Even after a night's sleep, Mayon's eyes remain shadowed and tired as ever as he stumbles down after Asano. Those damn dreams again; couldn't he just have one night's rest without them? They were getting clearer, too, which wasn't much of a comfort.

He eyes the new guest warily as he walks over to join Asano, wondering who this man may be and trying to see if he matched any of the visions he had been given.

21:22, Today: Mayon Graycross rolled 10 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 6.  Perception.
Honestly, even my Passive is better than that :P

Morg stomps down the stairs, whistling a tune. He catches the attention of one of Kaylessa's charges, orders an ale and some bread, and then walks over to Asano and Mayon slapping them on the back, "Nice morning aye?" He sits down, "Hopefully it'll stay nice and cool."

As guests enter the common room, serving staff bring warm oatmeal in from outside. Ghileeda the maid smiles at Morg's comment about the weather, then retreats into the kitchen.

"The whole delegation?" Kaylessa replies to the man. "I've heard the rumors of these kinds of things of course, but this..." she trails off and turns to greet the new arrivals to the common room.

"Good mornin' all! Did you sleep well? I heard from Constable Harburk you brought in some bandits yesterday. Hard work I'd imagine!"

Bramwell descended the steps into the common room, yawning from a night that provided too little rest.  He gratefully accepted a bowl of oatmeal, happily taking in the warm aroma.  He'd noticed the itinerant priest, and after overhearing a snippet of Kaylessa's conversation with the fellow, he could not resist introducing himself.  The paladin approached the traveler and introduced himself with all the customary formalities to be shown between holy men.

Once introductions were out of the way he then asked, "I could not help but overhear your previous conversation, sir.  Which delegation is it you were speaking of, and has something gone amiss with them?"

"Manners," Kaylessa mutters under her breath, "My apologies Bramwell, and all, for not introducing you right away. This is Brother Eardon, a traveling priest who often stops in here on his travels." The robed man bows, smiling, and greets the group warmly.

---

Apologies, I missed answering Mayon's question before - you don't recognize the man.

Brother Eardon turns to Bram. "Greetings my son," he intones slowly, "I see you may be a man of faith, if perhaps not of the 'cloth'. Blessings to you."

Eardon clears his throat. "I sometimes come by news in my travels, and I was earlier sharing the sad tidings of a missing delegation. I encountered a delegation from Mirabar some weeks ago in Beliard, who I understood had intended to pass through Red Larch a short time ago. When I heard from passing travelers that a delegation in the area had gone missing, I feared it may be the one I encountered. Kaylessa and the locals here have not seen or heard from any such group, so now it appears my fears may be confirmed."

Bramwell nodded slowly in response to Brother Eardon's report.  He immediately retrieved his journal and quill and set to scribbling, recognizing that the disappearance of such envoys was a troubling development.  He said, "This is most troubling news.  My companions and I have only just arrived in Red Larch two days ago, and have found the area to be beset on every side by strange and dangerous happenings.  If this delegation has gone missing in this valley, then I fear for their safety."  He pondered for a moment and then went on, "The journey from Mirabar is a lengthy one.  Did the delegates share with you their names, or the objective of their expedition?  If a rescue is to be mounted, such information would surely be of great help in tracking them down."

Jak awoke, but not at the crack of dawn for sure! A nibble on one of his fingers, insistent but not very painful, woke him. His eyes flicked open in panic and paranoia before he relaxed again. "Y'know, Twitch, I worked hard yesterday. You could'a let me sleep in a bit longer." A chittering from the mouse was overridden by Jak's stomach rumbling. "Oh. I suppose food is in order, an' if I'm hungry you must be starvin'!"

He scrubbed a bit and then headed over to find his friends and see about breakfast. He gave a drowsy smile to the group when he entered the room and the smile widened a bit at Kaylessa. He found a place to sit and plopped down. "Sorry, could I get somethin' t'eat? My belly button's rubbin' on my backbone!"

Then he saw Bramwell being all serious, more so than usual if that was possible, with a stranger in robes. Jak cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Morg. "He gettin' more work fer us already?"

Morg puts down his empty ale mug, and says to Jak, "Aye; something went missing at the Mirrorbar, some horses I think."

Servers put down food and drink in from of Morg and any other newcomers, then retreat back outside or to the kitchens as their duties demand.

"The delegation was fairly large. They had a number of guards at least," the priest replies to Bram in measured tones. "I only spoke with one of the delegates, a shield dwarf by the name of Bruldenthar. He was transporting some of his manuscripts to Waterdeep, though I got the impression that wasn't the only purpose of the trip. They were planning to stop at a number of places in the Dessarin Valley, including Red Larch. They were also transporting the body of a dead knight, to be interred at Summit Hall."
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:06, Thu 19 Jan 2017.

While eating, Morg mishears Summit Hall as Sumber Hall, and gets up to go listen to the conversation while standing next to Bram.

Mayon listens with interest as he eats. "Do you know what sort of manuscripts it was that he was transporting? Other purposes aside, perhaps someone felt they were valuable." He asks, pausing a bit, glancing up a bit when he notices Morg before turning back to the man.

"The manuscripts were his own writings," Brother Eardon replies. "He is an historian of some note, I believe."

"I bet it was that evil out at Lance Rock they ran afoul of," Kaylessa opines, glancing at Mayon and the others thoughtfully. "I wonder if it's moved on now, waylaying travelers on their way here."

Nodding to herself as if deciding something, Kaylessa addresses the group. "You all seem capable enough, if you're able to haul bandits to justice. I'll offer you fifty gold to investigate Lance Rock and see if there are any sinister forces lurking there."

"Fifty gold total mind, not each," she puts in hastily. "I'm not made a' money, you know."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 17:23, Thu 19 Jan 2017.

Jak perked up as the talk kept going on. The mention of gold made a half-smile slip on to his face. Kaylessa's hasty caveat correction made it bloom in to a whole smile. "No worries. Bram keeps tryin' t'convince me that helpin' people's good fer the soul." He let out a chuckle. "I'm game." He went back to eating.

"That sounds good, Miss Irkell." Mayon says with a rare genuine smile. "We were considering heading that way today as it is, so it shouldn't be any trouble at all."

"Indeed," Asano nods with Mayon's statement. "We were indeed intent upon rooting out the mysteries surrounding Lance Rock. Is there a way we may identify your historians writing, should we find them?"

Brother Eardon looks at the group with a newfound measure of respect. "You are good to take up such a task," he intones ponderously. "May the blessings of Lathander be upon you, and may you live to see tomorrow's dawn."

The name Bruldenthar rang a bell for Bram.  He thought sure that during his service as a scribe in Candlekeep he must have read at least one book or manuscript authored by the historian.  The pace of the Glyphscribe's scribbling increased until he had everything down.  Once he'd finished he thanked the priest for his information and placed a small handful of silver coins into his hand, "My thanks to you, Brother.  Please, accept this offering for your church."

Bram looked uneasy when he returned to the others and spoke, "This matter of the missing Mirabar delegation concerns me greatly.  Such a capable expedition could not simply vanish, and the dangers in this area lead me to suspect they've come to harm."  He adjusted his spectacles and made clear this his stake in this was personal, "The historian and his manuscript must be safeguarded, for the loss of knowledge and its teachers diminishes the world.  My oath to Deneir compels me to investigate this matter.  I'd like to make for Lance Rock as soon as we're able."  He thanked Kaylessa for her offer of reward, but only perfunctorily, as acquisition of reward was not his goal in this.  He was distracted now, and impatient to set out for Lance Rock as soon as possible.

---

History check to see what Bram knows about Bruldenthar and his historical works (where are these amazing rolls when I'm attacking or making saves? :):

• 13:00, Today: Secret Roll: Bramwell Caulder rolled 23 using 1d20+4.  History.

Updated Inventory thread with current wealth after donating 1 gp worth of silver.

The half-elf priest accepts Bram's donation and again wishes the group good fortune on their quest.

---

Bram recognizes Bruldenthar as a well-known historian and writer. Though he is from Mirabar and nominally lives there, he has traveled much of the Forgotten Realms including several dangerous areas.

His writings span a great variety of topics, including historical accounts of various wars and lesser known lands. But he is perhaps most well known for his polemics on a number of subjects, including the non-existance of most deities. He is also well known for his fondness (and frequent overindulgence in) cocktails and pipe smoking.

"Well, with that settled," Asano turns back to the mistress of the inn and continues, "is there a chance of breakfast this morning, Mistress Irkell?"

The group finishes up their breakfasts and bids goodbye to Kaylessa and Brother Eardon. The mists outside still hinder visibility somewhat, and grant the cold morning somewhat of an otherworldly quality. Travelers come into focus out of the fog, walk past, and melt back into the mists as they continue on their way.

Aerego Bethendur, proprietor of the storage area in Red Larch, somewhat tersely shows the party to their storage warehouse upon their request, where several of his tough-looking helpers offer to carry the goods to the nearby shop. The whole process takes a matter of minutes, and the group finds itself in Vallivoe's Sundries in short order.

The bewildering profusion of doors, barrels, rotting old furniture, and tools leaning against the outside walls of the shop is dwarfed by the huge variety and clutter inside. Though the shop appears to be a small converted private home, it is littered with new and used items of every kind imaginable. Teetering piles of wares reach to the rafters in some cases, held up only by other piles of unrelated goods. Suits of armor hang on lamps. Weapons are stacked haphazardly next to piles of books leaning at a precarious angle, some of which look to have fallen onto nearby couches and chairs. Rolled up carpets block one aisle littered with mirrors of several shapes and sizes, which magnify and multiply the images of adjacent shields and helms. The only thing lacking in the house, seemingly, is an empty shelf or floorboard.

Vallivoe himself, an aging and scuttling little man, greets the companions as acquaintances. "Welcome, welcome," the man says as the group enters. He bustles about sliding objects out of the entryway, making room enough for everyone to stand. He eyes Jak for half a beat longer than the others. "I remember some of your faces from the Helm the other night," the man says, then winces at the memory of the drunken baker.

"I'm happy to take these items off of your hands," he says, after a quick perusal of the group's items. "Fifty gold seems a fair trade, so we can just finalize that now if you like." He lifts some of the smaller items onto a nearby table, pushing a bucket of candles and a finely bound book out of the way to make room. "Any interest in something from my inventory in trade? If you can name it I probably have at least one of it." He chuckles.

After completing the transaction, he pulls Jak aside for a moment. "You're a bard, are you not? You may be interested in this item over here." He consults with Jak in hushed tones over a worn drum set.

---

Vallivoe has all of the items from the PHB at listed prices, weapons and armor included.

Morg, if you want a hammer and ball bearings he has that, and will cost you a total of 2gp.

Note, you all still have a wagon in the storage warehouse unless you want to sell that as well.

This message was last edited by the GM at 01:08, Sun 22 Jan 2017.

Bramwell greeted Vallivoe with his customary courtesy and remarked, "I trust that Mangobarl made it home to sleep off his drink?"  He picked up the finely-bound book before the fellow could sweep it to the floor and took a look at it, interested.

As the merchant appraised the wares, the half-elf gravitated toward the mess of books.  He idly gathered up fallen tomes from their cluttered heaps one by one, reading the spines and occasionally flipping one open.  As he browsed the books he sorted them by force of habit, rearranging them into neat stacks alphabetized by author.

---

Investigation to sort through the books for any of special interest (rare editions, notable authors, or anything about elemental cults):

• 10:01, Today: Bramwell Caulder rolled 6 using 1d20+4.  Investigation.

Mayon also walks over to browse the book selection, curious as to if there were any books of the arcane. Or, at the very least, some interesting stories. It seems unlikely, but it's always good to check. He hides a smile at Bram's rearranging, reminded a bit of his father's students.

11:30, Today: Mayon Graycross rolled 12 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 8.  Investigation for interesting reads.

Asano hesitantly enters the sundries shop, one hand covering his nose and mouth. He idly peruses the items of the shop, eventually winding up near the glyphscribe and Mayon as they all browsed the books available. "You never know what you may find in such surroundings," he mutters, placing a partially worm-eaten tome back where he'd found it. "But it would appear that there are mere bones left here."

OOC:
Investigation- 10