Unused to such crowds during his tours, Xar’ach keeps to the periphery of the group. His eyes move constantly as he mentally catalogs his first impression of each of them.

~So many faces! This is beginning to remind me more of Neverwinter’s market square than the outlands.

As he layouts out his camp space, he plucks a small berry from his belt pouch and chews it. Approaching the injured half-elf he holds out a handful of the golden-hued berries, ”They have a small healing property which they’ll soon lose, so please help yourself if you are so inclined.”

OOC: Goodberries, each heals 1 HP and provides enough nourishment to sustain a creature for one day. There are a total of 9 remaining.

He then seeks out Mithra, ”I am unused to a camp with so many. How may I help? At the least I can watch, the darker the hour, the better.”

~And in any case, I doubt that sleep will find me tonight with so many strangers about.

In the chaos of the aftermath and meet and greet Cinnabar slips through the ever growing crowd to poke Stonecrow on the back of a dangling hand to get his attention.  Unhooking one of half a dozen indistinguishable pouches from her belt she holds it up to him.

”Eat these, let me know if you need more when you are done.”

When Sala explains what the items do Cinnabar once again speaks up.
”That amulet would be a fine compensation for not having found anything of use to me in any of the previous collections of items.”

Stonecrow listened to some of what was being said. He frowned at the...coincidental appearance of so many new faces, wondering if some or all were part of a trap or something. He'd keep an eye on them. He pushed his raven mask up to reveal his face, now the fight was over and he had healed himself.

He opened his mouth, but then was offered goodberries from two different sources. He looked between them and then said to the bugbear, "Ah, no offense meant, but we just met so I'll stick with the one I know for now." He gave a small smile to them to take any perceived sting out of the words.

The smile widened as he looked at Cinnabar. "Thank you very much. I always knew there was something about you I liked." He joked before popping a few in his mouth. After swallowing he said, "I will be fine, plus I think we will be resting in the near future."

Regarding the items, he frowned. The robes would only give him a partial benefit and Cinnabar wanted the amulet. The dagger was 'useful' but problematic unless he never used the poison. The mask...was intriguing. He didn't have to wear his raven mask only and specifically, but he had chosen it so it had sentimental value at the very least. "I...suppose I could use either the dagger or the mask."

Prizzard keeps pretty quiet and doesn't pay the newcomers much mind at first. He sets his traps as this wilderness should have something to catch. For the sake of comfort he leaves the rapier and longbow on his bedroll while he's gone, taking only the darts, his empty quiver and other weapons packed into the saddle bags. He will be gone a couple hours, returning shortly after dark and possibly with a late dinner.

Upon returning he addresses the newest members of the camp if they have finished setting up for the night: "One can learn much about another in a fight or spar, would you be willing to have such a 'conversation' with me?"

"A lot of magic had been used in the mines and... I guess you'd say... stored there albeit unintentionally. When we went in to rescue the Dwarf brothers, it got unleashed. People and monsters began teleporting in and out randomly," Mithra explained to the others.

"So seeing so many new faces show up is... kind of normal right now. For me."

"It's like several people deciding to do the same thing all around the same time. One looks up at the clouds and thinks he sees a good omen for hunting. Another finds an old talisman and decides it's time to visit his uncle."

"A wizard in his laboratory has been waiting for the stars to align. An alchemist finally receives his shipment of brimstone from his cousin in Baldur's Gate and now sets out to retrieve the last ingredient he needs for his experiment."

"None of these events or people have any connection to each other, yet they all happen around the same time. That's what's called 'confluence'. As opposed to serendipity or machinations."

"Oh, gods! I've been listening to Ero too long!"

"So, while you all see a lot of strange and otherwise suspicious faces, it's that very difference that gives me comfort in knowing that our common cause is right and just."

"To start with, how about Xar'ach and Cinnabar make a perimeter check, and Cinnabar can have the amulet as far as I'm concerned. Xar'ach and Nemeia can take the late morning watch. That way, they can keep an eye on each other."

"Looks like Prizzard is going to find us some supper. Sala, I hear you are a good cook. Anything Prizzard should keep an eye out for?"

"The rest of you... just make camp. We'll be heading out at first light."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:34, Fri 31 Mar 2023.

Selgar's eyebrows raise and a faint smile reveals the tips of his canines.

"Good. I will join you if you accept. Sildar Hallwinter asked me to meet with Victor Harkness and investigate disturbances in the Evermoors north of Yartar. Sildar Hallwinter is... a friend." He blinks and his head tilts a bit, surprised to hear himself say those last words. "I think this 'Confluence' may have crossed our paths some time ago. I saved his life. He saved mine."  His hand goes to the middle of his chest to scratch under his baldric. "If he trusts you then I will try to trust you. All of you." Even as he says this he watches Nemeia disintegrate her mount and nods grimly as if he has received a confirmation of his first impression. The big cat does give Stonecrow a reconsidering look as the masked one displays his own wariness toward Xar'ach.

As Prizzard leaves and Xar'ach offers to take a watch he speaks up again. "I am also able to hunt and gather enough to feed about half of our group given a few hours. And like our goblinoid companion I am able to see nearly as well in the dark as in the light. But I understand if you do not accept a stranger providing food or taking watch until you trust me as well. I would not."

Nonetheless he ventures out and returns with berries, nuts, and a string of rabbits, squirrels, and birds, one of which he skins and sets to roasting bare over the fire.

Selgar's eyebrow rises at Prizzard's suggestion.

"I would not want to be the only one untested today. But it has been many winters since I fought without intent to kill. What are the terms of this... 'conversation'?"

When Prizzard challenged him, a brief moment of tension crossed the ranger's face, casting a shadow over his features. "I have no training weapons at hand," he explained, "only implements of war and have no desire to do you harm. Besides, It's possible I would be a poor test for your rapier as the blade is my last resort." He patted the stock of his hand crossbow as he spoke, emphasizing his point.

Acknowledging Mithra's request with a nod, the ranger waited for the druid to join him, and they set off into the woods. The pair moved with a fluid grace through the underbrush, their senses alert to the slightest sound or movement. As they ventured deeper into the forest, they encountered a variety of wildlife, from the gentle songs of birds to the wary gaze of a curious deer. Keeping to their assignment, Xar’ach refrains from hunting, though it is tempting.

Upon reentering the camp, the halfling and the bugbear exchanged a silent nod of acknowledgement before resuming their tasks. Xar'ach reported their findings to Mithra, who then dismissed him to attend to his own needs. The ranger conjured fresh Goodberries to replenish his pouch, a part of his daily routine, before settling down to rest and await his turn on watch.

Cinnabar accepts the amulet, and tosses it on then gestures at the new bugbear.

”You boys can play when we come back, I have to take the new guy out for a test run and see if he is any good with the trees.”

Sala laughs at the notion that he can cook. "Well, I can add spices. Whether they are good spices or not...well, that's another thing entirely." says the wizard.

He pores over the trinkets, noting which ones had been already claimed. "I have a choice to make if nobody selects it, but given my good fortune so far, I will remain silent until then." he says.

Looking at the newcomers, he bows his head slightly in order to acknowledge their appearance. "So far, it has been prudent for me to judge people on their actions alone. I trust that you would return the honor to me also."

"The terms? Preferably blunt weapons and no headshots, but I can spar with a sharp blade if we must."

"That's no problem, just a friendly offer on my part. Nobody else spars in this group."

He's genuinely being friendly and curious, not even holding a weapon when he makes the offer.

"Sounds fair enough." Axia responded to Sala. "I wouldn't mind adding something to my collection, but if I am to be honest, not my usual case, then I wasn't of much help in this fight unfortunately." She says turning her attention back to her owl companion.

Selgar finishes his rabbit and tosses the remains into the fire. He stands and rolls his shoulders, considering.

"I do not carry blunt weapons. Perhaps we can find sticks or strike with pommels. Even unarmed-" he holds up his hand and 2-inch curved claws extend from each digit "-I tend to draw blood. And after so long with each fight being to my death or theirs I cannot promise instinct will not come over me. I do not intend to hurt you now, but I may then."

He looks around at the group surrounding them.

"In any case we should step away."

OOC: I don't know how you and/or StarMaster wanna mechanically run it but Selgar and I are ready to roll. I feel like it should be away from the main thread so as not to disturb the other players/characters.

Nemeia had just finished eating her meal.

Something was wrong. The paladin's body did not feel right, and her head was starting to hurt. Nemeia felt like she was standing next to a blacksmith's fire and was sweating profusely. But her body felt like it wanted to move and run ten miles. With great effort, she used Death Seeker to stand. Her breathing can become hard and came in gulps. The tiefling's normally light red skin had become pale.

"What is trust?" she said as her red eyes scanned the others. Nemeia pointed at Stonecrow. "Is it trust to believe that the cook will not poison the food you eat?" The tiefling warrior turned, staggard a moment before pointing a finger at Mithra. "Or is it the leader who is constantly hesitant to even lead?"

The Paladin of Vengeance did not look well and was extremally agitated.

Nemeia was no longer holding herself back. The dread and sorrow she had always contained within herself radiated out like a giant river, finally able to flow free from a dam. "Is it trust to believe in the companians you travel with? Will they work with you, cover your back in your time of need?"

The paladin gritted her sharp white teeth and glared at the strangers. "Is it trust to believe strangers will not slit your throat when asleep?"

Just then a soft breeze made the leaves of the trees rustle.

Nemeia whirled around at the noise and shouted at the trees. "I KNOW I KILLED YOU ALL! YOU WILL HAVE YOUR VENGEANCE SOON ENOUGH!" The paladin then placed a hand on the side of her head, breathing becoming shallower. "I.....must patrol." she said softly.

The paladin started to stumble towards the tree line. She did not get far. At the very edge of the camp, Nemeia crumbled to the ground unconscious.

OOC:
07:17, Today: Nemeia Sorrow rolled 15 using 1d20+7 with rolls of 8.  Intimidation.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:52, Sat 01 Apr 2023.

"Practice is a fairly.." As he was already standing and ready to move he ran to Nemeia when she fell, first checking for any head injury. He muttered something quietly, hoping somebody else knew something about medicine.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
"Trust takes too long. What we have here is hope in both a social contract and our collective abilities to tell apart those with bad intentions."

---

Stonecrow, after eating a few berries, turned to hand the pouch back but she was already moving towards the woods. He raised one hand and opened his mouth but then stopped. He didn't want to distract her and he could return the still half-full pouch later.

He cleared his throat. "Um. Actually, I am the one who said that they could cook. And I have a very minor magic pouch that I can use to add some flavor and seasoning to a meal as well."

he turned to look at Nemeia when she started shouting 'randomly'. "Uhhh are you okay?" Then she said she had to patrol and stalked off. He let out a sigh.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:48, Sat 01 Apr 2023.

As Nemeia begins to speak so aggressively Seglar's brows furrow, eyes narrow, and right hand goes above his shoulder toward the hilts of his weapons. Was the fiendish blood taking over? Were the Hells about to be brought upon the party? He relaxes a bit as she walks away only to switch to full alarm as she falls. With incredible speed he rushes toward her, drawing a long thin weapon. Letting out a low, rumbling growl, the weapon deftly flips to an icepick grip in his hand, thumb over a groove in the pommel and held up next to his head ready to stab forward... or down. But when he reaches the paladin's body he nimbly steps over it and puts himself between her and the forest, yellow eyes flashing and looking for danger. He speaks without turning his head.

"Look for a dart or arrow. She may be poisoned." Selgar does not sound confident that this is the case but he doesn't sound panicked either. "Do you think it is safe to move her?" He risks a quick glance behind him.

OOC: Feline Agility, 16:08, Today: Selgar rolled 12 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 9.  Perception.

Alecks helped set up camp, leaving it to the experience of others to decide the layout. Once he placed his bedroll, he sat there eating supper and observing the others.

So when Nemeia headed out of camp and collapsed, he was quick to rush over to see what was wrong.

15:29, Today: Alecks Senechal rolled 18 using 1d20+5 ((13)). Medicine check.

"I think she's having an allergic reaction to eating some of those kuobota mushrooms. They don't seem to sit well with Tieflings," he informs the others of his findings.

"I don't know of any antidote, but it should pass within a few hours. Stonecrow, shall we take turns keeping an eye on her?"

He was quite calm about the matter and aside from checking for a head wound he didn'tmove or seaech her. He was somehow getting used to her ourbursts already. "She didn't seem like the type to indulge openly, I assumed it had something to do with her weapon or angering that entity before. I'm no good with medical stuff, I barely sew my own wounds decently so I'll leave this to you. Selgar seems to be quite awake, we'll work off that adrenaline."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:24, Sun 02 Apr 2023.

Stonecrow stopped what he was doing after the tiefling's collapse. He perked up and started looking around slowly, wandering if it was an attack or something was going on with her. She didn't seem the most stable half the time at least.

Some of the others had moved towards her already, so he scanned the distance and then around to see if he saw anything out of the ordinary.

17:11, Today: Stonecrow rolled 24 using 1d20+5 with rolls of 19.  Perception.

With camp set, nobody injured from the sparring, scouts not having found any threats, and the hunters having found sufficient nuts, berries, fruit, and small game to feed everyone, it looked to be an uneventful night.

And then Nemeia collapsed. Mithra wasn't too concerned at first because Nemeia was a bit unusual to begin with. At Alecks words, though, she hurried over.

Mithra was pretty sure Nemeia didn't have any friends, and would be the first to say she didn't need or want any. Having fought alongside her in battle (likewise with Victor and Willem), Mithra considered Nemeia to be a 'friend' now... yes, a battle companion and even family born on the battlefield.

She gave Prizzard a piercing gaze as he was the one that had gathered up the Drow's items.

"Was she aware she was eating the mushrooms?" she asked the Human Sage. She carefully steered away from giving any hints that Nemeia might have been poisoned, intentionally or not. Mithra just didn't see anyone in the group having that kind of grudge against her, let alone knowing the mushrooms would affect a Tiefling that way.

"Help me carry her back to her camp spot. Alecks and Stonecrow can keep medical watch and I'll guard her."

With none of the others having detected any new outside threat, the camp settled back down.

Selgar sheathes his weapon and helps Mithra carry the tiefling back to the camp if she will accept his assistance. His eyes continue searching for any potential threats, including among the party. Once done he gives Mithra a nod and turns to Prizzard.

"Shall we get to know each other?"

Prizzard merely tasted a mushroom and took a couple for later, he did not gather the drows goods.

"If somebody put them in the food we're all in trouble. I placed a piece of one on top of her pack as an anonymous gift as she seems to reject any direct kindness, so I assume if that piece is missing she had some and was aware of it."

He didn't seem to consider it an accusation. If anything he had something else on his mind such as the accepted offer to spar or the content of the outburst itself.

As she'd intended, the group broke camp at first light--what was often called false dawn--and headed along the southern edge of the forest out on the TriBoar Trail.

Nemeia was still unconscious, but the healers still didn't think it was anything to worry about... unless battle reared its head.

Without Nemeia's horse, however, it meant she and the Paladin would have to ride double. Tricky when one of them is unconscious.

Somehow, she managed... with Prizzard on one side and Willem on the other.

They still managed to make good time and arrived at Cragmaw about mid-morning.

It wasn't until they were nearly there that it finally downed on Mithra that the giant elk creature that was with them was actually Cinnabar! A Druid!

"Cinnabar," she called out to the Druid. "Do you know of any magic fountains in the area... one that might cure Nemeia of this condition?"

As the group prepared to set out in the morning, Xar’ach retrieved a needle and thread from his backpack. Moving to the lifeless corpse of the Drow, he drew his dagger and deftly separated the head from the body. The once-closed eyes of the fallen were then carefully stitched open, forever gazing into the endless abyss.

A piece of a nearby deadfall was fashioned into an improvised spike which he then adorned with the now disembodied head. Once the grisly task was complete, he meticulously cleaned the blood and gore from his dagger with the mage's robes, before sheathing it.

Turning his back to the trophy, he returned to his backpack and stowed his sewing implements. Noting the questioning, if not outright disapproving looks of some of the company, he explains. ”The head honors Hruggek and the eyes are for his brother Grankhul, the sleepless one.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 16:51, Sun 02 Apr 2023.

She has to go on patrol... she needs to finish her patrol...

[Were her eyes still closed and it was the crimson fog of her brain she was seeing?

The ground was rough and irregular, warm to the touch. She managed to raise one eyelid and glimpse the land... including the reddish fog and crimson mists. Pieces of great machinery littered the landscape amid smaller debris... twisted metal, slagged stone, warped and busted wood, shattered bone, and other things that she couldn't identify.

She managed to get her second eye open as she staggered to her feet. It appeared to be night, but there was too much light to say that. There was also a shimmer in the sky like a vermilion cloak of northern lights, broken now and then by a flash of crimson lightning.

It spotted her about the same time she spotted it: a large red dragon--a large METALLIC red dragon whose hide that seemed to be made of glistening red metal.

It eyed her for a moment before it clearly moved to attack though its motivation wasn't really clear. Instinctively, she reached out for Death Seeker only to realize it wasn't there nor could she sense it. She could fight without it though preferred not to... not quite desperately grabbing for something else to use as a weapon.

Her hand latched onto the handle of some sort of 3-foot hexagonal canister and she was able to bring it up just in time to slam it against the dragon's head.

For a short infinity or maybe only a few minutes, the smash-bite-bash-lash battle rolled the two combatants across the desolate crimson-hued landscape. The canister-cum-shield fell by the wayside and it was down to tooth-and-nail. The red metal jaws snapped at Nemeia's throat. She brought her arm up to block and was surprised to find it holding a club... actually a long prybar tool. It didn't have the power or the balance that Death Seeker did, but its length and leverage were just enough of a match to give her the edge she needed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

Kneeling on the ground next to the defeated red metallic dragon, she felt more dead than alive at that moment.

Was this how it ended? As she toppled over into unconscious bliss, she had a blurry glimpse of two angry eyes staring down at her... and something metallic red detached itself from the dragon corpse and slithered toward her...]