The gates of Yartar are not too far from where the windmill is. Following the dirt road, which gradually gives way to cobblestone, then a paved street, Moira and Bartimus eventually arrive upon Yartar itself.



Throughout the city a soft wind blows, carrying with it the pungent smell of the riverfish mixds with the bitter tang of metal and the heavy scent of smoke. The sweat and toil of countless laborers is overlayed with the hot musk of various animals and the occasional sweetness of flowers and perfume. Unlike Triboar, Yartar's gates are clearly geared towards business - large arcs to allow for easy traffic, low walls made of thick granite layered with numerous tapestries and flags, each representing a different guild or noblehouse. Even the guards here are considerably spruced up, with heavy splint armor festooned with rich red capes and bright orange plumes upon their helmets. Bartimus waves at the nearest sentry as he approaches, receiving an acknowledging nod and something of a casual salute.

"Sir Bartimus, welcome back! Is the rest of your party...?" the sentry hedges, sounding worried;

"Oh gods no, they're fine," the dragonborn waves, "just cleaning up while I bring evidence to the Waterbaron. The giant has been..." Bartimus pauses, clearly remembering Moira and Ethgar's presence, "handled. These here are Moira and Ethgar - they assisted as with the battle at a timely moment, and bring important news from the West."

"...both of them?" the guard looks...particularly put off by Ethgar, noting his clear tattoos and rugged appearance, "if they're not citizens, they need to pay a to-"

The guard quietens as Bartimus places two silver pieces in his hands, then gestures for Moira and Ethgar to enter.

"Very well Sir. And have a good day. You two uh, Madam. Sir."

DMPC'd

Thoroughly uncomfortable with the walls and stone of the city, Ethgar nonetheless keeps his peace even with the brazen insult by the guard. The Uthgardt meets the sentry's stare head on, only looking away once Bartimus has paid their toll through.

When in the river, swim as the fish. For now, the skald will remain quiet and simply follow the lead of his acquaintances.

OOC: Moira, anything you want to do at the gate, or look out for as you go through the city? Bartimus will take the lead, but I don't want to skip straight to the Waterbaron. Do post if there's anything Moira is specifically looking out for or asking, or even questions at Bartimus himself.

Though the sights and sounds of Yartar rang vaguely familiar to Moira from the times she'd passed through many years prior, they weren't all good ones.  Her time out and about in the world brought with it many experiences.  Memories came to her easily with the smallest of inspirations for better or worse.  Her time in war meant there were often moments when the past would pounce upon her at the smallest provocations.  All it took was a passing scent that could spark up a recollection, a phrase or gesture that echoed an old wound and made it ache anew.

As Sir Bartimus spoke with the gate guards and paid their way, Moira didn't hear a word of it.  Her gaze, normally sharp and attentive, was glassed over at the sight of vibrant dressings and the tall, bright plummage on the soldiers' helmets.  A celebratory decoration in Yartar's case, certainly.  But for the Hin, her ears were filled only with a high pitched ringing, and her mind's eye with blood-red plumes atop helmets marching inevitably forward in long rows...



Moira blinked and, just like that, she was back in the present moment.

The Hin forced a stiff smile for the guard and quickly followed along on Sir Bartimus' heels, all the while with a palm raised to rub at the side of her neck in a habitual manner.  She tried to distract herself by keeping an eye about on her general surroundings but was more unsettled than she preferred to admit... part of her was glad Ethgar was there, both for the reassurance of his presence and the knowledge that he wouldn't be one to judge a moment of weakness like that.  "Y'lot... ah... y'worked here long?  Been hearin' word that th'Waterbaron prefers hirin' teams for th'heavy liftin' rather than havin' a full military standin' 'round.  Ain't been in these parts since well before Lady Ruthiol's charge, m'self." she aimed for small-talk with the Dragonborn as they went along.

Just a general Perception check, I think.  Moira's a bit distracted and wants to focus on the task at hand anyway, so just looking around as they go and seeing what overtly stands out to her works.  I'd rather wait for the rest of the group to be in attendance for anything more specific.

Perception
Moira Ruadh rolled 13 using 1d20+4
This message was last edited by the player at 07:51, Fri 01 Oct 2021.

"Just part of the Watch ma'am," the guard gives Moira a friendly nod, "mercenaries like Sir Bartimus here handle the monsters, we handle the people. Have a good day."

---

Indeed, as a city Yartar is very different from Triboar. While Triboar was clearly a military town, with organized sections, high walls and a large number of soldiers, Yartar is a sprawling merchant city. The streets are haphazard, with clear stratas between the wealthy and poor. It seems rumors of the port city's sudden rise to wealth are not unfounded - opulent buildings built of imported stone and tile stand next to ramshackle wooden offices that have clearly seen better days. Men and women in expensive carriages drive past dishelved looking street urchins, who gaze at everyone who passes with hungry eyes.

Perception 13: Something about the streets has Moira uneasy. Though her glances are casual, the rogue easily picks up a number of marks in Thieves Cant near the alleys and streets. Standard terroritory marks, mixed with other Cant that is clearly in some sort of code. The work of the local Thieves Guild certainly. But something seems off...

History or Investigation check from Moira for more info. If you want to divert Bartimus to take a closer look you may. This lowers the DC but risks drawing attention.

The further Bartimus leads the three of you into the city though, the fewer old buildings one sees, and the cleaner and more elaborate the houses appear to be. Watchmen in polished armor can be seen, each patrol bearing the sigils of different nobility upon their shields. Clock towers and manors grow higher and fatter as if trying to outgrow each other in size and splendor.

When you finally arrive at the Waterbarons' manor, it is almost a disappointment. An ancient looking manor with high gilded fences and what looks like an enchanted water-fountain on the main path. At least six carriages of varying design, all gaudy, are lined up besides the gates. Guardsmen in elaborate cloaks and armor greet Bartimus as you approach, opening a smaller side gate to allow you through. From there, a maidservant leads you through the oaken doors into a side room, where you are to await the Waterbaron's summons.

The guest room isn't very large, a fact not helped by the rather excessive amount of decor added to the walls. Landscapes, vases and a ridiculously wide set of knightly armor squeeze together with a very plush, very red couch.

"...its all a bit over the top, if you ask me," Bartimus adds after the maidservant has left.

Under better circumstances the overall presence about Yartar would've been both a relief and an enticing one for someone like Moira.  The open markets and abundance of passer-through appealed to her sensibilities as a merchant, but in light of everything that had happened at Triboar, Red Larch, and Amphail, she could only see things through the view of a soldier.  Too few defenses, too much access... if the Fire Giants or the Orc army diverted toward Yartar, it would be a ready disaster.

"Just a moment." she prompted the Dragonborn to at least slow his stride as she traipsed off rather spontaneously.  A number of particular symbols etched along the corners had caught her eye and bothered her memory, but there was another matter at hand as well.  The Hin diverted off toward the end of an alley where a handful of urchins loitered and where a few such marks were set in the nearby walls, though she offered a warm smile and open-handed gesture lest they think she was about to run them off like so many others would.

"Waukeen smile on y'lot, loves." Moira offered a word of blessing for the younglings and, in what was likely a more substantial gesture to their tastes, motioned for their hands.  The first to accept her invitation had a silver coin pressed to their palm and so too did the rest were they to follow in suit.  Though as she did so, Moira tilted her wrist just so that the hilt of one of her concealed daggers strapped to the inside of her forearm was momentarily in view...

With that charitable effort done Moira returned to catch up with Sir Bartimus and fall back in pace once more.

Stealth to mask checking out the symbols
Moira Ruadh rolled 16 using 1d20+9

History/Investigation (Same modifier of 0)
Moira Ruadh rolled 6 using 1d20

Moira will give the Urchins 1 SP each (however many there are). 

---

The Waterbaron's manor and the surrounding neighborhood made Moira feel exhausted just by looking at it.  All the different heraldry of various noble houses, all the fancy wagons lined up indicating that their owners were surely at the manor as well... ugh.  All the same, she inwardly offered a word of thanks to Yondalla for the luck of meeting with Sir Bartimus; all that security would've made it an utter pain to try and get in purely on a walk-up, even with credentials from Triboar.  Hell, maybe even because of her credentials from Triboar, if there really was a genuine beef between the two cities.

"Perhaps, but it's what it is.  Gotta adapt t'what y'got handed." Moira passingly agreed with Sir Bartimus' sentiment as she withdrew a stout wand from within her sleeve.  If the road dust hadn't been bad enough, she was an absolute mess from the brief foray amid Mud Mephits; a quick flick of her cleaning wand purged away all the filth to leave her clean and laundered on the spot.  She waggled the wand Sir Bartimus' way as well in an offering gesture since he was surely even worse off given the amount of mud and blood he'd accrued in the battle.  Ready to be used if he accepted, but she wasn't about to use a magic item on someone without their permission first.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:49, Wed 06 Oct 2021.

The urchins (both girls, you notice) take the coin and scatter. As one of the leaves, she appears to trip on the cobblestone before catching herself. Turning back, she shoots Moira a sheepish grin, a four-fingered wave, then scoots off as well.


History 6: Moira recalls that the dominant gang and thus, leader of the local Thieves Guild in Yartar is an all-women group known as the Hand of Yartar. They supposedly specialized in information, bulgary and theft, though this knowledge is pretty out of date (almost a decade or so), so many things could have changed.

---

Bartimus mostly grunts in assent, fidgeting somewhat impatiently on the couch while the sack and its gruesome contents sit quietly on the carpet. Perhaps it is the words Moira said earlier, but its clear the dragonborn wants to get this over as soon as possible.

After about thirty minutes of waiting, the same maidservant returns.

"The Waterbaron will see you now."

The woman leads the three of you up a grand staircase, carved of fine wood and covered in fine carpeting. Down a long corridor lined with portraits of various past Waterbarons, each bearing an increasingly more expensive and elaborate frame. Past a small, half-open room that smells heavily of alcohol. And finally stopping before an set of gilded, wooden doors engraved with fascimiles of waves and mermaids.

The maidservant knocks, three times, then steps aside.

"Enter," a womans' voice commands.

A flick of the wrist was all it took to get Sir Bartimus presentable again before the wand was promptly stowed away.  Only one use left for the day, so best she save it for a good reason... smudges left on the carpet and sofa would just have to fall to the manor staff to handle.  While they waited, she made idle small talk; mostly just sharing where their group had been up along the coast and the state of towns they'd passed through.

When the time came for their meeting, Moira followed close at the Dragonborn's heels with a deft hop up three steps of the staircase at a time just to keep pace.  She gave each of the passing portraits an equally passing look but, after the call to enter came, deferred to Sir Bartimus to take the lead.  It was his duty to report that was the priority, after all... and she didn't really want to put him in a bad spot by leaving him stood there awkwardly amid her own news to come.  Though she did at least push open the door ahead for him given the grim load he had to bear over his shoulder at the same time.

History on the various portraits and their Waterbarons, just because.
Moira Ruadh rolled 4 using 1d20
Pfft.  Yep, those are paintings alright.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:32, Wed 06 Oct 2021.

The door slides smoothly open, revealing a large ornate office bedecked from floor to ceiling with expensive furniture. Carpets, rugs, tapesties, statues, plush pillows, glass chandliers...the works. If one took the offices of three seperate, moderately wealthy nobles and crammed them together into a single room, this is how it would look like.

Behind an enormous wooden desk is a curvaceous woman in a deep blue dress, light makeup and heavy blond ringlets in her hair. In contrast to the expensive decor, her accesories are light, consisting of a small emerald brooch, a silver bracer, and three golden rings. What seems to be an ornately carved glass vase the same height as Moira squats nearby, a long pipe extending out from it into a delicate flute held in her left hand. Plumes of pinkish smoke fill the chamber with a sweet, heavy scent.

Seated before the desk are a pair of elderly nobles - one a squat fat dwavern man dressed in a plush blue vest with dark purple pants, at least three rings per finger, and an enormous powdered, frilled collar around his neck. Besides him is a middle-aged, greying woman with a long green and gold dress, heavy makeup, and a delicate ruby fan.

"Ah, Sir Bartimus," the woman behind the desk- the Waterbaron, takes a slow puff of the smoke as she smiles at the dragonborn, "how expeditious of you, to have dealt with the giant problem within a scant few hours."

"Waterbaron Ruthiol," Bartimus salutes the woman, "the Stone Giant at the windmill has been slain. I have brought her head, as proof."

"Wonderful," the Waterbaron sighs, gaze turning to Moira, "and who is this?"

It wasn't often any space intended for Tall Folk could ever make Moira feel claustrophobic, but the wealth-laden office certainly did the trick.  Plenty of glitz and glamor, but little in the way of common sense... not exactly a promising notion.  Still, she wasn't there to judge; she had a simple job to do and she intended to do it.

As Sir Bartimus didn't rise to introduce her at the Waterbaron's prompting, the diminutive Hin drew herself up primly in salute.  Namely, the common salute of Triboar's officers.  "Captain Ruadh of Triboar's Eighth Division.  Deliverin' word from Lord Protector Shendrel for y'concern, Waterbaron."  Best to get that particular cat out of the bag right away.  She continued briskly before a word could be set edgewise.  "M'fellow knights happened on Sir Bartimus' crew and helped 'em settle th'fight, though m'scholar's identified some dangerous magic th'Giant's left in place what needs handlin' still.  Both our teams are still keepin' watch on th'site, but further work there naturally falls t'your will."

Insight - Reading the room for reactions
Moira Ruadh rolled 7 using 1d20+4

Insight 7: The two nobles are a little tense, though whether its from your introduction or something else, its hard to tell. The Waterbaron, Lady Ruthiol, seems completely as ease and relaxed. Perhaps a little too relaxed.

A soft chuckle of amusement escapes the Waterbarons' lips as Moira introduces herself. The other two nobles, perhaps a little stunned by the Hins' introduction, swiftly follow suit;

"...hehe, I was wondering when dear Daratha would come around," Waterbaron Ruthiol slowly leans back on her plush chair, arms folded daintly below her chest, "how kind of you to lend aid. Speaking of which, how was the situation at the windmill, Sir Bartimus?"

"...the battle was hard fought, but the Stone Giant was eliminated with minimal casualities," Bartimus salutes, looking straight ahead as he speaks, "I believe that without the aid of Captain Ruadh and her knights, we would not have had nearly the same degree of success. If you require proof-" he holds up the sack;

"Oh nonono, no need to show that ghastly thing here," the Waterbaron tuts, dismissing the motion from Bartimus, "I'm sure everyone here is aware that a man of honor like yourself would never lie to a lady. Is the windmill intact?"

"...mostly, yes. The earth around is churned and there is the matter of the leftover magic but-"

"Wonderful! Simply wonderful," the Waterbaron claps, "are you not assured, Lord Crespin?"

The bulbuous dwavern man sweats a little and nods;

"-y-yes your Ladyship. My sincerest thanks to Sir Bartimus and uh, Captain Moira for their help," the man turns and gives the dragonborn a clumsy nod, "I retract my previous objections. Yartar was right to hire your crew, Sir Bartimus."

"Indeed!" the Waterbaron smiles again, though there is something...predatory about the look in her eyes, "which brings us the next point of business-" her gaze moves over to Moira, "you may proceed with Daratha's message now, Captain. Unless its contents are...what do they say...'for my ears only'?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:09, Sat 09 Oct 2021.

Though the Waterbaron saw fit to flounce past the matter of the windmill, Moira remained stoutly on topic.  As soon as the motion to speak returned to her, she offered a curt smile and set right back to it.  "Th'windmill's damaged and in need of repairs 'fore it'll be operational again.  More pressin' is th'monolith th'Stone Giant built from its pieces.  It needs t'be deactivated properly and immediately; 'til it is, th'threat th'Giant posed ain't gone." she gestured up to Sir Bartimus at her side.  "Our folk are spearheadin' th'task, but require aid of tools and stonemasons t'handle it proper.  As it's a matter of public safety, I'm certain y'would care t'handle recrutin' necessary skilled hands, Waterbaron?  Th'sooner we have proper aid, th'sooner we can resolve this matter for ya'."

There was no mention of haggling for a fee or partitioning out whatever payment Sir Bartimus' team had set for them, as Moira had no interest in muddying the situation with finances.  When coin was involved, people compromised on things they often should not have.  Thus her approach and tone remained expectant; not that she was asking the Waterbaron for such coverage or trying to wheedle a deal, but rather that she was stating a common-sense expectation to be fulfilled.

"As for th'Lord Protector's message; I've no explicit orders t'secrecy and this'll be a matter of public knowledge sooner than later." the Hin clarified.  She waited a moment to see if either of the presumed nobility or Sir Bartimus would want to leave just in case, then continued.  "This is in regards t'th'recent Giant activity throughout th'region.  Giant attacks and resultin' Uthgardt activity in response have been escalatin' as far south as Nightstone, leadin' t'increased danger and casualties among th'citizenry.  M'knights have personally addressed Giant and Lycanthropic Uthgardt threats in Amphail, Red Larch, and outside both Waterdeep and Westbridge.  Triboar itself was attacked by a pair of Fire Giants in lead of an army of Orcs, who've moved northeast over th'past days and bein' pursued by Triboar's forces.  I've personally seen th'Fire Giant's trail near this territory; we've reason t'believe they may be headed towards th'Evermoors, but Yartar may be in danger by proximity."  There was much to cover but Moira felt the need to reduce things down as succinctly as possible, both for the sake of clarity and the Waterbaron's attention span.  "M'knights have carried word t'major cities and towns up th'coast, and will continue t'do so after Yartar.  Th'Lords of Waterdeep have been alerted and Lord Protector Shendrel has already called for action from th'Lords' Alliance.  Consider this y'official notice t'join th'rally."

What's the Waterbaron smoking?
Moira Ruadh rolled 5 using 1d20

Not sure what that would really be to recognize a substance.  Perception, Medicine, Nature...?
If Perception: 9
If Medicine: 6
If Nature: 5

Just gonna keep getting all these low rolls out of the way, hopefully...
This message was last edited by the player at 05:18, Sat 09 Oct 2021.

"A Lordsmoot? Really?" Moira's message gets a raised eyebrow from the Waterbaron, and soft tittering from the pair of nobles, "how...exciting. Yartar has been doing quite well despite recent intrusions, it is surprising to hear that the rest of the Coast is doing...less so. Giants and barbarians, oh my~" Lady Ruthiol's gaze lingers on Ethgar for a few seconds, then turns back to the two knights;

"Well! Consider your message received then, Captain Moira," with a lazy wave of her hand, the Waterbaron turns back to the dragonborn, "Sir Bartimus, perhaps we might have another job for your crew after this. Why don't you speak with me sometime tomorrow, after breakfast?"

"...certainly, your Ladyship."

"Wonderful. And is that all?"

That sort of carelessness was about what Moira expected.  The Waterbaron left a remarkably weak impression on her sensibilities and she was once more glad to have managed the meeting alone; she had the distinct feeling Thente or U'lin would've leaped to scolding by that point.  But it wasn't their, or her, place to do it.  No, best leave the Waterbaron to be shown where she stood by the other Lords when their meeting came to call...



"Y'orders regardin' th'necessary stonemasons, Waterbaron?" Moira curtly prompted.  "Surely there's a local guild or public workforce what could be set t'th'task?  We'll be returning t'th'windmill site ourselves, so we could handle deliverin' a written missive from y'desk and escortin' 'em."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:24, Wed 13 Oct 2021.

With a lazy sigh, the Waterbaron simply turns to look at the dwarvern man seated in front of her.

"...?" he blinks, "o-oh! Yes. My men will get down to it-"

"Immediately," drawls the Waterbaron.

"-immediately, your Ladyship," echoes Lord Crespin. As he does so, the lady turns her attention back to Moira;

"My apologies, one forgets that military folk need everything spelled out," Lady Ruthiol sighs languidly, relaxing into her chair, "so now that seems to be settled, I'll ask again- is that all?"

"Seems t'be.  Thank y'for y'time, y'Ladyship.  M'knights and I'll be keepin' in Yartar for a bit yet on our own affairs, but we'd be happy t'make time for y'if there's a matter of need for th'public good."  Though Moira doubted they'd be hearing any such request sent their way.  Not when the Waterbaron had mercenary teams on hand to dole out tasks to.

With that, the Hin gave another brief Triboar salute and turned to leave alongside Sir Bartimus and Ethgar.

With a lazy wave and a sniff, the Waterbaron turns her attention away from Moira. Both Ethgar and after a moments hesitation, Bartimus as well follow the Hin out.

"Well. That settles that. The Crespin House mainly deals with the import of earth and stone, pretty convenient that they happened to be there," the dragonborn comments lightly as a maidservant leads the three of you out, "something you may want to keep in mind though - Yartar doesn't really have Guilds the same way they have back in Waterdeep or Neverwinter. Theres' adventuring parties, the big ones form mercenary companies of sorts, but businesses are largely split between the noble families."

The three of you are briskly led to the backdoor, where the gatekeeper nonchantly opens and shuts the egress with barely a second glance.

"Well! Best head back then. Perform this burial...handle the monolith...do you folks want to bring your wagons into town first? From what the wizards were saying before we left, dismantling could take a while," Sir Bartimus sighs.

"No guild presence... feh.  Honestly, I leave Yartar for fourty years and everythin' goes upended by th'time I get back."  Moira had quite a few strong opinions when it came to matters of economics but thankfully didn't subject the Dragonborn to her rambles.  But a lack of proper guild representation always led to monopolies and undercutting; great for shuffling wealth into specific coffers and bad for everyone stuck paying the bill.

Once back outside proper, the Hin could only shrug helplessly on the prospect of further plans.  "Best ask 'em and see how far they've gotten so far.  Knowin' m'lot, half of 'em ain't gonna so much as blink 'til their duty's done whereas th'other half's gonna want t'hit th'marketplace first thing.  Our Firbolg loves bargain shoppin' for scraps t'fiddle with... y'know he got himself hit by lightnin' once repairin' some busted enchanted hammer he bought?  On purpose, even!" she gave an off-handed glance around the streets just to scope out the area, seemingly on reflex.  "Gonna have t'come in sooner or later though.  Normally I'm cookin' for th'lot and I'd offer y'group a proper meal as well, 'cept we're full outta supplies after our last stop.  But if y'can suggest a good inn what'll house and feed us, I'd be much obliged.

...and, well, I'm sorry for droppin' th'whole military rank on y'by surprise back there.  Didn't mean t'keep y'in th'dark, but we got reason t'keep our titles quiet, y'know?"

Perception - head on swivel, keeping an eye out just in case
Moira Ruadh rolled 13 using 1d20+4

"I figured as much," the dragonborn chuckles, "not the entire group- but that Claire girl and you have clearly been in the soldiery. Wasn't expecting Triboar though- everyone says the Lord Protector loathes to employ adventurers."

As you walk, Sir Bartimus seems to be taking a bit of a detour, pointing out buildings as you go, perhaps in response to Moira's question about lodging;

"So this here's West River Street, it's one of the main roads for foot traffic. You can hit the market district that way, and if you're looking for cheap inns you can't really go wrong with Pilgrims Corner. Lots of old small inns and houses there. If someplace fanciers in your budget, say two silver a night, there's the Great Hall. It's a big two story building two streets down from the Temple to Tymora.Sponsored by them too, according to the rumors. Mostly caters to adventurers, so it can be a bit noisy. Rooms are small. But the meads good and the floors clean."

"Takes after her father, rest his soul." Mention of Claire brought a fond smile and a quick gesture of reverence to Kelemvor for her late father.  "As for Triboar... well, we gave th'Lord Protector quite a few good reasons t'make exception.  Helps we ain't adventurers.  Not like y'band; wasn't lyin' when I said we're a mixed bag before."  Though it was something she said often, there was a trace in Moira's tone that made it seems like she was telling herself that more than Sir Bartimus.

The shift to give a bit of a tour was appreciated and Moira took keen recollection of whatever they went by, already intent on building a mental map along the way.  "Honestly a bit more worried 'bout security than anythin' right now.  Plenty used t'sleepin' in m'wagon with one eye open for guardin' wares, but I'd rather be able t'park where I won't have t'worry 'bout folk pokin' in where they ain't wanted." she clarified.  "Heard there were some temples planted here as well in recent years?  We've rather pious folk in m'company, so d'ya know where th'prayer district's set?"

"Ah, it -used- to be Pilgrims Corner!" Bartimus nods, empathetically nodding at Moira's own stories of traveling on the road, "many of the inns there are actually shrines to various gods that opened their beds to the general public. Now though, the prayer districts reformed around the Happy Hall - the Temple of Tymora - over on Fountain Road. There is a small shrine to Umberlee that the local fishermen visit, and a larger one to Chauntea that sprung up recently."

As the three of you wander through the streets, you eventually pass back through the gates. One of the guards there nods as you pass, recognizing Bartimus, though they continue to give Ethgar the side-eye.

OOC: If Moira has no further questions, feel free to merge back into the main IC thread. Or ask them anyway as you do.

[From On the Road]

Once in the city itself, navigation is straightforward. The streets are helpfully labeled with signs in both Common and Dwarvish script at major intersections, and despite the late hour there are plenty of lights and activity throughout Yartar. Dancing performers caurouse with red-faced dock-workers and cheering craftsmen, the music of the festival filling the streets. Numerous stands and wagons are stacked along all the major streets, some open, others still half-setting up. The atmosphere within the port city is festive despite the dangers outside, its people fat and content - so long as you don't look too close into the alleyways.

There, beggars and urchins gaze hungrily at the scenes along the main streets. A few beg for coins, while bolder ones attempt to flinch food from a cart or coin from a passing noble. The juxtaposition is stark in some places - cheerful bright celebrations right next to the glum darkness of the alleyways, rich merchant houses flanked by abandoned residential buildings.

From the smokey aromas of the festival stalls to the putrid stench of its hidden sewers; from opulent mansions to run-down taverns - through all these different things the cool winds from River Dessarin blow, bringing life to the city and its people.

Welcome to Yartar.

Is the party headed straight to the Happy Hall to rest? Or does anyone want to ask around/participate in some of the late night festivities along the way? There's not much right now since its still warming up, but theres plenty of food and gossip to be had - so long as you have the coin.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:20, Wed 10 Nov 2021.

The long, trundling road up through the main thoroughfare gave Moira a chance to take in the sights from a different perspective.  She'd been keeping a sharper eye on things with Sir Bartimus for the sake of memorizing the routes and noteworthy locations so, without the Dragonborn to guide them, it fell on her to point things out for her group instead.  She gestured here and there to let them know where to find given locations for their shopping needs, indicated where the Waterbaron's manor laid, and the like.

"Y'lot be sure t'keep y'belongings and y'purses close at hand, yea?  There's plenty of pickpockets in any festival, but here especially.  Mind any ladies y'see gettin' too near, youngin's in particular.  There's a criminal group in these parts what employs only ladies for its work." the Hin warned as they drew nearer into the crowds.  Losing money and valuables to thievery was something to be avoided, but lightening one's coffers for better causes wasn't something Moira shied away from.  She handed the reigns over to Ethgar and urged him to steer so that she could shift over in the driver's basket, half-leaned out when a beggar or two inevitably saw fit to wander near in hopes of alms.

Sure enough, outstretched hands in search of charity found it given without hesitation from a Waukeenar.  Just like the urchins she'd favored before, Moira pressed silver coins into needy palms or sharply flicked them through the air to distant unfortunates who couldn't get out to the middle of the road quickly enough.  Along with the kindness came words of blessing; "Thanks t'Our Ladies of Gold and Luck", "Spin y'coin wisely, that ten come back for every one y'spend", "Spare a copper at th'temple of Luck tomorrow, that y'earn Tymora's favor", and the like.  Though she gave without hesitation to any who came honestly in search of succor, the sharp-eyed Hin was quick to whistle and ward away any who tried to get shifty toward the wagons, or those who already got a coin trying to come back around for a second helping.

Perception - Keeping an eye out for sneaks and thieves
Moira Ruadh rolled 5 using 1d20+4 - Halfling Luck Re-roll triggers
Moira Ruadh rolled 23 using 1d20+4

Moira's intention is to get the party settled in at the Happy Hall first; we can get food and do some exploring once the wagons are safely stowed and we have lodgings for the night.

Astride Glory, Claire moved at a steady pace through the crowd, just behind the wagon. "Excuse me, coming through. Pardon me!" It wasn't quite as dense as Waterdeep, but the festival had certainly brought the crowds out. The liveliness of the stalls and aroma of the street food left her optimistic that the planting season had gone reasonably enough so far, but she kept an eye out for signs that anything was amiss with the local economy - the size and quantity of produce, beggars who looked newly destitute, exceptionally scrawny children, the state of repair of the houses they could see.

Perception: 18
00:46, Today: Claire Larkspur rolled 18 using 1d20.

Thente road along on the wagon into the city subdued by the experiences of the day.

His eyes pierced the shadows of the alleyways as they started to pass along and his shoulders sagged as he saw the beggars and urchins tucked back in there with hungry eyes. Without thinking too much, he untied his coin purse and handed it to Moira as she drove the cart slowly through the people.

With a spoken word, ten berries appeared in his palm and he hopped off the wagon and headed over to the nearest urchin he could find. "Happy Hall, I'll see you all there."

When he reached the alley he held out a berry to an urchin until he'd found and handed out all ten of the berries. He made sure each child ate a berry before he left them so that someone didn't steal them out of their small hands, and if any older beggars came near, Thente growled at them and reached for his javelin, lightning playing along its edge as he reached for it.

After he'd handed out all ten berries, Thente turned and passed into the throng of festival goers and asked after the Happy Hall location until he'd found it and caught up to the group. He gathered his coin purse back from Moira when he got there and started to help unload the carts as appropriate.

OOC: Give coin purse to Moira so he doesn't have to deal with pick pockets as he does this, then...
Cast Goodberry and hand them out to ten hungry looking kids, youngest first.

U'lin patted his friend's shoulder at the gesture of kindness to the hungry little folk.  The firbolg's eyes were troubled, and his brow showing tension.  Each example of opulence indifferent to starving folk appeared to bother the firbolg's eyes and heart as much as the smells rankled his nose.

"This place.... " U'lin sighed heavily, but mustered a smile.  He spread his hands wide, half helplessly. "It weighs upon me.

"Going to the fair was so pleasant before when we arrived at Amphail, but this.. I could not enjoy it such, even were there the finest finds and ores.  I will help unload, but.. I think I would like to do some smithing, help, and work out some vexations - oh, but should we take your friend Stoor to where we need to go first?"

The firbolg had scribbled much along their journey, and had many design plans to test, but they required ores from a merchant, and time to craft.  A little mindless helping at a smithy might help his spirits at the sight of the city, however.

U'lin's discomfort with the nature of the city was one of the few times Moira felt she was actually on the same wavelength with him.  Her travels had made her more accustomed to such sights and not so readily disheartened, but it was clear from her efforts that she was by no means jaded to such situations.

"Gotta imagine th'state of th'Coast has made matters a shake more intense than they'd usually be... but this sorta thing's more common than it should be.  Y'woulda seen it in Waterdeep too iff'n we'd spent more time there." she sighed over the pitiful state of affairs.  It was the sort of thing her faith and church sought to resolve, but it was an exponentially growing task...  "Still, don't need t'go frettin' over it durin' th'festivities.  Ain't like it's a celebration only moneyed folk can attend; Highharvestide's for all.  If nothin' else, th'Chaunteans would go bustin' skulls if they caught wind of anyone tryin' t'keep food outta folk's bowls."

A moment of consideration passed her expression as she glanced back into the wagon where Stoor's casket rested.  "'Sides... y'shouldn't miss th'opportunity t'search for wares and supplies.  There'll be more merchants here than we're like t'see for years t'come, and we've got a big mess ahead of us what's gonna need all we can manage t'bring against it." Moira's gaze lifted once more to U'lin, more purposefully in manner then.  "Got a feelin' we're gonna be well-served by y'tinkerin', love, so best stock up.  'Specially when it comes t'ways t'protect ourselves from fire..."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:36, Sun 14 Nov 2021.

It seems word on the street has spread - both Moira and Claire notice a few of the children eyeing the party, some even going closer before being pulled away by their peers. Of course, this doesn't deter the beggars, who see the halfling's outpouring of coin as all the more reason to to approach - grinning with yellowed teeth as they take the silver and flee (some with surprising speed for an apparent 'cripple').

"Blessing's be upon ye traveler!" one elderly woman croaks as she takes the silver from Moira, "and take care to avoid the shadows at night. Some stray dogs wandered in recently, and the local cats are anything but silent. Ain't nothing to bother good honest merchants in the day though."

[Language unknown: "Viris Le. Wasth tio, ie ll fioste."]

Having said that, she winks and heads back into the alleys.

Moira, deduct anywhere between 1-10gp from your pouch, depending on how much you want to give the beggars (about half a dozen would approach over intervals).

---

Meanwhile, Thente - having left the majority of his valuables with Moira - finds himself approached by more and more urchins as he gives out the berries. One older man tries to approach, only to turn away quickly at the sight of Thente's lightning. As the number of berries dwindles and the urchins increase - the remaining few begin to fight for the food; subtly at first, but more brazenly as the berries go down to three, then two.

Five hungry urchins glare at Thente, then at each other. The rest seem to have quietly vanished after getting their berry. (Thente can attempt Perception/Survival + Investigation to get a sense of where they went/how so many of these children keep popping up)

Either way, the sorcerer reunites with the group with little additional trouble.

OOC: Also, Thente can tell he was frisked at least four times throughout. Nothing was actually stolen though, beyond maybe some lint.

---

The Happy Hall certainly lives up to its name - brightly lit even late at night, sounds of laughter and merriment drifting from its two floors. In contrast to the more opulent shops and mansions that have sprung up around it, the Hall itself is a surprisingly modest affair - stone, brick and wood fitted together in a haphazard manner that makes little architectural sense yet somehow does not fall apart.

Even though the festival has not fully started, a few stalls have already been setup next to the temple itself. A rotund half-orc man dispenses massive kegs of beer next to a colorfully painted roulette wheel, while nearby a trio of bards perform an improv skit based on whatever it is the audience calls. Two smaller stalls serve smoked fish, bread and fruit to any who ask, the scent of the fire lending a smokey, salty tinge to the air. From inside the temple itself one can hear the sounds of chatter and music, the creak of strained wood, clanking metal and the occasional crash of something fragile being broken.

Oddly enough, nobody seems to care or look up.

The groups' arrival with the wagon is met with some fanfare - one of the bards (a young gnome woman in purple tights) takes the opportunity to pirouette off the Dream's roof and walls in some sort of imaginary swordfight with her fellow performers. The few young aristocrats and servants browsing the area clap and cheer, more focused on her movements than the eclectic composition of the party driving the wagon.

A young girl - no, a Hin dressed like a young girl complete with blond pigtails and a small yellow smock approaches the lead driver with a springy step, then sighs as she sees Moira driving it;

"...aw. Way to spoil the fun cousin," she groans, crossing her arms and blowing a ridiculously ribboned pigtail out of the way, "do you want the proper welcome speech or the 'proper' welcome speech?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:30, Mon 15 Nov 2021.

"Best leave 'em t'sort themselves; ain't keen on gettin' scratched up.  Keep safe y'self." Moira gave the wizened woman's hand a fond pat as she passed over a bit of coin, then let her on her way.

Might as well go all out since Moira is intentionally being generous; she'll spread out 10 GP in silver pieces, both to the beggars and out to urchins who didn't approach on their own.  She also would've given the elderly woman  a larger share of coins.

---

The sight of the Happy Hall being so lively was a reassuring one, especially given the ride they'd been on up the main road.  Celebration did a Hin's heart well.  It was just a shame Moira knew they weren't truly able to relax just yet though.

"Whichever y'feel's more fun, cousin.  Just know th'lot I'm towin' are tired, fresh off a wake, and very much Human in their sensibilities.  Temper it with that in mind, yea?" she offered a wan but knowing grin down down at the huffy actress.

Something about the night and the sights he saw in the city sharpened his senses. Maybe it was a blessing of some god or other as they saw his deed of generosity to those in need, but his eyes seemed to pierce the shadows and see keener than ever before. He tracked the movements of the children and how many of them showed themselves.

"Please don't fight," he said to the children. "There will be more in coming days..."

OOC: Perception/Survival 25, Investigation 19; two nat 20's... kind of wish this was combat! :D

03:01, Today: Thente rolled 25,19 using 1d20+5,1d20-1.  Perception/Survival, Investigation.

---

When he'd caught up to the others at the Happy Hall, he helped to make the wagons fast and unloaded with U'lin and Claire what needed to be unloaded.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:51, Mon 15 Nov 2021.

"Ah. Proper response then, summarized," the Hin nods, then turns to the nearest member of the party with a grin;

"Welcome to the Happy Hall of Happy Happenstance! Our meeting is most fortuitous, and as they say - everything's a coincidence, nothing happens without chance!"

Between the young acolyte's fingers is a silver coin. A quick flick of the wrist, and that coin becomes three, then five, then eight.

"Seeking fortune or a change of fortune? Seeking chances or something to chance? Such matters are all within the domain of our Lady of Luck," as she speaks, the young Hin begins to juggle the coins, spinning them along her arm from the tips of her knuckles to the joints of her elbow.

"You could donate! You could pray. You could cry or beg or just go your own way. The Lady cares not for what you do- only that you try."

The eight coins run up and down her sleeves in unison, then vanish between her fingers once more.

"Aaaaand this is the point where I'll offer palm readings and recommend facilities and try to figure which one of yous' a suc- generous gentlepersons who wishes to donate their personal fortunes to luck. Ahem. But out of consideration for m'cuz here I'll just skip all that and ask what brings y'all to the Temple at this late hour. We do have lodgings, but none for a full wagon 'n horses - you want the Great Hall for that. Lodgings cost three silver a head by the way," her eyes drift back to Moira - specifically on the symbol around her neck, "though pilgrims of the Coinmaiden get a free spin."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:55, Mon 15 Nov 2021.

At Thente's words, the five children freeze up. A sort of invisible communication seems to pass between them - some mix of body language and gestures that Thente can't quite decipher.

Finally, the three youngest and more frail looking ones go up to the sorcerer and take the berries. The five nod at each other again, then scatter into the alleys.

Watching them leave, Thente can hear the faint scraping of metal against pavement. The man's keen eyes also notice more than one urchin trailing damp footsteps when they approach, or smelling strongly of some sort of moss or soil. A set of underground passageways, ones that might be connected to the sewer system that runs through all of Yartar.

Another thing that Thente notices is an odd smell - a damp musk that seems to follow the urchins to whom he gave out food , that seems to linger and fill the alleyways long after they are gone. Just as the ranger makes to exit the alleyway a faint wind blows, causing the torches on the main street to flicker. The shadows shift, and in the dim light of the dancing flames Thente sees what has been hidden in them all this while:

The gleaming yellow eyes of a dozen mangy rats.

The creatures stare back, frozen, at the woodsman - a strange intelligence in their eyes. The damp musk and odd gestures by urchins suddenly fit - the smell that of wet rat, the urchins body language being oddly rat-like in hindsight. Then the breeze passes and the shadows calm - and the swarm vanishes into the night.

The brief performance was met with a chuckle and passing, polite applause.  In a far more mild echo of the juggler's performance, Moira raised a hand with her palm open, made a quick gesture to snap her fist closed and open again in a blink, and likewise reveal a coin perched between her fingers.  A gleaming gold piece, however, which she promptly flicked over to her fellow Hin.  "I've certainly more t'donate m'self.  Gotta show proper thanks t'Auntie Shala and Uncle Brandobaris come tomorrow.

"We'll take our lodgin' at th'Great Hall, but we're actually lookin' for... ehm..." Moira paused a moment to shuffle her logbook out and thumb through its ledger pages.  "...Sister Vynne Kingshand, s'posed t'be here at th'temple.  Got a delivery of personal effects for her comin' up from th'south.  Wouldn't happen t'know where we might find her, would'ja?"

"The Senior Priestess?" the acolyte wrinkles her nose, then peeks over at the wagon, "we certainly have many deliveries expected over High Harvest but- um. Personal effects. Huh. Do you have a name or details I could give to her? She's pretty busy with the 'front' right now."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:05, Mon 15 Nov 2021.

"Special delivery from a Miss Stoor, comin' up from Nightstone.  Shippin' instructions made it pretty clear this needs t'get t'her sooner than later, else we wouldn't be comin' by this time of night." Moira kept up the professional courier front.  She honestly wasn't positive how many details she could safely reveal in the first place; too many questions, too many sharp ears nearby and unaccounted for.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:15, Mon 15 Nov 2021.

The Hin's face goes flat, then she sighs.

"Stoor? As in Veradda Stoor?" the acolyte takes another breath, then in a softer voice adds, "do you have a letter from her perhaps?"

"Yea."  The shift in the other Halfling's expression and manner said plenty, and Moira continued with a more gentle tone.  "Y'know Miss Stoor as well, then?"  She was cautious to not refer to Stoor in the past-tense; no reason to potentially push a grieving process into motion when they were there to get the woman revived, after all.

The acolyte looks up at Moira, then back down, then back up again as she seems to stare at the merchant Hin's face- or rather forehead - for a few seconds.

"...ah. No, I get it," shaking her head, then turning around while gesturing for the party to follow, "Sister Vynne is going to be so mad. You can park outside the kitchen entrance- I'll get the sister once you're off the streets."

---

Going off the main road and to the back of the temple requires a bit of squeezing through one of the side alleys - revealing a surprisingly large "courtyard" tucked between the temple of the nearby buildings, with a variety of tools, pots, planks and tents pitched around it. A large stew pot sits near a colorful cloth extension of the temple building itself, a makeshift kitchen where two women (one in the bluish garb of Tymora, the other in the green robes of Chauntea) are busy giving out bowls of bubbling soup to any of the homeless that wander over. On the other end, a trio of urchins play with a makeshift set of wooden hoops and goalposts, leaping between stacks of buckets and other obstacles to hurl a sooty-brown ball through a thin metal ring.

"Right. Wait here. I'll get the Senior Priestess," the welcoming acolyte instructs, "don't mind the crowd - we had to move it back once the neighborhood got posh. We'll be out in a minute, be nice!"

The last line seemed to be directed less at the party and more at the urchins playing nearby. The eldest one sticks out her tongue in response- and promptly gets smacked by the ball.

Thente has caught back up to the group at this point and when he sees the three urchins in the area where the group was supposed to wait he looked at them for signs they were like the others he’d noticed as he handed out food.

He chuckled softly when the one who stuck out her tongue was repaid with a ball to the face for her impertinence, it seemed the gods were watching out.

If they were somewhat alone, Thente would motion the others near to hear his whispered words. If there were others too close by he’d keep his words to himself.

Zaiya's acquaintance with Stoor hadn't been the closest--in fact, while she was certainly the one who provided the job offer that subsequently led to her current position, she hadn't really met her directly in some time since then.

So most of this processing to deliver her remains and effects left her feeling like something of a third wheel.

But she knew how to keep quiet, and she had plenty of things she could study in the meantime, it was fine.

The urchin coughs as the ball hits her and immediately dives at the offending thrower. The ball game quickly devolves into a rather elaborate chase, with some surprisingly acrobatic movements from a trio of young children.

The priestess manning the soup kitchen simply shake their head fondly as they spoon out bowls of hot, somewhat watery soup to the very, very hairy looking beggar next to them. Said beggar seems too busy slurping down bowl after bowl of soup to pay attention or comment.

A few minutes later, and a rather tall, burly human woman with frizzy black hair and oddly iridescent blue eyes marches out the back. She wears the pale blue robes of Tymora and carries a very large and very heavy looking mace slung over her left shoulder.

"...right," the priestess marches straight up to the wagon, the Hin acolyte you had met earlier trailing behind. Her eyes flick left and right between members of the party, "show me the delivery. Just a glimpse will do."

While they waited, Moira shifted back into the cover of the wagon to begin the process of uncovering Stoor's coffin.  It was by far the largest item carried and had been dutifully protected by tarp and bindings to ensure it couldn't jostle during the long trip north.  She'd finished just in time to catch sight of the priestess' arrival; for as guarded as she'd been at first, the woman's bearing was one that Moira wouldn't dare waste the time of.

"Name's Moira, Sister.  Professional acquaintance of Miss Stoor, s'posed t'meet up with her in Nightstone.  We've gone through quite a lot t'honor her request t'find ya'." the Hin produced Stoor's letter to the priestess first, then shifted aside to pull back the wagon drape so she could peer past inside to see the coffin.  "Everythin' just as she specified in her letter.  Trust you're th'one t'help her out and set things right, yea?"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:39, Fri 19 Nov 2021.

U'lin wandered over to the priestesses and their cooking, nodding as they handed the fare to those in need - pleasant, but not a patch on Moira's cooking, was the loyal thought.  The arrangement of the tenting brought various thoughts and designs, more efficient winching and stability for the coverings... but it was to the children that U'lin drifted, as his soft heart, tweaked from before, and weak to children, compelled him to them.

Still, he was mindful of his size and armour - although the blue skin could be either off-putting or attracting ... something to discuss with Claire and Moira, hmm?- so he did not approach too closely, and instead perched upon a thick crate, trying to piece together the rules beyond 'just have fun'.

"What is the most important piece of your game, besides the bladder there?  Is the game always designed around the one hoop, or do you need more hoops as there are more players?" he inquired, genuinely curious in his tone.

As the senior priestess attended, U'lin apologized, and stood at easy pace, so as to not startle/interrupt the children's game.  "Ah, it appears my work may be here.  Good luck on your gaming venture.  It was most entertaining."

The firbolg strode back to help lift, or simply provide another presence on what could be a difficult situation.

Thente stood there watching the children, his suspicions kept to himself for now.

When the priestess walked forward and said her piece, Thente nodded and shifted some things around to reveal the shrouded form of Stoor. He reached in and peeled off a part of the covering just to show the face to the priestess.

He felt weird right now... so much time and blood and things had happened to the group as they traveled to deliver Stoor. it felt very odd to be at that place finally. It could also be the emotions of the very long day lingered with him.

Claire dismounted, noting the busy soup kitchen - the faithful here seemed to be doing good work. She would approach them later, or on the morrow.

Standing by Thente, she watched as he uncovered Stoor's face, serene in death. They really were here, come all this way from Nightstone. It was hard to shake the feeling of anticipation.

"Weeeelll there's different hoops 'n difficulties, we usually just make whatever, you can combine hoops together if you like, with lots of people we get two bladders and someone carries a third hoop. Hoop carrying sucks though, since its okay if you get hit but no more than twice," the smallest child begins to explain in an excited voice.

"But like sometimes we try it while blindfolded, and with crates, and without crates but with planks - that ones called Flats. If you don't have a hoop y'can just use a wall but then you need a bouncy bladder, if you don't have a bouncy bladder you can use a flat piece o' wood but it can't have sharp ends my big sis' tried that once and nearly sliced someones ear off there was like blood everywhe-"



The Sister nods as she carefully examines Stoors face. A few seconds pass, and she sighs in relief, lowering the mace.

"Alright. It -is- her. Thank the goddess," the priestess turns to Moira, a genuine smile on her otherwise stern visage, "apologies for that. Vynne Kingshand, Senior Priestess of the Happy Hall of Tymora. Last time this happened Verrada got captured instead and her kidnappers tried to pull a fast one- was a pretty unpleasant experience" she hefts the mace and grins wider, "for the kidnappers, that is."

Putting the fingers of her other hand into her mouth, the sister lets out a shrill whistle. Three more acolytes - two male, one female, all sturdy of build - exit from the backdoor of the temple. At Sister Vynne's signal, the four of them take the casket from the wagon and heft it into their shoulders.

"Would you like to come inside? Least I can do for upstanding folk like yourself is some tea. Got some fancy biscuits too."

Thente just looked to Moira for leadership here, he was out of his depth and comfort zone when it came to things like... people, and cities.

He let the burly acolytes take Stoor's body without any fuss, just started gathering up the different things that were Stoor's to bring them inside with the body so they'd be there when the woman woke up.

The prospect of ne'er-do-wells orchestrating a murder and retrieval for the sake of whatever reward Stoor offered got an incredulous expression from Moira.  Not that she didn't think it'd happened, but that anyone would be stupid enough to try it considering the obvious risks involved.  It was a shame how easily money blinded people.

"Think a bit of a sit would be nice, yea." Moira met Thente's glance and gave a beckoning tilt of her head.  They'd be better served by a good meal and stiff drink but, after spending so long getting Stoor to Yartar, she couldn't imagine not seeing it all the way through.  She set the wagon brake and hopped down with a quick gesture for the rest to follow in suit if they cared to.  "All matters of compensation aside, we've plenty t'talk 'bout with Miss Stoor once she's in proper sorts t'do so.  Got somethin' for her from an associate, word from her sponsor... oh, who's got th'stones?"  She'd fallen into stride alongside the priestess but paused to glance back over at Thente and Claire, uncertain of who was carrying SEER's sending stones of late.  "Best wait 'til after Stoor's back up, but this'll be a report worth callin' in."

The Hin once more moved to keep stride with Kingshand and the acolytes who carried the coffin along into their Hall.  "We ain't exactly co-workers, but we've been followin' up a bit on th'same tasks that brought Stoor t'Nightstone.  Lots t'talk over and catch her up with.  I know revival's a pretty traumatic wake up though... but if she's been through it before, maybe she'll handle it better this time 'round." she couldn't help but shake her head.  "Does she do... this... often?  Seems a pretty wild sorta insurance policy t'have in place, even for a career adventurer."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:08, Sat 20 Nov 2021.

U'lin looked to the others, and the wagons, making certain that someone would watch the wagons and horses, then followed along dutifully, helping Thente with the belongings.

---

OOC: unless, of course, no one remains, in which case U'lin will remain as guardian

"Dying? Not quite," the sister answers bluntly as she leads the party into the back of the temple. More noises echo from the front, sounds of breaking wood and cracking glass.

"But even for an adventurer Veradda's completely bonkers, yes."

The group arrives at what appears to be a large prayer room - though the floor and shelves seem to be covered in all manner of dice, coins and other games of chance. Worn cushions litter the ground, while two halves of a broken table sit on the other end of the room, above which the gleaming smile of Tymora is embedded in a metal plague on the wall itself.

Setting the casket down in the middle, Sister Vynne simply drags over one of the table halves before nonchantly propping it up on the casket itself. Another acolyte fetches pillows, a third grabs a tin of biscuits, while the last one fetches of a pot of tea from someplace in the mess.

"...this is like the third time its happened. We're honestly quite used to it by now," Sister Vynne sighs as she seats herself on the casket side, patting the lid, "at this point most of the clergy's convinced the dear girl's blessed by the Lady. Or cursed, some might say. Stumbles into cults and lost dungeons like a blind man in a glass shop. Relishes the whole thing still," a fond smile drifts over Sister Vynne's lips, "when she does come back alive its always with ridiculous stories. A village of psychic cats. A portal to the feywild where she was forced into a deadly tea party that lasted a month. Barking mad, except then she pulls out  the cat collar made of solid gold, or a bloody teacup with diamonds as sugarcubes."

"Chances are we won't perform the revival ceremony till dawn. You may wish to return in the afternoon to speak with her- death tends to leave one rattled, though the dear girl tries to put on a front everytime."

"That said I suppose you have other questions? And the reward too. There's a checklist somewhere...hmm..."

Thente's eyes boggled at the idea that this would be Stoor's THIRD time being returned from the dead.

Considering how much trouble they were having securing the diamonds for the seventeen dead of Nightstone, it surprised him that she could consistently secure the diamonds for herself or that the temple could ensure they had them on hand. Considering how much trouble the group'd had getting her body up here, he was surprised her body had managed this trick more than this one time intact enough to be restored to life.

But it all seemed commonplace to this priestess. He didn't understand the world, that was obvious.

When the priestess asked for a checklist, Thente said, "we found a letter on her body that mentioned rewards, but nothing specific. All her stuff is here except the loose coin and potions and stuff that we've had to use to get up here." He pointed to the goggles and the haversack that was on Claire's back. "Most of it's all in that fancy bag of hers."

The manner in which the priestess and others handled Stoor's coffin was borderline blasphemous but, while Moira couldn't help but stare with blanched disbelief, she didn't say otherwise.  It felt a lot more as though these folk knew the woman much more intimately to behave in such a manner and for Stoor herself to entrust them with her life... or rather, lives.  All the same, the Hin couldn't help but grimace and rub the side of her choker-clad neck at the chatter over Stoor's misadventures and mishaps prior.

"Collectin' th'reward due would certainly go well, yea.  It sure wasn't no sunny stroll gettin' here in one piece ourselves, let alone totin' her along.  While I can't speak for th'others, I'd like t'be here for th'resurrection as well come mornin'.  We've kept Miss Stoor safe this whole way since Nightstone and I intend t'see it through proper.  I'm sure that Familiar critter of hers'll be glad t'have her back as well." Moira scrutinized the offered nibbles a bit but ultimately didn't partake, in lieu of drawing her ledger once more when Thente chimed in about the recovered belongings.

"Gonna miss some of these trinkets, honest.  Goggles especially - damn things are a mite silly lookin', but they've saved our skin a dozen times over already.  Think she might be convinced t'sell 'em?" she remarked with an idle tap at the side of the magick'd goggles she had set over her bandana.  "Th'particulars mentioned in Stoor's letter as bein' most important t'her are all accounted for, and we've kept her body preserved and primed within a day of... eh, recovery.  Accordin' t'witnesses of th'event, she went down a hero; fightin' Ogres in defense of Nightstone 'til she got sent over th'edge of a ravine.  But all her affairs are intact and present, save for a few bumps they took in th'fall.  Probably th'best circumstances one could be in for this whole arrangement."

Insight, just because
Moira Ruadh rolled 8 using 1d20+4
This message was last edited by the player at 01:18, Fri 26 Nov 2021.

Claire had been aware that Stoor was someone important and well-connected, but was nonetheless astonished at her absolute daring. The amount of wealth she must have! Or perhaps she was too useful to people like SEER to be left for dead. It was impossible to understand how one could be so blase towards death. Well, the more people they could save the better, she figured. Especially if Stoor could help make head or tail of what they ought to do to put this giant madness to an end.

"Aye, she drew off some ogres and goblins who were attacking my hometown. I'm grateful we've been able to bring her this far, we owe her that much for the lives she was able to save." Claire puts Stoor's bag down beside the casket. Its contents were a jumble of items belonging to Stoor and the party, and she tried her best to remember originally belonged to whom. It was a little embarrassing that she wasn't more organized!

"We certainly ought to return in the morning. I'd like to say hi at least, for the first time."

"...haaahhh, that sounds like her alright," the sister sighed, pulling a flask from her pouch and pouring half of it into her cup. Those near catch a whiff of strong alcohol as she does so. A moment of silence passes as the senior priestess stares at the casket with a wistful smile, perhaps trying to imagine the scene herself. Meanwhile, the younger acolytes have largely cleared the room, though one of them quickly returns with a small wooden chest.

"Well. Best get the reward out of the way," she nods, setting down the glass and picking up the list, "body is intact. Lockbox unopened. Letsee...book, goggles, ring. Maps. Yes that looks like everything."

"As customary - I'll offer three things as a reward - Stoor always liked to know what people picked. The first possible choice is gold - one thousand gold pieces for everything. Not in raw coin though, you'll have to take a note to the Riverpearl Bank for it."

"The second option is a service. Three questions you may ask of me and Our Lady of Smiles - the goddess shall answer. Alternatively, if you have sick or injured, the Happy Hall will cure or care for them- that their fortunes may turn around in the future."

"And the last option - well," a small grin sneaks its way onto Vynne's lips, "the last ones a mystery~"

"So there's one option." Moira retorted in a total deadpan.  She had no intent to sound curt, but anyone who dealt with a Waukeenar prior would know they had no love of ambiguity in matters of business.  The offer a mysterious third option with no details might've been an enticing lure for some, but for a career merchant it was a joke at best and an insult at worst.

All temples offered services, guidance, blessings, and communions either out of bare charity or for nominal tithes.  To have that be put up on the table made Moira figure, in the back of her thoughts, about what the odds might be it would've been donations oh-so-conveniently worth one thousand gold pieces.  So when it came down to it, the certainty of hard cash - albeit in the form of a bank voucher - seemed the only reasonable choice.  The Hin offered up a flat, tired look as she pulled the goggles off her brow.  "Sister, I ain't meanin' no offense by bein' an absolute stick in th'mud, but we've had a very long trip gettin' Miss Stoor here.  Risked our lives several times over t'do it.  We've literally just come from a funeral.  Ain't none of us in th'mood for mystery boxes so, if there's a third option on th'table, I'd appreciate y'just be frank 'bout what it is."

Persuasion - Trying to get Vynne to spill the beans
Moira Ruadh rolled 20 using 1d20+6

Thente nodded along with what Moira said though he didn't offer much to what she said, his tired voice did add, "I think we're all curious about the mystery, but there isn't one of us, it's a group of us and we kind of came together for this journey. we haven't spoken of tomorrow or roads beyond that, so a mystery item is probably too complicated for us to think about at the end of a long road full of giants and death to just get here."

OOC: not sure if that would qualify as the "help action" for adv or not, but just in case...

OOC: No dice I'm afraid, this isn't something she would budge on.

"Can't say I'm afraid," Sister Vynne shrugs, "its against my religion. But I understand - long travel and dangerous roads these days. I take it you just want the gold then? Not interested in the whims of fate and fortune?"

The acolyte thumps the chest onto the table and clicks it open. Inside, on top several religious books and letters is a simple promissory note, addressed to the local bank, signed and sealed with the Tymora's symbol and the personal stamp of the temple matron herself.

"The five of you are more then welcome to attend tomorrow - though the actual raising ceremony will be done privately, I'm sure Veradda would love to speak with you after," Vynne takes another sip of alcohol, "For tonight well- if you're staying at the Great Hall, I can also provide a recommendation letter. Should help grease the wheels so to speak, especially at this hour."

"Unclear business terms are against mine." Moira tapped the holy symbol set at her throat with the flat of her thumb.  Of course, it wasn't her place to make the decision unilaterally.  Thente seemed of the same mind as herself, though she looked back to the others with an inquisitive tilt of her head to each in turn.  "How d'th'rest of y'cast y'vote?  Gold?"  Even if it hadn't been U'lin and Zaiya's task in the first place, they had still helped along the way and thus were deserving of equal credit and say in the matter.

"I wasn't there with you at the finding of Ms. Stoor's body, so it's not to my advantage on whatever you choose." U'lin spoke thoughtfully, weighing his words.

"I'd have to agree with Moira.  I wouldn't want to pay for bad ore thinking it was good.  The coin you know can help people, or help you with equipping to better help other people down the road - both good approaches, or a mix of them.

"The unknown... well, it's either better, worse, or no benefit in risking.  That doesn't seem much motivation to try the 'mystery' when you face two loads in three of bad ore, and then even if the third ore is good, it might not be useful to whatever project you're wanting to do.

"If they were offering between coin and more of a specialized goods, like life diamonds, for instance, alternative to coin, then that would be an actual decision, but the pig in poke seems... foolish, at the best.  It might be a different thing at fair games, where nothing was a matter of importance - though my fine cloak was won at such a game, so we've had our blessing that way as well!

"No offence meant to the Lady, of course.  Trying new things is fun, and something Gond encourages... but I'm sure he'd be happier with more crafting over gambling.  Knowing my good-hearted companions, they'd rather see more folk helped or more resources to help along our path than 'maybe's or 'possibly's."

Claire clasped her hands together, waiting for an opportune moment to interject. "I don't mean any offense to the Lady of course, and I'm sure no one means to give any,"Claire began on a diplomatic note. "I'm of a little more of a cautious gambler - unless I've had some drink beforehand - so if we're not allowed to know what the third option is, I'm inclined to go with gold."

"I wouldn't want anyone back home to suffer more because I made a bad bet. The money could do a lot of good."

"We'd be grateful for the letter or any assistance you could provide, Sister. My thanks."

Moira gave a glance back over to the Sister and idly scratched side of her cheek.  "Not tellin's one thing, but y'couldn't at least give a hint?  A riddle, even?  Make a proper gamble of it before we decide?" she suggested with a shrug.

"m'afraid I can't dear," the priestess shrugs, tapping the tip of the casket lightly, "patients orders. There's are more transparent such games of chance and at the fair though. Daily lotteries and such, prizes and probabilities written out for those that think it matters. But I think for Veradda, that daft ol'fruitcake, mystery is part of the allure."

One of the acolytes giggles, even as she hands Vynne a piece of parchment and some ink.

OOC: as I mentioned to Moira in a PM, there's a daily raffle conducted by the temple. Details are available on posters all around the Happy Hall, and are as below:

Blue Raffle (prizes change every night!) - costs 10gp per ticket:
-1st place: Luckstone
-2nd place: Elvish Livewood Longbow and Quiver
-3rd place: Siren's Driftglobe (stores up to three songs!)

Other notable prizes:
- Tickets to the local Theater of Ceniri'del [Language unknown: Tenclome Ceckta]
- Tickets to the Golden Goose Casino Cruise
- Potions (healing and otherwise, up to rare)
- Unusual trinkets and other common magic items (mostly water-themed)

Silver Raffle (prizes change every night, though top three remain the same) - costs 1sp per ticket:
- 1st place: High-Quality custom toolset + lifetime maintenance worth 200gp from The Father's Forge
- 2nd place: A box of rare Chultan spices worth 100gp
- 3rd place: 6 months supply of Saltcoral Ale

Other prizes mostly consist of coupons and discounts for food, games and other local stores/stalls.

If you guys have no further questions for the Sisters, I will move us to the temple and resolve the ticket buying OOC.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:06, Wed 08 Dec 2021.

Thente will hand over coins for a few of the raffle tickets and then nod to the others as they took care of their own raffle tickets.

He handed his batch to Moira, "you can hand mine out with yours if you're going to do that." He leaned in close as he did so and quietly whispered to the halfling woman,

Whispering past, Thente stood up and said more normally, "Anyway, it's time to sleep. Come on, let's get to wherever we're going and sleep. I can hardly keep my eyes open at this point."

OOC: Skipping ahead.

After a few more minutes of idle chatter, Sister Vynne hands Moira a sealed and signed letter from the temple, to be handed to the proprietor of the Great Hall Tavern & Inn. Another blue-robed acolyte sees the five of you out, where Ethgar has been waiting grumpily with the rest of the cart. Most of the playing children have left, save one - the eldest, who seems to alternate between staring at the Uthgardt and asking him a range of questions both innocent and strange.

Despite the night being late, the streets of Yartar are still a bustle of activity - likely due to the festival itself. While not as grand as Waterdeep, its clear that the port city has come far in the last decade, with a rapidly growing population and increasingly expanding walls.

The Great Hall is, as one might expect, quite large. The central hall itself resembles an enormous domed feasting hall shaped like an octagon, built of sturdy lumber and stone. Connected to each side are various tall towers constructed of a variety of materials ranging from brick to clay to marble. At the main entrance, massive oaken doors welcome a medley of travelers and adventurers alike, a number whom shoot curious glances at the party and their oddly decorated wagon. The moment you arrive, a harried-looking human man with a shock of red hair directs you to the rear, where an array of stables and parking spaces await. Another employee, a cheery half-elven woman in a rather risque barmaid's outfit, welcomes the six of you into the Great Hall itself.

"Hello travelers and welcome to the Great Hall of Adventure! Finest establishment in Yartar for travelers, mercenaries and adventurers alike. Whether it be a single nights rest by the fire or a comfortable stay in our top-class lounges, the Great Hall can provide! We have all manner of amneties and services depending on your choice of package, amortized by the number of days, including a special festival-only deal with the temple of Tymora itself! Any resident of our inn participating in the raffle each night may also enter themselves for a chance at a free upgrade to one of our luxury suites!"

The Great Hall of Adventure has a massive range of options. Their facilities include everything from fine meals to massages to luxury scented baths. There is also an underground training facility and sparring ring. It seems that the place aims to cater to all sorts of adventurers, from those just starting out to those who have struck it rich. The prices for some of the luxury accommodation packages easily ranges into tens or even hundreds of gold per night, though judging from the sounds and smells coming from inside, it is likely worth the quality.

The saleswoman in front of you does not have a fixed list - and is more than willing to haggle to "create" a package that best suits your needs. That said, its Moira (and the party's) choice if you want to ask more about the facilities, or just show the letter from the temple right off the bat.

It felt strange to be without Stoor's coffin.  The wagon maneuvered just a little easier without the weight, which struck Moira as strange to even realize.  Tending to their oh-so-precious cargo had become rote by that point and to finally leave it behind... it felt strange somehow.  Still, all the better to have Stoor back on her feet again in a matter of hours.  Moira didn't think she'd be able to rest as easily as she hoped to until things were finally handled for certain though.  Perhaps a bit of trekking around the immediate area wouldn't go amiss... at least until she felt like she could find some sleep.

Finally having a bit of home and hearth, such as it was, in the Great Hall was a relief though.  The din of revelry even at that late hour was reassuring to her soul.  When prompted by an employee for their lodging style, Moira simply produced the letter that had been supplied back at the temple.  "Might fuss over that a bit later, but for th'moment we've a missive from Sister Vynne at th'Happy Hall for th'proprietor here.  If y'please?" Whether the maid would simply take the letter off for a quick delivery or call over the head of the hall didn't matter much to the Hin.

"Well, that would be me - at least, one of six," she grins, "my sisters and I have run the Great Hall for the last ten years. Hanna Hexagrimm, the youngest, at your service."

Taking the letter from Moira, she glances through the contents for a few seconds, eyes widening before her smile grows even wider.

"Oh my! Seems like you got lucky  - or know the right people at least," the woman bows, "the Happy Hall has requested the elite suite package for the six of you at our special rate - two gold a night total for two rooms of three. This package includes our premium breakfast menu, bathing facility access, stables and complimentary basic cleaning services for non-combat equipment. May I ask for how many days you would like to stay? You may renew or extend your stay at anytime at the front desk or with myself or one of my sisters."

Another bow, as she gestures to one of the towers surrounding the main hall;

"Our stables are the finest in all of Yartar, and will be sure to take care of your animals for you. Security for any wagons or carriages is guaranteed by both the local Watch and the private mercenary guild, the Steeljaws. Extra grooming services are available, if you would like to see them, the stablehands will be more than happy to discuss prices. Please follow me."

Having said that, Hanna leads the group to a slightly roundabout route off the main street that takes you to a large brickhouse building behind the Great Hall itself. The smell alone is enough to tell you this is where the coaches and horses are kept. A tiled brick path leads from the front of the stables to the main hall itself. As the carriage rattles in, the more perceptive members of the party see the barmaid signaling at the other employees in the area;

[Language unknown: "not he arsi ameas p hatingove stieauect, urckto inthal."]

Two sturdy looking porters wearing neat green tunics and wide smiles approach the wagon, offering to help unload your baggages and bring them to you room. A third lady in a maidservant's attire carries a tray of warm towels as she makes to lead you inside, where Hanna quickly rejoins you, a pair of soft leather pouches in her hands.

"These keys are for your rooms. Breakfast begins at second bell, and lasts until the forth. The bathing facilities open at the third bell - access requires use of these redwood tokens," she pulls one out of the pouch, "three each, you may request additional ones from the front desk. Complimentary cleaning services may be requested at the same."

"We hope you have a pleasant stay!"

I made the assumption that 2gp per night is fine with the group. The party may rest for the night. Before reaching the rooms, if anyone has any inquires for the proprietess, the staff or has requests for the front desk, do post here. Claire - if you want extra services for Glory, special grooming is an additional 2 silver pieces.

I will update with descriptions of the rooms themselves next, once all questions at this juncture have been addressed or in 24ish hours or so, whichever is quicker. Don't want tod rag this any longer than it needs to :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:21, Mon 13 Dec 2021.

Though the journey certainly came with its hardships, there were moments every now and then where Claire could appreciate the perks of being a (relatively well-to-do) traveler. "Fancy! This package sounds just fine with me."

"And grooming services? I think our hardworking horses could use a bit of pampering, don'tcha think?" Fetching her coin purse from her belt, she counts out 7 silver coins, enough for special grooming for all three of the party's horses, and a small tip for the stablehands. "Please take good care of them, alright?"

Tired as he was, Thente's eyes widened when the woman read what the letter said they were going to get as their stay.

"It's been a long road... I think we'll be here for a few days at least. Maybe three or four?" he said in reply to the woman.

He smiled at Claire's concern for Glory.

"Now, I'm going to get a bath and then I'm going to sleep until lunch tomorrow."

"We ain't quite certain how long we'll be stayin', one way or another.  Best overshoot; set us for a tenday and we can sort later if that changes."  Though she genuinely wasn't sure how long they'd be in Yartar, they were unlikely to get such a good spot of housing with the Highharvestide festivities lingering in the area.  Best to capitalize on it while they had the opportunity.

The Hin sorted out twenty crowns in two tidy stacks to hand over to the matron; if the others wanted to split the fee later, she wouldn't argue, but neither was she bothered about footing the bill herself up front.  With the coins swapped for the bags of keys and tokens, she distributed them out; bathing tokens for everyone and a room key for Thente, while she held onto the other.  "There we go.  Gents in one, ladies in th'other." she rolled a bathing token back and forth over her knuckles, then cast the matron a glance.  "Oi, is it communal or private bathin'?  Don't matter either way t'me, but it's good t'know what t'expect when y'walk waist-high t'most folk."

20 GP for the rooms from Moira
This message was last edited by the player at 08:10, Tue 14 Dec 2021.

"Ah, communal - though private rooms may be available if reserved in advance. Speaking of which, the attached outhouse on this floor is just down the corridor," the woman giggles, then bows again as she accepts Moira's coin.  Having said that, she swiftly leaves, letting the six of you enjoy your rooms.

A warm rug of elvish design welcomes the party into pair of large, well-furnished rooms. Wall-mounted lamps fitted with scented candles provide a comfortable light and pleasant, floral scent in each of the grand suites. Indeed, the first noticeable thing in each room would be the large mattress beds, two of them in fact, with thick downy mattresses and three pillows each. A bowl of dried nuts and dates rest atop a small mahogany table, around which sit a trio of comfortable-looking chairs. Two wardrobes (also of elvish design) and a heavy iron chest rest in the western corner - the former containing several loose bedrobes and spare towels, the latter a high-quality lock and key. To the east, a pair of rosey curtains and heavy shutters help dampen the sound and smells of the streets outside.

One room has a small carving of an octopus adorning the northern wall; the other room, a wooden seagull clutching a spiny-fined fish. Both the walls and floors here have been varnished, the wooden panels cleaned and polished to a smooth shine. Between the two beds is a tiny reading desk fitted with a long brass bell labelled "room service".

I'll give folks some time (lets say 36 hours IRL) to chat and rp IC as the group winds down for the night before skipping forward to the festival itself the next morning.

At the point, I would like to check what the party intends to do the next day. Feel free to discuss your plans IC or in the OOC.

Thente took one of the chits for the bath and trudged to the room he'd been assigned with U'lin and Ethgar.

He set down his bag and peeled off his cloak and other outer traveling gear. "Bath first for me and then I'm going to crash for who knows how long he said off-hand to U'lin and Ethgar."

That said, he walked to the communal bath and peeled off his sweaty clothing and climbed into the bath to soak in the hot water and relaxed for the first time all day.

U'lin eyed the bed for size, and, while not pleasantly pleased, was at least not worried about  space in the room.  He shifted a pair of the chairs over along the window, and slid the stout chest in between the pair of chairs facing each other.  Setting his bedroll across the improvised bed, he stretched out to test it, and nodded that it would suffice for his size.

"You two enjoy the beds - they appear sized for your folk," he offered to his companions. "The bath sounds very fine.  Did they mention a cleaning service, or were we to take our clothes to a common washing area as well?  I'm afraid I was slightly distracted at all the comings and goings here - it's very busy and crowded a city.

"If we are going to be within cities more, I might be wise to craft a bed that can fold up.  It shouldn't be too difficult, even allow for extra support of the legs and cross-beams.  It could hang along one side of the wagon, or be stored beneath.  Although, if we can find good supplies here, I might be able to extend the Dream to make more room within it - there are helpful reasons of stabilizing it amongst other things, but the extra room would be pleasant.  Easy enough to make wider storage to double up as bedding bases - good for the back, as well."

Morning comes after a restful night - the first in a long while it feels. Those of you that are early risers are awoken by the faint caress of the sun's light peeking in through the eastern windows. Outside, the bustle of activity seeps in through the curtains, men and women going about their trade or preparing for the Harvest Festival itself.

Downstairs, one can find a large Feasting Hall with a dozen long tables in the center, along with a few other smaller benches littered around the edges. At the far corner of the Feasting Hall are a series of open counters that appear to connect to the kitchens themselves (or their front section at least). Interspaced between these counters are several smaller high tables, and piled upon their surfaces is a veritable smorgasbord of breakfast foods - hams, breads, cheeses, roasts, soups, fruit, nuts, porridge, eggs (in six ways), jams and sweetbreads. It seems that anyone who is allowed entry into the Feasting Hall can simply...go up, take a plate, and help themselves.

OOC: This section is vaguely OOT, feel free to chat casually here and discuss plans IC. Since the party as a whole is going to the Temple to chat with Stoor in the afternoon, I have setup a few posts/locations first. You may move there whenever it feels appropriate :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:41, Sun 19 Dec 2021.

Much like Thente, Moira's first priority that evening was to boil herself in as long a bath as she could endure until the weariness of the road and combat had finally seeped from her bones.  It had been some time since she'd actually been able to enjoy a genuine bath without simply relying on that handy cleaning wand she'd purchased for the sake of laundering herself.  How long, she wondered as she sat chin-deep in the steaming waters, was it?  Not since Amphail?  Despite her own weariness and the odd looks some gave her for still wearing her choker into the bath, she had a nice time of being able to chat with others who came to relax as well.  As much as she loved the lot she'd fallen in with since Nightstone it was still a boon to have some new faces around.

Rest hadn't come to Moira so easily though.  Whether it was some temperment of her own or simply anxiousness at being in a proper city after so long, the Hin didn't head straight to bed or even linger in the dining hall for late-night drinks.  She gave a passing word that she'd be back soon and traipsed out into the evening on some task of her own.  Not seen again for at least another two hours; at some point well after Claire and Zaiya had surely tucked into bed themselves, Moira returned without remark to grab some sleep as well.  Yet when they woke up the next morning they'd find that she'd gone again, out and about well before sunrise; set on her bed was a quickly scrawled note.

~~Out on an errand, will be back for breakfast.  M~~ it read in Moira's familiar, tidy handwriting.

Claire came up into the baths a little late, having seen to the horses in the meantime. Stretching out her aching thighs in the hot water, kneading out the knots in her shoulders - the feeling was heavenly. And the prospect of sleep in a comfortable bed all the more appealing.

When Moira made mention of late-night business, she'd find the priestess, hair wrapped up in a towel, polishing off her armour in their room. "Oh? Do take care then." What could she be up to at this hour? She thought, watching as the halfling left. Not that it was any of her business. Moira was well and able to take care of herself.

Waking up earlier than usual, Claire rolled over to notice the note Moira had left on her bed - it had clearly been slept in. Running a hand through messy bed hair, she squinted through groggy eyes to read the note. Well, at least she got back safe. Maybe they'd run into her in the day. She got herself washed up, heading down for breakfast in a casual dress, leaving her armour and travel garb aside for today.

Thente's eyes fluttered open a little later in the morning. He groaned as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed as he rubbed his eyes. A massive stretch took his body and Thente rubbed and cycled his upper body. "Man I'm sore from all that digging and fighting yesterday," he said to U'lin or the empty room if U'lin was gone already.

Opening his pack, Thente pulled out his fancy clothes that they'd gotten in Amphail and thought it might be fun to wear them again. Thankfully they had their own set of nice tall boots since the clothes themselves were a little short now that he'd grown after the potion from the cloud giant. Still, they fit well enough.

Not sure what the day held for the group, Thente gathered his pack back up, and grabbed his javelin to head down to the breakfast.

Though he hadn't known what to expect in the breakfast room, the massive piles of food just sitting out made him stop and stare for a second, somewhat in disbelief. Then he caught sight of Claire in her casual clothing rather than armor, her hair still holding some remnants of the bed head she'd clearly tried to comb out of it and a smile spread on his face as he stared at her instead of the food.

He headed over and set down his pack and javelin, small arcs of lightning playing along it as he leaned it against the table as he sat down and smiled at Claire. "Morning gorgeous," he said quietly to Claire as he sat. He tried to hide a blush at his own audacity by looking down quickly and brushing at the table.

Claire had already seated down with a hearty plate of scrambled eggs, bread, cheese and fruit when Thente came by for breakfast. She pushed a stray strand of hair away from her face as he approached the table, looking him up and down. A passing heat caught on her cheeks at his compliment, and her bashful gaze flicked reflexively to any others within earshot.

"Morning Thente. I see someone's dressing snappily today," she replied with a silly smile on her lips, "I'm guessing you're rearing to go about the festival after this? I'll be wanting to stop by on the way to the temple." Finding a spare set of cutlery at the empty spot beside her, she passed it across the table to him.

Thente grinned and held out his arms and looked at them. "What? This old thing..." he added with a chuckle as he reached and took the proffered cutlery. He'd seen the flash of a blush on Claire's face and it made him feel good to make her feel good.

"I need to get my clothes mended. They don't fit quite right after... I woke up. This set fits the best though, so I thought it might be fun to be fancy for a change around town." he added a shrug and set to eating the piled plate he'd gathered on his way to the table.

"There's a bit of shopping I'm interested in doing, but other than that I don't have any specific interest in the festival. It could be fun to play some games and just try different foods though. I hope you're not going to offer to work at the temple are you? We traveled all this way and there's a festival..." Thente said as he looked at Claire. "I just don't want you to sacrifice all the fun you could have to get set scrubbing floors so a local acolyte can go have fun in your place."

He took a few more bites and after chewing through them he added quietly, "if you do get set with floors, I'll gladly change and scrub along with you."

With a look around Thente raised his eyebrow, "Where's Moira and the others? I figured I'd be the last to food as usual. Did they already come through and go out?"

"Careful that you don't draw the attention of every pickpocket in the streets," Claire warned good-naturedly. And anyone else who might want to get a good look at a handsome young man - Thente did clean up well. "Why don't we ask the sisters where we could find a good tailor's? I'm sure they'll be able to point us in the right way."

"Oh if Sister Glywitch is in charge, I think we can rest assured that no local acolyte is going to be having fun at the festival while there's still work to do, I bet. Still, I ought to help out. Least I could do to honour the Great Mother for her generosity to us." That said, the fastidious priestess' presence in town was perhaps good reason for them to take their time going through the stalls on the way to the temple. "We can have a go at the stalls by the by - no one's going to blame a couple of newcomers for dallying a little."

Chewing on a piece of bread, Claire held out Moira's note for Thente. "Out on an errand, she says. I ain't worried about her though, I'm sure she can take care of herself. Not seen U'lin yet. Miss Zaiya's still asleep, I think."

Polishing off her plate, she waited patiently for Thente to finish his breakfast, lifting a finger to the symbol of Chauntea around her neck just to check that she'd brought it along.

"They best not sleep th'whole mornin' away.  Goodness knows they deserve it, but th'festivities are already underway out there."  Claire's theorizing on the rest of the party was given some confirmation by the return of the absent Hin herself.  Moira was, as always, extremely good at slipping around unnoticed... even when laden, as the case presently was.  Armed and armored as usual, but with a stout canvas satchel hoisted across her shoulders that was filled with carefully stacked parcels in tow.  Whatever she'd been up to throughout the evening prior and that morning had apparently been very much on the busy side.

"G'mornin' t'y'both, loves!  Happy Highharvestide--" she grunted a bit as she gave a short hop to land herself seated on the edge of the dining table with a dull thump of her odd luggage nearly upsetting some stray dishes "--and Happy Birthday!"

Thente chuckled and smiled at Claire's warning about pickpockets. having a hard time taking his eyes off her as usual, though he did look away to eat as necessary.

When she passed the note over he read it and nodded. "U'lin wasn't in the room, so I was suprised he wasn't here eating. Guess he got an early start on the Festival. I'm more worried about him falling into trouble than Moira honestly."

"Taking our time and then getting a tailor recommendation from the sisters seems like as good an idea as any. It'll be nice to be able to relax again for the first time in a long while. Relax and walk together, see the sights of the festival and such," he said almost timidly, but looking in Claire's eyes as he said it, unable to draw himself away from them...

Until Moira returned in a clamor that was, and Thente's gaze was drawn to the boisterous halfling woman and her stuff she'd brought. "Morning Moira. Uhh... Birthday?"

This time his look to Claire was in confusion with a slight 'what' on his lips.

While Moira busied herself with untying the pack she toted, she bounced a look back and forth between the two Humans.  She had the distinct feeling she'd just interrupted something brewing between the two of them.  Though, rather than fuss over it, she just offered a chuckle.  Oh, youth...



"Mine, yea.  Fifty-six down, 'nother two-hundred t'go, if I'm lucky." she beamed a toothy grin as she shuffled about in her heavy satchel and withdrew two parcels.  "Normally it's a day where a Hin spends their time gettin' pampered and heaped with presents from their family, but I've always liked t'do it th'other way 'round.  So it's prezzies for th'lot of ya', from m'heart t'your hands."

The two gifts were each wrapped in simple brown paper but with colorful ribbons to bind them shut, which she promptly offered over to each of her companions.  "Spent some time talkin' with local folk as well, gettin' a feel for th'state of th'city.  There's plenty t'keep abreast of while we're stayin' here worth discussin'.  Nothin' too dangerous if we're smart 'bout it, but there's opportunities worth lookin' into as well that ain't gonna come 'round again so easy."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:54, Fri 24 Dec 2021.

A dark, richly-gleaming backpack led the way as U’lin entered from the kitchen.  ”Thank you, Ara, that ribbon was perf- oh, you’re all down.  Oh,well, nice, of course, just surprising, although it is perhaps a touch later than I realized.  It just wouldn’t have done to provide this without a nice ribbon, and Ara was so helpful to find a good seamstress she knew that had such a lovely colour that she thought would bring out the colour of Moira’s eyes – I should have picked some up at the festival, but nothing seemed to suit, and Ara was quite right, so all worked just as it should have.

“Ahem.”  The firbolg was unarmoured, but carried his weapon with him, and his backpack of adventuring supplies was strapped upon his shoulders.  He stepped forward, passing the new backpack within his hands down to Moira's giving hands.

Closer view confirmed the firbolg's second backpack was a Hin-sized dark leather backpack, oiled against rain, and bound by a very pretty Chateau green ribbon that lightened along one border.  The backpack had some strange arrangements of covers and flaps upon it, but U’lin smiled hopefully as he passed it to Moira.  ”I remembered something that you mentioned around the campfire one night.

“Happy Birthday!

“I… hope this is helpful.  It’s nothing saying that you need it, of course, but it seemed more mete, if you know what I mean.  Certainly not fair to have uneven stations, hmm?” he added, clearly explaining what he meant without explaining anything.

"Oh! Moira, happy birthday! I'm sorry, with all that's been happening it completely slipped my mind what day it even is today." Thente said as he took the parcel from Moira.

"You really didn't need to, but thank you." He couldn't hide his eagerness as he set about opening the parcel. He was focused on the parcel unwrapping when U'lin returned, and with a gift for Moira no less. The firbolg really was a sweet-hearted individual, very in tune with those around him. Far more than Thente ever was. At least one of them had remembered her birthday.

"U'lin! You got out early this morning, did you get a chance to eat?" Thente asked as he pointed his chin to the piled food options on the side of the room.

"Oh thank you Moira!" Claire beamed delightedly, leaning down to give the halfling a big hug. "May the Coinmaiden and Great Mother bless you with a most wonderful birthday! And you really didn't have to go all the way to get us presents, but that's really kind of you."

"And good morning U'lin!" Figured there was no way she could have risen earlier than the firbolg after all. That was a nice bag he'd got for Moira. She made a mental note to look out for something appropriate later on. "Yes, please come have breakfast if you haven't already."

Right out of the fond hug from Claire, which was returned full in kind with as grand a squeeze as Moira's shorter arms could manage, the offered satchel was taken with a coo of surprise and equal delight.  Quickly sat in place atop the Hin's lap so that she could look it over and check the finer details.  "U'lin, this is lovely!  Thank y'so much!"  A good bag was the enduring sort of thing that could potentially become an heirloom; her own well-used satchel had in fact been inherited to begin with, and she knew full well the Firbolg's craftsmanship was beyond reproach.

Of course, a gift was best met with a gift in turn.  Just like Claire and Thente, U'lin too came on the receiving end as Moira hoisted out another parcel for him.  A fair bit heavier from the effort she had to give it and, unlike the other two, noisier?  Where the Humans' presents were silent, his clanked and jostled and frankly sounded... well, broken.  "This is for y'as well, love.  G'wan, open 'em up, th'lot of ya."

---

Thente
As Thente was the first to set into his gift, its contents were revealed to be a pair of items.  A nightcap made of an unusual, smooth-as-water silk that had a silvery sheen to it.  It was very warm and comfortable to the touch, and its tail was so long and padded at the end that, even while being worn, it could very easily be wrapped about the neck like a scarf or rolled up as a pillow beneath the head.  Whenever it was moved about and light shifted across its surface, an otherwise invisible layer of simple arcane symbols subtly woven into the material shone briefly into view.

The second item was a stout, leather-bound book that bore its title printed on the spine thrice over.  Once in the runic script of the Giants, second in modern Dwarven, and finally in Common - "Conversations With Jotun" - as written by the Dwarven scholar, Holmeag Underview.  A skim of its pages revealed it to be a reprinting of a journal; Holmeag had spent decades in the company of Fire Giants and Frost Giants learning what he could of their culture, history, and beliefs straight from the horses' mouth.  All documented with his own speculations on the subject, along with his personal analysis of their ancient language.  Being in such close contact with differing Giants for so long gave him considerable insight into the development of their vernacular, regional and generational slang, and linguistic context many outsiders could never understand otherwise.

"See, I figured y'would get a lot of good use outta somethin' like this'un." Moira explained with a fingertip drummed at the book's edge.  "Th'fella goes into plenty of detail 'bout th'language specific t'how Giant-folk themselves use it.  U'lin and I can help cover plenty in teachin' it, but y'might get more outta this for understandin' it."  A gesture was given for the nightcap.  "And that'un's for sleepin' cozy-like.  Figure with all y'were talkin' on with those odd visions of th'past, it might help; it's got a real mellow enchantment on it what makes sure y'only have good dreams.  Dunno... just figured maybe it could help focus y'dreams on th'good parts, or at least make sure y'had a peaceful night of it."  Ultimately, she could only shrug.  "If nothin' else, it can get pretty cold at night this far north, so it's best t'bundle y'noggin'!  I won't have y'gettin' a flu."

---

Claire
Like Thente's, Claire's parcel contained two items, and one was indeed a book as well!  The first was a delicate hairpin of simple yet gorgeous make; a brace of supple living dark wood bound in ivy, all woven together into a single small accessory.  Its branching portions artfully curled and wrapped around tiny porcelain flowers, which gave the entire hairpin the look of being a naturally growing, blossoming vine.

The book, meanwhile, was bound to be immediately recognizable at a glance.  "Legends of Toril" was a well-known work beloved for generations, though it came in many different forms.  A compilation of stories, fables, hymns, children's tales, songs, poems, legends, and lore from the world over, from nearly every race and culture, translated into Common.  No doubt she'd seen many versions and perhaps owned one in her own youth; lesser varieties had fewer or simply the most popular stories.  But the version Claire received was far and away the most elaborate to be found, as well as the most comprehensive.  The stout leather and copper binding bore the imprinted signet of the Candlekeep archives' distribution, an attached silk bookmark, and its pages easily held hundreds of tales within while most copies usually only held a few dozen.  Among the fine printing were also gorgeously designed illustrations every dozen of pages or so, depicting scenes from classic tales and heroic figures of renown.  As was customary of all printings, however, was that there were a handful of blank pages at the back so that the owner could put their own additions to the collection, that they might someday be fully adopted in later prints or simply make the copy all the more personal.

"See, I actually used t'help move some of these m'self from an Elf trader out east; that's fashioned from th'trees of Cormanthyr by th'Wood Elves what still live there, comin' here by way of Silverymoon.  Y'put it in y'hair and it'll grow like ivy t'bind y'hair up for ya'.  Give one of th'flowers a twist t'turn it back t'normal, and it'll even do y'hair in different styles based on where y'set it." A bit of fashion never went amiss and, with how long and thick her own hair was, Moira knew full well how much Claire might struggle with her own locks sometimes.

"As for th'book, I figured y'might enjoy somethin' simple.  Salve for th'soul, yea?  Stories like these are a lil' piece of home, no matter who or where, and it's fun gettin' t'look into other folks' tales.  It's a big world and one of th'best ways t'explore it, and t'know folk better, is by hearin' th'stories worth sharin'." she offered Claire a gentle squeeze at the arm.  "Or maybe just havin' a bit of memory from older, simpler times, yea?"

---

U'lin
Lo and behold, another book!  Rather different in structure than the leather-bound manuscripts, it was instead a sturdy brass plate with mounted rings at once side, on which were set what looked to be dozens of thin, individual books all collected together into a single omnibus.  Each book was only a few pages long each and were clearly written by different authors, and skimming their contents made it clear some were even writing in response to each other.  An unusual item for an eclectic topic; the overall theme of the collection was that all of the books were individually written by engineers, mages, artisans of Dwarven and Gnomish repute, and even a few amateur hobbyists.  All discussing, debating, analyzing, and frankly gushing about "legendary machines"; a variety of devices, from castles that could be carried in one's pocket and grow upon request, to a full-tier sailing ship that could be folded up into the size of a crate, to some kind of elaborate, multi-terrain war apparatus originally credited to some "Kwalish" fellow, to even the cloud-cutting skyships that had been developed in ancient Nethril yet returned to prominence in Haluraan, far to the south.  Not only did the papers include an abundance of conversation but, as the writers were all impassioned professionals or hobbyists, they also contained various blueprints, formulas, speculative theories, and schematics on all the contained machines.  Some more contentiously argued than others, with revisions and annotations galore (a few of which devolved into petty name calling, but still).

The second and rather noisy item was, in fact, very much broken.  A hinged-and-lidded wooden box of clearly Gnomish make by its style of carving and fine copper fixtures; the lid's interior was decorated with a lovely illustration of a lush forest on the bank of a deep blue river.  When tilted this way or that, a subtle lenticular carving effect made it look like the boughs swayed in the breeze and the water gleamed with daylight.  The box itself, meanwhile, was filled with a messy clatter of metal bits, bobs, springs, gears, and a wide assortment of other pieces that U'lin's knowing eye would recognize as Gnomish craftsmanship, but in no discernible state of being anything other than a busted-up mess.

"Now, I told a fella in th'marketplace 'bout what y'do and he helped point these out t'me.  Th'writin' is a collection of some kinda gazette from Amn, where a whole mess of folk got good and noisy writin' in when some crafter fella printed an editorial... well, y'can read it y'self.  Figured it was th'sorta thing y'could make more sense of, and maybe draw some inspiration from with y'own work.  There's some schematics of skyships in there too - at least th'commonly published ones - and that's gotta be worth somethin' for y'Dream, yea?"  It all barely made sense to her and she had to trust her intuition when it came to whether or not she'd made a good choice in heeding such advice.

"And for this'un... well, apparently it's s'posed t'be a music box, with a lil' mechanical bear what fishes in th'river while th'wheel plays 'A Brown Bear's Wandering'."  A simple, well-known old song about a bear who somberly mused on life while he hunted and how the world would change after he awoke from hibernation after the coming winter.  "'Cept it apparently fell off th'back of th'wagon and got kicked by a horse, so now it's busted t'Avernus and back.  But I said t'myself, Moira, what's th'silly bastard love more than tinkerin' and a challenge?  So... think of it as a puzzle, yea?  We know what it's s'posed t'be, just not how, and I hope y'can have fun with it as a sorta piece of home.  I know well as any it ain't easy bein' so far afield."

---

To specify the raw mechanics, the gifts are various Trinket-tier items that I wanted to make as flavorful and fluffy as I could:

Thente: A slightly magical nightcap that, when worn, gives you pleasant dreams, and a book of "Conversational Giant".  Mostly for flavor and fluff, and to help give more context to Thente picking up a new language as he levels.

Claire: An also slightly magical Elven trinket; "A small enamel flower that, when put in one's hair, animates, tying back the wearer's hair with a living vine with flowers; plucking a single flower from this vine returns it to its inanimate form".  The book is a custom Trinket of my own, but one I figured would reasonably exist in-setting.  I made sure to splurge the necessary GP for the deluxe edition.

U'lin: The book is the "user's manual for an apparatus of Kwalish", which I elaborated on more broadly to include other commonly available but still fantastical magical devices like the Folding Boat and Instant Fortress.  No mechanical bonuses when it comes to crafting, but hopefully good inspiration.  The music box, meanwhile, is a currently broken Tiny-size Clockwork device, as specified by the Rock Gnome's racial "Tinker" trait in the PHB.  It's a music box by description, but what U'lin actually crafts it into can be anything from that list the DM approves of.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:35, Mon 27 Dec 2021.

"Oh, how delightul!  Most interesting!  Moira, you do find the most.. hmm, so why are you not... mm... so where is your partner - ah, two spot-oh, wait!  Yes, thank you very much." The firbolg was so quite impressed in Moira's gifts that it took him (more than) a few moments to re-emerge headspace.

When he did so, however, he shook himself and tapped his forehead.

"But I didn't show you what I did with the bag.  Again, you don't need to use it, but if it helps, then you have it, and that's just good preparation, don't you agree?"

Reaching over, U'lin's long fingers unhooked concealed fasteners within some of the odd pouches, and the covers slid aside to reveal pure mithral!  If the item had been of value before, it was mightily so now!  One of the mithral sides slid down, and part of it flipped around.  Four legs unfolded and unfolded, with U'lin pointing how they could be adjusted for height.  "These were stiffer than I liked, but should also provide better support because of it, so there is a benefit everywhere."

Then, flipping up another panel, and the back of the bag had become a seat with a low backrest.  The first arm folder, providing a hin-sized writing platform.  A couple handle/straps along the side provided footing.

In addition to being a very fine water-proofed satchel, the bag turned into an adjustable height work desk!

"I didn't think it proper if you were doing all manner of negotiation that you wouldn't necessarily have a desk around, or if you were working at nights on the road.  Now you have it at hand?"  he looked tentatively towards Moira to see how his gift was received.

"There's even a recessed spot here along the side to attach a writing kit, and a slide-out symbol of Waukeen - I went for a slide out instead of built in, in case there were different ranks or times you would use silver or gold or wood or metal, for instance."

Thente just stared at the opened parcel as Moira described its contents to him.

For the keen eyed among the group, which usually was all of them, they could see some tears welling in Thente's eyes as he looked at the pair of gifts. He did his best to duck his head down and wipe them away, without being seen, as Moira moved on to explaining the other's gifts to their respective recipients.

"Thank you Moira..." he managed to croak out as he almost caressed the the sleeping cap and then started thumbing through the book of giant language and lore.

With Thente seated and Moira perched on the table's edge as she was, it afforded one of the few opportunities where the two were ever close to eye level with one another.  Especially since his recent growth spurt.  But, as the young man fought his own rising emotions, Moira gave him something else - something that she'd meant to give him the moment he woke up, but had withheld from for the sake of allowing him and Claire their time.

"Of course, love."  Gentle words and an equally gentle embrace; the Hin reached out to take his broad shoulder and pull into a warm hug for a lingering moment.  Their first, she realized in the back of her thoughts.  She didn't want to embarrass the boy though, so she kept her squeeze brief and parted with a fond smile.

Just in time for U'lin to manage his way out of his internal distraction and announce there was more to her gift than she realized.  Moira herself was more pleased that she'd gauged correctly; the Firbolg's immediate diversion with the mechanical mess reminded her of one of her young nephews who just fell into block puzzles the moment he could get his hands on them.  But as U'lin unfolded the various elements of the satchel to prove it a transforming utility, her eyes widened.  First at the revelation of such features, and then in mild inward panic at the realization of just what he'd used to fashion those plates and poles.

It took a beat of silent gawping before the Hin found her words.  "Ah... first of all; thank y'again U'lin, that's wonderfully thoughtful of ya'.  Th'seat alone is a treat."  Frankly, she imagined she'd get more use out of it as part of her cooking equipment, using the satchel to carry her prime ingredients, where its features could give her somewhere stable to sit and offer a work surface to prepare on as well.  "Secondly... d-did someone teach y'how t'make this sorta contraption, or did y'design it all y'self?"  Depending on what his answer was, part of their errands for the day was going to involve her taking him to register with the local branch of the Splendid Order guild and draft a patent document to Candlekeep...

"Oh, no, just something I put together," U'lin, still concerned/anxious, assured her that it was not something that he had taken from another without recognizing them.  "I started thinking about it when we looking at lightening things for the Dream, and that made me think of all the work you do, and the negotiating work.

"I did find a couple things I would change for later designs, but I wanted to see what you found helpful and not - better to tailor a crafting to what's needed in improvement, hmmm?  I originally had spice pouches inside, but then you have your magical pouch, so that didn't seem to make as much sense, so I went more modular design like the Dream, and left areas where you can inserts specialized carrying compartments for inks or spices or ..hmm, I suppose you could put concealed compartments within to prevent against theft, or for important documents.

"I didn't know if it would work for you or not, or how much the work weight requirements -for the paperwork, I mean-, or the conditions, so I went with mithral to reduce the weight without compromising the strength - it should also help hold any enchantment, if you find need to do so.

"I thought it was quite simple to unfold and restore, but I left a parchment in one sleeve at the back of the main compartment, and the parchment outlines the steps both ways.  Oh, and your initials are where you can find them in case it would be stolen.  I did put a maker's mark in there somewhere as well, so no one would think it stolen from the craftsman."

Wonder danced in Claire's eyes as she listened patiently to Moira's explanation of the presents. "This is truly amazing, Moira. And you put so much thought into all these gifts! I'll treasure these very much, I will," the priestess beamed, clutching the finely-wrought edition of the Legends of Toril to her chest. The Legends happened to be especially dear to her. In her inquisitive childhood, she'd read the singular, fragmentary volumes that were easier to come by, and still more were related to her orally by her parents. This was the first time she'd personally possessed a full volume, and such a beautiful one at that.

U'lin's gift elicited equal amazement from Claire. "Why, that's a really great gift too Ulin. And it's so you, isn't it? Truly the Wonderbringer must smile upon you!"

Picking up the rich, dark-hued living wood hairpin, Claire combed a hand through the back of her hair, setting the ornament gently in her platinum-blonde locks. The brace soon began growing, threading tendrils delicately through her hair, pulling a layer of light-catching locks to bring it together in an elegant, luscious half-up do that wouldn't have looked out of place on an aristocrat, yet complemented rather than contrasted her relatively simple dress. A few blue-violet blooms sprouted for an accent of colour, putting the final touch and drawing back strands that revealed ears poking shyly out of wheat-hued tresses. "How's it look?" The judgement of her companions would suffice in place of a mirror.

Right back into his ramble, it seemed.  Moira just chuckled and patted U'lin on the arm in good humor.  "It's grand.  I just wanna get th'chance t'introduce y't'some like-minded folk later today.  Gondites as well, some of 'em." she offered her own grinning reassurances before she set about working to return the satchel to its bag-form, for the sake of figuring out how to do it herself.

Claire's approval warmed her smile even further and, as she tried on the hairpin, Moira gave a pleased nod.  Elven fashions were always a bit much for her own style, but the likes of Claire wore them better.  "Pretty as a picture, and it suits a Chauntean well, I'd think." The Hin eased a cheeky grin Thente's way, "What d'ya think, hmm?" she prompted him outright.  A brief shuffle into her pack produced a handheld steel mirror - the same one they'd seen her use in managing traps - which was offered out for Claire to have a look of her own.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:48, Tue 28 Dec 2021.

Thente accepted Moira's gentle, and quick, hug for what it was. As the tears receded from his eyes he looked to her and smiled. "Thank you again Moira," he said softly as she moved on to looking at the intricate gift U'lin had given her. Of course it wasn't just a backpack from U'lin, he thought to himself. Leaflord, I wonder what he'll want to do to the ash vial I want for the giantess' ashes...

Distracted as he was in thought about the gifts and what U'lin's craftsmanship might mean for the vial he'd wanted to construct with U'lin, he hadn't really noticed the gifts Moira had explained to Claire or U'lin. Until he looked at Claire more directly from Moira's prompting.

When he saw the elven artifact in her hair and how it had clasped her hair and grown blue-violet blooms to contrast her already beautiful hair, Thente's breath caught and he struggled to respond to Moira's cheeky question. Finally he managed to get out something in the sylvan tongue, [Language unknown: "Prost Undinglat Iohe pastst thi m oustinomewitres m evle As pr nceentnce ev whtr."] Perhaps for the first time in sharing something like this though, Thente didn't blush and look away, but just seemed to be drinking in Claire's face and look with the hair clasp, saving or savoring it for the future.

As the party opened their presents and finished up their breakfast, they get the sense that they are not the only ones in a festive mood. Indeed, as the hour grew late the hall become increasingly packed with other adventuring and mercenary groups - each of whom proceeded to nosily dig into the spread before them.

Outside, the crowd stirs and swells, stalls and stands all coming alive as the Yartar Harvest Festival begins!

OOC: Its currently mid-morning, feel free to split into groups from here, or just finish up/discuss IC where you're going.

EDIT: Putting the lotto results here so there's an IC post tracking them:

Zaiya: free Temple Consultation or Service worth 100gp
Thente: x5 "Extra-Game" Tokens and x5 "Hin Special" Tokens
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:06, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

A rumbling stomp, bit by bit, as from the stairs above descended the tiefling wizard who had been getting yanked from side to side, with nary a moment to breathe.

Until now at least.

Which isn't to say that she didn't still have some bags under her eyes and a lack of spring to her step, but she had taken the nice, warm room and lack of disasters as a chance to recover somewhat from the events of the past days, and seemed a spot better off than she had been.

"Morning everyone"  She mumbled, slumping over at a convienent spot with a sigh.  "How are we all doing today?"

"Ey, there she is!  Happy birthday, Miss Zaiya!" Moira chimed in good humor, even if she was well aware such cheerfulness probably wasn't what a sleep-addled scholar was likely up for at the moment.  Thankfully the Hin's peppy manner came paired with a more concrete boon as she slid over the last of her brown paper-and-twine packages across the table for Zaiya.  "I was afraid y'were gonna snooze away th'whole day.  Wouldn't blame ya, truly, but it'd be a shame t'miss th'festivities kickin' off.  We were just sortin' out birthday gifts and plans for today."

Zaiya
Like the others, Zaiya's present was actually two gifts.  Unlike the others, however, she was the only one not to get a book at all.  Wrapped in the plain brown paper were a pair of thin, finely embossed, lightly woven storage boxes that seemed like they came from a more high-end merchant.  Within the larger of the two boxes was a rather plain-looking hooded cloak woven of some kind of almost silk-like material.  A bit drab at a glance, but obviously of extremely high make and quality.  Zaiya's experience with the arcane would be able to quickly recognize subtle, delicate sigils of Transmutation magic stitched into the lining as more than a mere decorative flourish.

The second smaller box appeared to contain a sheep's wool handkerchief.  Its material was more sturdy but so finely knitted as to be comparable to full linen, and richly colored black with blue accents along its edges that matched Zaiya's usual dress.  Like the cloak, the portion of cloth also had Transmutation sigils worked into its weave.

"Gotta be honest, love; I was pretty stumped tryin' t'figure out what t'get ya'.  I was thinkin' books or mage-craft, but I don't know th'first thing 'bout magics and y'probably read a wider span of books in a year than I've in m'life so far." Moira confessed with a helpless shrug.  Magic was beyond her understanding and mages even further so; she didn't even know where to begin.  "But y'always seem such a fashionable sort, so I figured that'd be a good angle t'try."

Inside the box with the cloak was a handwritten letter of authenticity from one "Maestro Delvi Harrow" of Neverwinter, written in finely scripted and flowery Common detailing the craftsman's gratitude and a rather indulgent description of the cloak's qualities.  In particular, it seemed Maestro Harrow was a mage himself and had personally enchanted both the cloak and kerchief with transformative traits to suit any social situation and fashionable need.  Meanwhile, Moira plucked the handkerchief up and idly folded it about into a tidy little triangle.

"Th'merchant I got that from made quite a show of it.  Seems if y'put th'cloak on and think for a second, it'll change its looks t'pretty much any style of cloak y'want.  Same sorta thing for this.  Y'fold it different ways and give it a tug, and--" Moira folded the small cloth just so and, with a quick snap, it suddenly became a stylish pillbox hat in her hands.  A firm shake returned it to being an unfolded cloth once again; she folded it a different manner and gave it another snap, which instead produced a beret.  Once more and she got an angled garden party hat, and again rendered it as a top hat, and then again to produce a beanie with ear flaps.  "Neat lil' thing.  Real once size fits all kinda trick, even with horns, yea?"  she said as she handed the kerchief back with a grin.

---

Zaiya's gifts are a "Cloak of Many Fashions" Common-tier Magic Item, and a "Folding Hat" Trinket.  They offer no mechanical benefits but a wide array of fashion options for the trendy Tiefling about town.

Cloak of Many Fashions - Xanathar's Guide to Everything:

While wearing this cloak, you can use a Bonus Action to change the style, color, and apparent quality of the garment. The cloak's weight doesn't change. Regardless of its appearance, the cloak can't be anything but a cloak. Although it can duplicate the appearance of other magic cloaks, it doesn't gain their magical properties.

This message was last edited by the player at 08:20, Sun 16 Jan 2022.

"mrrrrrhhh"  Zaiya mumbled as the packages were slid over, she couldn't help but feel like it was just some annoying paperwork or missive that found its way here somehow for some reason and...

Wait, that didn't make sense, she didn't even know she was going here until relatively recently!

Awareness returning as she unwrapped the packages, she found herself staring at the finds...  There was a hat!  And a new cloak!

Magical ones too even!  Ones that wouldn't tear or break or be the wrong place at the wrong time!  The hat even took her horns into account!

"Uhhh...  Well then!  This is a pleasant surprise!"  Zaiya admits after a moment, clutching the cloak close.  "Honestly wasn't expecting something like this, but it's handy!  Thank you!"

"Hope y'like it, love.  Y'deserve a lot more than just that for all th'nonsense y'put up with bein' in our company, no doubt, but it's a start.  I'm sure th'rest agree with me sayin' we're glad t'have y'along."  Moira didn't try to push it any further than that given how Zaiya had shied away from displays of affection prior.  Still, she didn't need to give hugs to let someone know they were appreciated.

With gifts finally managed, the Hin gave a sharp clap and rub of her palms together, clearly eager for the rest of the day to come.  "So!  T'day's a big day.  My birthday and Miss Stoor's too, in a weird sorta sense.  Highharvestide's in full swing with th'biggest variety of merchants from all over y'can hope for, and we've th'city t'explore as we please.  So let's make th'most of it!

There's th'festival grounds themselves, of course.  Plenty t'see and do there.  Not t'mention th'other craftsmen and traders who actually have permanent shops here in Yartar.  I had m'ears open earlier and even heard there's some kinda ritzy rich-folk to-do goin' on at th'bay; a big evenin' cruise where they fancy themselves up and hobnob." No doubt that sort of high-society affair wasn't appealing on its own for their lot, but Moira grinned knowingly with an extra tidbit.  "From th'sound of things, they've got a bunch of magical gear and trinkets up for auction each night.  And a lil'birdy mentioned some of 'em might just be from Giant folk.  I figured we - maybe Miss Zaiya and I, at th'very least - could give it a look and see if there's anythin' worth seein'.  Gettin' tickets for th'cruise is th'hard part, but we can try."  If ever Moira was going to have a chance at making some good connections and selling off oddities from Hyuth's collection, a boat full of rich people with more money than sense the ideal chance.  But there was even the off chance of a chunk of that special metal U'lin and the Giants alike were after might be in the auction lot...

Another thought occurred to the Hin as she gave Thente a glance.  "By th'by, remember those 'rat-like kids' y'mentioned before?  Odds are they're actually Were Rats, so keep y'belongings good and close.  They're not as dangerous as Werewolves or th'like, but still not somethin' y'wanna fuss with." she explained with a shrug.  "Seems there's a bit of a turf war goin' on lately between a local thieves' guild and some upstarts.  Probably the Zhentarim too; they're always lookin' t'sink their hooks in where there's money t'be made.  It's pretty well outta sight 'cause of th'festival, but don't let y'guard down.  Quite a few of th'folk we were givin' charity to on th'way up th'road yesterday were part of th'gangs and guilds.  If any of y'see gangs goin' at it, don't get involved.  Shout for th'guards if y'must, but don't go stickin' y'nose into local affairs."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:37, Wed 19 Jan 2022.

Time passes as the group finishes their breakfast, the gifts shared by Moira a colorful spread on the well-used wooden tables. A few curious passersby steal a glance as they walk past, but most seem more drawn to the noise and bluster outside as the sun rises fully into the sky. Sounds of cheer drift in from the nearby windows, mixed with the occasional shout or jaunty tune.

In fact, as Zaiya comes down and receives her gifts, the music seems to grow louder, the jaunty tune now a full medley of instruments. A few other guests rush to the windows - and from there one can catch a good view of what appears to be a passing parade! A pair of humanoid constructs dressed in flamboyant clothing dance and pirouette past, accompanied by a trio of musicians playing a lute, horn and drums respectively. What looks like a young tiefling woman with bat-like wings circles around the troupe, tossing confetti everywhere while carrying a conical device of sorts in her hand. In between bursts of drumming and cacaphonic playing she yells out in an amplified voice:

"Wonder-Wallace's TRAVELING THEATRE is proud to present: KING LEAR! A tragic comedy in THREE ACTS, accompanied by a FULL BAND and CLOCKWORK WRIGHTS. First Act tonight at FOUNTAIN SQUARE!"

And just as quickly as they appeared, the parade is gone, trailing bits of confetti and the fading toots of a brass horn.

U'lin turned 'round to gaze wide-eyed at the party, his lips forming a silent "O".

"Yea, U'lin, we can go see th'show." Moira couldn't dream of saying otherwise at that face.  "So long as y'promise not t'try tinkerin' with th'stage works in th'middle of it."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:42, Tue 25 Jan 2022.

[From Chapter 4-3: The Golden Goose]

The front desk of the Adventurer's Great Hall barely bats an eye at the party's plus-one- the festive mood and rotating nature of adventure party's leading to a much more flexible notion of room size. Breakfast however, does only have the initial number of chits provided - thankfully, with Ethgar having stormed off on 'clan business' and Zaiya swiftly deported to handle 'arcane weirdness' there is in fact, plenty of extra space for Aziér.

Thus it is the day after, in the nice upper-class suites the party had acquired in the Great Hall, that the four remaining members have gathered with their fifth prospective member. Room service is a simple matter of ringing the little bell-pipe in the corner, a curious mechanism that seems a mix of mechanical and magical, providing the means for the party to order food, drink or even a late-night snack to their doors at any hour. Provided they were willing to fork the coins for such luxurious service, of course.

Aziér fancied himself a mercenary, but, contrary to what some might think, that was not the same thing as an adventurer. The latter bore some moral weight that never seemed to sit quite right with him. He wielded no misconceptions about himself — his reasons were entirely selfish.

After a yesterday of fancy affairs, he wasn't particularly in the mood for fancy eating. He took what he could, and if that meant spending some gold on the services the establishment provided, then so was it. Likewise, his attire had changed from the sleek and stylish doublet to a far more pragmatic leather Breastplate topped by a dark, faintly purple cowl that had seen better days. "You've been at this long? Adventuring, that is. I've heard tell of events taking place around here — catastrophes, disasters, crash landings, ripples in the Weave — but no name for any group on the side of good has surfaced. Provided you carry one, that is. Or is fame and fortune not on the horizon?"

U'lin's armour appeared about him, cladding the blue-skinned demi-giant in thick steel that molded to his form as only personalized crafting could.  He checked to see that the new belt did not interfere in movement or protection, then dismissed the suit again to be more sociable and something less off-putting in public.

"Oh, my goodness no, not for me at the least.  I was merely travelling down south seeking information about a little crafting puzzle I had found.  I had thought the great cities with their knowledge would have all the witherall, and did find something, but then... well... I came upon Moira, Claire, and Thente, -and another, who was called away to task- and travelled with them for safety in numbers.  Then ended up meeting with some folk in Waterdeep, and our travel paths worked together for the next little bit as they were seeking to return a fallen friend, and I was seeking word on my puzzle... well, and then found a second one in Amphail, so really two crafting puzzles.  Then we found a bit more of what was happening, and just helped as it were along the way, and then again, well, and again, and again - there really was quite a bit happening out in the world - much busier than the quiet of the woods, even with gnomish crafters about and underfoot.

"Oh my... I hadn't considered it, but perhaps we are a company of sorts.  I had always thought adventurers were those seeking great wealth and coin, but perhaps most were simply swept up in things upon the doorsteps of life.

"There is great power and meaning in names, so it is not something lightly considered, but should be, I agree.

"How interesting is that."

Fancy parties and elevated affairs had their place, sure.  In general Moira preferred that place was far away from herself.  The more down-to-earth festivities of Amphail and memory of indulging Rosalind's attention bore a fondness the Hin found herself quite missing by comparison.  Honestly, the lesser nobles at least knew how to have fun with their citizens and serve good, hearty food.

When Azie'r would next see Moira, it would have been fair if he mistook her for a whole other person.  Battered, humble travel leathers, simple linens, bare feet bound in walking wraps?  The Hin in her common clothes was a far cry from the lavishly decorated gown she'd been in prior.  Though the stout black choker with Wuakeen's holy symbol mounted at the center was a constant in her appearance that linked the two diametrically opposed versions of Moira together at a common thread.  "Sounds like us, yea.  We've been steppin' in it every day since we started travelin' north from Nightstone weeks prior.  Several times a day, even."

Moira sat back to nurse a tea while U'lin chimed in.  For once she didn't try to interrupt the Firbolg; the sooner Azie'r got used to his loquaciousness, the better.  His summary was a bit sparse on the specifics though, but she couldn't blame him either.  She'd retold the tale a handful of times already and it sounded like lunacy by that point.  "Short of th'matter is that we ain't a proper company.  Just folk of various skills dealin' with what's in front of us.  And what's been in front of us has been a damn whirlwind.  Gobbos, criminal syndicates, Giants at a civil war, barbarian Werewolves at a civil war they wanna aim at th'Giants, Fey nonsense, Wizard nonsense, politickin' nonsense." she threw up a hand over it all.  And that wasn't even the lot of it!

"It ain't glory seekin' what's kept us goin' so much as folk just need help and we're able t'give it.  Right folk, right place, right time, yea?" she tipped her mug gently Azie'r's way.  "What 'bout y'self, friend?  I know we had y'at a bit of a disadvantage on th'boat, but it's best t'hear it from you what you're about."

Like Moira, Claire looked far more at ease, and plebian, out of the Golden Goose. Clad in a crisply laundered, if completely unexceptional, peasant girl's dress and sandals, only her hair remained well done up, courtesy of the living flower pin gifted to her by Moira. It was also evident that she had not wore much, if any make-up at the festivities. Whether it was a deliberate choice or a simple unfamiliarity with 'city ways' was unclear.

"I figure we're the kind of people who get found by fortune and trouble alike, more than we go a-looking for it," Claire interjected, sparing appreciative smiles at her companions. "Moira gives herself too little credit for keeping us together. And fed. Now that's one good reason to stick around us - you'll never go proper hungry." Soon, she began taking a polishing rag to give her new set of armour, beautifully wrought by U'lin, as much loving care as its creator had put into its making. Offering the excellent protection and light weight of mythril, the ornate, form-fitting set of half-plate contrasted somewhat with its owner's otherwise simple manner of dress. She too, stayed silent but for a knowing, bemused smile while U'lin bubbled away as only their stalwart firbolg friend could.

"Yes, do tell us about your travels," deciding her cuirass had received sufficient care, Claire turned her full attention to their newest colleague.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:17, Thu 21 Apr 2022.

"What I'm about . . ." Aziér whispered to himself, his fingers inattentively brushing against the handle of his mug. He hadn't taken too many swigs, as he knew how he handled alcohol. It was quick to muddle his brain and dull his edge. "Well, I hail from the Underdark, as you might have been able to infer. If you haven't been, don't — it's as bad as it sounds. Since surfacing I've made my way through the world as a sellsword . . . sellbow? Larbaeth," he used the Elvish word for it, as it was less discriminatory of choice of weaponry, only to immediately think of a proper synonym. "A mercenary. But don't mistake me for a common thug. I've had the benefit of being selective in my work. As Moira correctly pointed out, my recent endeavors had me undertake missions for the Harpers and the Vaultwardens." He wondered at how they had managed to sniff that out, as he had tried to be secretive about it for his employers' sake. If anything, SEER might have had something to do with it.

"Let me say, you are fortunate you've stumbled upon me," he continued, leaning forward as he decided to forego tiresome humility. "I mean no offense, but you make it sound like you've been wandering around aimlessly, doing whatever's within arm's reach. Reacting as opposed to . . . proacting?" Was that a word? No matter. "If I were a Giant strategist, I could conjure a million distractions to divert you from critical matters."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:13, Thu 21 Apr 2022.

Mention of the Underdark got a sympathetic wince out of Moira.  No further comment though; she hadn't ventured far into that terrible place and certainly wasn't inclined to, nor could anything her experiences mention come close to the full awfulness a native would know.

"Ain't exactly a matter of stumblin' and aimless wanderin'.  We ain't raised a concerted effort against th'Giants ourselves and, more than not, figure they don't know we even exist." Moira screwed her thumb into the bridge of her nose to stifle back the inevitable headache of contending with big political forces.  "Originally our plan was just t'have our run from Nightstone - bringin' news t'House Nandar of Waterdeep, finishin' a task here in Yartar for a friend, and then head right back home southward.

But, th'more things go on, th'more it's clear we ain't been at this alone or unguided.  First it seemed like we were bein' led 'round by th'nose by folk like SEER - y'know, th'sort who fancy themselves a mastermind movin' folk like Dragon Chess pieces on a board.  She's th'one who pointed us t'you.  But then there was th'keeper of th'crash landin' y'mentioned; a Cloud Giant soothsayer who figured us in visions." she tilted her head onto the backrest of her chair with a dull thump as the scope of everything just kept getting bigger and bigger in the retelling.  A hand raised to point to each of her companions in turn; first Claire, then U'lin, and finally herself with a tap of her fingers at the holy symbol of Waukeen she wore.  "Earthmother, Wonderbringer, and Coinmaiden.  Turns out it seems it ain't just mortal hands guidin' our path."

That same gesturing hand was tossed up in dismay.  "And now there's a bloody Lordsmoot."

"'Dragon Chess pieces on a board'," Aziér grinned, "the more I hear of this SEER, the more there is to like. In all seriousness, the importance of policy shouldn't be underestimated — it's just another word for 'large scale action', after all. I assume the Giants are organized. To varying degrees," he tacked on. "Hill Giants don't strike me as the brightest bipeds out there."

The notion of a deceased Cloud Giant aiding the group sprung all sorts of alarms in Aziér heads. He'd been to the site of the crash landing, but he had only been privy to the leftovers. "What's your reason for trusting this Cloud Giant?"

"Some of 'em are, some of 'em ain't.  Ever since th'Giant's social peckin' order got broken, seems it's a free-for-all of them tryin' t'put themselves higher in th'pile.  Some of th'lesser Giants or their kin seem driven mad by it.  Far as we know, th'Fire Giants are th'ones with th'most organization goin' on and th'biggest threat laid out." There was still a lot of questions to be had about just how many Giants were involved and to what measure, but the Fire Giants had been the most overt in having a form of coherent scheme throughout the coast.  Well, at least the one of them that was left still alive... "Each Stone Giant we've met so far's been makin' odd constructions on magical leyline points, though it ain't clear if they're cooperatin' on some big project or just actin' solo doin' th'same thing each.  Stones are all addled dreamers sleepwalkin' 'round th'place; ain't no makin' sense of their heads."

On question of the Cloud Giant, however, Moira turned somber and paused mid-lift of her teacup.  A moment's hesitation in memory of the sad trill of a half-broken music box's echo before she took a sip and continued.  "His name was Zephyrous.  Never knew him personally - only learned all we did 'bout him from messages he left behind.  But he sacrificed himself t'save th'life of one of ours and set us on th'right track t'help others.  He knew he was doomed and spent his very last helpin' folk he'd never meet." she elaborated softly as her hand raised to press a habitual rub against the side of her choker-clad neck.  "It's a rare soul what does somethin' like that, Giant or not."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:38, Sat 23 Apr 2022.

U'lin opened his lips several times to say.. well, just what Moira went on to say, so he nodded in agreement on many points, more in the way of emphasis than adding on.

"Well said, as always, Moira.

"The divisions between the giant races are significant, and each level have been intent on improving their specific kind's ranking and placement in the hierarchy, seemingly viewing it as a chance to reorder, and our group will see done what great task we've been prevented to show our greater placement, not that it was forever gone - which we don't know, one way or another.  That behaviour being, of course, save the hills and giant kin, which have been a free-for-all, no rules to bind me anymore.  The hills have been focused on self-gratification, and the Oni was almost rabidly or phobically-reactive to any thought of order or control being set upon him.  He had a horrid hatred of Thente about the hint of such.

"The Fire giants we've encountered in this region appeared to be trying to restore a world-ending ancient giant golem - whether limited to eradicating the dragons and Uthgardt werewolves or everything non-giant isn't a gamble I would choose to bet a silver- but we don't know if it is THE BIG PROJECT for all, or if different fire giant groups are seeking other great Fire Giant crafts to restore.    The pieces were spread far apart, hidden within Giant  hiding spots upon leylines - another confluence of concern, relative to the Stones' work.

"There are just so very many questions remaining."

The topic of Zephyrous brought a seriousness, a thoughtful gazing away, but U'lin did not abandon the conversation, and merely spoke more introspectively in tone.  "Agreed.  He had a vision of what was to occur, and rather than try to avoid it, he spent his time preparing a message to those who would find him, and to aid those still proceeding in the world.  He had chairs for those of all heights, which was a thoughtful welcoming touch, and had painted many interesting pictures of folk or scenes that caught his attention.  It is a shame that we could not have filled the seats to discuss while he yet lived."

"Far as we know, it's been th'Fire Giants what've been th'bulk of woes along th'coast so far.  They've coordinated, gathered an army of Orcs, and staged major attacks t'get at those pieces of th'Vonindod weapon.  Th'razin' of Triboar was their doin' after they struck a deal with th'city's traitorous official mage t'get at a piece vaulted below th'city's foundations."  Having marauding invaders was bad enough, but that the Fire Giants were able to actually infiltrate and orchestrate such attacks to a more pin-pointed degree was a major problem to try and cope with.  "But now th'Uthgardt tribes have risen against them and apparently took out at least one of th'Fire Giants.  Ain't sure how that's gonna shake out, but we'll learn more at th'Lordsmoot, surely."

The Hin cast her gaze over Claire's way with a sympathetic sigh.  "So very many questions, yea.  This all started for us when Cloud Giants attacked th'town of Nightstone, far south of here.  Still dunno why they even did it.  They bombarded th'countryside with boulders th'size of carriages, killed so many of us and our kin." Even if she had set into motion a way to rectify that terrible loss, the memory of the towers in the clouds backlit by the moon still sat clear in her mind.  "They scooped up a monument in town - th'self-same 'Nightstone' - and buggered off t'who knows where.  No clue as t'why or what for."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:12, Mon 25 Apr 2022.

Claire nodded as Moira explained the long and short of it, idly twirling a strand of gold hair around her finger as she listened patiently.

"Come to think of it, you reckon that means we could find our 'Nightstone' somewhere out there?" she hadn't actually considered the possibility of recovering the village landmark, now a part of a fantastical giant civil war. "Hadn't thought of it really, next to the lives of our loved ones it mattered so little. It'd be nice though, wouldn't it? To have it back at home. Less it's really some dangerous artifact, of course." It was strange to consider that the familiar obelisk was more than a funny-shaped rock, part of some bigger game. But more than enough strange things had happened since that fateful day.

Aziér listened to the many insights the group had accumulated. While their reason to trust the Cloud Giant sounded to veer on the emotional, he wouldn't argue. If he well and truly intended to be an ally, the demise of this Zephyrous was a great tragedy, for Aziér, too, would have liked to occupy one of those chairs the Giant had kept. "I see. Wars are fought with weapons." Well, that and spells, which slotted depending on perspective. "The Fire Giants and their construction you mentioned are testament to that. This Nightstone might be one too, or perhaps power one. But then again, Cloud Giants are obsessed with aesthetics. I wonder, however — is it one of a kind?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:46, Tue 26 Apr 2022.

DM - History check on that?  Or maybe even Arcana?

OOC: either works, what are you looking to confirm?

Whether or not the Nightstone from Nightstone is one of a kind, or if it has any known historical/magical significance?

That said, it'd probably be best for someone other than Moira to make those sort of checks, given her whopping +0/non-proficiency with the skills.  ^^;

OOC: This is a very specific piece of knowledge, I will say that the History DC is high enough that you need to be making it inside a place that would have research/sources on this to successfully cross reference if its unique.

Historically, its been in Nightstone since forever and scholars travel there occasionally to study it. Its supposedly magically inert - the residents of the town know that much at least.

Would it be possible that Claire knew?

OOC: on a nat 20, she would ;)

So you're saying there's a chance? ^^

At no risk of loss, 5% is always worth at least trying for.  :3

U'lin has heard nothing of this stone.
And... yup, has heard nothing for sure :)

It was worth a shot!

History: 18
10:09, Today: Claire Larkspur rolled 18 using 1d20.  History.

Damn close tho!

Claire explodes

More seriously, this seems like a good point to start wrapping up. I'll prep the next threads and put them up once negotiations have concluded, let's shoot for sometime before the weekend ;)

With my wife and I finishing season2 of Upload, that seems terribly appropriate :)

(Last call for this thread - I'll be moving things on soon (likely tomorrow afternoon). I would urge Azie'r and Moira to get to the actual handshake if possible xD)

"Dunno one way or th'other.  What I do know is th'Cloud Giants sure as hells didn't need t'attack th'town like they did.  Coulda just swung by, picked it up, and gone off without any fuss - ain't like nobody could'a done a damn thing 'bout it anyway." Moira scowled beyond the rim of her cup as she felt an all too familiar surge of anger rise in her chest, like embers that never truly died out given a bit of fresh air.  "It was malice what drove that attack and I'm damn keen on havin' a word with those Giants someday."

All they'd discussed hadn't even scratched the surface, but it was enough to at least grant a basic idea of what they'd been up against and what kind of danger still loomed on the horizon, perhaps.  There were political powers-at-be finally getting off their asses to contend with an obvious danger private forces had already been combating.  But, given the scale of it all, Moira sure wasn't going to argue on reinforcements.

"SEER was of a mind that y'would be a boon for us.  So what d'ya think?  Seem like a campaign y'can set onto, knowin' full well what sorta dangers are in store?  It's fair pay for th'risk, and y'get fed well as I can keep ya', but there's still th'chance this all goes foul real damn quick t'consider." the Hin shook her head.  "If y'wanna take some time t'decide, maybe come along with us t'th'Lordsmoot and see if what happens there makes up y'mind?"

It was a shame the group did not know whether or not there were several Nightstones. Had there been, one could easily have speculated upon the Cloud Giant's next course of action. Now, they were mostly in the dark. While the Fire Giants and their aggressive warfare seemed by far and away the most pressing threat to contend with, the way Moira described the Clouds' complete disregard for the lives of other races . . . it reminded him of his family. Feelings of superiority, resentment —  close nit aristocratic circles were fertile grounds for poisons of the mind.

When the topic turned to his involvement in the whole affair, Aziér only smiled gently, appreciating the Hin's concern despite it being misguided. She was the worrying kind, for sure. "I will gladly join you at the Lordsmoot, but my mind was made up the second I approached you at gala. I am speaking frankly when I say that this whole Giant thing seems like fun to pursue. Dangerous, sure, but that is part of the charm, right? The most interesting games have the realest stakes."

He extended his hand, though slightly unsure about where his pay would come from, and therefor if it was the Hin's or SEER's he was supposed to shake.

Even if it wasn't Moira's personal coffers that funded their misadventures - usually - she had fallen into a sort of de facto lead where business was involved.  If, for no other reason, than to simply spare her companions the stress of having to contend with political affairs that they so often got roped into.  Thus it was her hand that took Azie'r's in a firm shake; calloused to the touch from obvious labors in both bearing reins, tools, and weapons alike, yet still with a great warmth behind it.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:53, Wed 04 May 2022.

Claire suppressed a frown. 'Fun' and 'charming' wasn't quite the way she saw the whole endeavour - it was difficult to treat this quest of theirs like a game considering the events that had propelled them from Nightstone in the first place. Still, allies were allies. Though the youngest of the lot, the priestess was not so young to be unable to accept that the roguish fellow might, like SEER and the various lordly personages they had encountered thus far, have his own motivations for assisting. At the very least, it did not seem to her like he meant or would do any harm.

She forced a smile to avoid offending, glad that Azie'r's attention was on Moira.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:08, Wed 04 May 2022.