The drawbridge lowers to a rest near Findarion's feet.

"Splendid. Now, would you mind telling me, first and foremost, what is this spire?" Findarion replies more jovially, taking off his hood to reveal a youthful elven face with quite the ears, long and sharp like a dagger. "I saw it from miles away. Stands out from the environment, it does."

Jak  "Wellllll...up until yesterday it was called Feathergale Spire." He paused and scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. "I'm not sure if we're gonna re-name it. Heck, I'm not sure if we're gonna continue t'stay here actually. We've been discussin' it."

His head tilted to the side. "Oh. Right. I'm Jakrynn Redgate." He paused again and one eyebrow rose. "So. You saw the spire an' just...came t'investigate it? That's why you're here?"

Stopping midway, the elf asks. "...What happened yesterday? Who are you?" He glances at the gathered crowd.

"I'm Findarion, and yes, I came to investigate, hoping to find answers... I'm looking for a particular group of people, who have something very dear to me."

As the group stands on either side of the drawbridge a sudden rainstorm breaks the heat of the day. Within minutes the sky darkens and the temperature drops to more comfortable levels.

A brief glance around reveals that Alnessa has disappeared as quickly as she appeared. The pathway that leads along the western edge of the Sighing Valley appears to have a small cloud of dust at the edge of sight to the north, as if one or more people are approaching.

---

Alnessa has left us, unfortunately. I'll be seeking a replacement in due time. Recommendations welcome!
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:53, Mon 10 Sept 2018.

Who or whatever is approaching from the north is approaching quickly. A cloud of mist and dirt shrouds it, swirling in the morning sun.

Jakrynn gave a slow shrug and spread his hands. "We cleaned house. The people who used t'live here were asshole murders an' pyschopaths claimin' t'be Knights, forced  us t'go attack others, tried t'burn us t'death in our sleep when we didn't want t'join up - generally all-around nice guys."

His head tilted to the side. "Toldja'lready. I'm Jakrynn. Bard an' adventurer!" His eyes narrowed slightly. "What group'a people y'lookin' for, an' whatta they got o'yours?"

Then his attention was drawn to the north. "Huh. Guess who's comin' t'dinner..." He began stepping back inside and shutting the place up once more. "Come in if you're comin' in, cause we're closin'!"

With but a moment of hesitation Findarion heads inside.

"I suppose I should be happy I arrived here after your 'cleaning', if what you say is true." he remarks. "Well, let us see who has arrived."

As the group approaches, their forms become more distinct through the haze and dust. Three large, dark, canine forms approach the far side of the lowered drawbridge, moving quickly along the trail.

"I was going to suggest we go eastwards to this Temple of Howling Hatred," Morg says, narrowing his eyes at the canines, "but if those things are Worgs, then I'd rather make sure they don't get into the spire. Or anywhere else for that matter."

The hounds reach the far side of the drawbridge and slow to a stop, their red eyes glinting in the misty air. Steam rises from their nostrils from the exertion of their run, and hard muscles tense beneath jet black fur. They paw restively at the earth as they stare warily into the front hall at the group assembled there.

Morg backs up a bit, asking the rest of the party "Are those worgs?"

---

14:11, Today: Morg Danforge rolled 4 using 1d20 with rolls of 4.  Nature/Arcana/History check to ID the red eyed, black hounds.

The beasts stare hungrily at the party as the drawbridge goes up and Jak closes the heavy wooden doors.

---

Morg doesn't have a clue what these beasts are, though they all look large and powerful.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:14, Thu 13 Sept 2018.

"The day turns out to be interesting..."

12:04, Today: Secret Roll: Findarion rolled 16 using 1d20 with rolls of 16.  What are these? +3, +5 if history.

Jak stepped back from Findarion so as to not hurt his ears and then yelled up towards the rest of those in the Spire. "OY! You lot upstairs! We got an uninvited guest t'meet an' some....hounds?...or somethin' just outside." He paused and then called up a question, "Anybody able t'talk with dogs??" He let out a chuckle. It was possible, but he knew he couldn't actually speak with them himself aside from the "Who's a good boy?" sort of thing and that seemed unlikely to work here.

He tried to find a vantage point where he could see and call out to the dogs nearby just in case.

The Spire seems quiet, though a glance through the windows near the main entrance shows that the hounds remain on the other side of the raised drawbridge.

"Hellhounds. The name describes them well. I may have seen them from a distance on my way here... They're quite capable trackers."

"Are they devils, or just named that way?" Morg says, struggling to look at the hounds thru any windows or balistraria.

"Are they here tracking you Mr. Findahion?"

"Not sure. I know they are fiends. And no, they aren't tracking me as far as I know. Are they tracking one of you?"

"I try not to aggravate fiends, so I don't think they're here for me." Morg says, and then, smiling at the bard "I can't speak for Jak tho."

He makes a little bow to the new elf, "The names Morg Danforge."

"As far as I know they're not looking for us. Perhaps they were sent to target the previous residents." Mayon says, frowning and looking out the window. He glances over briefly at Findarion. "Ah, Mayon, by the way. Mayon Graycross. And Myr." He motions to the now visible sprite beside him, which is still scowling over having been noted.

Findarion winks at the sprite.

"Well, I have a suspicion... You know anything about the fire cultists? I managed to narrow my search to this approximate area. The hellhounds might be with them." Realization strikes him. "Which might mean they are tracking me, after all."

Jak looked surprised and then mildly offended, hamming it up with appropriate exaggeration for a moment of course, at Morg's words. "HEY! I resemble that remark! Actually...I've not had anythin' t'do with fiends that I know."

He shivered slightly when informed they were hellhounds. "Don't like the looks of 'em. Should we kill 'em?" A long pause. "....how do we kill 'em? I mean, are they kind of just tougher, meaner, fire-breathin' dogs?"

He looked over at Findarion. "Of course they're trackin' you. They were hot on your heels!" He glanced at Morg with a slight chuckle and 'did you hear what I did there' sort of face. Then he sobered and shrugged. "You met us, didn't you? We're trouble magnets, so it's not like....wait Fire Cultists? Damn! What is it with all these cultists of an elemental nature??"

A short chuckle was quickly stifled as Jak expressed surprise. "You mean there is more of these rascals, AND you don't know anything? Just great, then." The elf rolled his eyes, sighing and leaning against the wall.

"Well, what do you know of the other elemental cults then? My best chance seems to be to get to the fire cult through the other three elements, somehow."

"Well, there was a base of sorts for the Air Cult here, under the guise of knights from Waterdeep. They seem to have others elsewhere based on a letter we found, but we cleared out the ones here. There's a monastery that belongs to the Earth Cult, members wear stone masks." Mayon says, still eyeing the Hellhounds warily.

"Mind if I ask why exactly why a bunch of fire cultists are hunting you? We haven't really encountered them thus far."