is there a nearby apothecary?" Mark sputtered.

"Out the door and to your left, two blocks down." The bartender moved a little closer to take the coin before retreating to the other end of the bar.

Mark stuffed his awkwardness into a box and left it behind as he hurried out the door in the direction the bartender pointed. Mark found his path wasn't blocked by miracle or some other form of luck. Only a few people mingled on the sidewalk, and they moved out of his way as he approached.

It took only a few minutes of fast walking before Mark stood before the shop proclaiming, "Living Essentials ."He smirked at the name before stepping in.

A mixture of earthy tones with an almost sweet undertone filled Mark's nose as he entered the building. A young man stood behind the counter, carefully sifting through some dried plants with a flat knife. Without looking up at Mark, the shopkeeper said, "How can I help ye?"

"I uh," Mark hesitated as he looked around. "I got a Beakbear problem. The dang thing keeps eating my sheep."

"I don't know if I have the right poison for that .Anything that powerful I couldn't sell."

"Not looking to poison, I ug…" Mark hesitated.

"A few days ago, I was in a tavern, and some adventurers talked about setting a trap and killing one with some flammable oil. Figured I could lure it into my stone shed and, well, let it sort itself out." Mark said. He tried glancing at the floor as if he was embarrassed that this was the best solution he could come up with.

"Beakbears can be a problem, but couldn't you just…" The shopkeeper looked up toward Mark. Mark responded by holding out his thin arms. "Hire some fellows to help?"

"I tried, but they were unreliable. I would rather rely upon my intellect than the skill of some drunk I hired. Plus, if they fail and die, it leads to questions and hassles I don't want to deal with." Mark hoped vagueness would assist with the deception. "I know it can break through my traps, but it takes time for it to do so, I'm hoping a few bear traps and setting it a flame will either kill it or deter it so much it never comes within a league of my sheep."

The shopkeep slowly nodded his head. He lifted a large wooden board on which he had been separating the plant and placed it on a surface behind him. He then reached down and pulled out a couple of glass vials. "I only have three fire oils that I can sell. I can sell ya some oil, but honestly, it isn't better quality or grade than what you can buy from anyone else."

Mark straightened up and looked at the shopkeeper. "That a surprising statement. I figured you would charge me an additional arm and leg for the oils as well."

"Oh, while the generic oil is cheap, the fire oils are not. I'm in business to make a profit, not drain my customers dry." The shopkeeper placed three flasks next to the glass vials. He pointed at the vials first, "fifty gold each," then at the flasks. "Five gold each."

Mark whistled softly as he worked out the expenditure lay before him. Something in the back of his mind itched briefly.

The thought that maybe this was a test or check in the system came to Mark's mind. How many small-town sheep herders could afford 200 gold to solve a problem? He patted his last coin pouch that he knew had at least 200 gold already in it. He shook his head and carefully pulled out a handful of coins.

"I'll take one vial, and while I appreciate your honesty, I'll shop around for the oil," Mark said as he counted out the fifty.

"Only a single vial?" the shopkeeper carefully gathered all three together before splitting one off from the others.

"Yeah, this dang creature will bankrupt me one way or another," Mark said, trying to add some distress to his voice.

"Alright, remember, with any oil, the more soaked or more on the creature, the better it will catch. As will anything else that it splashes against." The shopkeeper warned.

"Thank you. Any other tips or thoughts?" Mark said as he finished counting the fifty coins.

"Remember, water doesn't extinguish this; use sand."

Mark thanked the shopkeeper and left the business. He was heading back to the tavern, with a brief stop at another shop to purchase some oil, half of what the other place was selling. Loaded up with six flasks and a single fire oil, he waited for everyone to return to the inn room.