21 Hammer: A windswept mountain trail descending into Bloodstone Valley

“How much money to ensure we never see you again?”  DonBrapp challenges Bosmos after Bardo expresses his gift of clothes are to ensure the dwarf leaves.

Bosmos arrives at the fest hall beaming; winks at Quilro expecting 5K gold.  DonBrapp reinforces the work.  Bosmos thinks he is a HoW.   DonBrapp agrees to a title upon completion of their task.

Milan reports ¾ of dragon gold from hoard to steading; next to Hillsafar hall.

Tokar provides 8 dwarves and two sledges for Milan to continue to the treasure to Hillsafar hall.

DonBrapp recommends adding Draxos to the roles;  beginning with the steading.

Tomas attempts to secure training from Quilro, and it is reluctantly agreed.

Fyrnlocke placates the mageling with a couple precious gems; Petra is nonplussed at the thought of Tomas’ leering “If he calls me gypsy I will make him bleed.”

Tokar, Boldar, and a contingent of the Oriothar see the Heroes off to the valley;  much of the ice from the cut has melted to reveal bas reliefs of dwarven history along the halls..
The paths in the mountains are clearly being travelled by something.  Something large is pushing all game from the NW into the SE, Draxos observes.

Bosmos has acquired a +3 staff of shapeshifting to accompany his bearskin cloak.  It was found in the hands of a skeleton he reports. Shuos plays in the snow.

Bosmos offers a blessing with his staff before asking for a mount.   Quilro obliges with his pony.

DonBrapp has a mule train of his many items, including his font and a keg of holy water.  The dwarf has left the strange mechanical rods with Durnking with instructions to deliver to Feglologos for examination.

The group assumes a scouting formation with Draxos invisible and Quilro flying high above.  He soars among the high alpine ridges that divide Vaasa from Damara.  Above the treeline cover is sparse, and the snow-covered marshes of Vaasa are visible.

The tracks of halfling war bands are evident, as are indications of groups of monsters.
The heroes make camp in a wind-protected alcove, and the ranger gathers firewood.  The group builds a fire within the confines of the magic darkness pebble to obscure the view.
Draxos observes four humanoid tracks from within the past couple days that display indications of attempts to obscure their passing.

Tomas is taught affect normal fires.  Quilro takes the full watch as the rest make camp and rest.

Around 1 am the horses are uneasy, but something evil and terrifying is in the sky above, chaotic evil above, in a general force moving to the east and south.

Quilro calms the animals, snow starts at 0300.  He rousts the party at the first grey sliver
of light and ensures all have fresh and hot coffee.

“If you want to codify a relationship, make a coin transaction!”

Divine magic vs magicians: “We don’t pray to gods, we are gods!”  Quilro.

Both Draxos and Kailute smell something out of place coming on the ind form the north.  After 30 minutes the scent dissipates.

The party finds itself on an undulating path 10’15’ wide through knife ridges along the western edge before doubling back and cutting to the southeast.

Bosmos makes his goodbyes and turns to the NW promising to waylay the horde.
Bashook!  Turns into a white snowy owl and flies away.

The party crosses over the mountains to the east, and foot traffic is apparent and the group feels as if it is under observation.  Shuos also expresses body language of disease.

The group finds evidence of a smashed wagon that appears to have been ambushing attempting to leave the valley.  Draxos discovers drag marks and the poorly covered remains of a family of humans that had been slaughtered by metal booted humanoids.

The group grips its weapons and begins to earnestly patrol to find the perpetrators.
After moving east, the smell of a cookfire is evident.

A brigand check point is found at the bottom of a ridgeline cutback.  Quilro polymorphs and leaps to the sky.  Armed men at arms and dogs are manning the checkpoints, fire, bundles, small tents and horses.

It also appears that the entire area.  Quilro attempts to surreptitiously listen as a bird.  Kailute scales a cliff off the path to position himself behind the group.
Kailute strolls out of the shadows and approaches the checkpoint, surprising the guards.

“Where do you hail from?”

Freeriders of Damara!

Men of Morov, protecting and taxing the valley.

“We’ll kill anything that comes out of the mountains that doesn’t pay the tax!”

“Lord Darkon charges us to watch these ways!”

“We made an agreement; best thing you can do is leave now!”

Why don’t you come over here and make me pay the taxes.

An alarm goes up.  DonBrapp unleashes a lightning bolt killing a dog and knocking down one of the guards.  Another is killed.

“Spellcaster!”

Kailute cuts straight through one of the guards nearly killing him, but pulling his weapon from the first one causes the Barbarian to lose his standing.

A dog leaps up and closes its jaws on Kailute’s neck.

Quilro circles above as Draxos releases arrows into the remaining guards.
The guards attempt to man the barricades in defense, but DonBrapp levels the remaining guard with another lightning bolt, blowing the guy back into the rock.

The group attempts to flee.  Kailute punches the dog off his throat.
The group smites the brigands with two captured.

The party stands in control of the mountain pass checkpoint.  Three windswept tents and a failing firepit stand among the rocks and snow.  Five slain men-at-arms and three shivering scared prisoners are all that remain of the roadside camp.  One wounded hound whimper, and the three survivors look gamely toward Kailute.

Quilro soothes the wounded dog;  and asks Fyrnlocke for a potion of healing to apply to the dog.  The dog sniffs and is concerned about the pouch in which Quilro keeps the basilisk.  Refusing iron rations, the dog leads the elf to the looted treasure pile behind the tent and pulls out some more fresh food.

The three prisoners in motley armor approach Kailute ruefully, who advises them they will be defending Bloodstone Valley under their direction; surprised at the mention of the Lich.

Garlen and Grayven suspiciously question the Arcatan men at arms, who acknowledge their association with Darkon.  Quilro casts ESP and realizes the older one is bullying the weaker two and is planning to murder his way out at his first availability.

Kailute puts his arm around the leader and thrusts his dagger into his throat, eliciting grim smiles from the Bloodstone lads and shocked gasps from the remaining prisoners.  Garlen and Grayven scavenge what remains for weapons and armor.

“Your friend dreamt of betrayal and murder; what are your thoughts?”  Kailute asks.  Quilro probes their recent memories of murder and mayhem as DonBrapp recommends using them as advance probes for traps.  Slaach and Jereth consider their options and agree to follow while warning they may not be welcome in Bloodstone.

“Slay us or ransom us, Greenskin?”  The wiliest of the prisoners demands.  Kailute informs all of them they will defend Bloodstone from the forces of Zengyhi or they shall perish in the elements.

Garlen and Graylen approach full of spiteful vengeance, and the brigands admit working for Darkon the Arcatan warrior.  Quilro probes the thoughts, determining who among the captives are hardened criminals, and those just caught up in events for survival.  Kailute cuts the throat of the most incorrigible murderer, bringing grim smiles to the Bloodstone lads.
“Your comrade here dreamt of betrayal; your lives if you will assist and perhaps find redemption.  Otherwise, my blade is your fate.”

Quickly they agree to follow the half-orc, although warning they may find trouble in Bloodstone Village.  They further relay their recent history of maligning refugees as the internal situation in Damara collapsed with the assassination of their king.  Their role was to seal Bloodstone off to the outside, starving the population into submission under Duke William of Arcata.  Quilro intimidates the brigands with his ability to magically sense their thoughts.

The Bloodstone lads ask DonBrapp if has any additional potions.

Outriders of Darkon were tasked to isolate Bloodstone Village until they pledged fealty to Duke William of Arcata.  Subjugation or death.

Quilro intimidates Slaach by repeating his thoughts as Petra calls them both the vistani equivalent of Horsefuckers.

Having fed and watered the captured mounts with what little damp food remains, Kailutes directs the party to collect what recovered goods it can, and the group begins to make its way south.

Quilro names the dog Bucktold, after the elven pirate of lore.

The path winds its way down and then, one cold, crisp morning, you find yourself standing on a ridge looking over the valley. Bloodstone Pass is a narrow valley through the mountains. And the trail follows a fresh spring that heads south into the valley, growing into a river.  From this vantage, the valley is bounded by mountains as far south as the eye can see.  A bright blue lake hugs the west side of the shore, and smudges of chimney smoke can be seen from what appears to be a walled hamlet on a peninsula jutting south, about 20 miles.  Small copses of snow covered trees cover the hills that abut the surrounding mountains.  This is the Village of Bloodstone. Garlen and Garvin have explained to you that the entire valley is technically part of the Barony of Bloodstone, although the Baron has little power over his dominions.

Once, small towns dotted the landscape and the winding road through the valley was filled with caravans. Now, the Bloodstone is only a shadow of its former glory.

“No feckin’ boats.” Grumbles DonBrapp.

Fyrnlocke pokes the prisoners with swords to make fire, and Tomas assists with his newly learned magic.

Draxos finds dinner among the unnaturally crowded fauna, apparently herded from the northwest.

As camp is laid DonBrapp heals, withdraws and creates food and water before bringing forth a wyvern watch over the camp.  Petra makes up a strong tea, the group settles into a camp routine.

The baby basilisk bites Quilro’s finger every time he reaches food into his pouch, having grown to a small cat size.  Draxos begins to weave a covering hood for the lethargic lizard.

Quilro and Draxos confer about the tracks and ominipresent feeling of surveillance, attempting to infer where the observation may be coming from.

At DonBrapp’s request the ranger coaxes a snowy owl into assistance while on watch.  Shous and the dog Buck observe with curiosity.  Ice Crystals Surrounding Pine Boughs is the name of the owl.

Around the fire Garlen and Graylen explain the superstitious fear of a creature in lake Midal, as well as the tensions between the original Damaran natives, and the missionary settlers under the civilizing influence of Lathander.  The natives remain committed to Auril and her domain of ice and snow.  The “natives” are better farmers while the newcomers from the south are more effective at mining and production of goods.

Quilro haughtily explains how wasteful it is to teach Tomas magic as his time is infinitely more precious than his; Tomas responds that his clerical training to Mystra was very effective, and the arrogance of elves is evident in the loss of their mythal cities.  Quilro ruefully agrees to continue training the cleric/mage.

The Bloodstone lads maintain their weapons and armor in the manner Kailute has instructed them, drying and oiling the metal and covering it as much as possible from the elements.

Draxos takes up the first watch, and the evening is as pleasant a night yet in the mountains.  Thirty minutes prior to relief the owl, dog, and shuos begin to stir as a shadow appears to the east.  Quilro is awakened as the ranger points in the direction of the abnormal darkness.  Scouring the area with his infravision, he directs Draxos in halfling to alert DonBrapp and Petra.  The dwarf is snoring without a care in the world.  Shuos nudges the barbarian awake quietly, so all attention is focused on the silent darkness to the east.

As all peer into the east, Shuos cocks an ear to the west.  The owl leaps from Draxos’ shoulder…   and now to the west the high-pitched sound of giggling sylvan creatures approaching.  In a few moments, a cloud of radiant colored light backlights the snow and trees.

“Fireball.” Declares Quilro flatly, prompting complete cessation of lights and silence.

“Find we hungry human?” Calls out a voice from the direction of audible glamer that is advancing deliberately from the west in a pidgin sylvan tongue barely decipherable to the elves.

At Quilro’s direction Petra creeps forward in an attempt to dispel the multi-colored magical illumination, which prompts reproachful giggles and a look of concern from the Vistani.
“Snow woodland creatures.  A problem for eelves.” DonBrapp grunts.

“Friends, trade, peace.”  Quilro states in his best brownie as the dwarf begins to don his armor.

Draxos’ owl soars back from the sky, and with a gentle claw tug indicates any danger comes from the east, not the west.

The magical wyvern is illuminated in garish orange as several heads wearing a conical hat of felt and straw pop from the snow, none standing more than six inches tall.

“Who is this elf who comes to trade with us?”  Quilro relates his family history and trading name as six brownies make a semi-circle around the elfmage.

Offering the continual light rock, one of the brownies does a tumbling somersault declaring “We found friends!”

As the brownies exhort, the audible glamer and glowing lights intensify until two shimmering scaled serpents swoop in on butterfly-like wings, each no larger than a well fed cat.  Shuos and buck yelp and snort as Quilro orders Tomas to record the event.

Quilro reaches into his pouch and pulls forth a wineskin, as the younger appearing faerie dragon observes the war boar, and the older approaches the half-orc.

Petra crouches behind Quilro invoking Vistani protective symbols.  So directed, she flings the magical ring of human influence at the elf as he parlays with the brownies and dragons.

The creatures reveal that the shadows are watching from afar.  Quilro attempts to parlay with the faeries to assist in the operations in the valley.  Shuos and the faerie dragon play.

The faerie dragons make a comment on the prisoners; but correct Quilro by clarifying that they are not dark elves.

Kailute heads over to assist the elf in parlay.  Quilro offers 500 pounds of seashells every two years; but the brownies counter with a request for fire salts.  When Kailute reveals they have interplanar friends on the plane of fire, Nasvar is incredibly interested.

Nasvar explains the hold of untraceable humanoids making their training home in the mountains, but unrelated to the growing evil to the northwest.

The faerie dragons and brownies agree to provide safe passage to Bloodstone.

“When we make a deal, we honor the deal!”

DonBrapp casts his spell of alignment and heads east, where an indistinct but powerful evil is sensed, as well as evidence of obscured tracks.

“Parlay!” DonBrapp speaks out to the cold.  “What the feck you parlaying with?” Fyrnlocke asks.

“If we’re not fighting, I’m returning to sleep!” DonBrapp grumbles, complaining about losing their lantern and specious seashell deals.

The older faerie dragon flies bringing the elf to the skies above providing a tour of the valley, pointing out the Lake Midal dragon turtle, with a stop at Waukeshire.

Small fires mark an empty hearth, and invisible dragon and elf provide magical sustenance.

Draxos drinks with the brownies until they retire.  The elder dragon snuggles in.

Kailute resists the magical energy to sleep as the party

21 Hammer

Fey creatures, faerie dragons and brownies.  Revelation of the assassins citabel.

The party is ensorcelled and transported into the valley until the faerie dragons respond to the shrill scream of a woman in distress.

Depositing the magically slumbering group in a dell to the northwest, the faerie dragons observe a mixed group of human bandits, orcs, and giants accosting the farmstead of a simple farming woman.

The scents of orc and giants waft throughout.

An invisible Draxos flies above the party scouting to the south, as Kailute creeps forward as well.  Taking a perch in a tree high above the cottage the ranger knocks his bow, unseen.

The remaining heroes take up ambush positions along the trail leading away from the clearing.

The bandit enforcers attempt to intimidate answers out of the old lady to no avail.
The group is clearly ready to loot, but violence does not appear immediate.  More hunger than violence appears to animate the group.  She resists loudly, mentioning her dead husband.

“Followers of Zengyhi!  Why do you waster your time accosting this woman.  The target is Bloodstone!”

The woman and her attackers stop and turn to observe the half-orc as he emerges from the treeline.

“Who brings word from Zenghyi?!”  bellows one of the frost giants, tapping snow from his boots with the long log he carries as a club.

“From the bloody fangs comes reports of a human camp just north of here, probably sleeping and ripe for plunder!”  Kailute masterfully begins to lure the raiding party north.  A rat faced human protests for immediate pillage and loot, but the half-orc barbarian continues to suggest treasures to the north are far better for attack.

“You fools!  Stay here and fight over an old woman’s empty pantry, or join me and feast on the supplies of dwarves and men in the mountains!”  Kailute retorts, spinning on his heel.

The giants, orcs, and leaders begin to move toward the half-orc.  One of the orcs flings a dagger that does not intimidate the old lady as it embeds itself in the wall next to her door.

“Let the dogs eat the human bitch.”  The barbarian whistles the dogs  and they begin to meander in his direction, as do most of the raiders.

The leader attempts to get more information from Kailute, asking if he is from the broken teeth and where his patrol area is.  The half-orc provides enough information to stall as he deliberately leads them into the ambush.

The sonorous chant of the Coinfather is muted among the snow-covered boughs flanking the path, providing magical advantage to all the companions within hearing.  Having made his prayer the dwarf waits tensed to observe how the battle will begin.

The faerie dragon floats near Quilro, commenting how difficult it can be to explain magic to non-magical creatures.

The wind masks both scent and sound of the party, as a log astride the path is silently and magically lifted from the ground into the sky.  Kailute asks the giant leader about halfling activity in the mountains, learning that while tracks were plentiful the burrows appeared to be stripped of supplies.
“Halflings make a small meal, but still more stout than human baby!” the barbarian roars boisterously.

Quilro hears the faerie dragon to growl at the evil chatter, and the floating log flutters for a moment hanging in the sky.

“Hold…   hold…” the elf grunts between gritted teeth before all realize they’ve been turned utterly invisible.

The sounds of muffled screaming from the front of the cottage can be heard beyond the half-orc and war party are discussing the location of potential food stores.

The dogs and displacer cats begin to sniff the wind, and the giant pauses to direct scouts and outriders to take their place at the flanks.

Quilro shimmies between the legs of DonBrapp as the floating log is dropped onto one orc and two of the humans with a delighted sneer.  “Eat that with your halflings!” Curcumin cackles with delight.

Draxos looses a volley of arrows from the tree drawing a tight group of puncture wounds on the chest of one of the young frost giants.

Quilro thrusts his hand up under the dwarf’s codpiece to invoke a thundering bolt of lightning, knocking several of the animals senseless, killing one of the frost giants and two of the orcs.

The rest of the raiding party hurriedly and confusedly reaches for their weapons as they are pummeled by another powerful blast of lightning.  The giant looks on with awe and fear as his group is cut down by magic and the air is filled with the scent of burning fur and flesh.

Amazingly, a wall of snow appears from the west moving to sweep the line of monsters out of the clearing and against the house, tumbling the monsters and snapping their bones buried underneath a magical illusion of an avalanche.

Smiling at the frost giant, Kailute dances by the surprised leader hacking off flesh as he moves beyond the creature.  Angrily the giant spins to engage but is knocked off balance and falls to the snow behind the barbarian.

Draxos descends to the appropriate range loosing an arrow straight through the giants throat before pivoting to engage the remaining frost giant.

DonBrapp shoots another bolt of magical lightning into the scrum, causing the leader to flail in the snow as the second remaining giant perishes from the blast.

Quilro commands a volley of magical energy into the giant, who flops convulsively from the successive attacks until dead.

Kailute bursts through the door of the cottage cutting a swath of bloody damage against the remaining human attackers.  Loping off one of the brute’s hand at the wrist before piercing the second one in the chest with a killing blow.

Five surviving raiders attempt to flee to the north, but Draxos swoops forward in the sky to cut off their retreat.  He fells two before the now common SPRONG sound of his bowstring breaking negates his third attack.

DonBrapp shakes his head looking at the flying elf, and then turning his head to frown at the elf between his legs.  With magical speed he sprints through the woods to electrify beast and fleeing human with yet another bolt of lighting frying both creatures.

The series of concussive explosions echo off the mountains and trees, muted slightly by the heavy blanket of snowfall.

The faerie dragons swoop in to attack, the elder one lifting an orc by its shoulders and then dropping it to the ground.

“SURRENDER!” Kailute shouts in orcish, and several of the starving green skinned warriors sheepishly comply.

The dwarf nods to Fyrnlocke and they begin to search the giant corpses for items of value.  DonBrapp finds a map indicating a penetration from the northeast into the valley.

Kailute gathers the five orcs who have surrendered, bedraggled, submissive and forlorn at their turn fortune.  Identifying as Gnarltooth from the west, Kailute thinks they are a sub-clan of Yellowear, likely brutalized and subsumed in the ongoing churn.

Fyrnlocke has the corpses collected for burning.  Observing the ranger looking to stalk the displacer beast, DonBrapp offers a curt nod at Draxos.

“Enough pets, Eelf!”  Instead the dwarf directs the beasts be harvested for their magical parts.
The old lady has collected herself, and thanks the heroes from her porch.

“Marlen would’ve appreciated yer efforts.  He rests in the shed until the evil passes and the ground thaws enuff to lay him to final rest.”

Kailute grunts without speaking at Quilro, who instinctively surveys the memories of the captives.  Originating from around the Hillsafar Hall environs, they rejoiced in hunting the mountains, clearing the way for a horde at the behest of the ruler of a large odd shaped cylindrical castle in Vaasa.  Their raids on halflings yielded very little.  Their tribal lands were displaced by the military activity around Hillsafar Hall, and they are now hungry and bereft of hunting lands.  Having witnessed Kailute’s power and skill, the prisoners are completely submissive to the barbarian.

A minor outlay of coin was yielded from the corpses, Fyrnlocke tossing the last satchel into the back of one of the carts.  A unique knife carved from a sea creature is recovered, and once accounted for the coin the sun breaks through and the dwarf creates food.

The two captive brigands, Jereth and Slach are directed to move the corpses to a pyre location.

The group feasts as magical fire is used to burn the dead, the smoke wafting in a powerful plume to the sky before sloping slightly to the northwest on the wind.

Kailute offers to cut a pit for her husband’s grave as DonBrapp reflects on the hard edge of mountain people.

Garlen and Graylen pick through the remaining corpses for the best equipment and weapons remaining for themselves and their captives.

Nelda Orridge is the women’s name, and she reluctantly accepts it would probably be best for her to join the heroes as they continue on to Bloodstone Village.

Curcumin and Indanthrene are exhausted and promise to keep watch over the woods after DonBrapp introduces each titled member.

Nelda gathers up her travel belongings and the group trudges out southwest toward the village, with the party up front, the captives toward the rear trailed by the Bloodstone lads.


5:30 PM 22 Hammer

Destroying the bandit checkpoint, as well as the small raiding party the heroes have arrived at the forlorn village of Bloodstone.  Once a well-protected growing hamlet, the walls and gate are in disrepair.  Many homes are empty, abandoned or burned out.
A smithy and a general goods store cling to operation, mostly out of direct payments from Baron Tranth’s dwindling silver reserves.

The effigy of a red bearded dwarf hangs from outside this sturdy three story tavern hall.  Exquisitely carved but extremely weather worn carving has an enormous gout of fire billowing from the mouth of a dwarf with his hands on his hips.

The inside emanates a careworn warmth against decades of winters and the threats of the frozen northlands.  The upper walls are adorned with the stuffed heads of mountain beasts; yeti, goat, elk, deer, and snow leopards.  The overwhelming scent of earth spices waft from a kitchen behind the bar.  A fit and hulking human man with graying black hair pulled into a tight ponytail mans the bar.  He is assisted by the buxom sisters Carlotta and Raquel, who make friendly banter with all who enter.

The lower level is a square open space with vaulted wooden beam sealings.
All ignore your cohort of orcs; however sidelong dagger eyes peer at the two human men-at-arms.

The party has been introduced to Lady Christine; the stunningly beautiful daughter of Baron Tranth Bloodfeathers.  The Lady has agreed to arrange a dinner with the baron to discuss legal disposition of the brigands, the orcs, and any other appropriate topics.

A group of locals is quietly throwing dice.  While not overfilled, it is clear the inn and tavern has become the center of what social activity remains in Bloodstone.

A singular man in a green cloak looks on flintily to the party as they enter.  A half-elf and human farmer talk quietly amongst themselves.

“Is there anything else I can do…”  the Lady comments, before becoming directly interested in the snowy owl on Draxos’ shoulder.

DonBrapp frets about the information the map shows of pending invasion, and how quickly the horde may be covering the mountains.

Fyrnlocke, Petra and Tomas sit at a table near the bar, and order food and red wine.  The mageling takes her book out and examines it conspicuously in front of Tomas.

“Halfling!”

“Dwarf? What brings you to Bloodstone?”

“Glory and fortune, Halfling.  What news?” DonBrapp spits back.

“What news I can share with you is neither fortune nor glory welcome you here.”
The stout fellow is wearing leather armor and a short blade underneath a well-traveled cloak.

The dwarf inquires about Fredegast; the halfling explains most have moved off to Hillsafar, but some remain unable to leave their homes in the Waukeshire.

The dwarf unwittingly insults the demihuman before he moves away with a curt nod.
The villagers to the south continue to peer with hatred at the orcs and brigands.  Kailute moving closer does nothing to diminish the cold anger in their stares as Carlotta brings over a plate of food.

“Food and drink for all on us!” Fyrnlocke yells, rolling three large gems on to the table.  The serving lady thanks him and delivers the jewels to Stepan the barkeep as some of the tension in the inn is defused.

“Are ye the dwarf who ordered all up into the mountains?  You don’t look Oriothar?” Some of the villagers begin to inquire, and DonBrapp relays their recent activity, including their usurping of Strahd in Barovia.  This greatly alleviates some tension, as it is clear Strahd and Barovia were not tight allies for the Bloodstone locals.

“House Guryerovich now rules in Castle Ravenloft, and long may they!”

“Interesting.”  The square jawed individual eyeing the group observes.  “Speaks for Barovia.  Speaks now for Oriothar.  Where was this hospitality when the Arcatans moved to sack our fields and breach our walls?”

Kailute relays some of conflict in the mountains, especially the growing horde and it appears the name of Zengyhi doesn’t resonate.

“Perhaps the affairs of state should wait for the Baron’s table.  We thank you again for your extreme generosity.  I shall call for you tomorrow and may the light of Lathander guide thee.”  Before leaving, she communicates with the owl, who hops to her shoulder, makes small communication, and then lets it shuffle back to the rangers before departing.
As the group discusses their next steps, Quilro notices the intent study of the same flinty eyed stranger from the table to the east.  Signaling in cant to no avail, the elf nudges the dwarf to probe with magic.

Quilro moves to begin to sing a song of elvish defense of fate, poor fortune, while maintain devotion to clan and friend as the dwarf moves to quietly cast his spell.  Casting his know alignment around the space, some sort of magical shield prevents his ability to discern the loyalties of this individual.

The house observes with wistful silence the song the elf is baring, and the dwarf observes a true neutral alignment from the Lady Christine, and the majority of the folk are good aligned.

“You’re more beast than man; does he smell right to you?” The elf motions toward the gentleman while speaking to Kailute.

Kailute approaches the Lady Christine as she is about to leave.

“There is an odd gentleman nearby our table; without alert milady could you share what you know of this man?”  After introductions, she notes she is unfamiliar with Warboar clan, and apologizes for the hostility of her fellow citizens.

She identifies Jamison as the town master fletcher, with skills few men posses at stringing bowcraft.  Both he and Eliza are of the elder folk but are not aware of the impending arrival of the horde.  Jamison and the elder folk can be a little put-offish but are not known to be outright malevolent.

The group eyes Jamison who is wearing a long green cloak, likely covering some weapons.  Around his neck hangs a triangular flecked holy symbol of Auril.

Draxos sits next to him and makes a small introduction while explaining his need of a new bowstring.  Jamison examines the magical weapon and is amazed and impressed at the weapon.  It’s clear it requires a stronger string than the one he’s been stringing.  The fletcher agrees to restring the weapon for 30gp and the ranger makes an appointment for the morrow.
As he is moving to the bar Carlotta aims to charm the ranger to no avail, as he curtly dismisses her with orders for mead.

Racquel approaches, “Friends, if only your friendliness matched your voice.  Is there anything else we can offer you?”

“More wine, wench.” Petra states.

Quilro steps forward with another song, this one about Bucktold the elven pirate of the Moonsea, leaping upon a table and breaking into tune.

DonBrapp moves quietly up to the bar and casts true seeing in order to surveil the bar.  Peering around the room he takes in the things hidden, specifically noting the secret chamber behind the bar, the psychic remains of a horrible crime or event under the stairwell from decades past, and the eyes of the stuffed mountain goat from the rafters above is a secret magical scrying device.

After a frosty introduction to Stepan, the barkeep relates the new installation of the goat, but some mountain hunters provided the animal for mounting.  A feast was held, but Stepan cannot remember who stuffed the animal.

The crowd is thinning, and the heroes have the rooms along the south wall upstairs.
As the group is discussing their sleeping arrangements, the attenuarium begins to thrum with energy.

The fireplace increases with light and intensity, until a puff of flames illuminates a tall and lithe human form, bald and tattooed with stylized symbols donning a high necked red robe and an ashwood staff.

“Ver can I find DonBrappo?”  and introduces herself as an interlocuter for the Gundar Vundark and its final arrangements.

The lady introduces herself as Phzarr, pours herself a glass of wine.
“I can see why such a device is of interest to you…  you reek of the road, sweat, and…  whatever these creatures are.” Signaling toward Petra and Tomas.

Her task is to ensure the final fittings and decoration of the wagon are met to their expectations, laying out a vellum scroll of the interior plans of the wagon.
A sunken banquet area surrounded by three fireplaces, and meeting, training and study chambers as well as living spaces.

Quilro palms the ring of influence and moves over to Carlotta and plies information about the secret hiding place, which she happily explains that evening in the confines of the bedchamber.

Phzarr agrees to leave all of her fire spell components, so long as the dwarf accompanies her to bed.  DonBrapp is utterly ignorant of her continued entreaties, until finally he is worn down by her insistence.

She reveals the Thayvians are paying close attention to the events in Damara, concerned Zengyhi is summoning a powerful foe to assist in his domination of the area.

The remaining patrons are in awe of the heroes, having watched what has transpired as the group makes its way upstairs to bed.