Year 1489 DR

Tyranny of Dragons: Hoard of the Dragon Queen: Chapter 0 Calm Before the Storm

Five days after the trouble at Grazly's farm our heroes find themselves at an outdoor table at the ale garden The Two Sisters, planning their next step, the cool of the morning still hanging in the air even now just before noon.

The town of Greenest is bustling about getting ready for the Greenest Fair, set to start in three days. Locals have made a banner and are stringing it across the street within view of the ale garden where our heroes sit. Merchants from miles around are coming to ply their wares, and Governor Nighthill has arranged for a traveling circus, Marvelous Mojango's Circus, to come by and set up for the event, they should be arriving any time now.

As the characters sit speaking among themselves a young human boy leads an older human gentleman to the table where our heroes sit.

"Here they are Mr. Carver" The young boy says to the older man letting his hand go.

It becomes evident that the man standing before you is either blind or mostly blind. He is probably in his sixties his eyes have a milky film to them, his hair is receding and what is left is now thinned and gray. His hands tremble slightly as he releases his grip on the boy.

"Thank you Tanner, please wait for me." He says before turning his attention back to the group. "My apologies to all of you I don't mean to interrupt your gathering, but I need your help." He says his voice beginning to grow less timid and more concerned. "I was told that you were the group who helped Mr. Grazly with his problem on his farm... My name is Algen Carver I am a butcher and smoker of meats here in town... My daughter Reyshanel was sent to Beregost to buy some supplies I use in my meat rubs, and on her way back she gave a lift to Mr. Tanner here." He says motioning to the small blond boy of no older than 11. "I know his father and Mr. Tanner rode with Reyshanel until she dropped him off at his house along the road three days ago. I had no idea anything was wrong until Mr. Tanner came up to me a few hours ago and told me that he wanted to thank Reyshanel for the ride home, it was then I know something had happened to my daughter between his house and town, it is only three hours by wagon to his house, and he claims she dropped him off three days ago... Please, I need your help, I have asked the guard but they are too busy with the fair to do anything now, they said 'She is a grown woman, maybe she is meeting a lover.' ... Bah, Something is wrong I tell you, this is not like my daughter, Something terrible has happened to her, either wild animals or bandits..." He pauses. "She is a beautiful young woman, who knows what would have happened to her... Please I am not a rich man, but what I have is yours, I will do anything you ask, just please help me find out what happened to my daughter, she is all I have left."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:19, Wed 06 May 2020.

"You see Garrett, it's actually really simple.  If you hit the glass at just the right point on the top edge, it'll spin rather than topple.  Here watch.  Watch!" Sef exclaimed as an open hand shot out, digits aiming for the edge of the glass of milk she'd ordered rather than ale.  Oh that had gotten a funny look from the barmaid but Sef was used to it.  More importantly, her fingertips grazed the right side of the lip of the glass and did exactly what she'd promised it wouldn't.  The liquid vessel toppled, a thankfully half-empty glass pouring its contents out onto the wooden table they'd sat down at.  The barest hint of a spin sent the glass careening off to one side and Sef flattened her lips into a line to stop a smattering of obscenities from escaping into the air.  Her cheeks flushed, with embarrassment or annoyance it was hard to say, and she quickly stood up to retrieve a towel to clean up the mess.

Or she would have done so had a young boy and what appeared to be a wizened old grandfather hadn't interrupted her urgency.  Sef wordlessly thanked her good fortune that the man couldn't see the mess she made.  And then immediately cursed herself for being happy for anyone's disability.  She sat back down backwards into her seat, listening to the old man tell his tale with a curious tilt of her head and a light tapping of a finger against the hardwood back of the chair.  Sef's eyes looked over her shoulder for a moment, comparing the milky white mess she'd made with the man's eyes, but ultimately let the man take up her short attention.  The guard's opinion on the matter made enough sense to Sef.  Surely a woman, who was probably at least Sef's age judging by this man's years, would be all too willing to run off on a tryst with a man who suited her fancy.  Then again, Sef never had abandoned her elders.  Who was she to say this Reyshanel would?

"Just a thought.  She could have forgotten some supplies and turned back for them, yes?  I know I did that plenty with Master Torgen's grocery lists.  Though his chicken scratches never helped!  Is your writing adequate?"  Sef asked the questions but she didn't bother waiting for a response before continuing.  "Whatever, I will help you.  I cannot speak for my compatriots, I probably shouldn't speak for myself most days, but they're willing enough I'd wager.  'Spose it takes us three days to find her though.  Have some rations to share for us?  A bit of salted pork or some proper meat for a good stew would be appreciated."

The upcoming Greenest Fair would prove to be full of entertainments. It was the kind of thing you spent the season looking forward to, or found yourself amazed that it was time for the Fair again so soon.

Brock found that he did not need to wait that long for entertainment. The hyper Sefira provided plenty of it all on her own. He laughed a little when the glass went on over instead of just spinning around. "We'll get this cleaned up and then I want to try!" He had no training at hitting glasses but he was good with his hands.

Before he could try it out, amusements went right out the door. "Mr Carver here is well known for his work in town, and if you haven't had his brisket yet, you're just not living right in this town of ours. You're worried about her and she's been gone for days, that's good enough for me to pitch in and help."

He looked puzzled at Sefria's concern over this taking days to find someone who should be hours away. But he let that go. "Hey there Mr. Tanner, I'm Brock, I work over at Fineanvils. Did you notice anything odd on the road that day, or did Rayshanel say anything to you while you were traveling that sticks out to you? We're just trying to figure out what happened to her, so anything you remember might be a big help."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:06, Thu 07 May 2020.

Gregar stared into his ale, an ominous and far off look in his eyes. Some horror played itself over and over again in those grey pools, and the man clearly had heavy thoughts on his mind despite the festive preparations going on around him.

He looked at his newfound acquaintances. Time would tell if they would become friends, but for now, he tried to assess each one. They were certainly an interesting collection of individuals.

Gregar wondered what the angle was. Tanner, the boy, certainly had no agenda here, though he was likely to be a dupe at his young age. But Carver... why had he waited so long to seek out his daughter?

"Peace be upon you, sir," Gregar said. "Though you suffer, your pain brings you closer to divinity, so do not despair for you are blessed."

Garrett wasn't drunk...yet. He hadn't had time enough to drink that much. And he was trying to pace himself. Who knew when more money would come his way? He took a small sip of his ale as he listened to Sefira talk and then fail at showing him what she was attempting. He smiled a little at her. "Oh, next time, I'm sure you'll get it." There was amusement in his tone, as he was teasing her, but also confidence that she would do just that.

Then a job walked right up to them and spoke. The more Garrett listened the less content and happy he looked, and the more a frown slid on to his face. Sefira was quick to jump in, so Garrett let out a small sigh and nodded. "Yeah, alright. I'll help look for her." Truth be told, he'd have likely done it anyway.

  Nashford tilts his head and smirks at the outcome of the milk trick before raising his arms up and then out in arcane pageantry. "And magic! " He then begins to prestidigitate the table clean and addresses the table without diverting his attention from task.

 "White must be our lucky color today. Beregost has some of the most entertaining venues on the coast. Lost a lot of money there as a matter of fact. Surely it would be easy enough to find this meat gentleman's daughter at one and then take in a few of the sights before swinging back around in time for the festival? I think this sounds like an opportunity well worth our effort.  "

Mr. Carver nods in agreement with the request made of meats. "Certainly! Take what ever meat that you feel you need. I am in your debt, I will take you to my market, I simply ask that you all make haste; who knows what has befallen her, she could be bleeding in a ditch somewhere..." He trails off working himself up before he snaps back calming himself. "I do not write anything anymore ma'am my eye site is too bad, I can only make out shapes now. 'Sides Reyshanel has never needed a list before, it is always the same ingredients. Sometimes she takes a few days longer than others but never has she dropped Mr. Tanner off and gone all the way back to Beregost, no something just isn't right."

At Gregar's comment about being blessed he perks up. "Are you a cleric sir? If so, please pray for my daughter, perhaps the gods will listen your prayers more than a simple butchers."

Tanner stands to the side watching the group somewhat confused as a child out of his depth while the grownups are talking, but once he is addressed he steps forward. "No sir, I was at my mother's house, she lives in Beregost, my father dropped me off, and my mom noticed Reyshanel while she was getting ready to bring me to my father's house, and asked if Reyshanel would bring me home to my father. She agreed and we spent two days riding from there to my home, we sang some songs, played a few games of eye spy, and I read my book, nothing seemed wrong.

It was fun seeing the circus animals as we passed them though, I can't wait to see the manticore! But I am worried about Reyshanel, you're going to help her right?"

O.O.C.You may make any town purchases you need and are welcome to trail rations from Mr. Carver. Feel free to ask these characters anything more you wish to know and or role-play all you want.

"We are going to help, don't you worry about it. But thanks for your help too!" It had been a long shot that he'd remember anything helpful but asking never hurt.

Nashford went on about this other city, Beregost. "I don't think we're actually needing to go that far. Mr Tanner's house here is in between here and there. No need to go all the way out when she went missing in between."

"Sounds like everyone is in. We've got plenty of daylight. If everyone gathers their things and we meet back here, we could start on this pretty much right away."

  Momentarily dejected to see the potential road trip halted so easily, Nashford wills himself back to traditional halfling pluckiness with a wink and a smirk. "I'm sure that there is a lot less going on here than is warranted for all this seriousness. Let's keep an optimistic outlook on this one. I'm sure that we'll find Miss Carver without too much Scandal and make an effortless return to greenest by the end of the day. I'd bet on it.

He then stands to overlook his work on the table. "Did anyone get any milk on their clothing? It would probably be best to get it out before it starts to smell.

"Mr. Carver, one more thing." It was a complete mystery. There was no way to tell ahead of time what they needed to know. "It is tough to know what we need to know to solve the mystery. If you don't mind, can we see Rayshanel's room. If there's any obvious hint or clue, it'd help to see it before we leave to find her."

OOC: Oh, I'm not very convincing, 4 on the roll


19:30, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 4 using 1d20+2.  Persuasion.

”What my colleague is getting at, Mr. Carver, is that we would like to be as armed as possible with knowledge of any potential finds. Mayhaps your daughter left a clue or something that might indicate what we should be looking for out on the road. Seeing her personal effects could help.”

19:14, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 12 using 1d20.  Persuasion +4 = 16

”Regardless, we should get on with it. We’re losing daylight as we speak.” Gregar sounded slightly annoyed, but was going along for the sake of the group.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:20, Sat 09 May 2020.

Garrett shook his head at Sefira but then smiled and gave a small shrug. Apparently she had a good head for thinking outside the box as far as 'payments' might go. Could come in handy. He would almost feel bad taking some of the man's livelihood to help find his lost daughter but...would taking coin from a blind man feel any different?

Nashford lost track of the conversation, wanting to make a trip to Beregost apparently, and then two of his companions wanted to go look at the girl's room. He frowned and leaned back slightly. "What? Why would we waste time lookin' at her room? Shouldn't we just get a move on?"

”We’re not a large search party,” Gregar said, looking to Garrett. ”And we know not why the girl disappeared. It could be that she was merely abducted for no other reason than she was a pretty young girl. But perhaps something else was going on. Seeing her room could help us know what to look for.”

Mr. Carver seems taken aback by Brock's request. "I don't see any reason for that, my daughter is not involved with anything that might get her hurt, she has grown up since her teenage years and has put that behind her now Mr. Fineanvil."

After the initial shock of the rude insinuation and Gregar's attempts to smooth things over, Mr. Carver relents. "I don't think you will find anything of interest at her house, but if you feel you must, and it might help save my daughter, then... I will allow it. I do not get around so well anymore, but young Mr. Tanner here can show you to her house and keep an eye on you while there, I trust him. I will guide those who wish to acquire some food for the road to my shop. I simply implore you all to make haste."

He wasn't trying to suggest that the man's daughter had done anything wrong but there was no point in throwing another log onto that fire. One of his new friends had managed to get what he'd been hoping for and that was enough.

"I imagine we can be gone within the hour." He commented for everyone involved. "We'll gather up our things, take a quick look at her house, and we can meet back here. We could possibly save even more time if we booked a carriage from here to there. We can't make it wait while we search, but we could just ride our way out."

Young Tanner has led you through the town to Reyshanel's house. It is a two story building with a covered front porch and thatched roof.

As you approach the house Tanner leads you up the stairs to the front door and pulls at the handle which does not budge. "It's locked." He says with a shrug turning back to the group.

OOC: did carver give us a key?

o.o.c. No he did not.

”Odd that Carver didn’t mention the door would be locked,” Gregar said suspiciously. ”I fear something nefarious is going on here. Can anyone get this door open?” Gregar looked to the others hopefully.

Pulling out his holy symbol, the priest closed his eyes and whispered a prayer in some strange language.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:56, Tue 12 May 2020.

"Now now, it may not be anything so bad as that." Brock turned his attention to looking around the front door area. Some folks kept a spare key in an easy to get to place, like in that nice plant on the stoop, or on the back of the rocking chair. So he looked around while he talked. "Could just be that Carver forgot about it, he's pretty worked up, and I don't blame him. Folks forget things when they're all out of sorts. I could tell you at least 3 stories of folks who called me in to work on a lock on a box and weeks after I got it open for them they come by and tell me where they finally found the key."

Brock pulled out a pouch kit full of small tools. "Now, since we have permission to go in the house from Carver, I don't see anything wrong with opening the door ourselves do you?" He pulled out some slim tools that looked as if they were made to go into locks without actually being the key.

"One of the side benefits of making locks is that you get pretty good at opening them up. And honestly, front doors with locks are really only to keep the nosy neighbor from just walking right on in."

08:04, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 19 using 1d20+6.  Lock Roll. That's assuming I didn't find a Spare Key laying around
This message was last edited by the player at 12:07, Tue 12 May 2020.

Garrett frowned a bit. First, the door was locked. Now they were breaking in. He didn't even want to be here, going through a young woman's place without her consent or knowledge. He drew in a deep breath and let it out very slowly. He looked around to see if they were being noticed, wishing he were somewhere else.

The locked door opens with ease. The door opens to the main room of the first floor, which has two sitting chairs facing a fireplace a sealed trunk against a wall opposite the fireplace, and an area for preparing meals complete with it's own fireplace, and a small table and two wooden chairs for eating at. Along the same wall opposite the fireplace that has the trunk is a set of stairs leading up.

Tanner walks inside looking around a moment before turning back to look at the party; as if to ask 'what now?'

"Add this to the list of things I've never done before." Brock commented for the other two. "But I expect there will be a lot of that since I've never tried to find a person that is missing either." He took a look around the place. It was neat, tidy, nothing screamed that it was out of place.

"So there's a fine line here right, we're trying to see if there's any obvious hint about where she is but we want to be respectful too." He took a look at the table and chairs, more interested in their construction than anything else, trying to make this less odd.

"Since she doens't live with her dad, I don't think we're looking for anything that would be hidden away. Maybe there's a letter sitting out that she got from a friend explaining why she's not home right now or some other easy to spot clue. We'll walk the house, see if anything jumps up as being helpful in finding out what happened to her."

The sealed trunk was a temptation but he really did believe that any helpful hint would be out where they could see it. So he matched actions to words and started looking around. "I say we look downstairs here then upstairs and if any one of us finds a useful bit of thing then good. Who knows we might actually gain time finding her by spending a little right now."

OOC: Really is my intention to look at things that are sitting out and around in relatively plain view. So like in the cooking area maybe open drawers and same thing upstairs but I'm not literally going through every single thing she owns.

Gregar stumbles as he steps into the room, then doubles over as if in pain and starts sweating profusely. He slowly straightens, looking around the room with a haunted look. He looks out the window, tears in his eyes. He reaches out to the ghost of something just out of reach. Then he covers he ears to some unheard noise and screams. Gregar drops to his knees, looking every which way with nervous energy. Finally, he looks straight up and yells at the top of his lungs.

"NOOOOOO!!!!!!! I will serve no man or creature! Name yourself, so I can find you and destroy you!"

Garrett had been more than half-listening to Brock talk about things while he kept an eye out. He nodded about being respectful. He was hesitant to be here and search at all, but it apparently needed to be done. He had just turned to enter and look when Gregar lost his shit.

Garrett turned to look at, but stepped away from, Gregar as the man started yelling crazy talk. He glanced at the others with a "what the hell is going on?" look on his face. "Uh...Gregar? Who are you yelling at?"

Brock didn't know what was going on with Gregar and was willing to just give it a shrug off until he started yelling like it was an emergency. He stopped looking around the house for clues and got his attention onto the screaming man. Brock met Garrett's glance with an unknowing shrug of his shoulders.

"Gregar, what is going on?" Brock didn't look like he expected a rational answer. This was just the house of a neighbor. What could be causing him so much distress?

Slumping to the ground on all fours, Gregar lets out a huge sigh. He is breathing heavily, and sweat is dripping off of him, drenching his clothes.

"Evil," Gregar states simply but enigmatically.

He slowly straightens and climbs back to his full height. Pushing his damp hair out of his face he grabs for the waterskin on his hip and takes a long draw.

"Something evil was here. It tried to take me, but I resisted. Fire. So much fire and death. This place is in danger, I fear. I do not know what part Reyshanel has in all of this - perhaps she is a victim, or perhaps not - but surely she was connected with this evil. If she was taken in by it's promise, I fear her disappearance is no mere accident."

Gregar searched for anything that might identify a connection to the beast he saw in his vision, paying close attention to anything that smelled like ash.

"Haven't known you all that long Gregar." Brock took a breath and gave the guy a solid clap on the shoulder. "You say something evil was here and you beat it. But how do you know things like that? Pretend I'm just a simple shopkeeper who likes to make things."

Brock was willing to be a bit more intrusive with his searching now. What if his neighbor had been somehow duped by some evil thing?

Gregar gathers himself, then smiles at Brock.

"You are more than just a simple shopkeeper, Brock. You and I both know it," the cleric says with a wink.

He continued talking while he walked around the room. He touched things gently, as if to make sure they were real. "I have been trained in the priesthood to know these things, Brock. I believe I am uniquely qualified - which is why I was chosen." Gregar turned and looked at his companions. "I was shown a vision. A vision of this house, engulfed in flames." Gregar looked out the window, a pained look in his eyes. Like he was looking at death and destruction in the village outside. "Reyshanel was within, and she was speaking to some kind of entity. I could not see what the entity looked like, it was a blur. I do not know what they said, the words were garbled. But Reyshanel nodded to this thing and left the house. Then the creature turned to me and it's glowing eyes pierced my soul. It offered me an ultimatum - join it or I and everyone I know and love would burn."

Gregar looked again at the group. "You heard me refuse this offer."

Garrett listened to what Gregar had to say. "That's...distubin'." He shook his head. "Like. Really. So...what? Demon? Devil? Somethin' else?"

He looked around. "We thinkin' she's...possessed? Or...I dunno. This ain't my area of expertise." He let out a small sigh. He didn't like the thought of a young woman being possessed or even just lightly controlled by some evil presence. "This quick missin' person gig became a whole lot more complicated."

17:13, Today: Garrett rolled 19 using 1d20+3.  Perception.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:14, Thu 14 May 2020.

  Nashford finally decides to respond after watching the exchange with a nervous grin and and a raised eyebrow. "That's fascinating, it really is. But we've still entered someone's home illegally. Nobody in our current peer group has a mind for arson or a predilection towards being some kind of nebulous evil(Gods willing), So maybe it's best we finish our search and discuss this prophetic vision away from the neighborhood snoops and the threat of awkward questions from the local lawfolk."

  He then chuckles and shakes his head. "Although we may want to pick up the pace a little. That scream was probably loud enough to alert anyone within earshot."

"Everyone is right." There was a whole swirl of fast conversation. "Except for me being something other than a shopkeeper."

"If things are potentially dire, then finding or saving her might mean a more invasive search of her home." He shrugged. It was all very odd and happening very fast. But information would matter and they'd only have this one chance to go through her home.

"And we need to be quick, you're not wrong. So look everywhere we can in about what, a 300 count or so?"

OOC: 9:16, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 7 using 1d20+2.  Dexterity. Open the chest
19:16, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  Perception. Search the room

20 minutes pass:

Gregar's attempts to pry the chest prove futile.

The only thing the complete search of the first level has proven is that there is nothing of value anywhere on this floor of the house, even in the kitchen. All the cupboards are empty, the drawers, and the cabinets. Nothing of any value can be found not even the cooking pot that would hang in the fire place. The only utensils found are one wooden bowl and one wooden spoon, in one of the cupboards.

Even trying to search for loose floor boards has proven to no avail, it is as if no one lives in this house. Yet the first floor has a lived in look the two sitting chairs are not new and the fireplace has soot in it and some ashes, but nothing of any value. No potted plants, no paintings, not even a family heirloom on the mantle; nothing.

”How odd,” Gregar says, them heads upstairs to search more.

7:24, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 10 using 1d20+3.  Search upstairs. Not gonna find much with that.

  Nashford tries his best to help. (OOC)Rolled a 6 got a five. With that penalty I'm definitely a liability anyway. But I guess the scene would have us all pitching in.

Garrett started to wonder a little bit if they were wasting their time. Admittedly, he had been wrong about coming to this place at all - that HAD proven useful, if very disturbing. They had more information that before they showed up, and it indeed might not be as simple as a missing person.

He hesitated but then shrugged. "In for a copper, in for a gold, I guess." He headed upstairs as well to look around.

22:23, Today: Garrett rolled 12 using 1d20+3.  Perception.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:24, Sat 16 May 2020.

"This is nothing but disturbing." Brock admitted out loud as he went on upstairs too. "I mean, she's a neighbor, she grew up here. This is one of those towns where the usual worst thing that happens in someone's dog gets lost or a kid breaks their arm falling out of the hay loft."

"And now it hardly looks like she was even living here." Brock pitched into looking around upstairs, looking into things like drawers, closets - moments ago he probably wouldn't have been ready to be so intrusive. But now? Maybe they'd save her life or save the village.

"And I'm wondering about her closed up chest down stairs too. I'm starting to have a suspicious mind about that."

09:15, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 18 using 1d20+4.  Investigate.

The stairs lead up to the second floor which consists of a short hallway ending with a window with a view of the roof of the neighbors house with a door on either side of the hall one on the left and one on the right.

The room on the left has nothing in it save for a window that faces the street, it is simply an empty room, with some different colored candle wax on the floor in some places; red, black, green, blue, and white spots of wax are found on the floor as if candles were burned there and they dripped onto the floor.

The room on the right is a different story, it houses a bed, vanity complete with mirror, wardrobe, two end tables on either side of the bed, a chest at the foot of the bed, and a chamber pot. There is also a window facing an alley.

There is nothing in any of the drawers in the room, or vanity, the wardrobe houses female clothing, but none of it fancy, all of it something someone would wear on the road, and all of the shirts and jackets with their backs torn open in multiple long cuts, some with the whole back removed and all with dried blood around the tears, they lie crumpled in the wardrobe rather than hanging.

On the bed is a flier for the upcoming circus and on it circled in red is the portrait of a human acrobat Kila a tight rope walker and performer.

The vanity while empty is covered in melted candle wax that covers the vanity and hangs over the edges with a bare circle in the middle as if the multi colored candles were arrayed in a circle on the vanity around the edges.

40 minutes have passed since entering the house.

Garrett's mistrust and frown both deepened as they started to start upstairs. An "empty" room that had clearly been used for something according to the candle wax residue.

The flier was creepy as well. Was that just someone she wanted to see perform or meet, or something more sinister.

And then the shirts and jackets...

"What the hells?" He examined a couple to see if they were all for the same person or if they were from different people sizes.

All the clothes seem to be of the same size, and fashion sense.

Gregar examines the room with the multicolored candle wax on the floor more carefully. Were the candles arranged in some sort of pattern? What could the colors mean? Was a ritual performed here?

"You know, my folks like to tell me I've got a good amount of clever to me." Brock was trying to get some mental distance from the edges of this horror they were finding. "And sure, you want help fixing up a chimney, repairing a wall, or making a nice little lockbox, I'm good to go. But none of this is making any great sense to me, or I guess it give me hints and none of it hints towards good things. Empty room with candles for doing some kind of thing, all these clothes with blood and slashes."

He shook his head in the negative. "This all makes it look more like she's doing something than something happened to her. And this flyer, the circus probably doesn't start for another few days but they should be getting into town today. Is there any real way to give them a warning? Oh we found this flyer in a creepy house of a local girl and we're just worried about your acrobat? I mean, sure we can tell them, but who would believe it?"

  Nashford comes upstairs to check on the others since he didn't find anything. He sees the others in the room and goes to investigate. " You lot are looking grimmer than usual. Did you find something useful? "

There is little else of note in the two rooms that has not been described. If anyone is attempting to unlock either of the chests I will need Dex checks. Let me know when you are ready to move on, or simply leave the house, otherwise I will remain silent until those things happen, don't want to get in the way of any role-playing.

Garrett eyed the chest a moment. He tried to open but it was locked. He frowned at it. He tried to see if he could get it open, but to no avail. He shook his head. "I think we should leave."

He stepped back downstairs.

15:35, Today: Garrett rolled 8 using 1d20+3.  Attempt to open upstairs chest.

Gregar nodded, but decided to go look out the windows toward the street on a hunch.

"I'd rather not be prying into things, but then again, I'd rather not have this whole sinister business happening in my back yard either."

Most of the time, Brock's skills with locks were of the putting them together variety. Sometimes it was about getting things open but it was typically along the lines of someone losing a key.

This, this was something different. He tried the upstairs box and then the downstairs one, once again bringing tools and skills to the task

21:04, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 17 using 1d20+6.  Unlock Downstairs Chest.  21:04, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 7 using 1d20+6.  Unlock Upstairs Chest.

Clearly the oddness of the whole scene upstairs had him rattled to the point that he could not unlock the box. The downstairs one, that one he had more luck with.

"If you think it is important, we can certainly open the box upstairs with more muscle and less finesse. Hammer or prybar if you're thinking we really need to see what is inside."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:36, Sun 17 May 2020.

The window has a good view of the street, where an elderly couple and what looks to be their granddaughter can be seen walking down the street.

Across the street another man sits on his porch in a rocking chair nursing some kind of drink.

----

Upon opening the chest downstairs Brock comes face to face with the contents, a leather document protector sealed with a leather string around a button, and books on many different topics: Ialkur's Instructions for Self Actualization, Romance of the Gnomes, Draconomicon, Mrs. Goldings Recipies to Win His Heart, The Haunting of Marowmere, The Rich and why your not one - by Gibriel Brightleaf, Gogreer's Guide to Appraising Precious Gemstones, and Mirthrin's Sword: Tips and Techniques for Beginners.

50 minutes have now passed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:20, Mon 18 May 2020.

  Nashford addresses Brock's question in a hurried tone. "If you think it will help the investigation, you probably should. But faster is better. It feels like we've been much longer than our agreed upon time. "

”I think it is important,” Gregar said, still watching the street.

"OK then, you all go through these books and open up this up." He handed over the big leather envelope that was held with a string and a button. "I'm not exactly the dullest pick in the toolbox but most of these books have kind of harmless names. Aside from the Draconomicon, I don't even know what that is supposed to mean. I'll head on back up and see about taking apart that box enough to learn something."

He turned from the downstairs box and was talking while he went up. "By the way, how much of that stuff do you think we need with us and how much are we just putting back?"

Faced with the stubborn upstairs box, he had a few choices about how to try and get into it. None of them as elegant as just opening the lock. He took one more quick search of the room for the key - under the pillows on the bed - in a couple of drawers - and then set about getting the box open, talking to himself a little even though he had a buddy. "Find my daughter. Sure. Search her house for clues. Sure. I'm certain he didn't mean break into her bedroom box, but he didn't know all the things we'd find either."

Greater good won out over what this would look like to outside eyes.

He started with the lock again, but prying it out instead of trying to unlock it. Brock took out a prybar and set it in place. The idea was to pop the lock out of its setting.



OOC: Crowbar allows to make a Strength Check with Advantage.

07:23, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 33 using 2d20 ((13,20)).
07:23, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 33 using 2d20.  Strength Check, Advantaged.

Sorry I forgot to tell it to record each die! But I copy/pasted the results. Hurray for a Nat 20, wouldn't have managed that without a crowbar!

Inside the leather binder are dozens of receipts, including one for a padlock from Brock's store, the most expensive and best made kind he offers. The other receipts are for different herbs and minerals, some glass vials, nothing obviously nefarious.

Anything more will require a Insight or Nature.

Upon opening the upstairs chest Brock is faced with a set of winter clothing folded and set neatly inside, as well as some winter boots and gloves.

1 hour has passed since entering the house.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:54, Tue 19 May 2020.

"We need to leave now," Gregar calls out. "The town guard is on the way."

He looks to see if the other upstairs window would allow access to the roof or adjacent building.

OOC: had we noticed a back door at all?

there is a backdoor, yes, in the kitchen.

The window in the upstairs hallway might lead to accessing the neighboring roof with an incredible jump.

The bedroom window faces the alley

And the empty room faces the street.

The house you are in does not have a roof to climb out on, it is a sheer 10ft drop to the ground from the windows.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:52, Tue 19 May 2020.

Garrett made a face and let out an exasperated sigh. Then he nodded at Gregar. "That is unfortunate. And yes, agreed, we should go."

He shook his head and headed for the back door to the house.

The contents of the box were the most normal thing that they'd found so far in the entire house. Clothes, put up for the next season. Clothes that weren't slashed or bloody. It was almost more jarring then finding a new horror. He looked around under the clothes and even turned the boots over in case something was inside of them.

OOC: Just making sure I'm clear about how I searched through the clothes, but if folks were hollering about guards, clearly that had to be fast


He came on down the stairs feeling the rush of hearing the guards were coming. "I'm convinced we're not doing anything wrong here. But I'm equally sure I don't want to spend time explaining it."

Brock followed Garrett to the back of the house. "But we are going to have to tell someone about all of this right?" He asked as he prepared to walk the strangers out through the town in a way that would help them avoid any trouble.

”Let’s find a place where we can talk,” Gregar said as he joined the rest of the group downstairs headed out the back door.

OOC: can we have grabbed some of the books froM the first chest or will that take extra time? Gregar would want the dragonomicon and the folio with receipts but only if that won’t delay our departure further.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:14, Wed 20 May 2020.

  Nashford stretches as he prepares to to hustle to the group's next destination. " It would probably be best to go straight to the client with any useful information. Anyway, I'm ready when you lot are. Where do you want to go? I'm still new to town so I'll probably need directions if it's anywhere I haven't been before. Also do you think it would be best to split up?  "

So far as I count every character is on the second floor.

Brock opening a chest.

Nashford helping search.

Gregar looking through a window.

And Garrett having looked through the wardrobe.

There is the possibility to go grab something from the downstairs chest, but the guard could be there any minute, that would be a gamble on your part. But I will also remind you that Tanner is there specifically to make sure nothing is taken from the house. While you might be able convince him of the need to do this, that too would likely take time that you might not be willing to gamble. The choice is yours.

In response to Brock's question, yes you can all go where ever you like, but remember that Sef is waiting for you at your designated rendezvous, you will have to double back to get her so that she could be at your gathering

Let me know what you would all like to do with this knowledge and I will move the story along in the direction you choose.

Brock rumages through the chest finding nothing other than seasonal clothing.

As he had previously intended to do, he had said they should leave and then began making his way downstairs and out the back door.

"The where to go is easy enough." Brock commented for the group as they headed down the stairs and out the back door. "We'll go to my house, it'll give us a moment to talk and ponder."

"We'll have a nice walk, go pick up Ella, and then back to my house easy as you please."

The group has reconvened at the home of Brock Fineanvil. (I will let him describe his home.)

The group was able to easily avoid any guardsmen that might have been headed to the house they were in; and after dropping off Tanner they doubled back to pick up Sefira who had gathered the requested supplies from Mr. Carver's shop, and had been waiting for them at the earlier rendezvous.

You may all add three days worth of jerked and dried meats as trail rations if you wish.

All of the above took 40 minutes of your time, bringing the current time to 12:40pm

Brock's home was a tall one-story instead of the two-story homes that were common. High ceilings, the only rooms closed with doors were the bedroom and bathroom, everything else connected with doorways. The front door lead to a comfortable living space with sturdy furnishings made softer with cushions and pillows. A long table with bench seats showed the dining space. The kitchen was divided from the rest of the house by a bar that would be at home in any tavern. The kitchen space was a long rectangle clearly divided in half. On one side were the things that made a kitchen, the other side was clearly his home work bench.

The walls were stone and one in four of the stones had been turned into a decoration of a sort, carved with simple images with no real theme - a mountain here, an anvil there, a ferocious bear over there.

Overall the place was neatly kept and tended.

"Please be welcome in my home. I'll get us something to drink, but please, don't wait for me to start talking. We clearly have plenty to talk about." He gathered some cups, poured a pitcher of ale, a pitcher of water, and brought the whole thing out on a stout tray. The whole thing was done as if he'd done it a hundred times before. "We're still looking for her now, but there's certainly more going on than a missing girl."

Slumping into an armchair, Gregar's face was tight and his gaze was held off in the middle distance. First the vision, then the discoveries in the home... What had Reyshanel gotten herself involved in?

"It is obvious that something deeper is afoot, here. Our Reyshanel is not the simple innocent victim as it would have originally seemed. And I suspect Carver is also somehow involved." The cleric took a cup and poured himself some ale, offering to pour for the other guests as well.

"Thank you for the drink, Brock. You have a fine home, here. These carvings," he said, indicating the wall stones, "they are your handiwork, I presume? Impressive detail, but I would expect no less from an accomplished Dwarven craftsman."

Sefira looks about the room and plops down in one of the chairs biting down on some beef jerky. "So we aren't rescuing the girl? Also I spent some time with the old man, and he doesn't seem very nefarious to me."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:34, Fri 22 May 2020.

  Nashford finds something heavy to lean against before speaking his piece. " All right, so there's some things that don't add up. But missing is missing and we are being paid to find this girl. If you have any doubts, why don't we ask Mr. Carver directly? I'm sure we have the time before we head out to search again. Or would you rather discuss what we found at the house first? "

"Thank you kindly." He smiled at the compliment. Even in the middle of all this strange. "Most are mine. The one over the door, my parents did that one."

He listened as the others spoke their minds. "I think we are still looking for the girl. If she's in need of rescue, then yes to that. But she's clearly involved with something. I just do not understand it. It does not appear to be something, you know, wholesome. It isn't like she's in a secret quilting circle to make a surprise for her grandmother."

"We can hit the road and try searching that way. There is some connection to a performance troupe that is literally on their way here right now if not already here. I doubt that Carver is involved only because if he was, why call attention to it by bringing us in?"

He shook his head like that would help clear it. "Before visiting her home, we thought she might have been waylaid in between Tanner's home and here. Now? Now, she may be missing of her own accord, or wrapped up in the involvement of - something. I am wide open to suggestions about where we ought to continue this - but I do not think our path on this goes back to her father."

”Then shall we seek her on the road, then?” Gregar asked, finishing his ale in one gulp.

Garrett was a little relieved when they made it to Brock's house. Maybe the guard were going to the girl's house, maybe they weren't. It was still less stressful to not be in immediate danger of being arrested, especially since they hadn't done anything illegal.

He gave a longing glance at the ale but refrained, instead getting some water.

"Agreed. Regardless of whether she is innocent or not, kidnapped or not, we need to find her."

ooc: So it seems everyone is heading out, there was mention of taking a stagecoach to the site and walking back, is that still something everyone is wanting to do? If so it will cost everyone

The distance is roughly 20 miles so is will cost each passenger 6 silver pieces for a one way trip that will take 3 hours

The group had purchased a ride in a stagecoach operated by a local half-elven woman named Thracee. She had agreed to ferry the heroes out to their destination for 6 silver pieces apiece.

The trip had taken the better part of three hours.

"So you see, by adding in just a bit of milk and stirring at a constant pace, you will get the consistency right. And that is how you make the perfect cream gravy..." Sefira said finishing her recitation of her recipe to the group as the stagecoach came to a sudden halt. A small window behind and above Sefira slid open right after and Thracee moved her face to the new opening to speak to the group. "We are just about to your destination fellas, but this is as far as I am going to go, up ahead it looks as though there was some kind of bandit attack, and I ain't about to get myself jumped by them. I don't recommend getting out here, but if you want I wont stop you. Just make your minds up quickly." The woman said with a worried tone in her voice.

Ahead in the far distance it appears as though the circus caravan that had been on it's way to Greenest had some kind of trouble, from your distance you can barely make out any details, but you can see that at least one of the wagons has been turned on it's side and there is black smoke rising into the air, there appear to be some people moving about the site, but you cannot tell who or what they are doing.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:56, Thu 28 May 2020.

During their journey, Brock listened to Sefira talk to them about how to make a gravy. He liked gravy, and liked people who made things so it was easy. He kept his hands busy redoing his braids a few times over.

"Thanks for the ride Thracee" The gratitude was automatic as was the concern over a bandit attack. "I think today is the kind of day where we're going to get out and go against our better sense." He looked at his companions. Oddities were piling up.

"You head on back Thracee and be sure you tell the sherriff what you saw here. Maybe the lot of us can help these poor folks."

Brock grabbed his gear, got out, and waited for everyone to join him. And waited until the coach was on its way back before beginning to worry out loud about this.

"She had a flyer up in her bedroom about the circus." There was no real need to fill in who 'she' was, they all knew. "This is not getting any less worrying."

Garrett had been somewhat-listening to Sefira. He didn't want to be rude and just tune her out. On the other hand, he really had little interest in the recipe she was talking about. It had been a long three hours.

He was relieved when they arrived but what the driver said immediately made him concerned. And apparently he had a right to be. He hopped out quickly. "This is my stop."

He nodded at Brock and let out a sigh as he headed towards the caravan, keeping his senses open for any potential danger - but he thought they were too late.

Gregar nodded, having made the same connection as Brock.

”Astute observation, Fineanvil. This is surely related to what we found in her house.”

The cleric prepared his gear and made sure his armor’s buckles were in proper order before signaling he was ready.

  Hands at his temples, Nashford let out a sigh before composing himself to his usual optimistic facade.

 "Let's keep an open mind about this, yeah? It might be an accident with people we can help. " 

 That said, it was obvious to everyone that heard him that even he didn't believe the things that were coming out of his mouth.

After walking for about half an hour the group comes close enough to see what is transpiring. Before them on the road is the circus troupe that had been on it's way to Greenest. A wagon lay on it's side with metal bars rent upward toward the sky, the wagon it's self is scorched and burning in places, with only small flames still burning on parts of it. Near by the wagon lay the corpse of a Manticore, it's body burned and filled with crossbow bolts.

A tall and very muscled silver dragonborn with bloodied bandages across his chest and his neck is solemnly pulling a former tapestry over the corpse of a fellow performer; lined up next to the corpse is a line of others, twenty five in all, covered in circus tapestries, all have blood stains soaking through and in some places you see blood pouring out from under the covers to pool and combine into rivers in the ruts and troughs of the dirt road.

As you approach the dragonborn grunts rising up to his full seven foot height and growls. "Stay where you are strangers... I will not hesitate to kill you all." As he speaks coming out from between some of the wagons are other circus performers, all with some kind of weapon, one wielding juggling pins as a club, another holds a large fancy saber, still another two daggers, one in each hand. Until there are seven performers all in various states of injury lined shoulder to shoulder across the road facing you.

Brock put his empty hands out so that the large dragonborn could see them easily. "My name is Brock Fineanvil, I'm from Greenest right on down the way. You've had enough troubles today. What can we do to help?"
It was a simple enough statements of true things, it seemed important to keep it simple. They'd clearly been through - something terrible.


OOC: Hope we're not relying on my ability to convince him. Apparently I'm not very good.

07:08, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 5 using 1d20+2.  Persuasion Roll.

OOC: I'm proficient in Persuasion, btw, in case you want to leave those rolls for others in the future Brock. Though I only rolled a 10, so not much better.

Gregar stepped forward, his holy symbol held prominently aloft. If any of these people knew anything about Ilmater, they would know he was not to be feared. "We mean you no harm," he said, placing his weapon and shield on the ground. "We've come to help. What happened here?"

OOC: Update
23:17, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 17 using 1d20+4.  advantage persuasion.
11:16, Yesterday: Gregar Gergundi rolled 10 using 1d20+4.  persuasion.
So a 17 total
This message was last edited by the player at 04:17, Wed 03 June 2020.

Garrett stopped advancing at the understandably but extremely defensive reception they received upon walking up. He raised both hands in a show of no weapons and no hostility. He eyed the state of the people and their transportation and let out a sigh.

"Sorry t'see that you've had such trouble." He shook his head. "We saw the smoke an' thought we'd come see what happened, see if you needed any help?"

 Nashford's hands go from his pockets to the air as a sign of good faith.His smile sharpening at the sight of a scenario he thought the group could easily talk it's way out of.

 "See, we're all staying right where we are. No I'll intent here. Just friendly travelers checking to see if there was anything we can do to assist you folks. Like the others were saying."

<OOC>EDIT: A two makes a 7 and a four makes a 9.I guess Nashfords looking shifty today.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:59, Wed 03 June 2020.

The dragonborn looks to the group steely eyed, unwavering in his objection to their presence. But a half-elven woman with short rainbow colored hair and smudged and smeared makeup on her face leading you to believe she is probably a clown speaks up. "I think they're sincere Guldani."

After a long moment the dragonborn sighs. "I think so too." After saying this the rest of the mob slowly lowers their weapons and makes their way back to what they were doing before the group arrived leaving only the half-elf and the dragonborn. "I am Guldani and this is Koli. I am... was the circus' strongman, and she one of our most liked and skilled performers.

In answer to your questions, No we will not need your help... We circus folk keep to ourselves; we are all shunned or outcasts from society in some way or another, and most do not trust outsiders, this incident is very likely not going to help that much. I suspect your... help... would be more incendiary than it would be worth."

Piping up the half-elf continues. "We were attacked by bandits, a lot of them... It was an ambush; they lobbed glass vials filled with some sort of blue smoke that knocked most of us out; knocked me out too... When I awoke I saw Mr. Mojango wrestling with two of them, he was trying to protect me; they had killed so many while we were unconscious, they... they..."

Guldani puts his hand on her shoulder and continues. "They disemboweled him. They left him lying there holding his guts." He says his voice deepening in anger and struggling to maintain his composure. "Many of our friends had their necks slit while they were down, others who resisted the effects like myself were beset upon by brigands and cut-throats. It was a bloody fight.

Then someone got the bright idea to shoot the manticore... That's when all hell broke loose. The beast rocked his cage until it tipped and burst from it, needles as long as my hand sprayed everywhere, and he pounced on a few of the ambushers, but they had crossbows and alchemists fire... He put up a glorious fight though.

I noticed they were not after our posessions but our women, I killed at least two who were trying to kidnap Velba and Uti, two of our acrobats. After the attack we found that at least one of our women was missing, Kila, I organized a rescue party and we got as far as that farmhouse." He says pointing to the south revealing a small one story, likely one or two room farm house. "The bandits fled that way, so we followed. Three of us are still lying in that field somewhere in the tall grass, we were fired upon by crossbow fire, there must have been at least three of them in the farmhouse guarding their retreat... I am going to wait til nightfall to retrieve my comrades and then we are leaving." He says with a defeated tone in his voice. "I can only pray Kila will come to a merciful death and that her suffering not be too great." At this the half-elf begins to cry and walks back to the others.

 Nashford tries to pull off his best contemplative intellectual face before responding to the crowd.
"Hmm, so they take their prisoners alive. So there's definitely still hope then. " He then turns to the party. "What do you guys think we should do?"

"This reminds me of when the village down the way flooded out a few springs ago." He had his head down trying to not stare as the circus folks did what they could to recover. "You show up full of ideas and good intentions, but you get there and seeing it all in person, that's different than having the vague notion of going on down and helping."

He gave a broad shrug at the question from Nashford. "Hard as it is, I say we do what these folks asked us to do. And that is let them take care of themselves. And as fool as it is to say it, I say we head on over towards that house." He pointed of course in the direction the girl had said their people had been taken.

”Kila was the name of the circus performer circled on the flier we found in Reyshanel’s house,” Gregar states out loud in case anyone missed it. ”Obviously the girl is involved in this whole kidnapping and in league with the bandits, if that’s where they were. The question is, for what purpose do they want Kila?”

Turning to the circus performers, Gregar asks, ”Other than being an excellent acrobat, was there anything special about Kila? Was she involved in any trouble? Into anything... abnormal?” Anticipating their reluctance to provide any such information, the priest adds, ”We believe your friend was taken for a reason, that her abduction was planned. We’d like to understand why someone might want to take her.”

Garrett glanced sideways at Gregar. He hadn't realized how open they were going to be about things, but it would either engender trust or deepen the mistrust he supposed. He looked at the dragonborn. "I'll be going t'help rescue your friend. I dislike bandits an' kidnappers, an' with what you described, you'll need all the bodies you can bring t'bear."

Guldani raises an eyebrow at Gregar's comment. "So you knew about this ambush?" He asks incredulously. After a moment he calms down enough to answer the question posed by the cleric. "Most of us are outcasts or on the run from the law somewhere, its not something we advertise but it is truth, so I would not be surprised if you suggested that one of our members was involved in something strange or illegal, but not Kila. She was born into circus life, her parents, when they lived, were acrobats as she is, and she has known nothing but our troop her whole life, and she is one of the most charitable people I have ever met... No, she would not be caught up in something that would bring harm on her adopted family."

He then turns to the Garrett. "You misunderstand, the attack happened an hour ago, despite knowing the group fled south past that farm, they could be anywhere by now. We will not be pursuing them, as much as it pains me... I am going to retrieve my fallen comrades from the field in front of the farmhouse under the cover of night, and then we are leaving.

I do not object however to your desire to pursue the bandits, and if indeed you are able to find Kila and rescue her, please seek me out at the town of Greenest, and I will make sure that you are rewarded handsomely for returning her to us."

 Nashford's smile deepens as he makes his response to Guldani's request. "Looks like this region has its own share of problems to deal with. As long as I'm staying here in greenest I'm prepared to put the work in for any required community service efforts. With the upcoming festival It's especially important that we deal with this quickly. 

 And with quick wink and a nod to the party his countenance takes on an aura of innate slapability. "I'm sure anyone in our cleaning crew here would agree."

”I suppose our trail leads to this farmhouse,” Gregar says, stroking his chin. ”We should head that way before we lose the light.”

Garret looked at Guldani a moment and then just said, "Ah." He then nodded in his best attempt at 'sagely'. "My apologies for the misunderstanding. I'll do what I can to rescue your friends."

He didn't speak for the others, though he assumed they would likely want to try and track down the 'bandits' as well.

He'd have been much more comfortable helping pick up the mess and fixing their wagons. But that wasn't the kind of help that they wanted.

"I'm in. We should go." The entire scene just didn't sit right. They were in the middle of - something. "You fix the problem in front of you even if you're not sure how to fix it. Sometimes the only way you figure it out is to start doing it."

O.C.C. how is the group approaching the farmhouse? Are you trying to be sneaky or just waltzing up?

The road the party stands on is flanked on either side by farm land, and countless farm houses along the route. But in this spot to the south is a small single story farm house that is a good five minute walk from the road, there is a long dirt trail leading to the house ending beside it, obviously used for the farmer's cart. and surrounding the farmhouse in the front and sides is waist high grass, so it could be possible to try and be unseen while approaching if one were to crouch or crawl for the distance.

As the party sets out to leave the half-elf Koli comes running back up to you all. "Please wait... I overheard you stating you will try and rescue Kila. She's my friend, my best friend... I'm no fighter, I would likely hurt your effort more than help it if I were to go with you, but I'll be damned if I didn't help in some way, so I... borrowed... some of Lady Voma's alchemical remedies for you. I will find a way to pay her for them, and if they help you rescue my friend no price will have been too high." She says handing over two glass jars with a red liquid inside that emits a faint glow when it jostles around inside.

O.O.C. If you decide to take the items, the party will receive two potions of healing (2d4+2)

  Nashford accepts Koli's offer. "A little insurance never hurts for the big scores. Although, let's hope we won't need them. "
 He than furrows his brow and gets to thinking."Do you guys think it's worth it to try to get the drop on them? On the other hand they might have have prepared for a stealth approach. Maybe we could send someone to scout ahead?"

”Excellent suggestion, Nashford. I think an advance scout would be wise. Are you volunteering for the job?”
This message was last edited by the player at 22:54, Sat 13 June 2020.

"Thanks for taking the supplies. Honestly wasn't sure which way to go on that, I'm sure they have hurt people too." Brock jumped in while they were talking about scouting up ahead.

"I've been told that since I don't wear heavy armor like most of my kin that I'm fairly quiet when it needs to be done that way. If we're not all good at moving along softly, I can get out ahead or we can all just do our best to be quiet together. "

Gregar turned to Brock and smiled. ”I knew there was more to you than face value, Master Fineanvil.”

"I"m not sure there's much there than what some would call a mispent youth. Learning how to craft locks takes up all that time you would spend learning how to wear armor proper. I mean sure, you can't get out of weapons practice. But look like you're working hard and make a good product, even family will let other things slide."

He took a look around. "Either we all play at being quiet or you just give me a few minutes and I'll be back."

OOC: So either way, Brock is trying to sneak walk his way out to the farm house. If he's alone then he'll do that and come on back too.


07:08, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 3 using 1d20+2.  Stealthy!

Of course I rolled a 1!

While Brock imagines himself a master of stealth, it is obvious to all around him that he, at this time, is not.

The approach to the house is not difficult but as he approaches, he stumbles over the corpse of one of the fallen circus folk. Soldiering on Brock finds himself within twenty feet of the house, however this is where the tall grass ends, getting any closer means becoming exposed.

The front of the house is plain and simple, a stone stoop leads to a frail wooden plank door, and to the right is a single four pane window with the panes busted out, the glass laying on the ground in front of the window. Inside from this vantage point is dark and nondescript, but when the wind blows just right, a terrible gaging oder can be smelled coming from the house. And a rythmic and slow creaking sound can be heard coming from the back of the house.

Thinking he will learn from the stealthiness Brock has proclaimed he tries to follow in the Dwarf's footsteps, but too late realizes that following in those footsteps exactly means he is not being stealthy himself. He sighed, shook his head, and just walked towards the barn instead after most of the way stealthing.

He headed around to the back to see what the creaking might be - his imagination filled in several terrible scenes and he hoped he was wrong.

10:44, Today: Garrett rolled 8 using 1d20+5.  Stealthing a different angle than Brock.

”I suppose we should join our companions,” Gregar says to Nashford and Sefira. ”Thoigh from the sound of it stealth is not going to aid in our approach at this point.”

Keeping in a low crouch with his shield at the ready, Gregar approaches Brock’s position cautiously.

OOC: I suppose I will go ahead and roll stealth just in case.
12:22, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 14 using 1d20+2.  Stealth.

Brock has no idea that he's been really jangled by the whole situation. The neighbor's house. The circus performers on the road. These are the biggest horrors he's ever seen.

They are causing merry havoc with his ability to do something as easy as put one foot in front of the other without finding every dry stick and loose rock in the area.

And now, a foul odor and a noise that he is certain cannot be good. He takes a knee, the easiest way to be low to the ground and waits for his friends so they too can smell and hear all the next bad things.

Garrett can see the back of the house from his angle, stretching almost forever behind the building is tall weeds and shrubs leading off into hill country. There is a dirt area behind the house where a wagon would normally be, and a trough and hitching post for horses, but they too are absent.

The odd sound coming from this side of the house is the back door wide open and very gently, ever so slightly, swaying in the wind. Inside the house is unlit but ransacked, and Garrett can make out swarms of flying insects toward the center of the house.

The grass leading away from the house and further south into the hill country is parted slightly, as if a large vehicle was pulled through and the grass and shrubs had been trampled enough that they wouldn't go back to their full upright positions.

At the front of the house the rest of the party meets up with Brock. Sefira dropping to her knee as well looking to the others as if to say 'what now?'
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:11, Wed 17 June 2020.

Garrett let out a sigh. He had seen death often enough to have a good idea that there was either rotting food...or a corpse...inside to attract the bugs like that. He pulled his shirt up over his nose a bit, knowing it would only help slightly with the smell.

Then he stepped inside and headed inward to see what was dead.

10:13, Today: Garrett rolled 19 using 1d20+5.  Stealthing inside the house (not that I think the Stealth check will be needed).

”Looks like Garret is going in the back. We should try the front.” Without waiting, Gregar moves toward the house, wary for danger.

Front of the house:

Sefira follows Gregar to the front door. Her muscles tensed and ready for anything.

Upon trying to open the front door there is a massive amount of resistance and it will not budge.

------
From the rear of the house:

Stepping into the house Garrett is hit with the sick wet smell. It is like walking into a wall. the inside of the house is holding much of the heat of the day and the air in the building is now both almost unbreathable and somewhat humid. The reason is evident, and no real surprise to Garret.

The house is laid out as one big open utilitarian floor plan. The back of the house if both the kitchen and fireplace, the front of the house is a large living area, and to one side is a small wooden ladder leading up to a loft above a closet, big enough to lay on but nothing else, and it is where the bedding is as well. These were not wealthy farmers that lived here, but likely share croppers, surfs, or peasants barely holding on.

The house has been ransacked, the table turned over and propped up against the front door as a barricade and the front window smashed out. nothing has been left standing or intact. In the center of the living room is three bloated corpses, one of a man, a woman, and a teen male. It looks as though they had all been tied up together and left in the center of the room. Their skin is beginning to slough off and bile and nasty are leaking out across the floor in black, green, and yellow puddles. Their cause of death is not immediately evident from the decay of the corpses, but it is obvious they have been dead for a week at least, meaning that this ambush site was planned well in advance. The house is swarming with flies and ants, eagerly feasting and laying eggs in the bounty left for them.

Staying in the house will require a CON save to keep from retching. And to identify the cause of death will require either a NATURE, MEDICINE, of INVESTIGATION CHECK.

Gregar sees the broken front window and peers in, seeing some of the horrifying scene. He stifles a gag.

In a hushed call to Garret, he says,”Something’s blocking the front door. Can you see what it is?”

Brock was at the front door with the others. The fact that it didn't budge was a good and a bad. "Someone made sure this was barricaded?" It was kind of obvious but he shook his head in the negative about it.

And he followed around to the back of the house too.

It smelled wrong all the way back here.

"We're really going to have to tell the sherrif back in town about all of this. And maybe they can tell someone else about it too. This is a lot bigger than just us and a missing girl."

 As Nashford begins to make his way out to his companions, he becomes curious about the corpse that Brock tripped over. <OOC>Does it look anything like the person the group was asked to look for? Are there any more dead people in the field near the farmhouse?

Garrett quickly staggered back out of the house. He didn't vomit, for which he was grateful, but it also wasn't his first time around dead bodies. He shook his head at the group coming around.

"Ugh! I wouldn't go in there. Family's dead, at least a week I think. It's...really ripe in there, the bodies are...very decayed. And gross. Lots of bugs." He took in a deep breath as he pulled down his shirt from his mouth and nose. "Place was ransacked, but it was obviously a base camp for their planned ambush."

The body Nashford examines is an elven male, he appears to be one of the circus troope, from his attire. He has a single crossbow bolt to the forehead, which is the obvious cause of death. This is neither Reyshanel or Kila.

There are no other bodies within five feet of this corpse.

Any further bodies to be found will require a perception check as you search around.

"I don't know what we should do other than get back to town as soon as we can." He took a few more steps away from the house and stopped to talk with everyone. "We've been dragging behind what ever all of this is by a good ways. We're sort of close to what happened to the caravan, I mean that just happened, so these old bodies they were, what, the people who owned this house?"

"The more people trying to solve this the more likely it is to get solved. The circus performers, they'll tell everyone in town about what happened to them, but no one knows this connects to Reyshanel besides us."

"If we have any idea about which way people went from here, maybe we can try and learn a bit more. This is all, well, just a few tons more than I expected when we agreed to help look for a missing girl."

”It seems clear that Reyshanel is working with these bandits, whoever they are. And based on the evidence we found in her house, she’s into something dark and sinister.” Gregar muses out loud. ”From a certain perspective, we have solved the case. Reyshanel left of her own accord and on her own business. The rest is none of ours.”

Gregar glanced around the yard, panning his head left to right. ”Perhaps we take some time to make a thorough search of the grounds and the house, though something will need to be done about those bodies before we can really search the house.”

"That's a sort of grim victory. And we're going to have to find a way to tell her father about it." Brock was having a tough time finding any good news in the middle of all of this.

"Should we, I don't know, put all the bodies together? I practically tripped over one out in the field." He pondered it for a moment and talked himself out of it. "Maybe if there's something worth finding time matters. We should look around out here first, see if there's any kind of a hint about what direction they went."

Garrett looked torn. On the one hand, he'd like to be done with this and tell the father and the authorities. On the other hand, could they just let this girl and the bandits just get away with all this?

He gave a nod to the suggestion of looking around and began to circle around and outward from the house.

O.O.C Any further bodies to be found will require a perception check as you search around.

Sefira quietly listens to the group as she looks around the corner of the house. Until the notion of leaving comes up. Looking at the ground and then back to the rest of the group she speaks up. "If we are all deciding whether or not to go after them, well I am... after all we promised that circus girl we would find her friend, and she did give us some potions to help in that cause... I won't ask any of you to come with me if you don't want to; but I know the kind of people these cultists are... And I wont let them get away with hurting anyone else if I can help it... Not again." She says looking back to the group for their answer.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:30, Fri 26 June 2020.

While the team searched the grounds, Gregar focused on the house. He debated whether getting the bodies out would help or if he should just stomach the stench. In the end, he opted for the stench.

He soaked two small rags in some incense and stuffed them up his nose. He then doused another rag with more incense and water and wrapped that around his face. Then he entered the house. First step was to open any door or window he could, quickly, but then he focused on searching the place as thoroughly as possible.

Not sure if taking my time gives me a bonus or a "Take 10" situation. But my plan is to be as thorough as possible.
14:11, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 3 using 1d20.  Search. +3 = 6 unless I get a bonus. Can I retry after some period of time?

14:11, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 9 using 1d20.  Constitution Check.
17:02, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 3 using 1d20.  Con roll #2.

+0 = 9. So I'm barfing as well as searching.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:03, Fri 26 June 2020.

"You're right, you're right, we should keep on going. I'm just feeling like a fish out of water in all this that's all." Brock turned his attention to walking the farm grounds. There was a lot of mark up showing how they came up on this place. Hopefully there was something just as obvious showing how they might have left. He searched the grounds and the other farm buildings besides the house.

16:41, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 1 using 1d20.  Perception Roll.

My last two skill checks, both rolls of a 1.

Brock is clearly rattled by all of this.

Gregar I am going to give you advantage on the con roll, for the steps you took, also don't forget everyone has a point of inspiration they can use at any time as reward from the first little scenario that brought your team together, to gain advantage on a roll of their choice.

As far as taking ten is concerned, correct me if I am wrong but I think it exists only as passive ability checks now. Something you would just notice rather than taking 10, could be wrong, not the greatest at 5e. So the roll would just stand as is, and any bonus I would give would not let it break a 10 so no real need to do that.

Man good thing you all are getting the low numbers out of the way now, so they don't pop up in combat lol.

  Nashford also tries his hand at searching the grounds.<OOC> Got a five, infinite sadness. "Times like this I wish I was a little taller. It would definitely make it easier to search."

"I'm not sure that being any taller would be any better." Brock continued with looking but it seemed rather hard. His heart was sore from all the odd things they were all wrapped up in. It was tough to see this a a puzzle that they could solve.

He didn't give up but he did not get a sudden moment of clarity either

16:32, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 13 using 1d20.  Inspired Perception ReRoll.

4:20

While searching the grounds the group comes to notice the disturbed grass that Garrett noticed earlier.

Brock finishes speaking and moves a handful of tall grass away to reveal the corpse of another two circus folk, both with killing blows from a crossbow, one with a bolt in his neck and the other with one straight in the center of the chest. Soon he has stumbled upon two other bodies not far from them also killed in a similar matter, bringing the new total of bodies outside the house from one to five.

Inside the house Gregar has found that no matter how bad the smell is alone, with incense crammed up his nostrils it is worse. After adding to the mess inside he is assaulted by flying biting insects that now smell new opportunities. The search of the house begins to prove futile as the more he swipes at the bugs the more of them that show up.

Garrett helped Brock outside as they wandered around. "This is terrible. I mean, in there...completely awful. But this..." He gestured at some of the bodies, ""here...this whole..." He gave a frustrated wide-sweeping gesture, "situation is so dark, messed up. How are we going to find this crazy woman?"

”Damned flies,” Gregar curses. He seats at them a few more times, then closes his eyes. Reaching to the divine spirit, he says a few whispered words in an ancient tongue. From his belt pouch he retrieved a small silver mirror and traced a symbol on its surface, over and over again. Soon, a bubble of divine protection expands around him, at least keeping the worst assaults from the flies.

Refocusing his attention on the room Gregar begins searching again.

22:33, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 18 using 1d20.  Search +3 = 21
This message was last edited by the player at 03:34, Fri 03 July 2020.

 Nashford approaches the more successful searchers and pitches an idea. "We could offer the deceased some dignity by cleaning them up a little bit before sending the news off to the relevant authorities, concerned parties or what have you. Should be easy enough with with my magic. Although, before we do anything like that are either of you skilled at crime scene investigations? " 

Sefira joins the rest of the party in the field, as Nashford begins speaking.

Inside the house Gregar's search proves in vain finding nothing of value, except that once again in this location as Reyshanel's house, anything of any real monetary value is absent. Indicating that not only was the farmer's family murdered but all their valuables had been stolen as well.

"I've never seen this many dead people." Brock explains to the new friends who are now walking this field of corpses with him. "The circus lost a lot of people today, and to what end? I feel like we're trying to solve a puzzle that has 100 bits to it but we only have 5 bits of it sitting in front of us. We know it should go together somehow but we're missing an awful lot the things that would make it fit."

He shook his head in the negative. "I've never had to turn my wits to studying something like this. What are you thinking that we could figure out besides the immediate way that these folk died?"

09:18, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 12 using 1d20+4.  Investigate.

  "Hmm, there has to be something we aren't seeing. Like a clue or something. " Nashford answers Brock's question. His brow then furrows and he begins to look around. " I'll admit that I'm not really the murder mystery type. But we can't let the trail run cold if we're going to find these monsters before they hurt anyone else. "

 <OOC> Okay, what should we roll for this?

<O.O.C.>An investigation is not needed, the group has a faint idea of which way they have gone. The disturbed and flattened grass behind the house is the most obvious clue the group has found.

"We should go where this goes." Brock suggested pointing towards the big stretch of flat grass. "There's nothing else we can do here for these people. And as I was reminded, we told the circus folks we'd look for the people that did this to them."

If everyone was in agreement he was ready to start walking that way.

Gregar came out of the house and filled a cupped hand with water. He splashed it on his face, then took a big mouthful, swishing it around and spitting it on the ground.
He was sweaty and his mouth tasted of bile. All for naught as he had found nothing.

"They stripped the entire house of anything of value and left no clues. Somewhat hard to believe, but I gave the house a thorough search, despite the stench."

He nodded in agreement at Fineanvil's suggestion of following the trail.

Garrett made no move initially to start moving or cleaning up the corpses as Nashford seemed to suggest. He didn't want to monkey around with dead people he wasn't responsible for killing. Then everyone else rejoined them as well.

He gave a nod. "Sure. Aye. Let's keep on this trail. Maybe there yet be someone we can save."

4:45

Even the most inexperienced tracker could follow the trail left in the trampled grass. It is wide and travels for a long way.

About twenty minutes into the trail the grass begins to thin and opens up to a magnificent view of rolling hills littered with bleached white boulders of all different sizes dotted among rolling waves of vibrant green knee high grass and the occasional herd of grazing goats or sheep. Further into the distance an amazing view of the Cloud Peaks mountain range can be seen in a blue haze due to it's distance from you.

However beautiful the vista may be, there is a view of more importance to your characters than nature. Off in the distance maybe half a mile or so in a depression between two hills is a wagon that seems to have broken a wheel on one of the many boulders.

Your characters have a nice height advantage from this distance being at the top of a hill looking down on them. There are at least six of them mulling about the wagon one working on the wheel while the others are arrayed seemingly in an guard perimeter. You feel that by keeping low at this distance you will not be seen, but to advance while standing will leave you exposed for a great distance, perhaps crawling closer might keep you in the knee high grass and keep you obscured as you get closer.

O.O.C. Any further detail about the people at the wagon, or the wagon it's self, will require a perception check.

If you choose to advance with stealth I will need stealth rolls. However if you choose to advance by crawling through the knee high grass you will do so with advantage.

Gregar crouches down and whispers, ”I’ll slither down there and get a closer look.” He wasn’t sure why he was whispering. They were probably too far away to hear anything.

Getting down on his belly, he got closer to the encampment to get a better look.


16:21, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 7 using 1d20.
16:21, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 18 using 1d20.  Stealth with advantage. So with my +2 that’s a 20!

Garrett walked along the 'trail' with the others, keeping his eyes and ear peeled for any danger or ambush. Mostly because it just seemed too easy. Things weren't adding up in his mind, and he was struggling not to focus too much on it. Either these....whoever these people were...were not concerned about anyone following them or it was a trap.

He halted when he saw the wagon. Could this really be who they were after. He got down and peered down at them. He glanced at Gregar, "Only you? Why not sneak up on them through the tall grass?"

22:08, Today: Garrett rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  Perception.

"I'll come along with you to get a closer look. I'm sure I can't really tell much about what is goinig on from here."

Brock wasn't in heavy armor like so many of his family and friends would be. To an extent, he'd feel safer. But none of this was about being overly safe.


Thank goodness for advantage otheriwse ook, I found another super low d20 roll
Stealth Roll 23

13:15, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 23 using 1d20+4.  Stealth Roll 2, Advantage.

13:15, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 6 using 1d20+4.  Stealth Roll 1.

After the two begin crawling off to scout ahead Sefira moves forward and gently elbows Garrett, and with a wink says "Don't worry "Good-luck", I will stick back and keep ya safe."

What Garret can see with his perception:

The group gathered around the wagon are all wearing armor, probably leather or hide, can't really tell. But you notice they are all armed with long blades on their hips, probably a scimitar from the shape of the curve.

The wagon is loaded with what looks like burlap sacks one of which can be seen to move from time to time. From the look of the wagon it is likely the farmer's stolen wagon and his two horses.

As Gregar and Brock approach:

Crawling this distance over hard dirt and over rocky spots while trying to keep below the grass line and not cause a noticeable disturbed trail in the grass is not as easy a task as one would expect, and is not a fun exercise; indeed it is a laborious endeavor of fortitude as your muscles begin to scream from strenuous activity they are not used to and the heat of the day begins to take it's toll.

But for all the discomfort and pain; the effort paid off in the form of arriving at the wagon unnoticed. As you approach you are able to make it to within twenty feet of the wagon before stopping.

The group consists of six individuals, five men, and one buxom redhead. One man who is working switching out a damaged wagon axle with a new one, and the other five arrayed in a five pointed defense perimeter about ten feet out from the wagon. All dressed with time worn and well used leather armor, and on each of their hips is a scimitar.

A large man missing his left eye groans. "Ugh... it's hot as hell out here, you done yet?"
Another man balding with some grey in his beard shouts back. "Shut it Havos. This is going to take time, and the more you pester me the longer it is going to take!"

Towards the left side of the camp a scrawny tanned man pipes up. "yeah; shut it Havos, all you had to do today was be a getaway driver, I had to sit in a putrid house for ten hours, with Mr. Personality over there, who used up all my bolts by the way!" he says throwing a thumb up over his shoulder pointing to another man in the formation who stands stoically methodically petting a white rabbit.

A few moments pass and the redheaded woman speaks up. "I think it's obvious that the circus isn't coming Dallon." She says to the man petting the rabbit, and walking to the wagon reaching into the back and pulling out a canteen from it and drinking, watching as one of the burlap sacks moves reflexively away from her briefest of glancing touches.

Without looking back to the woman the man speaks with a voice as though it were gravel. "You will get back in formation Reyshanel..." He says in a tone that implies some sort of authority. Then Reyshanel turns and leans against the wagon throwing both of her arms up on the railing as one might when reclining on a couch, and says "Or what? You're just an initiate like us you don't out rank any of us, and if I recall correctly Cyanwrath gave me this mission to bring him the acrobat for his harem, and it was me who asked Mondrath for you on my team, so if you think about it... I am the one in charge here, not you." She said with a smirk looking about the other members of the group until a loud squealing can be heard before a sick snapping noise and a thud.

The man now known as Dallon callously and without averting his gaze calmly snapped the neck of the rabbit and dropped it to the ground. This action caused the whole group to ready their weapons and turn to face him; for her part Reyshanel's smirk was gone and she was dead serious now hand on her scimitar.

Dallon spoke again. "I will make cultist, Reyshanel. I have spent years trying and have had to work my way up the initiate ladder the hard way..." He says turning around to face Reyshanel. "I was never able to flash a pretty smile and suck a dick to jump to the top of the ladder, and if you cost me my place I will destroy you in ways you have never even imagined."

Just then the older gentleman working on the wagon piped up. "Alright you morons get back in formation and keep an eye out, I don't want anything to keep me from the raid on Greenest, I have had my eye on this cute bar wench for a week now, not to mention her father's coin purse."

Dallon and Reyshanel continued to stare each other down before Reyshanel smirked again and relaxed. "We can settle this later Dallon, preferably in bed. Bishop is right we can't let anything hold us up, the raid will be our time to shine, and besides Bishop there is old, fat, and balding, this raid is his only hope to get with Kalsey." She says as they all begin to laugh, except for the man working on the wagon who chides back, "Fuck you Reyshanel!"

The woman once again takes her place in formation and the group goes back to monitoring their surroundings, and silence falls across the camp save the hammering by Gace on the axle.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:50, Mon 13 July 2020.

Garrett didn't like being ignored or left behind, he found. His eyes narrowed and he frowned in thought. Finally, he shook his head. He had given them a good head start, but he started making his own way towards the wagon. If violence broke out, he didn't want to be a long distance away anyway.

08:36, Today: Garrett rolled 15 using 2d20+5, dropping the lowest dice only.  Stealth.

Gregar looked at Brock with a questioning look. He pointed to his weapon and shrugged his shoulders. This seemed to be their quarry. Seems like attack was on the menu as there were clearly more of these ruffians. Now was their chance to defeat their enemies and rescue the captives in the bags.

 "Why is everyone moving up? I thought we were waiting for the scouts to get back before acting. I guess I'll see for myself what's got everyone so exited." Nashford mutters as he attempts to sneak up to the others.

 <OOC>Got a nine even with advantage. Unless Sefira wants to stop me. Otherwise hijinks.

Brock seemed to be stuck in a constant state of shock. One new shock after the other. It was one thing to think that one of his neighbors was involved in such terrible things. Even after finding unspeakable things in her home, it was still another thing to see her hear, hear her confirming that yes, indeed, she was involved in making all these hideous things happen.

He did see Gregar point to weapons, like he thought it was a good idea to attack these people. He would much rather run away, back to town. But there were the captives. He took a deep steadying breath and gave a terse and yes nervous nod in the affirmative.

Watching Garrett ignore her and slide into the grass and then Nashford walk into the grass as an obvious distraction Sefira rolls her eyes and herself slips into the grass in a crawl behind Garrett.

----

O.O.C.I will need initiative rolls from everyone. Also keep in mind that if Gregar and Brock initiate combat, your allies are half a mile from you, I doubt they would make it to you in time to help in the combat. Also you can choose to wait until your allies are closer to do anything if you prefer.

"Hey check this out, looks like someone is coming... A halfling I think, or maybe a gnome, can't tell." The man fat man missing his eye now known as Havos comments.

The others begin to move to his side of the perimeter they had made, to see for themselves. "Is it the circus?" Bishop, who is still working on the wagon asks.

"No don't think so, looks like he is alone, but he is making a straight line for us. An adventurer maybe..." Havos responds.

"More like a fool, if he thinks he can take us all on by himself, anyone else out there?" Reyshanel pipes in as she comes to stand next to Havos.

"No just the short man, or woman... again can't tell." Havos says with a shrug.

"Alright well lets wait for the fool to get here, see what's up and if he is unaware of the circus, we act like nothing is up, then stick him up and rob him, maybe kill him. If he is here on behalf of the circus we just kill him and rob him. So everyone spread out a little try and look innocent enough, and we will see what happens." Reyshanel orders, causing everyone but Bishop to move around ten feet apart or so all watching the halfling as he bounds toward the camp.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:33, Sat 18 July 2020.

Garrett kept moving slowly and steathily towards the people with the wagon. He couldn't hear what they were saying just yet.

As Nashford reaches the group he is startled by the fact that they seem to be able to see him. When he hears a woman shout.

"Hey!, you... Yes you Halfling. What are you doing out here, trying to sneak up on us like that?" A red headed woman says stepping forward and pointing a scimitar in Nashford's direction.

By this point the other members of the party have gathered together and had a chance to communicate with one another about what is going on. The party is currently 10ft away from any member of the Bandits.

O.O.C. Sorry for the late post, but it is up today as promised.

Garrett froze when he heard the 'Hey, you' call out. But then relaxed, if only slightly, as the voice continued and it turned out it was Nashford who'd been spotted and not him. He glanced Nashford's way but didn't make eye contact. He didn't want the halfling to be tempted to look his direction.

He glanced at the others near him. He kept his voice quiet but not a whisper since those actually tended to carry farther. "should we see how they react to Nashford a bit more, or just attack now?"

Gregar considered. The inadvertent distraction Nashford was providing could allow them a more opportune attack. Gregar didn’t want to show his hand so soon, but this might be the best time. Plus, if Nashford got much closer he might be engaged anyway, and that would make ranged attacks more difficult.

Making a decision, he nodded to Garrett, then stood and fired his crossbow at the nearest raider.

[OOC: I rolled an 11. Probably a miss. ]

 Acknowledging the group before him as the probable villains in their current escapade, Nashford considers his options. They would most likely assault his outright if he was to approach them alone with no backup. But he knew his  friends were close by if he needed help. Maybe he could get them to talk, buy some time for the group to take up advantageous ambush positions.

 So he decided to approach. "It's alright I'm a traveler. I just want to ask for directions. "

 Then he noticed the crossbow bolt. That would definitely put him in danger of they noticed. Maybe he could play it off long enough to buy him time to escape to saftey. Although in his heart he knew that this was probably one of those times that he had to fight to survive.

 <OOC>Does Nashford know where the rest of the party is hiding?

Garrett shook his head. There was nothing much for it once things started up. He quickly stood and drew his rapier as he darted forward the ten feet to one of the cultists. He stabbed out with the weapon, but his aim wasn't the best after having stood up and run forward in a hurried dash like that.

23:30, Today: Garrett rolled 13,4 using d20+5,d8+3.  Rapier vs nearest non-Reyshanel cultist.

It was as fine of a distraction as they were going to have. Brock rose from his hidden spot, took the few steps towards the nearest of the gang, pulled his short sword on the move, and slashed out. Taking his cue from Garrett, he went after the same person, hoping to put at least one of them down in a hurry

OOC:

Hurray, I probably hit, but only managed 8 points.

17:21, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 8 using 2d6+2.
17:21, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 20 using 1d20+4.  Short Sword Attack.

"Just looking for directions hu?" The red head says with a smirk. Before she can open her mouth to say another word the trap is sprung.

Sefira charges out of the grass with a speed like that of a predatory animal charging down surprised prey. Jabbing at the scrawny man and missing, however her momentum is not lost as she pivots on her heel into a sweeping roundhouse kick to the man's face shattering his nose, and sending blood and teeth flying.

The fat man at the wagon spouts out, "SHIT IT'S AN AMBUSH!" At the same time Gregar rises from the grass making a shot that is unfortunately aimed poorly.

Garret seizing Sefira's initiative races up and runs Sefira's target through his neck, sending him to the ground in a small fountain of blood and gurgling noises before he quickly expires.

With a reserve of violence and skill well hidden most times by the dwarven tinker, Brock expertly maneuvers to his target, the man who slew the rabbit and deftly lands a deep slashing wound in his side.

<O.O.C. Yes Nash was aware of the hidden locations of his team mates. Also end of surprise round. I will now post Sefira and the cultist's actions below for the first round of real combat. Nash if you wish to take a move or attack or bonus action for the surprise round let me know, I will work it in retroactively. Doing it this way so that combat wont be as slow as it could otherwise be.>

The Surprise, however, quickly wares off as the Cultists now down one rally and begin to fight back.

Reyshanel seeing three enemies surrounding her two on one side and one on the other, chooses to move to a flanking position against the singular enemy, Brock. Using her ally he injured to keep his attention she attacks a tactic the inexperienced tinker falls for as she manages to slice him across the back of his neck (Crit for 7 dmg to Brock) The Bunny slayer seeking to capitalize on the flank strikes as well now that the dwarf's attention is split, (Crit for 4 more dmg to Brock) Catching him across the face.

The man at the wagon rises and draws his scimitar then moves to attack Sefira. "Little Bitch!" He cries as he swipes his sword, missing the agile young woman, who expertly bends almost over backwards to avoid the swipe.

Seeing Sefira engaged by the man who was working on the wagon the fat man missing an eye moves to engage Garrett, he swings wildly his almost untrained erratic behavior throwing Garrett's parries off and allows for a blow to fall through his defense (5 dmg to Garrett.)

Finally the man who up this point had been silent looks to Gregar, and says: "Your mine asshole." Moving his way to the cleric and at the last moment tripping over a large stone hidden in the grass causing his attack to swing wide and miss.

Sefira shouts to Nash "Help Brock, we can handle these goons over here", she says looking to Garrett and then returning her attention to the man she is fighting who unlike the others seems to be a rather well trained fighter.

Garrett gave a satisfied nod and grunt when his blade struck home. He opened his mouth to possibly something witty, or maybe just tell the rest to surrender, when he felt the scimitar slice in to him. "Ahh!" He grimaced. "Your best chance would've been to run or surrender." He stabbed out with his rapier once again, his aim still getting used to the erratic movements of his opponent.

23:20, Today: Garrett rolled 13,7 using d20+5,d8+3.  Rapier vs Cultist.

 <OOC>Alright then. As soon as he sees that the trap is sprung, Nashford will draw his shortsword and move up. That'll do for the surprise round.

 Nashford then moves in to flank with the guy that brock struck previously and proceeds to try earn a little payback for the circus folk. <OOC>22 to hit and nine damage if I do.

 He then quips to Brock to raise his spirits. " Come on mister Fineanvil ,it's time to show these murderthieves that a properly motivated citizenry can be even more terrifying than anything they could possibly accomplish with a sad night raid. <OOC>I'll throw Brock an inspiration die. I don't remember where you are in initiative so go ahead and apply it when applicable.

Gregar dropped his crossbow and pulled out his shield and yklwa short spear. He stabbed out at the man threatening him, hoping to send his soul to whatever gods he prayed to.

OOC: 18:32, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 4 using 1d8+1.  Damagr.
18:31, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 13 using 1d20+3.  Attack roll.

Not sure if a 13 hits or not

Brock was not doing well.

It wasn't like he was unfamiliar with injury. Anyone who works with their hands manages to get hurt. It was almost a point of pride thing. Never trust an artisan with hands free of scars. And you don't learn to use the weapons and equipment of your people without picking up the bumps and bruises of training.

But this was entirely different.

"I cannot believe that you choose all of this over your own home and people." In the heat of it, he attacked the woman who had already come close to sending him to meet his ancestors.

He struck her with a slash, clearly not enough to put her down he was sure, but he had friends nearby.


Rolled an 18 to hit, so that probably hit.
Did 4 points of Normal Damage
Did 1 point of 'Sneak' damage, not sure if there's a companion near by enough to trigger it. And clearly that is not the difference between life and death for me here.

However, I should announce I've taken 11 out of 12 HP in damage. Ah it is challenging being 1st level

In reply to Brock Fineanvil (msg # 153):

To be fair you did take two crits in a row. Also if you think this is rough try the module as written, it's brutal. I killed a pc in the first round of combat which was the first five minutes of game time when run as written. Remember I have changed some stuff, to make things a little more fair on the PCs and to flesh out the antagonists more. In the book they are little more than RAWR I'm bad, I want to add a little nuance to it.

On a different note, I will get my post up later today, got some errands to run first.

Nashford's blow strikes true dropping the man who had slain the rabbit killer and grievously injured Brock.

As Brock's sword lands it's mark Reyshanel grimaces and grips her wound. "Betray my home and people? You speak like we know each other dwarf. But if you must know I regret nothing, Greenest is the worst, everyone so disingenuous and weak... it deserves it's fate. And when our boys are done with it tonight there wont be a soul left alive or building left standing. And when we are done killing you lot I plan to go back and get my rewards, power..." She says as she steps forward with a feint and slash, her strike finding a home in the flesh of the tinker (3dmg), Her gaze then turned to Nashford a wicked and perverse smile crossing her face.

The man who had been working on the wagon continues his assault against Sefira trying to hit the agile young woman, growing more and more frustrated that his attacks missed. "What are you made of girl? Air?" In response to his inquiry Sefira leaps into a back-flip her heel barely missing the man. "Almost girl bu--" He begins but is cut off as she then front flips back to her previous position and driving her short spear into the man's neck. With a spray of blood and a choking sound the man is down.

As the foe engaging Gregar stumbles, he is caught by the priest's blow. "Damn it!" He shouts as he once again tries for the holy man, his swing clanging into Gregar's shield.

The foe assaulting Garrett continues with a frantic almost crazed assault, the blow he suffered only serving to cause him to become more frantic swinging with abandon and leaving him self open often but his untrained swings make exploiting any opening a tricky proposition and while attempting to parry a blow the scimitar slips down Garrett's weapon and slicing deep into his forearm (3dmg).

End of cultist and Sefira's turn you are free to take your turns.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:12, Fri 07 Aug 2020.

Gregar strikes again with his yklwa, aiming to down the man after seeing Reyshanel take out Brock.

”You’re going to lose, Reyshanel. Your faith is in the wrong deity.” He laughs as if he just told a funny joke.

1:37, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 7 using 1d8+1.  Damagr.
21:37, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 9 using 1d20+3.  Attack.

Almost positive that misses.

Brock went down in a heap. That last slash for Reyshanel didn't have a lot behind it but the other attacks from her certainly did.

Brought down by a neighbor, by a girl he'd seen grow up in their ideal little town that she for some reason hated.

None of it made any sense but it didn't matter right now either.

 Nashford smiles as he.makes his way to Reyshanel. "Shamalam. Get up Brock we still have work to do. <OOC>Healing word to Brock 4 hp. Minimum roll, sorry.

 He then looks Reyshanel in the eyes as he sizes her up for his attack. "It's sad that you had to say that about your own people. But we promised your father we'd bring you back alive. I guess we didn't say anything about whether or not it would be as a prisoner. " Gratuitous Sword noises.

 <OOC>25 to hit, nat  twenty. 9 damage, max damage for a normal attack. Not the worst crit. All my attacks against Reyshanel will be committed with the intent to knock her out.

Garrett let out another grunt as his foe continued to shred away at him. The pain was starting to get to him as well, he could tell, as his attacks were starting to be a bit slower, not quite as well aimed either. His breath was heavy in his chest and he wondered if this might finally be it for him.

11:21, Today: Garrett rolled 11,8 using d20+5,d8+3.  Rapier vs Cultist.

The sensation was strange. He wasn't free of pain. But he was no longer about to simply move on to the great Workshop either. The woman, the neighbor who had brought him down, was right there still on her feet, surrounded by his new friends.

It took some effort to get up. His sword was on the ground, somewhere. It was all very confusing. But he knew where to find a knife. So as he rose up he drew a knife and attacked Rayshanel.

Apparently being nearly dead ruined his aim.

OOC: I cannot imagine that a 12 hits her
I'll put in the damage any how just for kicks
5 Damage total

15:58, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 12 using 1d20+4.  Dagger Attack
16:01, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 1 using 1d6.  Sneak Attack Damage.
16:01, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 4 using 1d4+2.  Dagger Damage.

 

Nashford puts on one hell of a dervish dance with his sword, noticing an opportunity he begins forcing Reyshanel back until she trips and almost falls backwards over a stone he had been pushing her toward. Instinctively she leans forward to arrest her backward fall. A mistake Nash exploits driving the pommel of his sword right between the eyes, with a satisfying crack, as her nose breaks. And, without a word she falls unconcious face down in the dirt.

At the sight of Reyshanel falling the other two men redouble their efforts to take down their foes panic and the realization of their situation setting in; unfortunately for them Garrett's skills prove too good to be taken down so easily, and Gregar's shield once again pays for it's self.

Sefira moves to a flanking position with Garrett and lashes out with her short spear it finding purchase in Garrett's assailant's back. He stiffens dropping his scimitar and then relaxes as his eyes roll back in his head and he slumps to the ground dead.

Only one foe now remains.

Gregar attacks, hoping to end this scenario. His blade strikes true.

Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 6 using 1d8+1.  Damage.
20:57, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 19 using 1d20+3.  Attack .

Still on his feet but not particularly steady, Brock takes the example from Gregar and moves around the one remaining enemy. The dagger in his hand has probably been used more often as a prybar or a carving tool than as something to stab into a person.

If his own neighbor was any indication, these folks were not just going to learn their lesson and go back to a more simple life.

And so he joined in the attack against this one person. Clearly his heart was not in it. But he felt lifted up by the earlier encouragement by one of his companions.

15:39, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 12 using 1d20+4.  Dagger Attack.
You know I last moment remember that inspiration die. Of course it came up a 1. I doubt that a 13 hits either. Ah well.

As the dice roller continues to hate me. Really, a 12 to hit again.
05:32, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 1 using 1d6.  Inspiration from Bard to Hit.

This message was last edited by the player at 09:33, Wed 12 Aug 2020.

Garrett gave a nod of thanks and a smile to Sefira as she helped drop the one who had turned out to be a little problematic for him. He wasn't embarrassed, per se, but definitely felt a bit out of practice. Maybe he was getting too old for this stuff?

He turned to face the last remaining cultist. He didn't waste breath on words, just stepped forward and stabbed out.

19:26, Today: Garrett rolled 14,6 using d20+5,d8+3.  Rapier vs Cultist (if needed).

Gregar's blow lands true. Now, with Gregar to one side and Brock to another, the man is unable to cover all of his weak spots, a situation Garrett exploits driving his rapier into the man's back. He screams in pain and looks to the pointed blade protruding out his chest. Once the blade is withdrawn, he staggers for a moment and falls face first into the dirt dead.

This ends combat. You are out of initiative.

 Genuinely surprised that he got through the skirmish unharmed, Nashford couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Buha ha ha ha. That was easy. Although I did expect there to be more of them. "

 It took a few seconds for the gears to spin before his eyes widen in panic. "Reyshanel said something about an attack on the town. Do we have the time to continue trying to find raid prisoners and get to town in time to warn them?"

Garrett shot a bit of a glaring look at Nashford. Blood was coming from a couple of wounds on the older fighter. "Easy, he says. Easy!" He shook his head and began muttering under his breath as he started checking the corpses for anything of interest, especially any keys or the like.

"Town is a bit away."

"Easy?" Brock was alive but it was a near thing. "You use words in a strange way friend. Or maybe it is just the shock of the moment."

There were bags that had what seemed like people in them. It was why they'd done this right? "We're going to try and set you free now." He commented nice and loud near the bag-encased captives so that they would maybe struggle less or something. Brock got help from the others to get folks liberated. If they were circus folk, they could be redirected back to their surviving friends

OOC: If I'm wrong about that, and there aren't any captives, just blame Brock being smacked around

"I think we're going to have to do our best to get back to town in a hurry. The wagon here is probably about as fast as we can go. We can get it up and running pretty quick." He walked around checking on the repairs. "Maybe half of an hour or so of work and we'd be on our way."

I should add that in game it is currently 5:30pm

”Agreed. Hooking up the wagon seems the best course of action.” Gregar moves to help release the prisoners and console or tend to any wounds they may have.

Upon looting the bodies Garrett finds:

x6 Scimitar
x6 Leather Armor
x13 silver pieces
x1 Moonstone worth 50gp

As Brock and Gregar approach the wagon, they can both hear a whimpering sobbing coming from the back. And as soon as Brock releases the tie on the burlap sack the cloth falls away to reveal a young human woman, in her teens, maybe early twenties at best. She has a large black eye and a cut above her other eye with now dried blood running down her face. Once the bag has slipped away more completely it becomes clear she was a member of the Circus by her clothing.

Despite Brock's assurances she immediately lunges at him attempting to burst past him and to freedom, but is stopped instantly as her legs give out and she tumbles to the ground out of the wagon. It becomes evident that the girl suffered a much more severe beating than was at first thought. Once on the ground she once again begins sobbing, and begging for you to just let her go.

It takes a little bit to help her up and calm her down, but ultimately she does, she reveals that she is the acrobat named Kila that the Silver Dragonborn said had been kidnapped. And she also reveals that they beat her mercilessly when she tried to escape the first time, when the wagon broke, that was when they threw her in the bag. She claims that they planned to turn her over to someone named Cyanwrath for his harem and that in exchange they would be made cultists in some religion.

The other bags in the wagon are filled with herbs and a few vials of unidentified liquids, as well as rope, and other various nick-nacks one might take on a trip.

After some TLC from our cleric, Kila is made well enough to limp back to the circus with directions on where they are located.

While Gregar fixes up the performer, Brock finishes up the repairs to the wagon, and the group is ready to set out if that is what they choose to do.

Garret took time and loaded up what he'd found on the wagon as it was fixed, but being careful and not getting in the way. He wasn't exactly skilled in the sort of work the wagon fixing entailed, nor tools that would help - aside from maybe untrained manual labor if needed.

He resigned himself to going back to town with the others, as they seemed to have their minds set on. He wasn't sure if they could make it in time, but he knew that there were for sure others that needed their help too. He gave a shrug and sat in the back of the wagon when the group decided to set out.