It's a busy night at the Trollop and Troll in Westbank. Although still midweek, the old tavern's tables are almost full with patrons. Several regulars are seated at the bar, including a pair of grumpy locals known as George and Geoff. Some say the two were sitting there before the tavern was even built and the building was somehow erected around them. While this has never been proven, it is a given that the two men are as permanent a part of the tavern as the bar itself.

The tables are filled with a mix of locals and visitors. Many of the locals are stopping in for a drink and a story after a day's work at the mill, while the visitors hail largely (but not entirely - more on that below) from a trade caravan recently arrived from Alaka with stone and ore from the northern mountains.

The tavern is run by a lanky man with a hooked nose named Samuel. His prices are fair and his tavern, while not spotless, is in good order. It is said Samuel has little patience for trouble in his establishment, and stories are told of the day he threw (literally) three unruly barbarians from the Trollop and Troll.

In the corner there sits a wizened old man puffing on a pipe. He observes the goings on quietly, almost invisibly, from behind a smoky cloud.

On the more notable side, a stranger from the south revels with any and all he can find. The stranger is a tabaxi, which is quite an unusual site this far to the north. Westbank is largely human, although it is not unusual for an occasional dwarf from the northern mountains or elf form the Wildwood to find themselves in town. Tabaxi, on the other hand, are a rare sight, indeed. Many in Westbank have never seen one before, although George and Geoff remember a few years back when a pair of them passed through on their way to Stonehaven.

Presently, the tabaxi is seated with three curious millworkers who have purchased their strange associate a drink. The first millworker, Tovar, is a rugged man with thick, dirty hair and a thoughtful eyes. He is full of questions, and as the drinks add up, his curiosity only deepens.

"Soooo you're a tabaxi, eh? I ain't never heard of them before. You got any brothers or sisters or you the only one?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Across the way, an elf relaxes at a table awaiting a beverage after a rather hurried journey to Westbank from his former home in the Wildwood. While an occasional elf is nothing new to the Trollop and Troll, he is presently the only one.

After a few moments, a portly barmaid delivers the elf a drink with an honest smile, "Here you go, hon." She sets the drink on the table and smiles again. "You know, the last time we had elves here at the tavern, they were a musical group. They played a few songs and it was just beautiful. Do you play an instrument?"

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

An honest to goodness Tabaxi. In the flesh and at your service. I am known as Fire Star of the Lazaret. Just Lazaret to those who know me well.

Brothers and sisters? I had several. Lost at sea, I'm afraid.

Have you ever been at sea? Really far out on the open water that is? It is not a place for the faint of heart or wobbly of knee. The waves and the storms have a mind of their own. One time my ship was all but adrift in still waters and no wind for days. The heat was oppressive and the sun beat down so hard that our eyes played tricks on us. Was that another ship on the horizon? Perhaps a whole fleet? No. A sea serpent over there?! It was enough to drive a strong man absolutely mad. Then, suddenly, a small cool zephyr brought relief, albeit temporary, to every sweaty brow on board. The main sail slowly filled and we were on our way again. But the gentleness of that first wind did not last and soon the masts strained under the gale that blew. Waves grew and grew. From rolling swells to giant breakers. Our ship was tossed about like a child's toy in a barrel.

The wind threatened to topple our bark. We had to take down the sails, but the main sheet was stuck. I leaped into action pouncing onto the main mast and climbing to the very top as the ship rocked with greater and greater intensity. Only through the strength of my claws and sheer will was I able to brave the wind and reach the top freeing the sail. The wind was no longer an issue, but the waves were still huge and threatened to destroy us all. Every man on board grabbed onto whatever they could. Many of our numbers were tossed overboard never to be seen again. I was one of the lucky ones and lived to sail another day. My family, sadly, was not so lucky. I miss them and always will.

(What wonderful smoke rings and shapes that man is blowing! What is that pipe made of? I must hold it and find out...)

Tovar and his friends lean forward as their strange new drinking companion spins tales of his adventures at sea. Tovar stares with mouth agape, although one might wonder whether his near paralysis is in response to the story he is hearing or the storyteller he is seeing. Both are, to say the least, unusual for Westbank.

"I..." he stutters. "I ain't never been in the sea before. Or on it, I mean. Ain't never been in it or on it." He pauses for a moment while wrapping his brain around the story. "Ain't cats afraid of the water?"



OOC: Lazaret, please use the dice roller to make a persuasion roll and post the result with your next response... don't forget to include your proficiency bonus.

In reply to DM (msg # 3):

Cats are afraid of water. I am a Tabaxi. I fear nothing.

14:22, Today: Lazaret rolled 21 using 1d20+5. Persuasion.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:26, Sun 12 Mar 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

After quickly slipping from a caravan wagon unseen, Thorfire quietly enters the tavern.  He finds a table in a dark corner and orders a tankard of ale.  He studies the other patrons.  He pays special attention to the guy smoking the pipe and the barmaid (of course).  While drinking his second ale, he thinks to himself..."What the Fuck is with that Cat Dude?!?"

18:52, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 10 using 1d20-1 Nature Check to see what the hell the Cat Dude is...
This message was last edited by the player at 23:54, Sun 12 Mar 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

Well, m'lady, there are some of my kinsfolk who know their way around the lute and lyre but I am more skilled with the blade. Celador pulls back his grey wool outer cloak and reveals the long sword at his side.

I can't say that I am planning to hang around this place to long if it doesn't get a little more lively than this. Looks around the tavern

What do you do for fun around here? Just then, Lazaret catches his eye.

Hey, now that guy looks like he could throw a good party! I have heard of such a race of cat-folk but can't say I've ever seen one in the flesh. Gestures the barmaid to lean in a little closer.

Tell me, beautiful, what do you know about him?

Tovar and friends roar with approval and laughter at the tabaxi's witty reply. One bangs his mug repeatedly on the table while the other slaps Tovar on the back and shouts, "Bring this fearless cat another ale!"



Meanwhile, on the other side of the tavern, a halfling has discreetly found his way to a quiet table. Like the tabaxi, he is new to Westbank, but his arrival is marked with significantly less fanfare, which is his preference.

Thorfire has, in fact, met a tabaxi or two in his days in the south. Even so, the sight of a walking, talking cat is still strange to say the least. Stranger still is the way he seems to have captivated the table, undoubtedly with a mix of silver tongue and excessive alcohol. Thorfire concludes that luck is on his side today, for with such a spectacle across the tavern, it is unlikely that anyone will even notice him.



Finally, at yet another table in this ever-busier tavern, another outsider, this one an elf, takes notice of the tabaxi and his audience as they cheer another of his stories.

"Oh my," the bar maid blushes at Celador's compliment. "I can't say that I know much. He arrived earlier today on the caravan from Wellwood. Some men in here earlier complained that he stowed away and should be held accountable for that." Her discussion is interrupted by another ovation from the noisy table. "But it doesn't look like anyone's too upset about it anymore.

A thousand thank yous to all my new friends! The mountains are quite strange to me. The seas and the lowlands I know quite well, but the heights here...well. They are something to behold. The ale you enjoy is unparalleled and is quite befitting of the high altitude.

Tell me of these mountains! Each peak I see is higher than the last. I wish to climb them all. What other adventure awaits on these majestic slopes?

(That smoking man never seems to put his pipe down. I'm sure he'll have to do so soon.)

In reply to DM (msg # 7):

Celador leans in a little closer to the barmaid, but not too close

Well I would very much like to meet this gregorian stranger from Wellwood. But before I go over there I have one other question for you my dear, um, I'm sorry I don't think you gave me your name?
This message was last edited by the player at 04:10, Mon 13 Mar 2017.

"The name is Mattis," the bar maid giggles, blushing again. "Mattis Bumbleford."





"Oh there ain't many who journey to the mountains," Tovar's companion informs his new tabaxi friend. "'Tis a fools errand if you ask me. Further north, north of Cathid, there are dwarves. They mine and trade with us here. But the foothills and mountains over the river from Alaka are filled with less pleasant creatures. I wouldn't climb those mountains if I were you."




By the time Therarak Gemfinder enters the Trollop and Troll, the tavern is packed. He scans the room in search of an empty seat, there being no empty tables. There are a few at the bar, next to a couple of grumpy men who the gnome can tell are regulars. As for tables, most are crowded with large groups, but three seat only a single patron. One is an elf, presently flirting with the barmaid. The second is a Halfling, who eyes the room with some level of suspicion. The third is an old man, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe while observing the antics of a fairly loud group across the way.

The journey here from Bergamquartz has been a long one, and the final caravan ride from Wellwood ate up almost all of what was left of his savings. While he still isn't sure it was wise to push into The Northlands, he wasn't exactly encouraged by the distrust many "civilized" folks had in his adventures so far in the south. So here he is.

A fool's errand is often the start of an amazing journey! Rarely has glory and adventure been attained by avoiding danger.

Surely someone has been foolish enough to brave these wilds and has returned to tell the tale? Who is the greatest fool to come into this establishment? I would love to hear a story about this individual. Perhaps one day I will tell the same tale in another town in another land and a young child will be inspired to visit these mountains and challenge these wilds. Tell me your tales!

In reply to DM (msg # 10):

Mattis, what a lovely name, tell me, Mattis, there is a very curious gentleman at that far table, the one smoking the pipe, he looks like a man of business and I am a man in need of temporary employment. Do you know what he does for business?

As Celador pauses and awaits an answer his mind and his attention return to the cat person in an attempt to overhear the tales being told.

-wait, is that a gnome that just walked in?!- Celador thinks to himself

In reply to Celador Qiris (msg # 12):

Thorfire overhears the elf flirting with the barmaid. His question about the old guy smoking in the corner and potential employment piques his interest. I am going to need a lot of coin to gather information on the killers, create new identities and bribe henchmen before I get my revenge he whispers to himself.... Maybe the old man has a score to settle and needs some help with the wet work.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:44, Tue 14 Mar 2017.

Tovar's friend pats him on the shoulder again. "Why that would be Tovar," he jabs, with a wide smile and a deep guffaw. As the man laughs, so do the other mill workers gathered around them. By now the crowd has grown from three to at least eight.

Tovar interrupts the heckling before it starts up again. "No. The biggest fool is the boy Kevril. Leaves home, joins a pack of bandits, then comes back to town last night hollerin' 'bout a hooded man."

Several of the friends nod in agreement. "That's right," the back slapping friend agrees. "Bigger fool than Tovar."




"That there is Zelgor. He comes around every once in a while, but I've seen him more lately than usual." She pauses to consider Celador's question. "And you know, now that you mention it, I have no idea what he does for business. Says he's from Podu, but never says much more about himself than that."




As Thorfire glances over to the old man, he finds that the man is staring back at him. From behind a cloud of smoke, Zelgor nods as if to say I know you're watching me, young halfling. I am watching you, as well.

Ahh! Runaways. Bandits. Hooded men and mountain intrigue! These are the stories I crave to hear.

Tovar, my friend, I'm sure you are no fool; I've met many fools in my travels. Now this Kevril. Is he nearby? I'd love to hear about his encounter with the hooded man.

I remember a hooded man I met once in Waterdeep. He was slinking among a crowd who had gathered for the Spring Celebration. He wore a dirty, grey, hooded cloak and was clutching some sort or object or parcel in his arms under his cloak. I was in the employ of my patron, The Duke, working as his personal security advisor. This hooded man kept moving closer and closer through the crowd. Moving between the happy revelers with a steely look in his eyes. I spied him and quickly weaved through the celebrants to intercept him before he could get any closer to my employer. I was able to catch him quickly and completely by surprise - I'm rather nimble, you see.

As I put a paw on the fellow's shoulder, he, or should I say, she whips around and her hood falls exposing her long red hair and her cloak opens to reveal a sleeping baby. Well this was not at all what I was expecting, and, upon further investigation, I see that the babe has the same piercing blue eyes as my patron!

Well we did not need any sort of public embarrassment on the day of the Spring Celebration! I quickly escorted the young lady away to a local establishment and we had a lovely chat about the protocol of such goings on. I assured her that my patron would make, how do I put this delicately, reparations? After nearly an hour's worth of conversation she signed the proper forms that I wrote up for the Duke to use in such situations. I handed her a not insubstantial sack of coins and she was on her way.

She gave me this small child's rattle as a token of good will.

(Lazaret reaches into his pack and produces a small brass toy.)

A sweet gesture on her part. I rather like how the light catches it and the pleasing sound it makes when shaken.

After staring at the toy for a minute:

Does anyone here sing? I play a passable flute. Perhaps a drinking song?!
This message was last edited by the player at 11:54, Tue 14 Mar 2017.

Therarak Gemfinder sits down at the table with the Halfling.

Tell me fellow small one, are these Hu-mans as strange to you as they are to me?

In reply to Therarak Gemfinder (msg # 17):

The humans seem strange, but I think tabaxi is nuts...although somewhat entertaining
This message was last edited by the player at 04:02, Wed 15 Mar 2017.

"Oh he's nearby all right," one of the crowd around Lazaret's table confirms. "He's in the dungeon."

"Yeah," another adds. "He got arrested for highway burglary. Now he's awaiting the noose. It's the wrath of Sister Gwendelon."

"Poor dumb kid," Tovar concludes. "He shoulda' knowed better."



Meanwhile, amidst all the festivities, Celador, Therarak, and Thorfire hear what sounds like sobbing from another table, one located next to the mysterious pipe somking man. At the table, there sits a woman and three men. Details of the conversation can not be heard, but the woman appears to be upset. The men look across the table at one another, shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders. The woman reaches across in desperation as the three stand to leave her. In spite of her efforts, they depart, staring at their feet as they head toward the door.

Next time I'm going to let you make your own perception checks. Mine were lousy!
00:14, Today: DM, on behalf of Thorfire Shortankard, rolled 7 using 1d20+2.  Perception check.
00:14, Today: DM, on behalf of Therarak Gemfinder, rolled 8 using 1d20+3.  Perception check.
00:13, Today: DM, on behalf of Celador Qiris, rolled 9 using 1d20+3.  Perception check.

(Singing while rhythmically rapping on the table.)

Lift your glass for Kevril then pour me another!
Lament his demise, but shed a tear for his mother.
Her boy will be gone when sun's at its highest.
And Sister Gwendolin's eyes, well they'll be the driest.

With a hey, hey be on the look out for danger.
And a hey, hey buy a drink for a stranger.
With a hey, hey push away all your anger.
And a hey, hey buy a drink for a stranger.

Climb up on a mountain and sing 'til tomorrow.
When the hangman awakes our hearts fill with sorrow.
The thick woods of the Northlands are sadder today.
By sundown may our fears be driven away.

With a hey, hey be on the look out for danger.
And a hey, hey buy a drink for a stranger.
With a hey, hey push away all your anger.
And a hey, hey buy a drink for a stranger.

In reply to Thorfire Shortankard (msg # 18):

While I can not attest to his sanity, I do know that he talks too much.

After an inordinately long pause consumed by nothing in particular. He continues.

Are you a newcomer as well?

In reply to Therarak Gemfinder (msg # 21):

I have recently arrived in this "town" from the south and I am looking for adventure and employment.  Pray tell, what brings a Svirfneblin to this backwater joint? he asks quietly. Also, did you catch what the woman is crying about over there?
This message was last edited by the player at 02:30, Thu 16 Mar 2017.

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 20):

Thorfire wonders to himself...If I buy him a drink will he shut the hell up?

In reply to DM (msg # 19):

Doesn't Lazaret get a Perception Check too or is he too loud to see the woman crying?

In reply to DM (msg # 14):

-I wonder if this Zelgor character needs a security detail as he travels back and forth from Podu?-

Tell me dear, do you know where Mr. Zelgor stays while he is in town? I would like to talk to him a bit about some business I might have in Podu.

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 20):

The singing has caught Celador's attention.

Bravo! Excellent ballad my bard friend!

Celador raises his drink in appreciation.

-not a bad singer, I wonder how he'd fare in a fight. I think I'd rather have him on my side than be against him-

"Why he has a room at the Stronghammer Inn," Mattis replies matter of factly. "They say he spends a lot of time reading in his room."



By the time Thorfire and Therarak have completed their introductions, nearly half the tavern is gathered around the singing tabaxi. Strangers laugh and cheer with each line of Lazaret's song raising their glasses and clapping their hands in time with the his silly tune.

Meanwhile, the sobbing woman, now sitting alone after the departure of her three tablemates, sits with her face buried in her hands. For those observant enough to notice, the contrast is wrenching.

For most of the tavern, however, the plight of the sobbing woman goes unnoticed. All eyes are on their newfound entertainer. As he completes his tune, the crowd applauds and chants for more.


OOC: Lazaret, excellent singing. Please award yourself 1 inspiration point!

OOC: Thorfire and Therarak, please roll a d20 for a perception check (and yes, Lazaret is too busy making friends to notice the sobbing lady).
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:31, Thu 16 Mar 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 27):

OOC: is Zelgor watching Lazaret, the sobbing woman or the halfling and the gnome?

Upon finishing his song, Lazaret accepts a fresh drink from one of the men at his table. He raises his drink and nods to Celador and sizes him up.

To himself - "I wonder what the old man with the pipe thinks of all this. Perhaps it's time to get a closer look."

He plays a little ditty on the flute and makes his way over to the old man and sits down - trying desperately to focus on the man's eyes and not his pipe. His shiny, shiny pipe.

In reply to DM (msg # 27):

Thorfire excuses himself from his new friend and approaches the crying women's table. Pardon me miss, but I can't help but see you are distraught.  My name is Thorfire and I am new in town.  Can I help you in anyway?

21:32, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 8 using 1d20+2.  Perception

21:36, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 18 using 1d20+2.  Persuasion.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Fri 17 Mar 2017.

You honor me with your knowledge of my people. Have you seen others like me recently?

I wonder for I no longer have a home. It looks like we are both searching for the same thing.

22:22, Today: Therarak Gemfinder rolled 11 using 1d20+3.  Perception.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:26, Fri 17 Mar 2017.

Zelgor surveys the tavern from behind the cloud of his trusty pipe. He seems to watch everyone while at the same time watching no one in particular. His eyes wander from the grumpy pair at the bar to the elf and to the sobbing woman (who now sits with a Halfling...who a moment ago was sitting with a Svirfneblin!). So many things to observe.

His attention turns again as he is joined by the flute playing tabaxi who has turned the tavern into a bit of a performance hall. He sits for a moment, as if without a care, blowing a long puff of smoke into the air before addressing his visitor.

"Fire Star of the Lazaret," he starts with a nod. "Your stories and music have created quite a stir this evening."

The sobbing woman pulls her face up from her hands with a sniffle. "Oh," she stammers, startled to find Thorfire before her. "I beg your pardon. I didn't intend to make such a scene. It's just that - " she holds for a moment, debating whether or not it makes sense to talk of private matters with a complete stranger. But somehow, she finds the Halfling trustworthy. "It's my son. He's fallen in with a bunch of bad apples. Well he had fallen in with them. But he ins't anymore. I mean they aren't anymore. The bad apples, I mean. They aren't here anymore... on this earth." She takes a deep breath to compose herself. "I mean they're dead. The rotten apples. And now my son has come back with a warning, but he's been thrown in the dungeon and they say he's going to... going to..."

She can't finish her sentence. Instead, she breaks into tears.



OOC: Therarak, you notice that Hyacinth is carrying a small pouch in her lap. Not unlike those used to carry gold coins.

In reply to Zelgor (msg # 32):

I aim to entertain. From the sounds of things around here, these folks could use a little diversion.

But, where are my manners? I hope you don't mind if I sit. I am Lazaret, indeed. Your name is? I'm sorry I did not catch it if you told me before.

I hope you enjoyed my little song. It's something I do to keep my friends entertained. I learned long ago that I had a certain talent for such things. It was a skill that was much appreciated in my former life on the sea...

I'm sorry. I am prattling on without proper introduction, but...it's just...your pipe, sir. Where did you get it? I have never seen one quite like it. The cook on my former vessel used to smoke a similar one - not quite as nice - every night after dinner had been served and cleaned up. He used to recline in a cargo net on deck and smoke while staring at the stars. He would blow this delightful rings and fancy shapes. I could watch him do this for hours.

I have not seen a Deep Gnome for at least six 10 days when I was traveling here from the south.  They kept to themselves and I didn't have a chance to talk to them.  If you will excuse me, I want to talk to the sobbing woman over there.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:52, Fri 17 Mar 2017.

Do you mind if I sit down?  Your son must be Kevril, I heard the others talking about him.  Did you have a chance to speak with him before he was arrested?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:00, Fri 17 Mar 2017.

The old man leans back and exhales another cloud of smoke. "I go be many names," he starts, before smiling ever so slightly. "Some of them not very nice. But most here call me Zelgor. It is a pleasure to meet you, Fire Star of the Lazaret."


Zelgor examines the pipe in question thoughtfully. "This was a gift from a friend in a far away land. A long time ago..." He looks up for a moment at the smoke clouded ceiling. "I wonder what ever happened to him... But no matter, it is from a far away place. If your cook had a similar piece, he was well travelled, indeed."

Amid sniffles, Hyacinth motions to the Halfling to sit. "Yes, Kevril is my son. My boy. He's just a boy. I spoke with him when he came back to town. He was upset. No, frantic. He was frantic." she sniffles again. "Frantically upset or upsettedly frantic, I don't know what you'd call it. He was speaking a mile a minute and he only made sense half of the time. I don't know where he learned to talk like that. There was a hooded man and a cart and they were just to take a few coins but the hooded man..." she stops. "And now they've thrown him in the dungeon like he's a murderer. He didn't -" Her face falls back into her hands.

Well met, Zelgor. You appear to be a man who has seen many things. I seek adventure and new experiences here in the Northlands. The men at the other table say that the mountains are too dangerous, but I say they are too inviting to not be climbed.

Have you been out there and climbed to the top? How did the world look from such a vantage?

Zelgor shrugs his shoulders. "I spend more time in the foothills nowadays, but I have been in the mountains many times. Never atop them, mind you. They are cold and inhospitable on the exterior at altitude. But underneath the Spine of the North lies an endless network of tunnels." He pauses to judge Lazeret's interest, then settles in his chair as he continues. "The greatest of the mountains lie on either side of Great Passage, the road stretching from Cathid on the south through the stronghold at Stonehaven to the abandoned outpost of Healy, now just a ghost town. Fharylt rises highest on the west and Orronil on the east. Each was a capital of a separate dwarven empire in centuries past.

"The great Ironhammer Dwarves of the past built miles of tunnels starting under Fharylt, but they weren't the only ones. Orcs and even more nefarious creatures built tunnels of their own in the mountains, and they still do."

The old man sighs in conclusion. "Yes, I suspect there is plenty of adventure to be had in the mountains, especially in the Great Passage, but I also suspect that even humble Westbank may offer you adventure, if you knew where to look."

And look I shall.

Mountaintops abound and I shall stand atop one soon. Mines and tunnels too? Well, these lands certainly hold much for these eyes to see. Clearly my path leads North.

I thank you for your time, good Sir. Perhaps you would like to travel North as well? I could use a fellow who knows his way. I can't pay much, but I promise you will never be bored on the journey.

In reply to Zelgor (msg # 40):
Therarak hears talk of tunnels under mountains and joins the Zelgor and the cat.

Matter of factly, Greetings. I am Therarak Gemfinder. I have spent most of my life in the underdark. I know its secrets and dangers like I know members of my own family. Perhaps I could be of some use in any expedition you are considering.

In reply to Therarak Gemfinder (msg # 42):

Good heavens! A gnome. It has been some time since I have seen a man of your, er, stature.

Lazaret's instinctive prey drive kicks in and he stares just a little too much. Before the instinct to pounce kicks in he collects himself.

I am Fire Star of Lazaret. Please call me Lazaret as I am sure we are going to be fast friends.

The underdark you say? I must confess that most of my travels have been at sea, in towns and otherwise completely above ground. But I am fascinated! Who knows what treasures and sights await right below the very earth we walk on? Perhaps my soft steps and keen hearing will be of service down below.

Tell me, what have you seen in the underdark that a young seafarer such as myself should not leave this plane without experiencing for myself?

A short joke? I see the humor.



Great and noble cities. Tyrants whose power is only surpassed by their cruelty. Treasures beyond compare and dangers to match.

In reply to Therarak Gemfinder (msg # 44):

Cities under the ground?! Why I have seen cities floating in the seas and even in the skies once, but never under the ground. This is something I must behold.

When do we leave?

With that, Lazaret leaps onto the table, draws his rapier, and raises his glass.

Glory awaits in the shadows!

That's terrible...Thorfire pauses for a few moments. I have certain "skills" and I am looking for employment.  If you have some coin, I could look into the matter and see if I can find evidence to clear your son.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:29, Sun 19 Mar 2017.

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 45):

Thorfire thinks to himself...Really, what is with that cat dude and why is he standing on the table with his blade in hand?!?

In reply to Thorfire Shortankard (msg # 47):

Since the patrons are surely watching him, Lazaret leaps from table to table swinging his rapier in a showy fashion (without spilling a drop of his drink) and crying out:

A cat who was born on a doomed bark.
Who swam fast like an eel or a bullshark
Found good luck in the city
Didn’t last - such a pity!
Lazaret will seek gold in the dark!

"Why yes," Hyacinth replies excitedly. "I have some coin. Well, many coins, to be exact... although truth be told a great many of the many are just copper. However I do have-"

Her reply is interrupted by a wave of cheering and singing from the neighboring table upon which the strange tabaxi now stands.

The crowd cheers again, but this time the roar of approval dies quickly as the door flings open to reveal three large men, presumably mercenaries of some sort. Behind them stands a smaller man, who points directly to Lazaret. "There it is. That thing. It stowed away on my caravan without paying so much as a copper piece."


The crowd hushes. Tovar, having consumed enough ale to be brave, rises from his chair. "Now hold on a minute," he pleads. "I'm sure we can work something-"


His attempt at reasonableness is interrupted by the three goons drawing swords and approaching the tabaxi. "Come on," one of them sneers as they close in. "Let's skin us a cat!" Judging from the expression on their faces, it doesn't appear that they intend to capture their target for trial. Their job, clearly, is to apply "justice" more directly.


OOC: Roll for initiative!
All characters are within a move of the three goons, so can intercept them.
Also please review the combat notes thread for details on how we will resolve combat.

In reply to DM (msg # 50):

06:33, Today: Lazaret rolled 23 using 1d20+3 ((20)).

I told you my patron was paying my way. I even produced papers. But if the gold you seek is not sufficient, then I shall pay my way with steel!

Lazaret, rapier drawn and standing upon a table, leaps at the goon nearest the bar swinging his rapier. The jovial, happy-go-lucky expression in his eyes gives way to the primal glare of a natural hunter and killer. Entertaining with a drink in hand, Lazaret is a natural predator when cornered or determined.

Attack Rolls:

10:59, Today: Lazaret rolled 8 using 1d8+3.
10:59, Today: Lazaret rolled 16 using 1d20+5.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:01, Mon 20 Mar 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 27):

A room at the Stronghammer Inn? I shall have to go have a word with him there. Thank you Mattis, could you be a dear and bring me a bite to eat? It has been a long day and I am quite furnished.

Celador turns his attention to Zelgor and sees that the Tabaxi and the gnome have approached him. -how curious, the cat person and the gnome have managed to find their way to the man with the pipe. I wonder what business they seek to have with him?-

Looking around the room, Celador notices a halfling at a table with a woman who looked miserable but now looks quite excited. -now that halfing, he looks to be of the type that must be closely watched...-

In reply to DM (msg # 50):

Celador's attention quickly shifts to the three goons who have burst onto the scene. -well! what have we here? it appears as though things are going to get a bit more interesting! although I don't know what to make of the cat, I am pretty sure I DON'T like the looks of those three!-

Celador calmly draws his long sword, picks up his shield and advances on the closest goon not being attacked by Lazaret.


16:41, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 20 using 1d20+2. initiative
16:41, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 10 using 1d20+4.  attack with long sword.
16:42, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 7 using 1d8+2.  damage with long sword.

This message was last edited by the player at 02:12, Tue 21 Mar 2017.

In reply to Celador Qiris (msg # 53):

As a bonus action:

Good, my Elven friend!
Your sword so sharpened and long
pointed like your ears.

1d6 Bardic inspiration with Haiku to Celador.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:27, Tue 21 Mar 2017.

Since I also traveled in a wagon of the caravan without paying...Thorfire quietly slips behind the small man and draws his rapier.  He thinks to himself The goons are just pawns...the small man is behind this, if I can silence him now he won't come after me later!

18:54, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 6 using 1d20+3. Initiative.
18:55, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 20 using 1d20+5. Rapier Attack on Small Man.
18:56, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 9 using 1d8+3. Rapier Damage.
18:56, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 6 using 1d6. Sneak Attack Damage
If the DM decides I can't get to the small man, I sneak attack the goon fighting the elf
This message was last edited by the player at 00:01, Tue 21 Mar 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 50):

22:47, Today: Therarak Gemfinder rolled 17 using 1d20+2.  Initiative .

Therarak Gemfinder wants to get out of the way if fighting were to break out.

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 54):

I am inspired by your haiku!


23:00, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 6 using 1d6.  bardic inspiration.
Added to attack roll for a total of 16

In a matter of seconds, the joyous celebration surrounding Lazaret degrades into a frantic melee! The tabaxi leaps down from the table top and splits the first of his hunters open with a deep gash. This isn't enough to stop the racist goon, however, and his scimitar bites hard in the tabaxi's flesh (Lazaret takes 4hp damage).

The second of the trio rushes his tabaxi target, as well, but his scimitar finds no purchase.

Inspired by the words of Lazaret, Celador intercepts the final aggressor before he reaches the table, staggering him with a swing of his own blade. This huntsman, like the first, is unphased by his wound. He strikes back at the elf, cutting him with a swing of his own cruel scimitar (Celador takes 4hp damage). But if he finds satisfaction in striking the elf, it is short lived, for Thorfire finishes the sword-for-hire with an attack from behind. The man drops his weapon and falls to the floor with a thud.


23:01, Today: DM, for the NPC Goon 1, rolled 19 using 1d20+3.  Scimitar vs. Lazaret.
23:02, Today: DM, for the NPC Goon 2, rolled 19 using 1d20+3.  Scimitar vs. Celador.
23:02, Today: DM, for the NPC Goon 3, rolled 5 using 1d20+3.  Scimitar vs. Lazaret.


Please post round 2 actions!
There are still 2 goons standing, both engaged with Lazaret. One is quite wounded, the other is undamaged. The small man is cowering in the doorway at the other side of the room. He doesn't appear to pose much if any of a threat.

This message was last edited by the GM at 04:29, Tue 21 Mar 2017.

Seeing that the first goon has been slain with the assistance of the dodgy looking halfling, Celador quickly turns to swing at the next goon.


01:15, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 22 using 1d20+4.  attack with long sword.
01:16, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 5 using 1d8+2.  damage with long sword.

OOC: How do I keep track of damage? I'll let you decide if the wounded guy was closer to Celador or if it was the uninjured goon

In reply to Celador Qiris (msg # 59):

I'm a Tabaxi, not a thing! Now eat metal.

06:37, Today: Lazaret rolled 24 using 1d20+5.  Rapier attack.
06:38, Today: Lazaret rolled 6 using 1d8+3.  Damage.

You, little man, will taste my claws!

And you, my halfling friend, your timing is perfect and will be reflected as such when our book is written. Your ancestors will celebrate your name and recall this day for a thousand generations. What was your name?

(Lazaret gives the Thorfire bardic inspiration.)
This message was last edited by the player at 11:48, Tue 21 Mar 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 58):

Therarak Gemfinder pulls a vial of acid from his satchel and eyes up the last standing goon.

Your outdated beliefs are even more annoying than the cat.

Therarak Gemfinder throws the vial.

08:28, Today: Therarak Gemfinder rolled 5 using 1d6. Damage .

OOC: Dane, please note my attacks are Save VS DEX (DC 14). I'm assuming you only want me rolling the damage and you'll roll the the saving throw? If you want me to do both let me know, but I don't have their modifiers.

After severing the spine of a goon with his rapier, Thorfire attacks the unwounded goon.


22:26, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 5 using 1d6. Help from the cat.
22:26, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 6 using 1d20+5.  Attack with rapier.
22:29, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 5 using 1d6.  Sneak attack damage.
22:29, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 6 using 1d8+3.  Rapier Damage.

With a swing of his rapier, Lazaret defeats the man who slashed him earlier, leaving him crumpled on the floor. Celador turns to the last of the three attackers, his blade biting hard against the outnumbered foe.

With the taste of Celador's steel now in the front of his mind, and the realization that resistance is coming from many angles (including a vial pitched his way that he barely dodged), the final attacker disengages from the battle and runs to the door, pushing and shoving dumbfounded patrons on his way.


01:39, Today: DM, for the NPC Goon 3, rolled 21 using 1d20+1.  dex saving throw.

Please post round 3 actions (if any).
Two goons defeated, the third has (along with the small man) departed the tavern. Multiple people are in the way, preventing the use of any missiles.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:02, Wed 22 Mar 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 63):

Lazaret uses his Tabaxi speed (60 feet) to catch up to the small man.

Your issue with my fare, more like an unfair I say, was settled on the road! We had an agreement that my patron would pay you double upon your return.

How dare you hire those goons and ruin a perfectly pleasant evening with my friends at this fine establishment.

We are done. The next time I see you will be your end.

Lazaret slashes the little man across the face with his claws.


06:42, Today: Lazaret rolled 16 using 1d20.  Melee claw attack.
06:42, Today: Lazaret rolled 1 using 1d4.  Slashing claw damage.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:43, Wed 22 Mar 2017.

Celador lets the remaining scoundrel and his boss flee, and turns the point of his blade toward the halfling.

It is a gesture that seems to ask:

-are you the enemy of my enemy? does that make you my friend?-

Lazaret weaves through a mob of stunned bystanders in the tavern doorway and reaches the small man in the street outside. His claws rake across the man's face, opening up a frightful gash. The small man, startled by the speed of his pursuer as well as the intensity of his reply, stands in stunned silence before slowly backing away.


OOC: Lazaret please make a perception roll.

Back in the tavern, a startled hush lingers in the aftermath of the short clash. Former revelers look back and forth at one another for a sign of what to do.

The uncomfortable silence ends with a call from behind the bar. It is the voice of Samuel Fletcher, the no-nonsense barkeeper of the Trollop and Troll. "Oh for Pelor's sake," he cries. "Look at the mess you've made in here. Why couldn't you settle this outside?"

He steps out from behind the bar and kneels over one of the bodies, pulling a long bandage from his apron. "Well don't just stand there," he growls to the various onlookers. "Somebody lend me a hand."

In reply to DM (msg # 66):

06:39, Today: Lazaret rolled 5 using 1d20+4 ((1))


Returning to the bar...

Well that was certainly unpleasant of them. We were having such a wonderful time.

To Celador, Are you hurt, my friend?

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 68):

Getting the feeling that the Halfling is looking more for a friend than a fight, Celador drops his sword. The return of the jovial Tabaxi and the no nonsense demeanor of the barkeep breaks the remaining tension in the room.

'Tis but a scratch, I've had worse. It's nothing that another pint of ale and a good nights sleep won't cure. Mattis, my dear! Bring me and my new friends another round, I seem to have misplaced my drink in all the excitement! Celador calls to pleasantly plump barmaid.

Celador looks around the bar and feels that the other patrons view him in a new light, as a man not to be triffled with.


12:07, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 19 using 1d20+3.  perception.

This message was last edited by the player at 17:09, Thu 23 Mar 2017.

In reply to Celador Qiris (msg # 69):

Another round, indeed! Perhaps something a little stiffer this time.

Lazaret finds an empty table for he and his new friend(s).

Mine too is but a scratch. Hmm. By the looks of it a rather large one.

He starts licking his wounds. Literally.

Once, while I was at sea, we were boarding a merchant ship - bandits I'm sure. I was first over the rail and out of nowhere a dagger was thrown and stuck right here under my arm. You can still see the scar. Well you can see where the fur has grown back a little out of sorts. That sure smarted when I was thrown overboard into the salt water. Anyway, I used my claws to climb up the opposite side of the ship and I jumped onto the bastard who had thrown that dagger. I sank my...let's just say I repaid him in kind.

But tell me, what brings you to the Northland?

Seeing the elf drop his sword, Thorfire says I am glad you dropped your sword, or my blade may have tasted elven blood (although not for the first time). I was wondering if I backstabbed the wrong person...well met my flirting friend. My friends call be Thorfire. Come let us lift a pint and talk about potential employment opportunities.

Celador carefully eyes Thorfire as he pulls a chair and turns his attention to Lazaret

My name is Celador. I am currently, shall we say, on leave from the elven army of Glenvendale, a charming enclave more than a ten day or so to the south. Circumferences beyond my control have brought me to this quaint hamlet in search of fame and fortune. But mostly fortune. and gives Lazaret a knowing wink.

Celador glances across the room to see if Zelgor is still present in hopes of getting a chance to talk with him.

Talking to Lazaret:

And you my friend? I couldn't help but overhear your tales of cunning and courage on the high seas. Certainly this pond of a lake isn't what brings you this far north?

Celador returns his eye to Thorfire -i'll be sure to have him sitting where I can see him-

Come my halfling friend, Thorfire was it? Have a seat indeed and tell us your tales!

Celador pulls the chair next to him from the table and gestures Thorfire to take a seat.

In reply to Celador Qiris (msg # 72):

No. Not the lake. The mountains above them. I've heard tales of shear rock faces a thousand feet tall. Peaks where one can stand and see all the oceans of the world. Snow. Waterfalls. Treasure under the ground.

The sea held my interest for some time, but new adventure is what I yearn for.

With the fracas concluded and Lazaret back inside, the party makes its introductions and the tension subsides somewhat, although Celador senses the crowd has cooled off considerably toward the tabaxi specifically and four the of them in a more general sense.

The elf's request for another round goes unfulfilled. Mattis is temporarily indisposed, helping Samuel patch together the two thugs who lie bleeding on the floor. Her earlier bashful innocence is now dimmed by the recent memory of swords biting flesh and lives lost (or nearly so, at least).

For his part, Samuel applies bandages and directs nearby patrons, telling one to fetch his medicine kit from behind the bar and another to bring over a bottle of the strongest stuff he can find. Onlookers obscure a direct line of sight to the situation, making it hard for the newly acquainted party to tell whether or not the barkeeper will be successful in his efforts to hold death at bay.


22:29, Today: DM, on behalf of Samuel Fletcher, rolled 21 using 1d20+3.  Administer first aid, goon 1.
22:29, Today: DM, on behalf of Samuel Fletcher, rolled 14 using 1d20+3.  Administer first aid, goon 2.

This message was last edited by the GM at 05:36, Fri 24 Mar 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 74):

To his friends,

We'll never get a drink with those two on the floor.

Lazaret gets up and walks over to the unconscious goons.

Be careful who you do business for in the future.

He casts "Cure Wounds" on each of them.

No hard feelings, I'm sure.

He returns to his friends at the table.

08:58, Today: Lazaret rolled 7 using 1d8+3.
08:58, Today: Lazaret rolled 4 using 1d8+3.  Cure Wounds.

Celador is impressed with the compassion of his new friend

A poet, a storyteller, a keen blade, AND a humanitarian. Well, you are quite the Jack-of-all-trades

Hopefully there are no hard feelings and another round!

He raises his voice a bit to catch the attention of the barkeep then lowers it as he consults his new friends

So, adventure in the mountains and possibilities for employment. I am all ears shall we say. Ha ha, stale elven joke, I know.

As an assassin...Thorfire is not used to seeing one of his "kills" healed, it's bad for business after all, especially just to get a drink. He thinks again What is with this damn cat?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:02, Fri 24 Mar 2017.

Thorfire joins the elf and cat at the table.  Before the fun distraction with the goons, I was talking to Hyacinth Moonstone, the sobbing woman over there.  Her son is Kevril, you may recall he is currently in the dungeon waiting for the hangman.  As all mothers do, she thinks her son is innocent (or at least not a killer).  For some coin, I have offered to look into the matter and see what really happened.  I could use some sturdy fellows that are as quick with a blade as I am to help with this endeavor.  Are you interested? Or do you have other ideas of adventure that could lead to even more fortune?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:14, Fri 24 Mar 2017.

In reply to Thorfire Shortankard (msg # 78):

I'm sure to be more sturdy after another drink and a good night's sleep.

Offering the halfling his paw.

Fire Star of the Lazaret at your service!

What do you know of this boy, Kevril? My friends over there feel he is a fool and will soon get what he's got coming to him. Perhaps we should also see what my gnomish friend over, where did he go? Hard to pick the little fellow out amongst all these dwarves and chairs and such...

As Lazaret approaches the fallen goons, there is some confusion among the onlookers. A few are concerned that the tabaxi is returning to finish the job he started. Samuel, however, is less concerned, somehow knowing Lazaret's intent.

The healing is quick and unceremonious, but effective. Once completed, the barkeep gives Lazaret a quick nod of approval, his stern face acknowledging the effort.

For their part, the thugs are confused, but slowly work their way to their feet. When one reaches for his blade, which still lies nearby on the wooden floor, Samuel speaks. "I'd leave that where it is if I were you. You've narrowly escaped tonight with your life. The next time I doubt you'll be so lucky."

Both thugs leave unarmed and Samuel returns to his place behind the bar.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:22, Sat 25 Mar 2017.

A few moments after the fallen-but-revived goons depart, Mattis appears at the table with a tray full of ales.

"I...these..." she starts, still affected by the earlier conflict. "Samuel said to bring you drinks, but told me to tell you they are not free. 12 copper."

Nervously, she places four mugs on the table and hopes that the four combatants offer no trouble. "I'm really sorry about those men earlier. Very closed minded. I mean, sure, it's been a long while since we've even seen an elf or a Halfling in Westbank, let alone a..." She looks back and forth between Therarak and Lazaret, unsure of the race of either of them. "Well, they were very closed minded and they offered you little choice. For that I'm sorry."



OOC: I'll leave the thread open for you to complete introductions and decide what to do next. Tovar is still in the tavern, as is Hyacinth and a handful of other patrons. Zelgor, however, is no longer there. Nobody noticed him departing, however at some point he must have left.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:25, Sat 25 Mar 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 81):

The little man outside was about to pay for all this. Too bad he left so suddenly.

Lazaret hands Mattis two silver pieces.

To new friends and new adventures!

In reply to DM (msg # 81):

Well met friends. My name is Therarak Gemfinder. I have come to this strange new land seeking adventure. You all posses impressive skills and no shortage of bravery. I am impressed.

Looking at Lazaret.

Here loquacious cat. Take this. It might taste as good as an ale, but it has restorative properties and I see that you are injured.

Therarak hands him a potion of healing.

17:18, Today: Therarak Gemfinder rolled 3 using 1d8. Healing.

Upon Lazaret's consuming the potion. He now turns to Celador and hands him on as well.

Greetings Elf. May this soothe your wounds.

17:20, Today: Therarak Gemfinder rolled 2 using 1d8. Healing.

I can make as many as I like as long as only 1 exists at a time. Also, no one creature can consume more than 1 per long rest. Sorry for the low rolls.

In reply to Therarak Gemfinder (msg # 83):

Your potion feels wonderful. I thank you. The taste though. Hmm. No matter though.

You are a gnome, yes? I knew a pair of gnomes, twins actually. They ran a small novelty shop in a port town called Whitecap. Curious pair. Mirror twins they called them. One did everything with his right hand the other with his left. Tom and Mot they called themselves. Built the most amazing mechanical toys. So many moving parts and shiny bits. I could peruse their goods for hours at a time.

One day, the second time we set anchor in Whitecap, I was in their establishment setting up about two dozen wind up knights to simulate a great battle. Tom, he was the less friendly of the two, had been eyeing me for about five hours. I assured him that I was going to purchase one or more of his items, but he did not quite believe me. Well, he started yelling and yelling and pulled a mace out from under his work bench and I had no choice but the run the hell out of there. I must have sprinted for a good five minutes, darting up and down any alley I could find to escape Tom's pursuit. Finally I was exhausted and found myself up on a rooftop. To my surprise and embarrassment I found two of those toy knights in my hands. Well I could hardly go back to their shop to explain the mix up so I kept them. Next time I set foot in Whitecap I shall have to return them - hopefully Mot is working at the front of the store.

I've always had a bit of a fondness for gnomes though.

So how did you come to a place like this?

With another round of drinks at hand and healing provided to those in need, a bit of festivity returns to the evening.

The four assembled at the table learn a few things in their time spent at the tavern. The "small man" goes by the name of Morlough Merris. He is a merchant from the south with fairly regular stops in Westbank. The goons who broke into the bar earlier and then left with their tails between their legs are locals from the docks. They also learn from Mattis that they comprise the only elf, halfling, tabaxi, and deep gnome in town.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:43, Sun 26 Mar 2017.

After a time, the sobbing woman approaches the table. "Ah, excuse me, fine sirs. I haven't met all of you but I have met one of you and he, the halfling there, mentioned earlier that you might be willing to help my son, who is a good boy that has run afoul of Sister Gwendelon and is sentenced to hang and while I respect the decisions of the good sister, I can't help but think she has gotten this one decision wrong. If perhaps someone could look into the matter, perhaps you could find out what and why and perhaps there is a chance you could change her mind."

She finally stops for a breath and through tear-reddened eyes looks hopefully between the four assembled at the table.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:46, Sun 26 Mar 2017.

In reply to Hyacinth Moonstone (msg # 87):

Standing.

My lady. I am Fire Star of the Lazaret. Tonight we have all seen how quick this town is to rush to judgement. Perhaps if you can tell us where to find the men he was with when the trouble began we can offer some course of remedy.

"The men he was with?" Hyacinth bites her lip. "Well I'm afraid those men have, if you can believe my son, which you can because I don't believe he's told a lie in his entire life. Well except for maybe something little if you know what I mean. A fib about his sister stealing carrots when it was really him. Things like that, but nothing so terrible as to hang for. Where was I? " She sniffles while wiping a tear from her face. "If you can believe my son, the men he was with have all gone to a better place... or maybe a worse place, depending on who they've served while here on earth. They've died. Or more properly speaking they've been killed."

She begins to sob heavily. "I'm afraid that's all I know. You'll have to speak to him yourself. Sister Gwendelon will surely allow that much, won't she?"

So your son's "associates" have been killed. When we spoke a while ago, you said your son and his partners were trying to steal some coin from a hooded man.  Is the hooded man dead too?

"Oh no, I don't think the hooded man is dead because if he was my dear son wouldn't have come back to town with his warning and then been arrested because of his association with those bad apples who are no longer among the living because my son says the hooded man killed them." Hyacinth shakes her head and wails. "Oh my dear boy Kevril why did you join up with those good for nothing thieves when you could have been so much more? Why why why?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know any more. He was so frantic when he spoke to me. Then he went to the constable to warn her and she locked him away because of those rotten apples." the anguished mother again breaks down, but eventually catches her breath and looks Thorfire in the eye with an uncharacteristic clarity.

"You must talk to Kevril. We all appreciate what the Good Sister's done for our fair little village, but this time she's got it all wrong. My boy isn't the problem. She needs to listen to him. Somebody needs to listen to him. She needs to know about the hooded man. Oh that cursed hooded man."

To Therarak:

Why thank you, I do think this will help every bit as much as this ale

Takes a the potion in one gulp, grimaces, but suddenly feels better.

To Hyacinth:

My dear poor lady, it sounds as if you son needs our help. Where do we find good Sister Gwendelon and your son? No doubt she is a reasonable person and we can convince her to let us find out what is going on.

To himself:

-very suspicious all this happening just as that dodgy halfling shows up. I'll keep my eye on him...I wonder where Mattis has gone off to? I sure could use a bit of mutton, I'm famished!-

"Oh Pelor bless you, kind sir," Hyacinth praises. "I know you can help him. He's locked below the Constable's building on the north side of the park. He's a good boy. He just fell in with some rotten apples but he's not even with them any more on account of the apples aren't even alive anymore on account of the hooded -"

She stops to catch herself and takes a deep breath. Temporarily composed, she holds out a small pouch to Celador. "Here. This isn't much but it's everything I have. For whatever use it may serve in saving my dear son. It isn't enough, but thank you."

Finally, she turns to Thorfire and grabs his hand and shakes it vigorously. "And you, good sir, you were the first to offer your help. You are a greater man than those twice your size who heard my pleas and walked away and I thank you for your bravery and your charity, good sir." Her praise and hand shaking continues for a somewhat comic, somewhat pathetic length of time. "Thank you good sir from the bottom of this thankful mother's thankful heart!"


OOC: Map of Westbank (including location of the Constable's Office/dungeon with respect to the Trollip and Troll) is now available under the game map. See my last post in the OOC Thread for directions on how to pull it up.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:16, Mon 27 Mar 2017.

Gentlemen. I believe our course of action is set. We must help this poor woman and her son. Off to the constable's office.

To Celador:

You may want to get that mutton to go...

Whispering:

Or I can check in back and see where they keep it. I could use a bite myself.

To the others quietly:

I'm sure there is enough coin to go around in that pouch. If not I am actually more interested in items than gold. Perhaps the first and most shiny thing we come across will make it's way into my hands...

Lazaret stands and takes Hyacinth's hand.

Miss Moonstone, please return to your home and rest assured that Fire Star of the Lazaret and my newfound friend will do all we can to help your son. But, please, lock your door tight and only answer if there are five knocks, a pause, and then three more knocks.

Lazaret nods to his companions and moves toward the front door.

-did I say that out loud, or can that cat read my mind...?-

"Yes! Justice and honor first! Treasure will follow our great deeds. To the constable!"

Celador gets up to leave, but first throws a glance in Mattis' direction and when she makes eye contact, gestures to tip his hat toward her.

"Five knocks and then three," Hyacinth responds to Lazaert with a nod. "I will remember."

"Oh bless you each and every one of you. Thank you so much for your assistance. I am eternally grateful to you four. I truly am!"


From across the tavern, Mattis blushes as Celedor tips his hat to her. She responds with a part wave of her hand, part tip of her hat, part admission that she doesn't know what she's doing. Finally she just turns away, glancing over her shoulder one last time before scurrying out of sight.



OOC: This ends chapter 1. Please make new posts in the new Chapter 2: Constable's Office thread. I am assuming you are all headed directly there. If I am mistaken and you want to do something else, please notify me by private message or in the OOC thread and we can figure it out. Otherwise, I'll see you at the constable's office.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:21, Tue 28 Mar 2017.