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."