Arnold kicks at the ground and looks back at you, "'Ready said I would be throwing in Saddle, Bit and Bridal free. What else you want?"

OOC: Give me a persuasion check.

Gwen leans in as well. "Maybe just one... but this is business, and pleasure has its own time and place. My companions and I are staying at the Kobold's Rest. You'd like my boys, I think. Perhaps you and your Chultean jungle spirits will join us there after sundown?" She leans back against a pillow. "But I will take you up on your offer to talk of magiks. What wizarding news is there to the south and east? Our travels will take us upriver towards Neverwinter Wood. Maybe you have heard reports from that direction, or you have interests we can represent while we're out that way?"

[OoC]: I hope Gwen's not being rude (or a prude)... thinking along the lines of 2e/Planescape fiendish tieflings, who you generally didn't go drinking with without your party. Are 5e/Faerunian tieflings any different?

"Ribbons for the pony."  Imbert replies deadpanned.

Mizer gets up up and grabs a bottle which she poor herself a drink from into a small wooden bowl and says, "Suit yourself. Out East in Neverwood. Yes tis where Thundertree is. A blighted place. The eruption killed many and left a ruin. Some escaped and those that didn't well they stayed dead but where the dead are undeath is bound to appear. As far as the greater world I hear stirrings of Elturel playing some role in the Blood War. What it's role is though hard to say. Devils and Demons tend not to share schemes." She looks in some trunks and you see her stand back up holding several scroll tubes and holding a bag clanking as if full of glass bottles. "This should be what your after she says," Handing Gwen the bag. Tied around each tube and the bag are pink ribbon.

OOC: Tiefling are now more common place and just common PC race now.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:07, Thu 14 May 2020.

Bandalor attempts to negotiate two vials of holy water and a scroll of "shield of faith" for 75gp donation.

The Acolyte looks at Bandalor and says, "Very well. If that what a brother of the cloth has to offer then so be it. However know that Lathander rewards those that show respect to his homes."

OOC: Bandalor now has a scroll sealed with the seal of Lathander and two vials of holy water.

Gwen takes the materials. "I'm grateful, sister. For the items and the ribbons. I hope Imbert hasn't unmanned himself on my behalf." She chuckles and stands, slinging her bag and raising the glass staff. "I wonder, have you heard of a wizard named Iarno Albrek? Perhaps much older mages named Bowgentle, or Tsernoth of Iriaebor?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:39, Fri 15 May 2020.

Jaskier rolls d4+4=8 for persuasion check

[OOC] Looks like we're paying full price for the ponies and Gwen's not getting her school books

[OoC]: Sorry, I can't bend time for a reroll unless I'm there.

Edit: It looks like you rolled a d4 for your check?
This message was last edited by the player at 03:50, Fri 15 May 2020.

Mizer thinks for a moment, "Yes I have heard of Ibrano. He is a Lords Alliance lackey is he not.he was an agnet for Neverember himself if I am not mistaken. Bowgentle sounds familiar ancient news if you ask me. Cant say i have heard of the third."

Arnold replies, "Look boys I get it on a quest to save the land doing good deeds. If i gave discounts to everyone who gave me that tale i wouldnt be selling horses no more because i would be beggin on the side of the road.sorry but my price holds firm."

Gwen raises an eyebrow at the detail on Iarno. "I don't know much more than you... just names that have come up in my studies and travels. I did hear that Albrek betrayed the Lords' Alliance. A band of heroes stormed his stronghold and took his head, or so the story goes. The others, like you say, are ancient history."

Gwen parts ways with the tiefling and heads towards the Kobold's Rest, equally excited to scribe some spells and braid her pony's tail.

[OoC]: History +4 / Arcana +6 on Elturel and the Blood War? Or just fiendish small talk?

Elturel is a city-state lying on the River Chionthar in the Western Heartlands. It is a center for agriculture and trade in the region, and is renowned for its elite mounted defenders, the Hellrider. It is the capital of the realm of Elturgard, a theocracy of Torm the True and defended by its paladin knighthood, the Order of the Companion.


The Blood War is an ancient conflict that rages between the fiends of the Lower planes. The two main sides of the war are the demons, inhabitants of the evil plane of chaos of the Abyss, and devils, representing the equally evil but lawful realm of the Nine Hells. Neutral evil yugoloths played both sides against one another. The Blood War had raged on since the Age Before Ages, a dark time when the Prime Material Plane had not fully developed. The conflict is massive, spanning entire planes of reality, and hosting an almost infinite number of fiends.

"230gp it is then."  Imbert says, handing over the money.

Bandalor collects his items.

"Respect indeed, Brother Acolyte.  Remember always darkness follows the prideful and ignorant."

With that, he attempts to rejoin the party.

Arnold says, "Excellent. Will you be taking them with you or will you picking them up late?"

OOC: The olan is to meet at Kobolds Rest when excursions into the city are done.

"We are leaving the city tomorrow morning.  Can we pick them up at that time?"

Arnold says, "Most certainly. We will see you on the morrow then." With business concluded you make your way off into the city.

All of you meet up at roughly the same time in front of a tavern with the disembodied head of a Kobold on Platter on the hanging sign. This must be Kobolds Rest.

From the outside it looks beautiful, enchanting and inviting. Large stones and huge, stone beams make up most of the building's outer structure. It's hard to see through the small, stained glass windows, but the excitement from within can be felt outside.

As you enter the tavern through the large, softwooden door, you're welcomed by aromas of roasted meats and the smell of alcohol. The bartender is working up a sweat, but still manages to welcome you with a wink.

It's as enchanting inside as it is on the outside. Hardwooden beams support the upper floor and the lights attached to them. The walls are swarmed with flags of all sorts and sizes. Some are from nearby towns or provinces, others from the far corners of the world. They must've been fitted to the owner.

The tavern itself is packed. Tourists seem to be the primary clientele here, which is often a good sign. Several long tables are occupied by, what seems to be one large group of people. The other, smaller tables are also occupied by people who seem to be close with the owner, though they happily welcome others among their midst. Even most of the stools at the bar are occupied, though nobody seems to mind more company.

You did hear rumors about this tavern, supposedly it's famous for something, but you can't remember what for. Though judging by the amount of women in this tavern and the amount of them trying to subtly eye the bartender, it's probably his good looks and charm. You stand at the entry and prepare for what will undoubtedly be a great evening.

Suddenly a reptilian humanoid, standing 2'5" tall, weighing about 35 pounds , with scaled skin and reddish brown in color with burnt orange eyes and wearing a jeweled helm that sparkles unnaturally leaps up onto bar top. In perfect common and what could only be magically enhanced to be heard over the crowd says, "Welcome everyone. Tonight  is a special night indeed. We have with us liberators of a small frontier town threatened by the worse kind if brigands. These brigands threatened the local populace, Extorted money from them, Murdered it's citizens, were all around smelly and possibly headed by one of our own Neverember's agents gone rogue. These fine folk stepped in and rid the town of these unsavory folk. I give you the Heroes of Phandalin. With and part of this group to enchant with their story, music and tale is none other than the talented Jaskier." He points to the groups direction as they stand silhouetted in the door frame.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:27, Sat 16 May 2020.

Bandalor looks for a bench or table that is not directly in the center, and shoots Imbert and Gwen a sidelong look hoping to convey "Let's let the Bard take the glory, and find ourselves a corner out of the limelight."

Imbert follows the Cleric.

Zanben lifts his drink up in the air and cheers Jaskier on.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:52, Sun 17 May 2020.

Gwen makes her grand entrance hours later, stumbling into the main taproom with bags under eyes and ink on her fingers. Despite her exhaustion, she looks a little bit taller, a little bit sexier, and a whole lot more magical. She signals for a pint and joins the party at their table.

Jaskier flashes a wide grin and takes a deep bow with a fancy flourish of his hands.  Amidst the commotion and raucous applause he whispers to Zanben
"You must hide yourself among the crowd if we are to discover the identity of this rogue mastermind that plots agains us and citizens of Phandalin.  Search out any agents that may work against us as I try to stoke a reaction from this unknown foe."
Quite suddenly Jaskier bounds and leaps to join the reptillian compatriot on the top of the bar.  He starts soft spoken
"Thank you for your kind words and warming introduction dear friend.  But to truly capture the drama...the heroism...the danger..."
Jaskier lingers on the last syllable, staring deeply into the eyes a few of the ladies at the bar.  He continues
"I must convey the harrowing tale of my companions and I.  While this band of acquaintances began their journey to Phandalin as mere purveyors of goods, couriers of commerce, fate intervened to challenge us with a gauntlet of enemies and monsters too ready to strike us down with extreme malice!"
Jaskier energetically e-told the events of their adventure thus far, careful to omit Zanben's name from the story and also taking some creative liberty so as to place himself at the center of tale
"...there my life stood on a knifes edge, death extending its cold, frail hand to extinguish the light of my life and carry my soul away to the eternal darkness, when the stoic Bandalor summoned his faith to will the life back into my body..."
Jaskier continued to captivate the patrons of the tavern all while keeping an eye out for Zanben to see if he had identified an elusive target
"...after slaying the giant ogre with my blade, the wise and forgiving Gwen took pity on the orcs and cast a powerful sleep upon the remaining orcs to spare their pitiful lives..."
Jaskier to picked up his viol and began to play along to the story, plucking his strings at tense moments to build tension to a crescendo
"...and Imbert's arrorws found their mark on the Redbrand scum, those most villainous cowards terrorizing the the people of Phandalin, whereby I charged headlong with my scabard raised aloft ready to strike those who would do harm to my friends..."
Jaskier finishes with solemn song of honor and duty before taking another deep bow

Jaskier turns to the tevern barkeep and asks
"How was my performance?  I don't suppose you get bards of my quality very often, eh?"

The crowd goes wild at the telling. Rounds and drinks keep coming to the table. Zanben does not see anybody paying any suspicious attention to the group. Only cheers well wishes and drinks. The Kobold hops down off the bartop and heads to the groups table and says, "Drinks on the house what can I get you all Heroes of Phandalin?"

"Red wine, please.  Dry with a whiskey finish if you have it.  Any, if you don't."

Bandalor scans the room for any untoward or unusual activity.