Morg finds a hammer in good condition, then scrounges around filling a bag with ball bearings, and keeps an eye out for a small fancy looking bauble. After Vallivoe and Jak finish talking, he pays for the goods and asks the owner if he can recommend anything to use as protection against plague.

---

21:33, Today: Morg Danforge rolled 16 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 13.  Perception check, looking for a small fancy looking bauble.

Jak was looking at least somewhat content with a full belly for once, and he smiled as he heard Twitch making happy noises and then settling in. The foggy mist was a bit weird and Jak half-expected something or someone to come charging out of it at him.

The inside of the cluttered home-turned-shop was amazing. Jak was astounded at all the good stuff and useable junk there was to see and buy! It was a pack rat's dream! His eyes were wide and a small half-smile was on his face as he wandered around. He didn't have much money yet but one day he would!

As Vallivoe came over, Jak smiled at him briefly but then looked intense. "I am a bard, yes." He gave a careful nod after the man spoke and began examining the drum. "Really? That's good t'know. Thanks! You have a wonderful shop. I'll be comin' here a LOT! So much stuff here!"

Vallivoe dry washes his hands as his guests peruse his goods, but he smiles good naturedly and nods at everyone. "Mangobarl is a hard worker," he says quietly to Bram's inquiry, and changes the subject.

"I don't know much about plagues," he says, somewhat alarmed. "But I do have a healing potion or two around here somewhere. They're fairly rare though, so I charge fifty gold a piece."

Morg spies an egg-shaped bauble with a bright red shell perched on top of a stack of blank parchment. Upon further examination, it appears to be made of wood with a thick layer of red paint.

Most of the books look fairly beaten up and of no particular interest. Many detail various farming practices and a few describe fanciful tales of impossibly powerful heroes from another age.

The finely-bound book that Bramwell gravitates towards, however, seems different. It is a beautifully illuminated manuscript with gold filigree. "That is-" Vallivoe begins, then stops suddenly. "Actually, I don't know what it is, since I don't read that language," he says sheepishly. "Is it Dwarvish?"

After examining it, Bram can tell it is a genealogical history of the dwarf clans of Mirabar. The author is listed as a dwarf by the name of Bruldenthar.

---

Morg purchases the hammer and ball bearings for 2gp.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:24, Tue 24 Jan 2017.

Bram's eyebrows raised as he read the Dwarvish runes embossed on the spine in gold foil.  Bruldenthar.  To find one of his works here was quite the coincidence... or was it?  If this were one of the volumes bound for Waterdeep with the missing delegation its presence here would bode ill for them.

The Glyphscribe laid open the cover and thumbed carefully through a few of the beautifully-illuminated pages.  Without looking up he replied to Vallivoe's question somewhat distractedly, "Yes, Dwarvish.  You are correct.  A genealogical history... of the dwarf clans of, ahhhh, Mirabar."  Reluctantly, he looked up from his perusal and said to the merchant, "Quite a splendidly-crafted volume!  I'm interested in purchasing it.  Might I ask how this fine work came to be in your shop?  Scholarly curiosity."  There was no word of a lie there: he was genuinely interested to know the history of this volume, including its chain of ownership.  That the information might provide a clue as to the Mirabar delegation's fate was merely a bonus.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:58, Tue 24 Jan 2017.

"I bought it off a passing merchant just a few days ago," the shopkeeper replies to Bram. "I thought it looked impressive - it certainly stands out from the other volumes I have! I'll sell it for fifty-, er, twenty-five gold." He glances at Jak. "You folks have been kind and deserve a discount, after all."

"I think the peddler mentioned she bought it from a shady keelboat skipper in Womford. If you're interested in more like it she said the captain had somehow come by a dozen or so similar books. Maybe he'd be willing to part with the rest."

Vallivoe considers a moment, then speaks up again. "I've heard a bit about your helping the constable with the troubles around Red Larch," he begins. "I don't know if it's relevant, but I overheard someone say that they saw a skull pinned to a tree with a black arrow, like some kind of dire warning or ill omen. It was a half day's walk along the Larch Path, then about four miles east into the Hills."

---

Dessarin Valley map updated.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:59, Tue 24 Jan 2017.

Bram listened with interest to Vallivoe's account of his purchase of the tome, and made note of the information in his journal.  He nodded and then said, "Many thanks for the information, as well as the generous discount.  I have only three further questions, if you don't mind.  First, did the peddler provide this captain's name?  Second, are the captain's other recently-acquired volumes similar in that they share the same author as this?"  Bram listened and carefully made note of the answers.

Once those two questions were settled, Bram took a breath and asked, "Lastly, were you aware that this volume and the others were stolen?"  He paused for a beat to observed the reaction, then explained, "A delegation from Mirabar due to pass through Red Larch has recently gone missing.  The author of these volumes, Bruldenthar, was a part of this delegation.  He carried with him a number of his writings, which he intended to deliver to Waterdeep.  The fact that they have instead emerged among the wares of local merchants is evidence that the delegation has come to harm and their supplies looted, then fenced."  His exposition was merely a statement of the facts without accusation nor reproach, but Bram still watched Vallivoe carefully for signs of guilt.

Vallivoe scratches his head with a bony finger and responds to each of Bram's questions in turn.

"The peddler didn't mention the captain's name, no."

"I don't know if the other books share the same author. The woman only told me the captain had other similar books."

The shopkeepers eyes widen in alarm at the revelation that the books were stolen. "From the Mirabar delegation? I had no idea they were from there. Are you sure? I'd only just heard recently that such a delegation was bound for Red Larch."

His eyes dart to Jak again, then back to Bram. "I need to inform some people of this news. Any tidings of raiders attacking a group of travelers is suspicious indeed. Thank you for sharing it with me."

OOC:  Before responding, I think this rather suspicious response deserves an Insight check!

16:25, Today: Bramwell Caulder rolled 10 using 1d20.  Insight.

Too bad Bram sucks at Insight :(

Bram studies the shopkeeper, but detects no traces of subterfuge in the aging Vallivoe.

As Vallivoe leaves, Morg looks at his remaining coins. "We may need to evacuate folk from Lance Rock with the wagon - should we pool our money and rent or buy a mule? We can ask at the harness shop, or the two wagon places I saw earlier."

After deciding Bram got the only book really worth taking, Mayon turns at Morg's comment and nods. "That would probably be a good idea." He looks towards the shopkeeper. "Sir, do you know of any sort of stables around here?"

"No, no stables near town," Vallivoe replies to Mayon. "The best place to buy animals in the Valley is at the Triboar horse market."

"The wagon makers in town often have a mule hanging around for sale though. Either Thelorn's Safe Journeys or Waelvur's Wagonworks should have one available. Sometimes the outlying farms and homesteads have a spare animal they'll sell too, if you're lucky."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:27, Wed 25 Jan 2017.

Bram nodded, satisfied from Vallivoe's reacton that he wasn't knowingly involved in whatever foul play may have befallen the missing delegation.  He offered, "Seeing as this tome was unlawfully misappropriated from its author, though unbeknownst to you, I'd judge it inappropriate to profit from its sale.  I'd be willing to cover your loss, with the assurance that you'll not be held culpable for whatever misdeed parted this tome from its author."  Letting the implication settle in, he made his final bid, "The price you paid, and no more."

Vallivoe chuckles, then wipes his hand across his forehead. "Apparently I'm not a good negotiator," the man says ruefully. "The fact of the matter is, twenty-five gold is what I paid for the book. I offered it at cost because Jak and I have a mutual friend."

He sighs. "I agree no one should profit from the sale of a stolen book, particularly not one that was related to the disappearance of an important delegation. But I'm not a wealthy man. I can't afford to lose money on it."

"Tell you what," the man says thoughtfully, "I'll set it aside until either the rightful owner is found or you want to purchase it for twenty five. I'll not sell it to anyone else."

Bramwell smiled and nodded, "A fair offer, but I do not have the funds just yet.  I'd be much obliged for you to keep it until my next visit, and will gladly pay then.  However, you've my blessing to trade the tome to its author or to another Glyphscribe, should either inquire sooner."  The paladin gave the shopkeeper a respectful bow and bade him farewell.

He then turned to his companions and asked, "Have we any other business to attend to before we set out toward Lance Rock?"

Jak pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. Whether that was in regards to the merchant's looks and price-dropping or to the much more important topic of the caravan having gone missing and their goods being sold unwittingly to this shopkeeper is up for debate. He merely murmured quietly as if lost in thought, "Once stolen, twice sold, makes him no accomplice for sure an' barely still as if he is sellin' ill-gotten goods at that point."

He frowned, "Black arrow? Hmm."

Then he slowly turned to look at Bram with a raised eyebrow. If he didn't know the glyphscribe better he'd almost suspect him of trying to get a better price rather than recovering stolen books. But he said nothing and the barest whisp of a smile vanished across his face.

"We should get goin'. Raiders're bad business."

"Indeed, Maester Jakrynn, but worse still is the threat of plague," Asano keeps his voice low, not wanting to spread rumor or panic any further than it may have already flown. "Raiders and brigands are craven creatures of habit and ease. They will stay where they are until pickings grow too slim or some other force pushes them out. It would seem Lance Rock may be the best route, though I do have an interest in routing the bandit groups in the area."

Endrith Vallivoe bids the group farewell as they leave his shop. The mists continue to cling to the edges of town, though the sky appears to be brightening.

Heading out of town, the group peers through the swirling mists for any signs of Lance Rock. Kaylessa told them it was hard to miss in the flatter terrain south of Red Larch, but the mists have reduced visibility significantly.

After a few miles of walking however, thin beams of sunlight start to break through the fog and illuminate the grasslands on either side of the road. A slender monolith becomes visible to the west, and the party leaves the road to head towards it. As they approach and the mists continue to burn off, the Rock and its surroundings become clearer.

Lance Rock is a narrow, twenty-five-foot menhir of bare, grey rock that juts eastward at a sixty degree angle. The surrounding countryside is bare of rocks or other landmarks, except for a brush-choked ravine a few hundred feet to the south.

A simple wooden sign is planted firmly in the earth next to a path leading down into the ravine.

During the journey Bram had been apprehensive of getting lost in the thick mists, and so was thankful when the tall and distinctive stone landmark came into view.  He approached Lance rock and walked a half-circle around it, observing its structure and sketching its contours in his journal while muttering, "A fascinating structure, leaning at such an angle!  I see nothing amiss in the area thus far, at least."

Once he was satisfied he'd taken sufficient notes on Lance rock, Bramwell made his way with the others toward the overgrown ravine.  He stopped at the head of the trail and looked down into the ravine, then took a look at the sign posted there.

---

Bram tried investigating Lance rock's history and whether it's a natural structure or not, but it looks like he can only be certain that it is indeed a rock :P

• 17:50, Today: Bramwell Caulder rolled 6 using 1d20+4.  Nature.
• 17:50, Today: Bramwell Caulder rolled 6 using 1d20+4.  History.

Bram can tell that Lance Rock is made of granite.

The trail that leads down into the ravine is thick with underbrush and weeds but isn't particularly steep.

The sign is made of a simple, flat piece of wood nailed to a stake. Neatly painted on the sign are the following words:

Come no closer
lest you catch
the disfiguring plague
that afflicts me!

The Lord of Lance Rock
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:08, Sat 28 Jan 2017.

Bram read the sign, frowns, adjusted his spectacles, then read it again.  "Hrm.  I wasn't aware there was a such a title as 'Lord of Lance Rock.'"  He then wondered aloud, "Can it truly be considered a plague if it only afflicts a single victim?  This is quite suspicious."  The half-elf looked to his companions and gestured down the foliage-choked trail, then asked, "Shall we pay this Lord a visit?  Perhaps we might assist him in his troubles."

"It's worth a try. This place is...unnerving." Mayon says, looking around a bit warily, peering through the mist down the path. "I wonder if the only message of a plague was this sign in the first place? Or perhaps this 'lord' found people nearby and made himself appear disfigured? I've studied illusions a bit, it would be easy to frighten people away if you have something to hide..." He muses softly, absently forming a simple minor illusion of a dagger in his hand before waving it away, showing how simple such a thing could be.

Using Minor Illusion cantrip for cosmetic effect :P

"Well, then let us pay this 'lord' a visit, shall we," Asano says, wand focus in hand. "And pray the plague is indeed mere rumor and threat."

The party makes its way down the gentle slope to the ravine floor. Here the trail continues to the mouth of a gaping cave, where another sign is posted.

The sign repeats the message from the top of the ravine.

The cave mouth opens into darkness from which a breeze blows, carrying the faint odor of death. Inside is a natural cave, its floor and ceiling uneven. The passage leads to the west, narrowing as it proceeds.

---

New map posted, Lance Rock Cave.

If you'd like to explore the cave please refer to map coordinates to be clear about where you're moving to. I'll assume the party will want to remain roughly together unless you post otherwise. To that end, I'll move PCs who don't post as best I can, using the default marching order as a guide.

Jakrynn went along with the group, humming quietly most of the time, until they got to the sign. Then he leaned back away from the sign in only partially mock horror. "A disfigurin' plague?!?!" He sounded aghast! "Maybe we should go elsewhere! My good looks and singing voice are all I got!" Slight pause. "An' Twitch. An' quick hands. An' Bram an' Morg. An' my spells but those need the dulcet or velvet tones from my voice!"

The others were determined and he wasn't truly scared so he relented. "Alright, but only if one has t'get infected, it's gotta be Morg. No one'd be able t'tell anyways!" He grinned and stuck his tongue out at his dwarf friend.

He wasn't dumb nor truly a fool, but sometimes before entering somewhere a bit frightening, a lightening of spirits can be useful he'd found. Even if it was only his own spirits.

Staying with the group, moving roughly to around AS- or AT-81, depending on where the others are going.