Notice: This thread follows from msg #420 in Chapter 1 - Part 1. Events after continue in the branching thread Moyrah's Home from msg #14.

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Hlin sat down in a chair with, lamenting the simple action that was so taxing on her beaten body. "Someone fetch me the those bandages," she said, waving a hand to the table where Ethen had laid out whatever medical supplies she had in storage for emergencies. Thorben concurred. He hadn't suffered any wounds himself, and was just glad he could be of help. Dannika, too, tried to be of as much help as she could. "No, I'm fine on my own, thank you very much," Hlin said when Ethen stepped over to give her a hand in removing her fleece over-clothing. Ethen instead set to busying herself preparing herbal tea that could perhaps serve to alleviate the pain.

No later did Rhydd enter with Torgrim behind him. A rat squirmed across the floor by their feet and out into the cold. It wouldn't be long before it regretted its decision, undoubtedly. It might have had nooks and crevices to get back in again.

"Good to see that some of you have your senses intact," Hlin said after she'd finally managed to pry off the fleece. Her shirt beneath was stained with blood. She poked a hole through a ripped section, feeling the gnarled wound beneath. "Ah. Nothing too serious. Thorok. Good. Good . . . When you get old, it gets harder to shake things off. Even for us Dwarves!" She then chuckled, but the wounds stung so she quickly stopped.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:40, Tue 27 July 2021.

Rhydd pushed the hood of his heavy bear-fur winter coat back from his head, and stepped over to a corner of the room. There he took a moment to brush the snow from the shoulders of his coat, then shrugged his shoulders out of the overcoat and draped it across a chair.

He gave Hiln the others in the room a smile as he stepped over to the fire and warmed his fingers. "My fingers and toes feel it first, it seems," he muttered to no one in particular.

The archer gave the seated Dwarf an appraising look, and nodded to her after she had spoken. "And I am glad to see you up and moving on your own power."

"I have heard of Ice Trolls, of course, but I have generally had the good fortune not to have to get too close to them."

After a short pause, he pulled his hands back from the fire and rubbed them together, massaging his fingers as he did so. "Much better."

"That was very brave of you and Farwalker to go toe-to-toe with those Trolls," he remarked, turning back to face Hiln.

"It would have been brutal if they had a clear path to get to the militia-men."

"Although," he added after a moment, "now that I think on it, I would have paid good coin to see them tear that lackwit Skath limb from limb."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:05, Fri 02 July 2021.

The old Dwarf nodded in agreement with Rhydd's last comment. It might even have elicited another chuckle, had she not thought a certain justice accompanied the macabre imagery. "And better yet for that pest Naerth to have stood with him . . . but don't thank me. It was your Goliath friend who kept them at bay — I could barely remain upright after even a single blow." She sighed as she stretched to bind her wounds. "I'm not the mighty warrior I once was, woe, I am not. You should have seen me in my prime! I would've made swift work of those Trolls alone with an arm behind my back and both eyes closed! Chopped them to pieces. But though I am no longer that Dwarf, to experience the fray once more . . . I haven't felt like this in The All-Father knows how long. Even if this was the last. Even if this was the last . . ." Her gaze grew distant, and she smiled as only someone old reminiscing about times past could. "You don't know how much I would give to be with my Battle Sisters again."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:12, Fri 02 July 2021.

After brushing off what snow had found its way onto his person Torgrim strode towards the bar of the Luskan Arms, arms extended triumphantly to the sides. "Hello again, Ethen my dear! Just had to pop out for a spell, take care of some trolls, nothing to break a sweat over."

"I will take another ale for myself, and one for Mister Maldhon, the master archer." He leaned onto the bar with one hand, and gestured towards the fireplace with the other. "And I'll have three of whatever the dwarf drinks. I'd say she's earned it after a performance like that, wouldn't you agree? He shot Ethen a sympathetic smile. She seemed to have some prior dealings with the dwarf, so perhaps she could be persuaded to offer the drinks free of charge. Torgrim had, despite his charitable demeanor, no vast fortune to speak of after all.

Regardless of who paid for the refreshments, Torgrim soon wandered over to the fireplace and handed out the drinks to Rhydd and Hiln. "Here's to another day in the land of the living"He raised the flagon slightly before taking a hearty gulp.

Hlin nodded. "Aye. After the battle come drinks." Ethen poured some stout ale from a barrel. Hlin drank the tea Ethen had brewed as well, but more so just to be polite — she didn't believe in whatever herbal hokum Ethen subscribed to.

"Where is Mallory? And Farwalker?" Dannika asked. She had expected them to enter in behind Rhydd and Torgrim, but no-one came. She was fearing the worst, and wondered how everyone could act so jolly in circumstances like these.

"Safe, and nearly unscathed" Torgrim reassured the nervous half-elf. "Off for a debrief with the speaker and the captain, for which Mister Maldhon and I were seemingly unwanted. I'm certain they'll be with us shortly." A white lie. One could never be more than 90% certain on anything when dealing with the Zhentarim or any others in their line of work Torgrim had found. Yet, there was no need to worry the mousy scholar with all the brutal truths of the world.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure yet, by the way" He extended the hand not currently holding the flagon towards Dannika. "I'm Torgrim, and if you need some pointers on how to treat that viola of yours, I'm the half-elf for the job.".
This message was last edited by the player at 12:30, Sat 03 July 2021.

Rhydd was happy to let Torgrim answer Dannika's inquiries. The Half-Elf had a blustery "Hail-Fellow-Well-Met" air about him and seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice, and it suited the archer just fine to stay quiet and let Torgrim ramble on.

He accepted a flagon of ale from Ethen with a nod, and gave her a coin to pay for it. Putting his back to the bar, he rested his elbows upon it.

Standing silent and moving only his eyes, 'twas easy to imagine him in his guise of a hunter.

"Dannika . . . of Callid- of Candlekeep" the nervous half-elf answered skeptically, but shook the strange – and somewhat eerie, if she was being honest – man's hand none-the-less. Torgrim. A half-elf like herself, she was fairly certain, judging by his ears and coarse facial features. She'd spotted it the first time she saw him – he'd been in The Luskan Arms prior to the the Trolls showing up, and he'd taken one of the bottles of Alchemist's Fires with him. "You doused the Trolls in fire, correct? They have a penchant to get up if they aren't."

Hlin took a swig of her ale. It did not have quite the same kick to it as the mead served in The Mead Hall, but it was more than drinkable. And if it wasn't, she'd drink it regardless. She fell silent alongside Rhydd as she stared at the embers. Her wounds stung, aye, but that was quite alright. "I am no Harper," she broke the silence, "but I am in need of assistance."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:28, Sat 03 July 2021.

Despite Torgrim's best attempts to appear otherwise, Dannika's glance said it all. He looked as he felt; like shit. Today's exhilarating encounters with the beast of the lake and the frost trolls had given him a boost of energy, but the effect of his nearly sleepless nights were slowly catching up with him. His overly cheerful demeanor was a last ditch effort to give off the impression of a functional member of society, with varying success. He decided to do what he usually did; ignore it and double down.

"Indeed we did! Between lady Mallory's magics and your invaluable alchemical assistance, the trolls stood little chance." Torgrim didn't feel the need to specify that Dannika's bottle had ended up missing the trolls entirely, and that both trolls had ended up ignited by arcane means.

Rhydd had been glancing around the common room, his back against the bar, where he was resting his elbows. His head whipped around in surprise when Hiln spoke, and he turned his attention to the Dwarf.

Hiln had already told him that she was not a Harper when he had previously come right out and asked her, so her denial was not surprising to him. But her asking for aid was. Most Dwarves that Rhydd had ever met tended towards the proud, stiff-necked variety, and Hiln had struck him the same way. Truth be told, Rhydd knew that he himself sometimes struck others that way -- not that he cared one way or the other what others thought of him. But given his own mind-set, it occurred to him that it must have taken a lot for Hiln be able to bring herself to come right out and ask for help, instead of handling whatever it was by herself.

He shifted his stance so that he was facing Hiln, and his back was to Torgrim and Dannika. His intent was to block the male Half-Elf's view -- he knew that some people could read lips, and it was easier for Hiln and him to keep their voices low even if Torgrim did not have that ability.

"I don't trust him," he said quietly. "He was falling all over himself to kiss Skath's arse, earlier."

After a short pause, he asked "How can I help?"

It was indicative of Rhydd's high regard for the Dwarf that he asked that question before being told what the problem was.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:44, Sun 04 July 2021.

"I am glad," Dannika smiled. "I am curious what Miss Mallory wishes to do with the heart – if the town lets her at all keep it."

Hlin listened to what Rhydd had to say, then she got up from her stool – carefully, so as not to strain her wounds – and departed the conversation. She returned a brief minute later with her pipe and pipeweed. "That man is troubled is all," she said while she proceeded to light her pipe, referring to Torgrim. She took a puff and shrugged. "but troubled men often turn wicked." After a few more puffs she continued. There wasn't any reason to hurry. "The man who killed . . . Herve," she took another few seconds to recall the name, "is named Sephek Kaltro. He's been busy in Easthaven, killing everyone who's kept their names out of the drawings." She wearily blew nose out of her nostrils. "Until he ran out of people to kill."

---

Hlin Insight into Torgrim's character [19]
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:43, Mon 05 July 2021.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 11):

Rhydd pursed his lips thoughtfully. "If he is the one I am thinking of, I knew the man -- but not his name -- from several years ago, when he used to work for Torg's Trading Coster."

"He was over in the Three Flags just last evening, and after he rushed out Lady Mallory conjured up a phantasmal image of him that was so accurate that I easily recalled the man -- although not his name."

"The man I am thinking of worked as an enforcer and general muscle for the coster. He struck me as being a Reghedman, one who did not shy away from getting his hands dirty doing dark deeds."

After a short pause, the huntsman added "And this . . . Sephek Kaltro . . . has been going around killing people, you say? Well, by that I mean people who probably don't deserve it -- some do, as you well know."

"Has someone put him up to it, do you suppose, or it this Kaltro's nature do do such things unbidden?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:56, Mon 05 July 2021.

"Between Trolls and the Plesiosauruses, I must say this has been a rather eventful day. I hadn't expected this when I set out from Candlekeep. Oh, thank you," Dannika said to Torgrim as she humbly accepted the cup of tea Ethen had poured, all the while remaining blissfully unaware of the conversation that took place a few paces over.* "No Chwingas in sight, however. I reckon I would need that lesson at some point. After I buy a new bow." She mumbled the last part. "Apparently, there's nothing magical about the music. It just has to . . . not . . . sound like . . . what I was playing." A small wince overcame her when she recalled her earlier practice session. "Was it really that bad? Do you think there's any hope for me? I don't need to be a virtuoso, I just need to play well enough to pique the ears of little, mischievous elemental spirits." She sipped the warm herbal tea. From the way it smelled to Torgrim, it must have tasted quite pleasant. "Chwingas don't have ears, of course, at least not in the traditional sense – they're mostly made of straw or weeds or whatever the climate would dictate. Peculiar, really, when you consider . . ." Dannika launched into what Torgrim would soon realize was a lengthy ramble on her favorite topic.

Puff, smoke. Hlin tilted an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Rhydd as the fireplace continued to crackle. "You're familiar with the man? You surprise me again. I, too, had the misfortune to come to know him through Torg. Know him," she corrected herself, "I know of him. But he did strike me as the company Torg would find herself in . . ." Another pause – the conversation was equal parts silence and talk. "Torg's is no more, neither coster nor Dwarf. Or rather, the Dwarf is rotting away in a beaten old cot in Easthaven, half her wits about her, if that.

"She's dealt with Black Robes before, and it might be that Kaltro donned it himself after there was no more work for him in the caravan . . . although, who he is beholden to presently I do not know. He has acquired some strange powers. Whether through orders or not, the killings are not haphazard. Targos is one of the three towns that elected to sacrifice people instead of food and warmth," she chortled, lips still wrapped around the mouthpiece. She found the entire thing farcical, whether it be people, corn, or under flannels. "My guess is that Kaltro aspires to some higher purpose, or whatever it would be, and that he's doing The Frostmaiden's dirty work for her."

---

Torgrim, I think it's fair to give you a chance to roll to see if you can overhear what Rhydd and Hlin are talking about. Roll me a Perception check. Scratch that, you can have Torgrim overhear what what you want him to overhear.

EDIT: Some minor cleanup . . .
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:38, Mon 05 July 2021.

"Sounds like Kaltro needs to be put down," Rhydd muttered after Hiln had spoken her piece, "especially if he is acting as a cat's-paw for the Frost Maiden".

"Obviously, since this is the first I've heard about what he's been up to, I've given it no thought -- but do you have any ideas about how to go about doing that?"

"I suppose," he continued, "we could try and lay some sort of a trap for him, but I've got no idea as to where -- or whom -- he will strike next. Have you been able to spot any sort of a pattern to his goings-on?"

Hlin nodded at a lot of what Rhydd said. "Mmh. Easthaven's killed aplenty," she responded to his last question, "and Kaltro killed those who cheated the game. Targos, as far as I can tell, doesn't have a problem with people finding ways to keep their names off the list. Either that, or Kaltro doesn't have access to said list yet. But Herve should have hung yesterday, and he didn't. Perhaps he found that reason enough to kill the man.

"Lonelywood hasn't killed anyone, despite their promises at the last Speakers' Council." Hlin paused. "Only one's with an ounce of decency intact, I say . . ."

A piece of ash drifted, and Hlin followed it with her eyes. "Here you have to sit and listen to the ramblings of a tired old Dwarf . . . enough about this. You probably have your own needs to tend to. Could I ask you where you're headed? You've only recently arrived in Targos, from what I've gathered, entirely by accident . . ."

"Certainly! I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to at least play a simple little tune after a little practice and guidance. I favor the lute myself, so there are limitations to my tutelage, but at the end of the day, a string is a string." For the first time in a long while, Torgrim's enthusiasm was genuine. Meeting someone with anything beyond a fleeting interest in music was rare enough in the Dale, and especially in Targos. His interest did not extend to whatever a Chwinga was, however. While the Scholar held her impromptu lecture on the topic, Torgrim nodded along courteously without really taking in her words fully.

Soon, his attention was stolen away by what little he could pick up of the conversation going on behind him:



OOC: Have Torgrim heard anything about Sephek Kaltro, Torg or "Black Robes"?

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Torgrim's History check on Torg's Trading Coster, Sephek Kaltro, and The Zhentarim (w/ Advantage due to background) [14]: Torg's had been a common name in the underbellies of Ten Towns a couple of years prior. They dealt in wares otherwise hard to acquire. Some magical.

Sephek Kaltro, a tall and broad Reghed man, was Torg's primary bodyguard. When the coster went defunct, he picked up the odd job, and wasn't shy about dirtying his hands when in Easthaven. Brasn was fond of him and had tried to recruit him into The Geese on several occasions. Each time, the man insisted on working for only himself.

Torgrim had no clue what his connection to The Black Network was. If he indeed was in liege with them, they'd managed what The Geese could not. But it was hard to tell – they'd only recently turned their attention to Icewind Dale, and they typically held their cards close to chest. The only thing Torgrim knew was that Brasn was not a fan of them trespassing on his turf.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 15):

Rhydd grunted at Hiln's labeling his presence in Targos as an "accident".

"That's putting lipstick on a pig," he muttered. "Our lackwit of a guide got himself turned around, and whilst he was attempting to find his arse with both hands, we ended up here. I was originally bound for Bryn Shander."

The hunter shrugged. "But, here I am. 'Tis better than hunkering down in an ice cave somewhere out on the tundra whilst  trying to last out this winter storm that never seems to end."

". . . you see, Chwingas are exceptionally hard to track down, but there was this Tiefling scholar who figured out something ingenious – with a bit of mud from Chult, she . . ." It didn't register to Dannika that Torgrim was only half-way paying attention.

"Bryn Shander," Hlin said, still smoking her pipe. It helped dull the throbbing more so than the tea, if only from the familiarity. "There's work in Bryn Shander. Some lucrative. Not enough pluck from the notice boards these days. Goblin trouble, last I heard. Though, I doubt our murderous common acquaintance is traveling to Bryn Shander anytime soon. He must've traveled through there to get from Easthaven to Targos." She shrugged. "Unless he took the long way 'round."

Sephek Kaltro. Torgrim hadn't heard the name since back when trodding around in the dirty slush covering the streets of Easthaven. A bit to brazen in his methods for his taste, Torgrim had been relieved when Brasns recruitment efforts had fallen through. Nothing good could come from a lone wolf like Kaltro finding some zealous purpose in the grotesque whims of a cruel goddess, Torgrim thought.

"but there was this Tiefling scholar who figured out something ingenious – with a bit of mud from Chult, she-" "I see, I see." He didn't, but that didn't stop Torgrim from attempting to steer the conversation away from fun facts about fairies and sprites. "But how is your search going? Any planned excursions to anywhere in particular? Unless they're hiding away in the cellar I can't imagine coming upon a Chawinga from the comfort of the Arms."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:17, Thu 08 July 2021.

"Chwingas." Dannika corrected Torgrim. "And yes, I haven't set out from Candlekeep without any schemes or plans of attack – that would be silly, if not outright foolish. They're the key to absolving this land of the everlasting winter. Toril turns in mysterious ways, so one simply has to unravel the mysteries. And Chwingas are, as it stands, mostly a mystery, but it is written that they have a certain control of the weather. I was originally bound for Bryn Shander, and I have these lanterns, one of which I've given to-" she went for her satchel, but the door swung open. "Mallory! Thank The Earthmother! Tell me everything about the Trolls! Did you salvage anything? Hairs? Eyes? Teeth? Fingernails?"

Farwalker ducked underneath the header behind the wizard in red.

---

OOC: That's all I had time for now, I'll post for Moyrah later this evening.

It had really only been a short time since Mallory had left the Luskan Arms before yet she felt - and certainly looked - utterly drained as if having been away for ages by the time she dragged herself back in.  Just a quick scuffle with some Trolls, a chat with the Speaker, no big deal?  But as conversation on the way back to the inn faded and the Diviner was left with her thoughts once more, they took an obvious and immediate toll on her.  Her eyes, exhausted and red from crying, face smeared with dashes of make-up she hadn't been able to fully wipe away, gazed about the room as she entered.  A warm hearth to rest beside, companions to confide with... yet there was really only one thing that leaped to Moira's mind as she clenched her fist about that little black button she carried.

I need a drink.

She started for the bar before anything else, yet Dannika's relieved enthusiasm caught her halfway there.  Though startled back a bit from the torrent of questions, after she managed to take a shaky breath, Mallory forced a weak smile onto her tear and cold-reddened face.  "It's... it's okay, Dannika darling, calm down.  The Trolls are... done for, I suppose.  Speaker Naerth has allowed me one of the... ugh... corpses to salvage.  I imagine someone will be along to tell us where the bodies have been moved soon." It was more dismay over taking apart a creature that had been holding a conversation just shortly prior that caught in Mallory's throat than simply being a corpse.  "I'd appreciate your help in the matter, if you'd be so kind.  We'll need a stronger arm than either of us have as well, I would think."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:07, Fri 09 July 2021.

In reply to Mallory Bonheur (msg # 22):

Rhydd said "'S'cuse me for a moment," to Hiln, then turned and moved towards the bar -- which was where Lady Mallory seemed to be heading.

She still did not look rather steady on her feet -- the old fishermans' saying about someone being "green around the gills" came to mind. He supposed that she was still a little shaky after the battle with the two Trolls.

He gave the wizardess a long look. "Lady Mallory . . . mayhap you should take a seat. I'll bring you your drink."

Then he cocked his head to one side, much in the manner of a hound that has heard a strange sound. "What did you mean when you spoke of 'salvaging' one of the dead Trolls?"

Before the wizardess replied, Rhydd had welcomed the Goliath who had just stepped through the door with a curt smile and a nod of his head. He knew that she had taken some punishment from the Trolls, and was watching Farwalker closely to see how well she moved.

The strain in Mallory's expression and voice alike were all too apparent despite her efforts to maintain that facade of hers.  Every noble lady knew how to wear a smile like a mask for the sake of societal demands, but hers was showing cracks from what she kept held back.

"Y-yes, I think so.  Thank you, Mister Maldhon, that's very kind of you." she gingerly sidestepped Dannika enough to take a seat at one of the creaky barstools itself and sank onto it as if her cloak suddenly weighed enough to drag her down.

"What did you mean when you spoke of 'salvaging' one of the dead Trolls?"

It took a moment for the addled noble to respond, as if Rhydd's question needed time to travel from her ears to her brain.  Such conversation was grim business, but a diversion was a diversion and she was in dire need of one just then.  "Trolls are... Trolls of any variety are steeped in powerful magics by nature.  The Weave saturates them inside and out." She echoed the dry words of lessons past like a mantra to keep her thoughts busy.  It was entirely likely Dannika would recognize that the noble directly quoted a particularly prominent tome on the subject of the preternatural supernatural.  "Few other creatures are so abundantly and uniquely imbued; as such, their bodies are especially precious as a medium for the creation of magical potions and items.  A single Troll, let alone an Ice Troll, is a veritable king's ransom of arcane resources for those who know how to properly collect them.  Much as one might break apart a deer for its pelt, bones, and meat.  Naerth didn't seem to realize the Trolls were of any value of at all until I told him so, but the proceeds of one's processing would go a long way to helping Targos' financial woes."  She gestured vaguely to the group at large.  "One for us, one for Targos.  Profit born of blood is still profit."  A grim notion indeed, but at least she didn't seem intent on cutting the others out of their share of its value.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:09, Fri 09 July 2021.

Dannika nodded along. "Even a single fingernail can catch a considerable price if you can find the right buyer, and skilled alchemists make great use of practically anything from a Troll. Certain potions of healing are made with a Troll base, though that particular brew ends up quite thick and nasty." she tacked onto Mallory's explanation. "I will admit I'm somewhat unsure of what the parts of an Ice Troll can be used for."

For Mallory, the words faded to the background as Astre tapped into her mind – Moyrah was in danger.

“Not at all. Though I did know a particularly small tiefling that was obsessed with flying. Kept asking me to throw her as far as I could.” She smirked at that particular memory. It had always been hard to say no to such boundless enthusiasm. “No, I can grant you something of my sight for a time. Few enough can see through the night as well as I can.” She shrugged then, letting the woman decide if she would or not. Likely eventually, but it was hard to say.

Once they were back in the Inn, the goliath located her stool and sat down, pulling her pack off as well. From there, she pulled the stone from a pouch and rolled it through  her hands thoughtfully. Sometimes she forgot how much she disliked towns. Maybe not the towns. Just specific people.

Earlier

"I daresay my own visions give me quite enough trouble as it is without adding more onto the pile." Mallory muttered sardonically and hugged her cloak closer about herself to fend off the cold.

---

"You can make an absolute, literal disaster with their hearts, that's for certain.  I made sure to warn Naerth of improper handling lest they unwittingly cause... cause a..." Mallory's words trailed off as, once more, her brow furrowed and gaze turned distant as if something took her attention.  Several times by then the others had seen the Diviner's eyes go black with the unnatural hyper-dilation of her pupils that expanded beyond physical limits to total darkness.  Every time it had happened thus far, no good had come of it for Mallory either.

In that moment, she saw the flames, heard Moyrah's cry.  She blinked sharply as, all at once, her eyes contracted back to normal with a jarring physical recoil like she'd been struck.  "Miss Moyrah!  She's in danger!"  The stool she'd been on clattered noisily to the floor as she jolted at once to her feet and, without another moment spared to explain further, immediately turned and charged back out into the frozen day.

In the snowy skies, meanwhile, Astre pulled a wide arc overhead; first to line up with his partner as she hurried along below, then to overtake her entirely with a flap that sped him along swiftly toward Moyrah's hut.

---

Mallory and Astre both are going to be at a Full Dash the whole way, so he'll get there before she does for the sake of keeping her updated on what's awaiting them.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:39, Fri 09 July 2021.

Rhydd looked surprised when Lady Mallory explained how valuable dead Trolls were -- well, to the right people, any way. He knew enough to make sure that their bodies were well and truly burned to a crisp, but seemingly, to some people's way of thinking, it sounded like that would be considered to be a terrible waste.

~~Magickers,~~ he thought to himself.~~What an odd lot. Helpful in some instances, but still . . .~~

His thoughts were interrupted by the wizardess's exclamation that Moyrah was in danger, whereupon the noblewoman rushed out the door.

The huntsman's first thoughts were ~~Damn, I wonder what the Frost Maiden has stirred up this time? I hope that it's not more Trolls -- even if they are walking bags of golders, apparently.~~

Luckily Rhydd had not been inside long enough to take off his heavy bearskin coat. It took only a moment for him to snatch up his bow from where he had leaned it against a wall of the common room, and rush out the door behind Mallory . . .
This message was last edited by the player at 17:19, Sat 10 July 2021.

"What, again? But I'm barely even tipsy ye-" Torgrim found himself complaining to no one, with the witch and the huntsman already gone. He turned back to his conversational partner with a look of exasperated acceptance.

"Sigh... Once more into the fray, it would seem. May I borrow that last bottle of yours?"

OOC: Torgrim will dash after the others.

Dannika sat with a quizzical look on her face. "Er . . . certainly," she said and fished out the vial of acid from her infinitely spacious satchel to hand to Torgrim.

Hlin did not bother to get out of her chair. Thorben, on the other hand, did follow behind Torgrim, though he appeared to not know what was going on either.

Notice: The events below follow from msg #39 in Moyrah's Home.

---

It was nearing nightfall. Dannika had once again submerged herself in books and papers, this time more appropriately on the table and not in front of the fireplace. She was nibbling on the end of her pen, not even registering that the door opened to the chilly winds once more. Hlin had fallen fast asleep and was snoring loudly in her rocking chair, while Ethen swept the already immaculate floor. Immaculate, except for a particularly big and sprightly rat. Ethen attempted to bat it away, but was invariably thwarted. It dashed up on a stool and the frail woman lost her footing on the rug and tumbled to the floorboard.

"Goodness!" The Half-Elven scholar piped as she stood abruptly, noticing the recent arrivals and hesitating but for a moment. Hlin awakened, not to the fall, but to Dannika's exclamation.

All the while the rat dashed around the establishment for a victory lap.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:38, Tue 03 Aug 2021.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 31):

Rhydd had just stepped into the room when Ethen took her tumble. He had pushed the hood of his heavy bearskin winter jacket back fron his head and and leaned his bow against a side wall, but nothing else.

He quickly moved to Ethen's side and knelt down. "Are you hurt?" he asked the frail woman. He had heard of people with Ethen's spare frame being described as having "thin bones", and hoped that the woman had not injured herself seriously.

The lot of them surely looked to be in quite a state returning from their relatively short jaunt back into the night.  In-tow with Moyrah, all of them smelling of smoke and ash, Mallory once again having taken on such a bitter expression.  She lingered at Moyrah's side the whole way out of concern for the poor woman; to be attacked like that was a horrid ordeal, enough that Mallory's sympathies overwhelmed even her own anguish from the events of the day.

Astre, meanwhile, immediately perked up at the sight of the rat that flouted itself about the inn.  He left Mallory in a brief stagger as he flared up his wings from his spot atop her shoulders and leaped away, using his companion for a springboard to immediately give chase.

"Honestly... to think that this awful day isn't even over yet." the noblewoman seemed far less energetic than her feline friend in the moment.  A substantial part of her just wanted to crawl into a bottle, then a bed, and ignore the world... but there was still work to be done that evening, given Arkemos' lingering presence in town.

---

Astre's not even going to try and fight kitty instincts this time, so it's time for another battle!  Cat vs. Rat: Round 2!

As Torgrim entered, he found a message in the powder snow that blew inside and settled just on the doorstep. 'Thank you.' It was quickly brushed away.

Ethen took Rhydd's hand to steady herself, "I am alright. Just a light tumble is all." She patted her apron and shuffled along. "I should prepare drink and food. Have any of you eaten?" Hlin climbed out of her chair to help her. It didn't matter if Ethen wanted help or not, help she would be getting.

Dannika had sat down to once more chew on her pen. Someone had gotten to the innkeeper's aid ahead of her, and she didn't wish to clutter the situation. When Astre launched off Mallory, spreading his winds and unleashing a torrent of gust upon her notes, she was startled again and scrambled to keep erring papers pinned. The rat seemed to immediately realize that this was no longer a mere game and raced for the cover of furniture. Classic mistake.

"I would agree with you, Miss Mallory," Dannika remarked once she'd gotten her notes back in order. "Tomorrow we'll be heading for Bryn Shander, which I've gathered is a far more accommodating town." She thought for a second and realized what she just said could be taken as a slight. "Oh, that's not to speak of you, Lady Ethen! My stay has been most pleasant." She leaned in closer to Mallory. "I was referring more to our research. I've heard tell of a library in Bryn Shander and would very much like to have a gander at its collection. There's not much in the way of books around these parts, from what I understand. There was a small shop near the gates that I visited earlier today, but they carried nothing of the sort I'm after. Oh, and there's this Gnome, allegedly, who might know more about the curse, and I'd wager he could know a thing or two about Chwingas as well."

---

For the sake of the story beat I don't find it necessary to have Astre and the rat roll again.

Hobbling into the inn, step by step, slowly, leaning on her harpoon, with Mallory at her side, Moyrah felt every minute spent fighting, juping, sailing, in her sore muscles. After the day left behind, Moyrah would have gladly headed to her own bed, heated up by the warm hearth nearby, but the gratefulness that she felt toward her saviors overpowered the fatigue and it simply couldn't permit her to just retreat.

"I think I owe you all a round..." she addressed the group. "...That is the least I could do". Seeing everyone branching towards their own acquaintances, Moyrah headed to the bar to grab a mug for herself. Once out of sight, she allowed herself to show the full extent of her tiredness. With her full weight divided between both of her elbows, leaning onto the wooden surface, she asked the barkeep with a huff. "Please... a mug of ale, or something else more refreshing, if you have..."

"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Moyrah.  You've been through an ordeal; let me pay for your drink and room." Mallory prompted with a reassuring squeeze to Moyrah's shoulder as she hunched in over the bar, and a pointed look over at Ethen to make sure she heard as well.  Assuming there even was another room to spare.

"Tomorrow we'll be heading for Bryn Shander, which I've gathered is a far more accommodating town."

"Assuming Niels can actually get us there without bumbling us into the Evermoors.  Do you happen to know what hour we'll be leaving?" To be away from Targos was a blessing as far as Mallory was concerned.  Her gaze settled momentarily on Moyrah's broad back; would she take the opportunity and leave Targos behind herself, she wondered?  It may have been a truly awful place for her, especially now, but it was still her home and history alike.  Then there was still the matter of Kaltro to hunt down as well... but depending on what could be learned from Arkemos later that evening, there may very well have been no reason at all for the murderer to linger.  It was more likely he'd move on to other parts of the Ten-Towns in his grim pursuit, whatever the cause that drove him was.

Dannika's dedication to her own pursuits, on the other hand, was a breath of fresh air in spite of the heavy haze that had settled on the noblewoman's mood.  She found herself quite grateful for such a simple boon and afforded her studious new friend a half-hearted, yet sincere, smile.  "There's been little opportunity to search from what we've been up to, I'm afraid, though the lantern yielded no results either.  I don't suppose you've tried music again?  No creature lives that is not fond of some lure, after all."

It could have been the weight of the day's unfortunate events or the unexpected support from Mallory, that lured out a single tear out of Moyrah's eye. Clumsily, she tried hiding it from others, but from Mallory's vantage point, there was no hiding. "Th..thank you, Mallory, you are the most considerate from the day I met you....Wh..why?". Stranger's kindness was a foreign concept to Moyrah, despite Mallory's and the group's continuous outpour of support and good intentions. "I am in your debt, for everything that you have done, and if you need me, know that you can count on me.".

Wiping the tear off her cheek, she turned back to the barkeep, slowly managing to regain her composure and emotional stability, it will be easier either way with a drink in front of her. Upon hearing Mallory's suggestion to the kooky character, Moyrah gently pulled on Mallory's cloak. "Sorry to interrupt miss. If you are in need of a musician, I could gladly help you out... I have been playing flute pretty much ever since I was born." Moyrah hoped that she hadn't come across as too eager by offering her help so forward and so quickly.

---

A room and a meal will amount to 2 gold pieces. Since Naerth isn't here right now, you have to assume it has to come out of your pockets.

---

"There's been little opportunity to search from what we've been up to, I'm afraid, though the lantern yielded no results either.  I don't suppose you've tried music again?  No creature lives that is not fond of some lure, after all."

"It is no wonder, really – Chwingas typically shy large settlements," Dannika explained. "And when they do occasionally visit, it's only at the outskirts. I took a brief stroll along the perimeter when browsing for instruments and books, but my own lantern remained red. I hope it will be easier with music. Your tutelage would be much appreciated, Miss Moyrah, as would Master Torgrim's. Though I am afraid I won't be around to take you up on your offers, as I am departing tomorrow. At precisely what hour I am unsure. We should perhaps inquire Miss Alma."

Soon, after Ethen had served everyone drinks, the scent of seared haddock wafted in the inn's warm air as Hlin set the table. The fish was soon served with herb butter sauce, a side of almond potatoes, rutabaga puree, and steamed asparagus. A simple yet nutritious meal, executed to a level of perfection rivaling even taverns of the upper echelons in Waterdeep or Neverwinter. And even then, Ethen was no Vegord.

---

Later, when the table was cleared and dishes were cleaned, Naerth swung by. "Good evening," he said, removing his gloves near the entrance. "It appears I missed supper." And without further ado, while removing his coat, he set five full, clinking bags of coin on the table. "Payment for the job. This one," he pointed to one slightly larger, though not by much, "contains Moyrah's share. The rest are a hundred each, as agreed upon. Feel free to count it.* I will be retiring early." He hung his coat by the entrance, went for the stairs, and lingered for a second. "I have heard tell of the recent happenings – I am sorry for what you had to endure, Miss Moyrah. The truth will come to light and justice will be dealt. You have my word."

Before he continued upstairs he made sure to establish eye contact with Mallory. "I wish you all a pleasant rest-of-your-evening."

---

*If you do decide to count it, you will see that they contain precisely what Naerth says; four bags of one hundred, one of a-hundred-and-fifty.

In universe, the time would now be somewhere between 10:30 and 11 PM.

At Ethen's urging for payment up front, Mallory shuffled aside a moment so as to put her back to the rest of the gathered group.  It was only for Ethen and anyone curious enough to sneak a gaze past her side to see the well-dressed noblewoman dig out a distressingly light purse from within her breast pocket and turn it out into her palm.  A mere three gold pieces clattered free and, with a defeated sigh of quiet humiliation, she handed two over.  But when she turned back around that tired smile was back in place as much as it could be; a proper, well-practiced facade that came as second nature to anyone of status.

"Th..thank you, Mallory, you are the most considerate from the day I met you....Wh..why?"

The genuine confusion Moyrah bore over such simple gestures of magnanimity made Mallory's heart ache, in all honesty.  She wasn't so naive to the world to think that the sort of struggles Moyrah endured were rare, but that didn't change the fact that she dearly wished otherwise.  The young woman offered a pained sigh and a shake of her head.

"My family have raised ourselves firmly in the concept of 'noblesse oblige'; that it is the moral duty of those with power to use it responsibly, and for the betterment of those without."  An uncommon sentiment among most nobles in those days, perhaps.  But for all the loftiness of that claim, Mallory shrugged and leaned a bit closer to Moyrah as if to divulge a secret.  Albeit without bothering to lower her voice one bit.  "While I certainly agree, my personal say on the matter is different.  I believe one needs no reason to be kind.  Indeed, kindness that rests conditional on profit or convenience rings hollow."

A gentle pat and squeeze was offered to Moyrah's arm before, without apparent reason, Mallory lifted her hand out a ways over the bar without bothering to look.  Not but a moment later Astre bounded up from behind the counter precisely in position for her outstretched hand to rest affectionately atop his head.  The Tressym seemed especially pleased with himself given his puffed-up posture and the defeated rat that hung in his jaws.  "You owe me nothing, Miss Moyrah.  Though it was thanks to this rapscallion that we arrived in so timely a manner.  He was terribly worried over you and came yowling for us when he noticed the flames."

"Mmrrp." Astre offered, albeit mumbled about his mouthful.  He laid the rat down before Moyrah as an apparent gift... intelligent as he might've been, he was still a cat.

---

Dinner was a much-needed blessing, perhaps more so than the several glasses of wine Mallory indulged in.  Though that was not to say she didn't appreciate the drinks themselves either.  When the chance finally arrived she drank as if she were in a race to the bottom of her glass and the tension that lingered in her frame only tapered away after her third in short order.  Though as inebriation settled on her, it was all to clear from her lack of joviality that drink was not for the sake of fun.  From time to time Astre would fix her with a pointed, disapproving glower, but she paid no heed to his judgmental gaze.

Naerth's arrival and prompt distribution of payment throughout earned a passing, grateful nod.  She wasn't so gauche as to count the coin on the spot and simply tucked her portion of coin away into her breast pocket, albeit with a moment spent to grip it with a furtive squeeze as if she feared it might fly away from her.

"Rest well, Speaker, and thank you for your hard work." she remained as steadfastly gracious as ever while she held Naerth's gaze in parting.

Truth be told, Rhydd was rather surprised when Naerth showed up with payment for the Lake Monster matter. The archer had anticipated that the Speaker would drag his feet when it came to paying for the group's efforts, and that it would be some time before any of the party saw any substantial amount of coin for their efforts.

Rhydd nodded his acknowledgement of the debt being paid, but made no immediate effort to claim his coin pouch. Instead, he made his way over to Hlin. "How are you feeling?" he asked the Dwarven warrior quietly.

He did not want to embarrass the proud Dwarf, but he knew from experience that sometimes well after a fight had ended, battle-wounds could fester and become infected with rotten flesh. Although he did not know it for a fact, he suspected that wounds inflicted by Trolls might be even more likely to be troublesome in this manner.

Farwalker once again took some time to sit outside and slowly carve away at a piece of bone, eventually drilling a hole in the piece and hanging it from a thong, like the many beads and carvings hanging from her hair and clothes. It wasn’t quite as large as the representation of Dannika, but that’s what made the details of it all the more impressive. And it would colour nicely with age, which was important. She’d used the last of her gemstones a while back, and would have to get more at some point. An issue for a later time.

Tucking the carving away for the moment, she headed inside to eat with the rest of the group, as quietly and contemplatively as she usually was while eating. Though she did supplement the meal with some of her own food. She had to eat a bit more, which was why she always carried far more food than most would consider.

She stared at the coin pouch thoughtfully for a long moment before taking it. If nothing else, she’d be able to get more tools. For not she just tucked it down her tunic. Seemed the safest place. Once the speaker was gone, she pulled the small barrel from her bag and set it on the table. “Would anyone care for a drink? I will warn that it is quite strong. But smooth. Very smooth.”

Hlin sighed. She hadn't touched too much of her food, and had certainly tried to mask her pain as she both aided Ethen and sat to ate. "Éin Dverg klagr itj. A Dwarf never complains," she answered Rhydd. She realized now, as she rigged herself with her pipe again, that she hadn't fooled the huntsman's sharp eyes. "Bollocks to that," she scoffed. "I hurt all over. Though the pipeweed helps dull the aching."

During his hunt, Astre had noticed a couple of dead rats tucked away in the corners of the inn, by saucers containing half-nibbled poison.

“Would anyone care for a drink? I will warn that it is quite strong. But smooth. Very smooth.”

"I've been wondering what was in that barrel of yours,” Hlin raised both eyebrow and voice as a ring of smoke billowed in front of her. "I've drank Goliath brew once before, near Skytower Shelter – now that was a night to remember. When you don't try to chop each others' heads off, Goliaths can be quite an endearing folk! Though tonight my stomach urges I abstain."

"I'll have a taste, if that's alright," Dannika chimed in. Over these last few days, Dannika had indulged in nothing stronger than Ethen's herbal tea, but seemed eager to sample some Goliath culture first-hand. " . . . just a small sip, thank you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:15, Sat 07 Aug 2021.

The offer of a stronger drink put a moment of visible war in Mallory's dark eyes.  Her hand had already lifted to offer her recently emptied glass over before Farwalker had even finished describing her brew, yet there was something else that came to her mind that seemed to give her pause.  She briefly bounced her gaze between the small keg, to Astre, then up at the stairs where Naerth had vanished earlier, and then to the door in quick succession... normally she was a fair deal more subtle than that, but it seemed the booze she'd already downed dulled her wits some.

"Just a snifter, indeed.  Thank you, Farwalker."  she at least conceded that much.  Like Dannika, there was a genuine bit of curiosity in her.  She'd never tried Goliath moonshine before and it was a story to tell, if nothing else.  A potential investment opportunity otherwise if it was any good.

There seemed to be other indulgences on the noblewoman's mind as well, however, as let her gaze rest over on Hlin and the wreathe of smoke that surrounded her like a fog bank.  "Pardon, grandmother, but would you happen to have any extra tobacco you'd be willing to part with?  I'd readily buy it off you, if so."  At the late hour it was unlikely whatever general store Targos had would still be open, she figured, so a little second-hand bartering was in order.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:10, Fri 06 Aug 2021.

“Pardon, grandmother, but would you happen to have any extra tobacco you would be willing to part with? I’d readily buy it off you, if so.”

“No,” came the reply.

There was some childish part of Mallory that was sorely tempted to press 'No, you don't have any?' or 'No, you won't sell it?' at Hlin's abrupt manner, though she stifled it immediately.  Gruff as she was, she'd forged right into combat earlier; there was no reason to hassle her.  Instead Mallory just gave a faint huff through her nostrils and let the matter go.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:12, Fri 06 Aug 2021.

"Who knows what the fates may bring? Maybe the future days bring us together elsewhere and we can search for these little things that you are looking for. If we don't see each other tomorrow, know that I wish you safe travels." The whiff of beautifully arranged dishes that were served nearby, was enough to distract her from any ongoing conversation "Now if you don't mind, I will be making my way to the table, I am starving." Even though many would consider the meal as simple, in Moyrah's eyes, and to what her taste buds were accustomed to, this was a majestic feast. The ability to choose, alone, was something her humble fish-stew couldn't compare to.


"So this is who I owe my thanks to!?" Endeared, Moyrah asked Mallory rhetorically. Grabbing a stalk of steam asparagus from a plate nearby, she began wiggling the vegetable in front of the feline's face. "I have a gift for you as well". Fun and games were abruptly interrupted by the arrival of the town speaker. Taking into consideration how their previous meeting ended up, Moyrah didn't have high hopes for this latest run-in, but she was pleasantly surprised by his demeanor. "Thank you Mr. town speaker, I hope it truly does."



"I will settle for this, for now, but thank you really for everything." Moyrah raised her mug in Farwalker's direction, as a show of gratitude. "Who knows what would have hapenned if you all hadn't arrived."

Astre had been content to indulge in a bit of playfulness with Moyrah for a time, reared back on his haunches to bat and swat at the asparagus like a bit of foxtail grass.  At least until she paid more attention to her stomach, after which he simply settled into a quiet curl between hers and Mallory's chairs to rest.

---

"Who knows what would have happened if you all hadn't arrived."

"Perish the thought." Mallory sighed.  No matter in who's favor the whole mess had ended - be it Gam's or Moyrah's - it would've been a bad outcome regardless.  There was no happy ending in that sort of mess; even with timely rescue, Moyrah's troubles hadn't really lessened at all.  And there was still the matter of her burglary as well laying another tier of woe on her affairs.  "I just hope some time in a cell will serve to enlighten that fool to the error of his ways.  To think that anything could drive a man to such heinous action..." she shook her head in pitying dismay.

"I will take your advice miss. You have proven to be wise beyond your years from what I have seen so far." Moyrah took a quick sip before continuing the conversation. "So, I have overheard from your conversation with Dannika that your caravan is heading out tomorrow? Are you intending to leave Targos with them?" Without a doubt, Moyrah question was tinged with a bit of sadness. Seeing the people she met recently, who treated her with respect she hasn't felt for such a long time, heading out of Targos, filled her with sorrow. At the same time, she would welcome gladly an opportunity to join the band of travelers, an escape that she has been wishing for some time already.

"I... well..." though she began to answer immediately, hesitation brought a second thought to Mallory's painted lips.  She had no choice but to dwell on the matter for a moment as she let her eyes shift briefly to Dannika across the table.  "That is certainly my intent.  I have family based out of Bryn Shander I'd intended to visit; we were never really supposed to be here in the first place.  The guide escorting our caravan from the main roads got us lost entirely and we ended up here.  Though... given what we've been able to accomplish in our short time here, I might be more generous to attribute the whole affair as Tymora's whim."

It was perhaps odd for a self-proclaimed soothsayer to attribute anything to luck, let alone its deity's hand, but Mallory did so with a shrug.  Despite the horrid scene that she'd witnessed through her supernatural sight shared with Astre, she had to admit that they'd accomplished much good all the same.  With luck Targos would be on a better standing in coming days thanks to what the lot of them had managed.  "I've no desire to remain in Targos for long, to be perfectly frank.  Depending on when the Ice Troll remains are made available tomorrow, I may have to extend my stay another day to handle them.  Bryn Shander isn't so far that I couldn't make the trek without a full company, after all."  She could only hope Niels didn't intend to leave first thing in the morning; at least mid-day would be enough time for her to harvest what she could of the Trolls, especially with Dannika's help, and still be in time to make the wagon out.

"What about yourself, Moyrah?  I don't wish to assume anything but... well, after what happened tonight and all... do you really feel well lingering in Targos?" she tried to be as delicate as she could, but there was no side-stepping the difficulty of such a question.  "Perhaps you might visit Bryn Shander as well?  See what opportunities might yield themselves?  I dare say there'd be a place for you on the wagon or, if I must extend my own stay here, that I'd feel far safer were you to accompany me.  Were you willing, of course."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:46, Sat 07 Aug 2021.

“Juusht. From one of the more southern clans. A bit more sweet than I prefer, but still quite good.” She explained cheerfully, cracking the keg open as she did so. It definitely smelled like berries. “Usually served with ice or warmed. I doubt any of you would like it with ice in this weather.” She smiled at that, then carefully poured out the alcohol to whoever wanted some. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of a party with my people. I’m not sure I would enjoy it quite the same.” Her voice had shifted to something a bit more melancholic, but her smile remained the same.

At some point of her filling the drinks, a small carved representation of Astre ended up in front of Mallory, the little carving strung from a thong like a simple bead. It was anything but simple, and was instead rather impressive for how small it was. “I wouldn’t say it was Tymora’s whim.” She sat down as she added her own aside to the conversation, having served everyone a bit of her drink. She’d have to reseal the barrel in a bit,  but she’s get to that later. “Oh, and do try not to slam it back. Goliath brews are on par with dwarven brews.”

“Would anyone care for a drink? I will warn that it is quite strong. But smooth. Very smooth.”

"Oh, certainly! I've been dying to get a hold of something to warm the belly all day." As he talked, Torgrim was carefully counting the content of one of the smaller bags, which he had unceremoniously poured out and scooped together on the table in front of him. "It's been a while since I've had this kind of money, to be honest. It's certainly more than the silvers and coppers one gets from singing ballads and shanties to drunken fishermen."

As what little coin he already had made its way into the bag and onto his belt, Torgrim had received his complimentary drink from Farwalker. "Ah, thank you. Cheers!" He took a vigorous swig, emptying half the cup before the poignant taste and smell hit him simultaneously. As the brew burned its way down his throat, it took a visible effort not to cough it out all over the bar.
"Oh, and do try not to slam it back. Goliath brews are on par with dwarven brews."

"Duly *cough* *cough* noted" The usually talkative half elf quietly raised the cup in Farwalker's direction and forced out a single choked "good" through red eyes and a forced smile.

"He *cough* He says thank you, by the way."
"The Fisherman. For the *cough* fire I suppose."

Rhydd nodded upon hearing Hlin's quiet admission that she felt pain all over. "Well, have a care with those hurts inflicted by Troll-claws," he replied. "Hopefully 'twill turn out to be naught but some more battle-scars for you, but I'd hate to find out after being away for a while that you had passed from the wound-rot."

The archer looked thoughtful upon hearing Farwalker offer up drinks  of a brew that was apparently made by some of her people, with the warning that it was quite strong. By way of an answer, Rhydd strolled over behind the counter and returned with an empty flagon, which he set down on top of the table next to his unclaimed coin-pouch.

After staring down at the coin-pouch for a short while, he seemingly came to a decision and picked up the pouch. Then he slid his empty mug over towards the Goliath. "If you please," he said.

"I've always had a taste for Dwarven ale," he admitted. "I'm curious as to how this measures up."

Moyrah enjoyed thoroughly her pleasant conversation with Mallory, it was a welcome moment of respite after the group's ordeal recently. "Isn't it interesting how such an unfortunate turn of events has led you and your fellow travelers here, to pull this forsaken town out of the muck? I hope that you lot may have set an example by your actions, but I wouldn't get my hopes up honestly, some things just never change." A slight shrug of the shoulders, followed her words, almost unintentionally.



Mallory's offer caused the corner of Moyrah's lips, to curve up devilishly. A way out was something she yearned for, for quite some time now, and seeing the opportunity presented felt a bit too good to be true. "Well... If you asked me that question a few months ago, you would have gotten a completely different answer out of me. Ever since my father's unfortunate hanging, I have lost the tether which connected me to Targos, and despite trying my best to search for the space which I can occupy, I haven't managed to truly find it. Whatever your travelling arrangements might be you can count me miss Mallory. I don't know much about the roads connecting the ten Towns, but with Rhydd, and his knowledge, you won't have much trouble finding your way to Brynn Shander. I would be very much grateful if your family members in Brynn Shander could direct me to someone who can give me more insight into these..." Moyrah slanted her head towards her tattoos for a moment. "... as these are the only things left in my possession that can help me understand my heritage."

"How long do you think it will take for Naerth's people to deal with the troll's remains? I might need to take some time tomorrow to finish transferring the missing part of the etchings onto a parchment, but maybe your know-how of the illusory magicks might help speed it all up?"

While such a token surely would've delighted Mallory, she never actually saw it.  She was too busy watching Torgrim nearly choke himself on his own hurried quaff while trying to hold back a giggle.  Astre, on the other hand, was keenly aware.  No sooner had the little carving been set down than the Tressym's head poked up at the side of the table - ears perked and eyes wide into broad, glimmering discs of obvious excitement.  A swish of his paw stole the trinket away and he vanished beneath the table in a fit of happy purring, rolling about by everyone's feet and tugging the carving's strap through his fangs.

---

"I hope that you lot may have set an example by your actions, but I wouldn't get my hopes up honestly, some things just never change."

"I'll drink to that." a short, somewhat bitter toast followed by a careful sip of Farwalker's blend.  Even that was enough to make her eyes water as she held it in her mouth to let the curious sensation fully seep through her tongue; there was a significant difference between something that was drunk for the sake of pleasure, or simply getting sloshed, and something drunk for its experience.  The noble considered her mouthful ponderously before she finally swallowed with a controlled grimace for its intensity, then blew out a long sigh through pursed lips to feel the way moving air made her tongue tingle.

"That is quite something, Farwalker.  You could certainly take to market with a special reserve, if you cared to try.  The flavor doesn't stand much against an aged Dwarven brew, but the evolution throughout the drink is very enticing.  My grandfather would be mad for something like this."  Little surprise that someone of the nobility would approach food and drink from a taster's standpoint.  Mallory gave a gesture up the side of her glass; with an arcane shimmer the remaining beverage within promptly warmed to a gentle, pleasant steam.  Warmed, as Farwalker suggested, and well worth another sip to try the difference.  "Mn!  Oh, I much prefer it warmed... Dannika, darling?  Mister Maldhon?" she offered to warm the others' portions as well with an outstretched hand, if they cared to try.

Moyrah's continued mulling on what would become of her and her plans for the future drew Mallory's attention back over; she listened will full sympathy for her position.  Though on the note of being practically eager to join in travel, she couldn't help but feel relieved - both for the sake of being an opportunity and because she was leery of being surrounded by rough-edged men all the time.  "Well, you're most certainly welcome with me for as long as you deem worthwhile.  It looks as though this Chwinga-hunting company is growing apace, isn't it?" she joked Dannika's way.  "I don't know if Uncle Hukkush would be of much use in finding answers though... he's not an arcane scholar like myself.  But he does deal in shipping, so he's bound to have plenty of connections scattered throughout the realm.  We won't know for certain until we try, right?

As for our schedule tomorrow... hm.  I suppose it might behoove me to bother the Speaker before he settles in for bed." she let her gaze drift up the stairs where Naerth had headed before.

"He *cough* He says thank you, by the way.  The Fisherman. For the *cough* fire I suppose."

Torgrim's eventual sputtering recovery lifted Mallory's brow his way a moment.  "Beg pardon?  Does your spectral spectator have some care for Targos?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:02, Sun 08 Aug 2021.

Burning trachea aside, Torgrim had to admit that the goliaths' liquor did have a unique taste to it. The coughing fits had barely subsided before the cup once again made it's way toward his lips for a smaller sip.

"Beg pardon?  Does your spectral spectator have some care for Targos?"

"So it *cough* appears. If nothing else, he seems grateful for the fire being put out. Oh, thank you." He put out his cup in Mallory's direction following the offer of a heated beverage.  He then gingerly went back to the cup for a sip, which quickly went down behind gritted teeth without any of the swishing or savoring posh folk were want to do. "Can't imagine why though. If I'd ended up on the gallows, my vindictive ass would want nothing more than for this town to burn to the ground."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:25, Sun 08 Aug 2021.

Hlin glared sideways at Rhydd, puffing out another near-perfect ring of smoke. "It'll take more than a couple of scratches to fell a Dwarf. A Mountain Dwarf, no less! Don't mistake us for any lowly, fragile hill-folk." She flung her wool blanket, woven green with patterns of blue, across her lap to tuck herself further in. "And don't you go worry about tired old hags, Rhydd, my friend. We've had our excitement. No, even if I went, battle wounds would be a fitting end to me. A good end." She watched to Ethen, who had finally untied her kerchief and settled down on a stool by the kitchen to catch her breath with most of the chores done for the day. "I am grateful my wounds are only exterior. If they get too bad I can always have them treated with salves and slings. I'll ask Ethen about her supply, just to get you off my back." The last comment was accompanied by a playful smirk and wink.

"Specters?" Dannika inquired after accepting Mallory's preheated Juusht. After a brief whiff to get a sense of the aromas she placed her lips upon the mug and carefully tilted it back until a small droplet touched her tongue. As the burning hit her, she scrunched her nose, sure, but found herself pleasantly surprised after it washed down. "I must say, I'm not usually one for strong drinks of any sort, but this wasn't all too disagreeable, Miss Farwalker. How does your tribe go about making it?" As she apparently endeavored to prospect on two fronts simultaneously, she then took another, more hearty sip of the warmed beverage. Not enough to acquire her own coughing fit, but enough to get a better sense of the taste.

---

DM Bears rolled 2 using 1d20+1.  Dannika Wisdom Saving Throw.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:43, Mon 09 Aug 2021.

“Clans, not tribes.” Farwalker corrected Dannika. Not harshly, just simply stating a fact. “And each clan has it’s own method for this particular drink. My clan uses a traveling dwarven still and makes alcohol from the berries found on the higher reaches of the mountains. It’s always a little different every time. But always with snowberries. It’s been almost two decades since I’be had a snowberry jhuust.” She swirled her own mug, having sat back down after giving Rhydd his share. “Perhaps it’s nostalgia speaking, but it is one of my most favourite drinks. I cannot wait to try it again.”

She looked up thoughtfully at the talk of spectres, “I take it your compatriot is on the ethereal plane? Perhaps tomorrow I could see about speaking with him as well. If nothing else I should be able to see him. Though I am curious. Are they perhaps a member of Moyrah’s family?”

"Specters?" Dannika inquired after accepting Mallory's preheated Jhuust.

"Yes, Mister Torgrim here mentioned before that he's accompanied by a spirit he knows only as 'The Fisherman'.  One quite eager to see the Plesiosaurus from before dealt with, apparently." Mallory elaborated a bit, though she felt it best to leave it to Torgrim himself to explain the matter.  Talk of being followed by invisible spirits was the sort that might get one in some trouble in your average backwater town but, in the company of those versed in the varied arcana, it was a perfectly reasonable notion.  "It's not at all unusual for people to have some innate affinity for the sort of planar attunement that might draw such forces to them, really.  Quite commonplace among Tieflings."

"Though I am curious. Are they perhaps a member of Moyrah’s family?”

That suggestion got a wide-eyed, scandalized look cast the Goliath's way.  "Farwalker!  If that's supposed to be some kind of jest, it's in terrible taste." she balked out of concern for Moyrah's feelings.  To speak so glibly about deceased family struck her as simply awful!
This message was last edited by the player at 03:34, Mon 09 Aug 2021.

"Yes, Mister Torgrim here mentioned before that he's accompanied by a spirit he knows only as 'The Fisherman'.  One quite eager to see the Plesiosaurus from before dealt with, apparently."

"The latest in a growing line of the recently deceased that've come to me for help with some favor or unfinished business. First one to linger this persistently though. That was a lie. Ever since that fateful night in Good Mead there had been another, but Torgrim purposefully pushed the memory far into the back of his mind. The cobbler would visit again in time like always, but he was in no hurry. He took another swig of his cup, nearly emptying it.

"It's not at all unusual for people to have some innate affinity for the sort of planar attunement that might draw such forces to them, really.  Quite commonplace among Tieflings." Torgrim pointed to his ears. "In my case, a gift from my mother's side."

“I take it your compatriot is on the ethereal plane? Perhaps tomorrow I could see about speaking with him as well. If nothing else I should be able to see him."

"They are wayward spirits that have not yet passed to the Fugue Plane as they're blah blah blah." Torgrim spoke in an uncharacteristically stern and precise tone, his best imitation of his mother's lectures many decades earlier. "If that sounds like the etherial plane, I suppose that's where they are. My mother is many things, but an engaging teacher is not one of them."

"Though I am curious. Are they perhaps a member of Moyrah’s family?”
"Farwalker!  If that's supposed to be some kind of jest, it's in terrible taste."

Torgrim laughed, uncouthly oblivious to Mallory's timely interjection. "Hah, now that'd be something! Any humans in your family, Moyrah? Tall, bearded, hangman's scar around the neck?

Over the course of the evening, Dannika gulped down what Goliath brew was generously offered, endorsing Farwalker's initial pitch on its smoothness wholeheartedly. And while she was certainly a scholar, it seemed her knowledge in books did not extend to herself and her own tolerance. It took surprisingly little for her to start slurring her words and wobble in her seat during conversation, even when accounting for her lithe frame. And she grew no less chatty. At one point she'd leaped heads and bounds ahead of whatever the topic was — she hadn't been paying too close attention — to rattle on enthusiastically about some dragon bone stew recipe and Wyrmdoom Crag, a Goliath settlement she'd read of in Candlekeep's Pillars of Pedagogy.

Hlin's contribution to conversation consisted mostly of her snoring. It did not take long before she was asleep in her chair, only waking briefly near the conclusion of festivities to take the time on her pocket watch. Instead of continuing to doze off in her chair, she fetched her bedroll and found a secluded corner by the fire to settle for the night.

There was no sign of Arkemos, though Astre — and anyone sharp-eyed enough to spot the briefest of disturbances in the darkness outside* — was privy to a familiar face flying by the inn's icy windows. Xhar's.

---

*For the sake of it, I'll count Farwalker and Rhydd among those able to spot Xhar, as they both have a +4 to Perception (as opposed to Moyrah's +3 and Torgrim's +1).

---

Upstairs, Naerth's door was ajar. Mallory could hear the scribble of a pen and the crackle of the wood stove. Warm, beckoning candlelight flickered softly from within, lighting the entrance in an otherwise gloomy hallway. The door creaked when opened, and Mallory could see Naerth sitting in a chair by a small, but ornate and neat desk. Though undeniably more snug, things were tidier here than in his office, and far less dusty. A table near the window bore platters of cheese and fruit, a pitcher of wine, and a cutting knife driven into the wood. Atop a drawer next to a couple of lidded crates was a small, hissing cage draped in cloth not entirely at ease.

Naerth, attention tacked to the paper, held up a finger. "Hold one moment. And shut the door behind you. I'll need to send out this letter, and I'm afraid it's somewhat pressing," he said as he hastily wrote the remainder. "Business hours, and such. I'd say it's the other party's fault, but alas, it is none but my own — I've been subject to a fairly busy day, as I am sure you can sympathize with." Once done, he signed it and rolled it before sealing it with wax, choosing one of two stamps at his disposal. He rose from his chair, letter in hand. "Bonheur. The name eluded me since yesterday — I could not recall where I'd heard it prior. Only once I had sifted through some of my old bookkeeping could I place it. Your family is situated in Neverwinter, correct?"

Like Hlin, Mallory was prone to checking a fine timepiece from within her breast pocket now and again as the evening rolled on.  Part of her yearned to drink as merrily as Dannika did but she settled for simply helping the sloshed scholar to bed sooner or later, then going about her own affairs with a far greater sense of sobriety than she really preferred after the day she'd had.

It wasn't until a glimpse of that meddlesome raven appeared that Mallory eased into action herself, in a manner.  None of those hasty charges out the door like before.  No, the young noble put on a different manner to make her way down the quiet hall with Astre draped about her shoulders in his usual slump.  Well before she ever neared Naerth's door she took a few minutes to quietly prepare herself in more than just a sense of mental fortitude or social glibness.  She lingered in silence with her focus drawn inward, pulled toward a singular point within herself until, on a long exhalation, she released it and her awareness bloomed outward into a whole new dimension.  All around her she could see the faint glimmer of passing leylines and scintillating threads; subtle, endless, and interwoven through everything in the vicinity.  She idly considered the lantern rod Dannika had loaned her and hummed over the way its mixed magics glowed within her altered perception, luminous and warm.

Finally, the young noblewoman drew a breath and knocked gently at Naerth's door.

"Hold one moment. And shut the door behind you. I'll need to send out this letter, and I'm afraid it's somewhat pressing."

Not an unexpected reply and Mallory respected it with a simple nod.  Though as she waited for the Speaker to finish his task, Astre sniffed absently about before seeming to grow anxious on his own.  A faint mewl was all it took for her to open the door a crack once more and let her apparently fussy feline scamper off on his own devices, with the door shut once more in his wake to leave Mallory and Naerth finally alone.

---

Prior to entering, Mallory ritual casts "Detect Magic" on herself to keep her senses open for any magical items/effects within 30' of herself.

While Astre is in the room with her, he'll give a sweep with his "Detect Invisibility" vision and sniff about and use his innate "Poison Sense" to detect if there's anything amiss.  Particularly in the food and wine (I'm assuming, of course, that he's experienced enough to tell the difference between the base tier of "poisonous" that alcohol is by nature and actual poison).  He'll inform Mallory of anything he notices via Telepathy, then head out.

Once Astre is outside, Mallory will dismiss him to his pocket dimension and then re-summon him 30' outside, preferably on the rooftop directly above her.  From there, Astre's going to go Stealth and keep an eye out for Xhar and/or Arkemos.

Astre - Stealth
Mallory Bonheur rolled 15 using 1d20+4

Astre - Perception
Mallory Bonheur rolled 25 using 1d20+5
Nat 20, for all the good it does.  ^^;

---

"I assure you that you bear my every sympathy.  Even just being an unwitting visitor to this town has laid enough head-and-heartaches to last me a year.  I can only imagine the stresses you endure, Naerth... if I may be so casual?" she asked hastily on the end there, with a faint smile and raised brow.  As before, there was a certain dance to be had when it came to gauging another in conversation.  The back and forth, the give and take.  Though without Moyrah or Farwalker in her company, Mallory's manner and tone were a fair deal looser.  Not unguarded by any measure, but simply... more assured in the situation, perhaps.  A dance one was more familiar with, rather than a new tune and uncertain steps.

"Only once I had sifted through some of my old bookkeeping could I place it. Your family is situated in Neverwinter, correct?"

"Indeed.  I'd love to say we're a company of greater repute for our name to spread this far north but, alas, we've no trading branches out here just yet." she noted as she took a seat, legs folded demurely knee-over-knee.  "I'm curious as to what ledgers you have that would feature us.  Perhaps we share a sponsor or two?  There's a few I could think of who dabble in so many industries back home."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:35, Thu 12 Aug 2021.

Rhydd's eye was attracted by the movement of something outside, something that had flitted by one of the fogged-over windows of the inn.

The huntsman had no particular interest in speaking to Naerth again. So he grabbed his bow, pushed the hood of his heavy winter jacket up so that it covered his head, and slipped quietly outside.

Whatever he had seen was dark and fairly small. If he had to hazard a guess, he suspected that it was the raven that belonged to Arkemos. He glanced this way and that in the gray gloom, hoping to spot the creature again -- if nothing else, to confirm what it was that he had seen.

---

OOC: 16:47, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 17 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 13.  Perception Check (Spotting Xhar).

"I assure you that you bear my every sympathy.  Even just being an unwitting visitor to this town has laid enough head-and-heartaches to last me a year.  I can only imagine the stresses you endure, Naerth... if I may be so casual?"
"You certainly may," Naerth responded. "I've never been a devotee of formalities myself. Unfortunately, the position of Town Speaker makes it difficult to avoid them. It makes for a refreshing change of pace. A drink?" He didn't wait for an answer, but poured the wine into two cups, keeping the quantity to a one-third fill. "And don't let me keep you standing," he continued, extending the drink and gesturing to one of the chairs by the table. He did not take a seat himself, but rather leaned wearily against the drawer.

"I'm curious as to what ledgers you have that would feature us.  Perhaps we share a sponsor or two?  There's a few I could think of who dabble in so many industries back home."
"Could be. Though these records date back years. I was doing all kinds of work while in Waterdeep back then, for all kinds of people. You'd find it surprising how hard it is for some to keep simple transactions in order. Dot their i's, and all that. Well, maybe it isn't," He took a swig of his own drink and turned the cup in his hands, letting the candlelight play across the lead surface. "Some just don't have the knack for it, I suppose. They lack the tenacity. Though it would seem not you and your family. You've been clever — not everyone would think to turn to Icewind Dale even in the best of times. It might look unattractive, but turmoil begets vacuums." Naerth shrugged. "Well . . . either you're clever, or you're desperate. It could be one of the two. Or both."

---

The night ran bitter-cold down Rhydd's neck, despite his fur's attempt to battle it. It was no ordinary cold, and it was pitch black outside — hadn't it been for the lights that came from the inn, he would have been completely and utterly lost. But there, in the faint orange light of the kitchen window, he saw the black silhouette of the raven he thought he had spotted, perched atop a barrel. Xhar. The bird had no intention of making the search difficult, however, and cawed to draw attention to itself.

It had brought a small pouch, which it had laid at its feet. Though if Rhydd came too close, the raven cawed again, spreading its wings in an agitated stance. It slowly, carefully, folded them and scowled at the huntsman. "I was told to expect the Speaker Naerth, or the frail innkeeper," the raven spoke in a raspy voice, "not someone else. Not you."

---

I'll delay Astre by one or two posts, depending on development. This makes the most sense to me, as he must have had to spot Xhar simultaneously with Rhydd and Farwalker, then enter Naerth's room alongside Mallory to sniff around, then be teleported out. And, funnily enough, this means these two events are not concurrent. Until my go-ahead, he exists in the void that is the brief time that separates them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:38, Thu 12 Aug 2021.

Though Mallory did take the offered beverage, unlike prior, she still didn't drink.  She'd yet to fully rid herself of the lingering warmth brought by Farwalker's concoction and dared not risk a deeper inebriation just yet.  There was still work to do... perhaps after.  For the moment she simply rolled the rim of the cup between her gloved fingertips to idly occupy her hands.  "I was born and raised on formalities.  While I certainly believe in the value of good manners, the rest of it... ech.  The airs, the posturing; it's all utterly exhausting.  I've always preferred a more frank discussion." Dark eyes rolled about on the matter.  "But you can't win when it comes to business partners or the public.  They say they want an earnest approach but, if you give it to them, they scoff at the lack of decorum.  Rubbish."

"You've been clever — not everyone would think to turn to Icewind Dale even in the best of times. It might look unattractive, but turmoil begets vacuums." Naerth shrugged. "Well... either you're clever, or you're desperate. It could be one of the two. Or both."

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were trying to make me blush with such flattery." Mallory said flippantly.  Her eyes dipped down into the contents of her cup for a lingering moment to watch her own reflection in its surface.  "Desperation is a very useful thing, I've found.  It begets opportunity.  It makes people volatile yet abjectly predictable all the same; an excellent asset when it comes to handling a business.  And wouldn't you know, I arrive in time to find desperation in gross abundance everywhere I look.

You're not from about these parts yourself, Naerth.  It's one thing to come this far into the cold to pursue trade, but public office?  There are considerably easier ways to make a profit and I daresay a man of your capabilities is wasted on Targos.  What are you hoping to gain in all this?" she gestured about vaguely; the Inn itself he'd taken on, Targos as a whole, Icewind Dale alike.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 06:02, Fri 13 Aug 2021.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 63):

~~Magicks,~~ Rhydd thought to himself, distastefully, when the black bird spoke to him. He did not have a good understanding of how such things worked -- he would need to ask Lady Mallory for an explanation, he supposed. He did know that the raven was linked to Arkemos in some fashion, but had thought of it as being a pet. Now, it appeared that it was much more. The archer found himself wondering if Arkemos could see through the bird's eyes, or speak using the bird's voice -- if that was the right word.

"Plans change," he said simply, by way of reply to the raven's testiness about his not being one of the people who was expected to show up. Rhydd did wonder at Ethen being mentioned in the same breath as Naerth.

"It's too cold out here to waste time chatting," he muttered, quite truthfully.

"May I take it, so that we may both seek warmer places?" he asked, motioning with a gloved hand towards the pouch that sat atop the barrel, underneath the raven's feet.

Rhydd was aware that the bird could simply grasp the small leather pouch and fly away, if it -- or, mayhap Arkemos -- was so inclined. Of course, he could put an arrow into the raven if it attempted to carry away the pouch, but he did not feel justified in doing that. Not at this point, any way.

"You're not from about these parts yourself, Naerth.  It's one thing to come this far into the cold to pursue trade, but public office?  There are considerably easier ways to make a profit and I daresay a man of your capabilities is wasted on Targos.  What are you hoping to gain in all this?"
"Aside from the joy of helping a desperate people in desperate times, you mean?" Naerth snickered. "Power and control, for starters. Targos is a long-term investment. When this whole thing blows over and The Frostmaiden decides to bugger off to wherever it is she came from, having one of the Ten-Towns in one's pocket will be invaluable in securing a proper foothold. My associates and I have been eyeing it for a while now. And it was either Targos, or Bryn Shander or Easthaven, both significantly harder locations to seize for completely different reasons. Targos, on the other hand, was about ready for an office shake-up." He downed his drink and let out an exhilarating gasp. "And it just so happened that I needed to . . . lay low for a time. Flee the limelight."

---

The raven eyed Rhydd suspiciously. "You were with the mage and her familiar," it continued. "It is payment for a debt owed, not for you to be entrusted with." It grabbed the pouch in its beak and spread to lift off. "It is a shame."

"And it just so happened that I needed to . . . lay low for a time. Flee the limelight."

A sardonic chuckle left Mallory's painted lips, soft and bitter. "See, this is why I prefer these sort of personal conversations.  It's a far better way to learn how much in common people like us have."  A wistful moment was given for her home so far to the south.  The collapse of her family business wasn't something everyone took so graciously, after all.  It had been left up to her parents to settle tempers and handle the contracts in the meantime, but Mallory's own presence would've just stirred things up.

"But what if the Frostmaiden doesn't let up?  Or if we cannot wrangle Kaltro back onto his leash?" she began, only to huff a sigh out the side of her lips and roll her eyes.  "Oh, what am I even saying?  There are always new investments to pursue and old ties to be cut loose, right?  I suppose if the Frostmaiden's antics get bad enough to threaten beyond Icewind Dale, the Lord's Alliance might actually rile themselves into action far too late after the fact again."

Mallory sighed once more and raised one palm; fingers curled about as, within her grasp, appeared the vague forms of undefined figures.  A lean man with pitch-dark skin and white hair bearing swords, another towering and mighty in stature with a war hammer hefted overhead.  "Of course, right when one could really use some legendary heroes, they're nowhere to be found.  Leaving us mere mortals to manage what we can." A scoff blew the illusory figures away like the smoke of a snuffed candle.  "Why do you permit the hangings to continue on in the meantime anyway?  Surely they're not actually helping soothe the Frostmaiden's mood at all... but why did Kaltro target Mister Herve, then?  Was he trying to complete an interrupted sacrifice, or does he fancy himself a worshiper earning favor?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:20, Fri 13 Aug 2021.

"See, this is why I prefer these sort of personal conversations.  It's a far better way to learn how much in common people like us have."
"Indeed," Naerth said. "Though some things are best left unearthed — I'm not going to pry too much in family affairs."

"I suppose if the Frostmaiden's antics get bad enough to threaten beyond Icewind Dale, the Lord's Alliance might actually rile themselves into action far too late after the fact again."
"In the grand scheme of things, Icewind Dale remains insignificant. If I were to speculate on their approach to this disaster, it entails waiting it out. And even for those fancy figurines of yours, with their armor and their weapons," he gestured toward the dissipating strands of illusory smoke, "a literal god is no laughing matter. We have no choice but remain at her mercy." Before he continued, he grabbed the rolled up parchment he had put down, turned to the cage and removed the covering to reveal two Flying Snakes flicking their forked tongues. "And who knows if the sacrifices work or not? She's a malevolent deity and must be worshiped like any other. The fishermen liken her to Umberlee." He reached his hand into the cage and let one snake coil up his wrist and forearm. "I haven't been around for more than a season, but the townsfolk say they notice a difference. And not just those from Targos, but several of the Speakers vouch to its effect. It's less cold, and the populated areas aren't constantly bombarded with blizzards as they were prior to the arrangement of sacrifices. It puts me in a precarious position." As the snake tighten on his arm, he beheld its opalescent eyes. "To hang a person every ten days, or not? If I had the food to sacrifice instead, I'd gladly do it."

Suddenly straightening and drawing a resolute breath, he seemed to have quietly made up his mind on the matter as he tied the note fast to the snake's back. "Kaltro has already earned The Frostmaiden's favor. I'd reckon now he wants to keep it, so he kills those slated to die. Or, in the case of Easthaven, those who refuse to do their part." Naerth opened the window to allow a gust of icy air batter the toasty room, the faint whistle of the cold winds to accompany it. He released the snake and quickly closed the window and fastened the latches again.

"A literal god is no laughing matter. We have no choice but remain at her mercy. And who knows if the sacrifices work or not? She's a malevolent deity and must be worshiped like any other. The fishermen liken her to Umberlee."

That got another bitter scoff out of Mallory as her expression darkened considerably.  "Utter nonsense.  While the power such entities bear is without doubt, everything else... just airs and posturing." she echoed her earlier disdain.  "My upbringing and career in the arcane render to me insight when it comes to the gods; quite different than what you'd get from the churches and their followers.  How they came to be, what they've done throughout time.  There is a core facet shared between the Nobility and the Divine: no matter the power they wield, at the center of it all they're just people with fancy titles and an overblown sense of their own importance.  They are not eternal nor are they irreplaceable.

I see no future in pandering to the tantrums of an ice-laden brat.  But, with the Lake Monster dealt with, hopefully Targos will have enough in their fishing nets soon to spare the lives of its citizens from more than just hunger."

Mallory was certain Naerth wasn't of the sort to enjoy listening to a mage's ramblings on the cosmic order, nor were such topics ultimately of any use to him.  After all, what good did labeling Auril's actions as such have when it came to actually coping with the consequences?  But when one's mood was in such a poor state as hers, she couldn't help but allow ire to seep out.  The young noble brooded in silence while Naerth attended to his messenger serpents, though his assurances of Kaltro's habits offered nothing to improve her state.

"...he kills those slated to die. Or, in the case of Easthaven, those who refuse to do their part."

When Naerth turned back around once more, he'd find another illusion bore in Mallory's upturned palm.  Not a vague insinuation of heroes from long ago, but a far more recent memory rendered in excruciating detail.  The exact, precise image of Herve and his daughter strewn on the floor of their home, frozen and slain; fear locked permanently in their expressions by the blast of unfeeling ice.  Beyond the phantoms hung Mallory's own gaze once more hollowed by the sight that had lingered in her head all day.  A sight that would remain with her, it seemed, in a manner beyond just how her eyes held fast on the image of Herve's daughter.

"What was her name?" Mallory's tone bore a distinct edge to it, yet remained dispassionate.  There was no rage, no heat behind her words.  Just... weariness, of a sort.

---

Persuasion
Mallory Bonheur rolled 18 using 1d20+3
This message was last edited by the player at 22:11, Fri 13 Aug 2021.

Naerth was rocked by the illusion. Not by the horror of it, but by the abruptness of its appearance. But he took a deep breath, sharing in Mallory's woe. "Her name was Maia. And I wished it hadn't happened like . . . that." He nodded toward the replicate scene. "And if I had the final say I'd see him hung from the gallows. But we should not let one unfortunate incident cloud our judgement."

Curled up in a chair next to the comforting warmth of the nearby hearth, Moyrah kept to herself, almost reclusively for most of the night, aside from the short exchange with miss Mallory. Reinvigorating effect of human company, amazing food and drinks was very much welcome and offered Moyrah a sneak peek into the way of living that was unimaginable to her before this night. Rhydd's sudden departure has, unfortunately, put an abrupt stop to this idyllic atmosphere.

"...Where did he go?" Moyrah asked Farwalker and Torgrim in passing, as she made her way towards the exit of the Luskan Arms. Deciding to venture outside at this time of the night seemed insane at best and suicidal at worst, and Rhydd, an experienced outdoorsman must have had a good enough reason to do so. With a strong clench of her fur lined coat, Moyrah turned the corner to find a perplexing sight, Rhydd staring at a barrel. "Are you fine Rhydd, what brought you out here?"

The look on Naerth's face when he realized what he was looking at troubled Mallory.  Not because of anything in his particular manner but because she felt a momentary beat of satisfaction out of it.  A person of her abilities could cause remarkable damage to those around her with barely any genuine effort; it was something she lived each day being keenly aware of, and cautious of, yet she still found a singular point of grim satisfaction in that moment of selfish cruelty.

"I haven't shown this particular moment to anyone else.  They don't need to see it... they bear no responsibility for what's happened, so they shouldn't have to bear something like this.  Unlike us." Mallory spoke distantly, as if more to herself than just Naerth.  "I don't regret acting on the side of justice, you know.  Saving Herve from the gallows.  But every time I close my eyes, this is what I see.  I can still taste the sting of blood and hoarfrost in the air.  And I realize that, if my foresight had shown me this before, if I somehow had the chance to go back and do it all over again... I'd let him hang.  Because even a child orphaned is better than a child butchered."

Her gloved fingers clenched tightly into a fist and the illusion vanished away instantly, snapped out of its pseudo-existence just like that.  "A man in your position and career surely understands well that there is always a difference between fault and responsibility.  Kaltro alone is at fault for this atrocity, but you and I bear responsibility for it as well."  The generous pay offered for the pursuit of the murderer-at-large wasn't what drove her, it seemed.  Those dark eyes lifted once more to meet Naerth's in a long, hard stare laden with intent.

"I understand the... impossible... position you find yourself in, Naerth.  The pressures and expectations that weigh on you from people like your associates.  I want to help you, for both our sake, and to see this cooperation of ours continue on well beyond Targos." her tone maintained its level even as she clenched the edge of her cup to the point that her knuckles audibly creaked.  "But you need to appreciate the fact that this is not merely 'one unfortunate incident'.  This is not something to be tolerated and swept aside; it is a line crossed and it will be crossed again, and again, and again.  Whether Kaltro remains a worthy asset may not be your decision to make, but you surely must convince those who would still bear a monster like him of their folly."

Naerth folded his arms and listened on to Mallory's preaching. "You don't think I've considered all of this? Kaltro poses not only a significant problem, but a significant threat. He is subservient to The Frostmaiden first and foremost. But if the Network still determines he cannot go away just yet, then my hands are bound." His stern gaze intensified. "You have my proposal. Two thousand gold pieces. No small sum. If he dies you get nothing, but he'll no longer be a thorn in my side. And if the third outcome comes to pass — if he just so happen to fall into the wrong hands — say, Duvessa Shane's — and is sent to Revel's End because of your involvement, then I can guarantee that our cooperation will not extend beyond Targos". He sighed and shook his head dejectedly and waved toward the door. "If that was all, you may leave. Have a good night, Miss Bonheur."

---

Outside, Astre sprung into existence above the snowy rooftops, just in time to spot Moyrah arrive by Rhydd's side and Xhar prepare for departure, pouch in beak.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:08, Sat 14 Aug 2021.

In reply to Moyrah the Mutt (msg # 71):

Rhydd hear Moyrah's voice behind him, and he turned to face the Half-Orc. The hood of his bear-skin coat was pulled up, and his face was hidden from sight.

"Saw something flit by the window, and came out to take a look," he replied to her inquiry.

He gestured back over his shoulder with a gloved hand. "Turns out it was Xhar -- Arkemos' raven. Seems that it has a delivery for either Ethen or Naerth -- payment for a debt owed, it said -- but it doesn't want me to pass it along."

Mallory did indeed rise from her seat... but not to leave.  Instead she shifted over nearer to Naerth and rested herself against the edge of his desk as he did, half-slouched in her posture and her drink set aside nearby.  The intensity that filled her in her lecturing seemed short-lived at best and immediately gave way to tiredness; the sort of dead-end frustration that someone in public office like he was surely understood all too well.

"I'm sorry, Naerth, I truly am.  I know this isn't any easier a situation on you and it's unfair of me to pressure you, especially after how understanding you've been since my arrival in Targos.  Today has just been very... very troubling for me." she offered with a heavy sigh.  "I hope I haven't made you loathe of my company.  We could have a very fruitful relationship going forward and I'd hate for foul circumstances such as these to get in the way of that.  I know I perhaps haven't shown it as well as it deserves, but I respect men of your ilk.  Conviction and capability are very admirable, and something I find lacking all too often in the company I'm forced to keep in my travels."

For those familiar with the song-and-dance of politicking and business, hollow flattery could be easily spotted for what it was.  But there was a softness in Mallory's manner, in her apology, that showed a clear difference from the professional facade they'd both worn in their earlier meeting.  She offered a faint smile that was tired but not forced as she canted her head his way.

"Besides, there's still other matters of business that require our attention.  The schedule of when I can access the Trolls' remains, for instance, or how we may keep in contact if I travel amid the Ten-Towns.  And there's the case of our wayward cultist."  An idle shift of her eyes was given to lead Naerth's attention to his window once more.  "I've learned more of his reasons for being here, but his pet bird is in the alley outside, right now, with a pouch of coin to pay for his inn debt.  Which means the man himself is very likely nearby."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:16, Sat 14 Aug 2021.

"I hope I haven't made you loathe of my company."
"You've done no such thing." Naerth gave ground, sighing. "I apologize. Your insights are appreciated, and though the matter is settled, I should not dismiss them so harshly." As to the rest of her spiel, Mallory's predictions rung true — he did not seem particularly taken by her compliments, one way or the other. "I have contacts scattered throughout Ten-Towns. I will have them reach out to you if need be. We'll settle the matter of Trolls tomorrow, they're not going anywhere. You can meet me in the square at morning. As for the cultist, I am afraid I know very little myself. He wasn't prone to spilling information, nor did I see the need for Skath to interrogate him."

He stopped, as if suddenly recalling something. "There is one thing — I spoke to Skath after he'd questioned the guardsmen who manned the gate when the Trolls struck. One person was seen near dawn, leaving Targos. I had suspected it to be Kaltro, as it's no surprise he would have left, but now I am unsure. Are you certain Arkemos would be nearby? Why then send his raven?"

---

Xhar fluttered and took flight, not caring for any idle chatter between fools. He did not notice Astre perched on the inn's roof, tracking him with keen eyes.

---

Xhar Passive Perception [11] contested by Astre's Stealth [15]: Astre remains unspotted.

Mention of someone having left at dawn put a scowl across Mallory's painted lips.  "That must have been Kaltro.  He surely struck in the dead of night; with no reason to remain and every to leave, of course he would make haste." An unpleasant deduction, to be certain; with a full day's head start, Kaltro could've made his way to any of the neighboring towns even on foot.  He'd left Easthaven prior, however, so it was unlikely he'd double-back there so soon...

"Arkemos has reason to fear for his safety here in Targos, it seems, and that's put him ill at ease.  He's not going to linger.  But for whatever personal reason he chose to pay his debt to this Inn first." Mallory noted as she cast her eyes momentarily skyward, as if once again seeing something that only she alone was privy to.  "His raven is an intelligent creature, more so than any normal bird, but it is still a bird in body.  It can't bear a pouch of coins for very far without exhausting itself, let alone in these bitter winds.  He'll be nearby to collect both his pet and coin alike."

The noblewoman fell silent for a moment of focus as she let her eyes droop half-shut, once more taken by darkness that spread from their center outward.  "It's on the move now.  If your other serpent is particularly swift, I'd suggest you send word to Captain Skath at the gate to keep alert on the perimeter."

---

Outside on the rooftop, Astre remained low amid the snow-covered edge where he blended in quite well to the surrounding fluff.  As Xhar took to the sky, he watched intently - silent messages relayed themselves back and forth between his own mind and that of his companion still inside - quick to form a plan.

Still silent as ever, the Tressym pushed a bit of snow off the roof's edge to pap down onto the ground by Rhydd and Moyrah; just enough to alert them to his presence and let them realize he was there, before he leaped and took flight in stealthy pursuit of the fleeing Raven.

---

Astre will pursue Xhar from a distance and keep Mallory updated as long as he can remain within range.  He's set purely on scouting duty for the moment so he'll stay as far and high back as he can, so long as he can keep eyes on his quarry.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:06, Sun 15 Aug 2021.

"Turns out it was Xhar -- Arkemos' raven. Seems that it has a delivery for either Ethen or Naerth -- payment for a debt owed, it said -- but it doesn't want me to pass it along."

"Ugh, that disgusting, good for nothing bird..." Moyrah spat on the ground before continuing, "...If I was you, I would have put an arrow through its skull". The disdain she harbored for the dark-feathered birds was prominently peppered throughout her words, and once the familiar flew away, Moyrah had a tough time trying to hide how glad she was that it was gone. "Oh look, I scared it away, now let's get back inside before we freeze to death. Astre will catch up to the raven, no doubt about it." The letter Akremos left before his departure, was enough to settle Moyrah's curiosity regarding what happened and who Akremos might have owed his money to, and the bone-chilling winds were definitely not helping her want to stay outside anymore.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:33, Sun 15 Aug 2021.

Naerth rapped his fingers on the drawer, contemplative. "He could have learned of his presence in the town and hid. Did Arkemos fear Kaltro? If so, why?"

---

Xhar climbed above the rooftops, disappearing amid the night to anyone but Astre, who took to the sky once he knew he could maintain a safe and covert distance. The cultist's familiar cleared no more than fifty feet before landing on a sharply sloped rooftop angled toward the north-western perimeter of the city walls. Just as it made contact with the shingles, a puff of faint, magical mist formed around it, and in place of the raven stood an small, red Imp, leaning on the slant. He tucked his leathery wings close and grabbed the pouch in one sharply clawed hand before sliding down. Once he came halfway he disappeared, though the track on the roof kept going. As did his footsteps once he landed on the ground below.

---

Give me another Perception check for Astre, Mallory! Apply his Keen Smell Advantage.

Rhydd turned when the snow slid down off of the roof, but relaxed when he spied Astre. He nodded his approval when Lady Mallory's Tressy took off and followed Xhar, although seeing as how his head was deep in the recesses of his hood, he doubted that anyone would have noted.

"Aye," he replied to Moyrah when the Half-Orc mentioned putting an arrow into the raven.

"I tried sweet-talking it into giving me the pouch, but I'm not much good at that sort of thing. Shooting things with arrows, on the other hand . . ."

He glanced towards the spot in the dark sky where the two flying creatures had disappeared, and saw only wind-blown snow. "Lady Mallory's Tressy is a smart one. If there's anything to be learned, I expect that Astre will suss it out. Might work out better this way -- not sure what we would've learned from a pouch of coins . . . assuming that's what was what Xhar was carryin'."

He turned towards the door of the inn. "An' ye're twice right about getting back inside, out of this weather."

"He was here on other business, allegedly.  I feared he may be an accomplice, as his raven interfered with--" Mallory began, only to cut herself short with a gasp.  Dark eyes went momentarily wide in surprise, though narrowed quickly back down again into a glower of consternation.  "So that's what you are?  No mere cultist, indeed... That answers one question and raises five more."  She seemed to be thinking aloud at that point as she shifted away from the desk and walked blankly toward the far wall of the room to lean her shoulder to it.  A pensive gesture in and of itself, though Naerth was likely unclear of its true purpose - to allow Mallory at least a few strides nearer to where Astre was in the town beyond, to maintain her connection that much longer.

It was perhaps odd for someone on the outside looking in on Mallory's method; Naerth had a glimpse here and there when a vision of the future took her before, but it was another matter entirely to see her flush in the midst of deduction.  Her awareness seemed scattered - not entirely gone from the present moment, yet tossed about elsewhere in the world and through other moments as she pieced together disparate bits throughout.  Far more than simply a woman helplessly adrift on proclaimed ripples of divine insight.

---

Astre's own eyes widened and narrowed just as Mallory's had, though if anything he felt more annoyed with the revelation.  He preferred the bird.  In the back of his awareness he could feel his companion's niggling worry flitting through his thoughts; an Imp was dangerous.  Though he was confident in his own abilities as a covert operative, Mallory's insistence won over in the end...

The snowy Tressym tucked down into a slow, gentle dive to maintain his bead on the bird-turned-fiend.  As he went, however, a cool shimmer rippled across his form as he faded from view entirely; two could play at the invisibility game!

---

Mallory casts "Invisibility" on Astre, using the Familiar Casting feature.

Find Familiar:

When you Cast a Spell with a range of touch, your familiar can deliver the spell as if it had cast the spell. Your familiar must be within 100 feet of you, and it must use its Reaction to deliver the spell when you cast it.

Invisibility:

Range: Touch
Duration: Concentration, Up to 1 hour
A creature you touch becomes Invisible until the spell ends. Anything the target is wearing or carrying is Invisible as long as it is on the target's person. The spell ends for a target that attacks or casts a spell.

Astre - Perception w/Advantage
Mallory Bonheur rolled 22 using 1d20+5

It's worth remembering that Astre has an innate "See Invisibility" because of a racial feature.  It does have a visual range of 60' though, so Xhar would fade in and out of sight if he was on the edge of that radius.  Astre's going to try and remain within line of sight.  Now, being Invisible as well, Astre should be a bit more secure against others' Passive Perception checks.

"What?" Naerth asked, momentarily befuddled. When he realized it was simply Mallory's divination kicking in, he took a step back and let her focus on whatever her magic showed her.

---

The Imp skittered along the ground, making sure to tread where he left the shallowest footprints, or, preferably, underneath the eaves of the roofs where he left none at all. His efforts did little to deter Astre, however, who could see his reddish form through his spell of invisibility. Xhar was bound for one of the buildings near the outskirts of the docks. A sign swung gently in the winds above the door — Gallaway Trade Depot. Though it seemed entirely abandoned — while it was not unusual for the lights to be out at this hour, there were planks barring several broken windows. Xhar stopped and jumped, flapping his wings for leverage to reach a windowsill, before nimbly ducking underneath the shattered glass and slipping inside.

---

Going on our earlier measurements, Astre would be just out of the 100' communication range. To get through the window I'll call for a DC 11 Acrobatics Check, or he'll end up taking 1d4 points of Slashing Damage.

"It's heading east, toward the docks... Gallaway Trade Depot." Mallory mused aloud.  She trailed off though and, in short order, her eyes once more regained their focus on her immediate surroundings.  Whatever vision she'd been linked to seemed to leave her once again and allow her to return to the present moment.  "I daresay if we wish to speak with Arkemos himself, we best make haste.  It seems he might take his leave by way of the lake rather than the gate."  With the Lake Monster dealt with, it was a safer escape route by far...

---

Though Astre felt the distant awareness of his companion vanish from his mind as they trailed too far apart, he remained resolute.  The hunt was on!  He circled wide and slow while Xhar made his way inside before returning to his pursuit once more.  Where the Imp scrabbled his way through, Astre alighted himself ever so gently to squeeze in through; all his fluffy fur spared him any jagged prickling as he shimmied through inside.

---

Astre - Acrobatics
Mallory Bonheur rolled 12 using 1d20+2
Hoo!  Just made it.

"Well, then we know where he is," Naerth said. "Skath has Targos on lockdown, between the Trolls and the situation with what's-his-name," he waved a dismissive hand and shook his head to express his annoyance with the entire incongruous event, "Gam. The exit to the lake is guarded. And while I expect him to periodically exchange the men due to the cold, I trust him not to leave any windows our cultist can exploit."

---

The inside of the trading coster was like any other, except entirely abandoned. Every shelf was empty, and the soft whistling of the wind outside reverberated as every little sound bounced unhindered between the empty walls. Astre had momentarily lost sight of Xhar, but it wasn't difficult to spot his tracks in the cold dust that had settled on the floorboard. There were multiple footprints, many not belonging to Xhar. The imp's red, invisible form, shimmering against the darkness, headed for a narrow door that led to an even narrower staircase. Flickering light from the cellar peeked out the creaking door as Xhar made his descent, and Astre's ears piqued to sound of someone speaking.

"At last. Did you complete your errand?" The voice was not Arkemos'. It was springy and light in tone, and unlike any Astre had ever heard prior.

"No," Xhar responded. "It was not the innkeeper nor the Speaker who answered our call."

"Does it matter?" the sprightly voice shot back. "Just leave it at the entrance."

"And risk a rat skittering off with it?"

"No matter." That was Arkemos's voice, and Astre got a visual confirmation as he stepped silently down the stairs with feline grace. "We've lingered long enough. It is time we depart."

Similarly to the main floor, the cellar was mostly empty. There were a couple of empty wine racks, one of which the now visible Xhar had huddled atop, and a few barrels its proprietors had not brought along. An arched wooden door was situated against the back wall. The owner of the unfamiliar voice was someone with the stature of a Halfling or a Gnome. He was holding a candle and wore a green, fur lined top hat, and a friable, patchy coat. On second glance, he was more likely a Halfling, going by the size of his moccasins. Arkemos stood near the door, his hood back to reveal his sharply kempt black hair and goatee.

"One last time — are you certain you want this?" the Gnome or Halfling said, looking Arkemos' way. "It is a rather permanent solution to a problem that may very well be impermanent."

Arkemos' nodded. "I am certain. I trust the payment is in order?"

"Indeed, it was as you said. A pendant like this could fetch a steep price in these trying times," the gnome said, fishing out a gold-chained amulet with a pitch black, sword-shaped gemstone. "Finding a buyer will not be a problem."

"Be careful who sees you with it," Arkemos said. "Avarice might send to retrieve it."

"Yes, yes, The Black Cult," the fellow with the top hat said, tucking it back into his coat pocket. He then proceeded to step up to the arched door as he got out a ring of keys and sifted through them. "They are not as eminent as they make themselves out to be. Now, remember, you will be called 'Clueless' and 'Berk'. And a Berk you are, for the record. You will find yourself in The Lower Ward." He slotted one long, rusted key into the keyhole. "I advice you to find The Madame. She will help you."

"You have my gratitude," Arkemos responded.

The Halfling opened the door and paused to sigh. Astre was only able to get a glimpse of what laid beyond, and it wasn't dissimilar to what the cellar looked like. "Once more — are you absolutely certain you wish to do this? Once you step through that door it will not lead back to Targos."

"I am," Arkemos said and stepped through the door, Xhar fluttering in after him.

Mallory shook her head in quiet dismay.  "From what I've seen, Arkemos seems to be more than just a follower of your usual profit-seeking nonsense cult.  Normally they're just get-rich-quick schemes that prey on people in poor straits, lacking any real validity at all.  But every now and then one actually manages to get the attention of a genuine mystical Patron and a sliver of their essence... it appears that's the case with Arkemos." she realized she'd slipped into a bit of lecture mode once more; really, she should've taken her mother's advice and gone into teaching at one of the lesser academies back in Neverwinter.  "That is to say, he has unique magic at his disposal.  He may very well vanish into thin air, gates and guards be damned."

---

Astre paced along ever so carefully in Xhar's wake, cautious to step only where the Imp itself had stepped to mask his own footprints in the snow and dust.  He sniffed about along the other prints as he went in search of a scent but, in time, focused more on the conversation at hand.

An accomplice, an exit, and an escape... despite an immediate, reflexive desire to pursue Arkemos and Xhar through that strange door, the Tressym remained low and silent where he waited instead.  The cultist ultimately wasn't a lead he could chase very far.  But this new Halfling was.  Where one lead ended, another inevitably began!

---

Astre's going to give up the chase on Arkemos and tail the Halfling instead, if possible.

Also, Perception check for any stand-out scents or details worth notice amid the footprints, area, etc.
Mallory Bonheur rolled 18 using 1d20+5

Naerth listened to Mallory, tilting his chin upward in acknowledgement. All he could do in this situation was lean on Mallory's expertise — magic was not his forte. "From what we can tell, the cult in Caer Dineval is utterly dysfunctional, and it's seeped into the management of the whole town. But I happen to agree with your assessment on Arkemos, the man did not give off an air of incompetence. I suppose that could be why he defected."

---

We'll be looking to wrap up this segment for the sake of pacing. Right now, only Mallory's character is engaged in this scene while the rest are idle, waiting for the new day.

---

The Halfling closed and locked the arched door behind Arkemos and Xhar. He slipped the key back into his pocket, took a few steps toward the narrow staircase, and stopped, staring Astre's invisible form head on. "Ah." He then removed his top hat, laying bare a mostly bald head adorned with a few wispy strands of blonde hair, dropped the key into it before twisting it back on, and headed out with a lit candle in hand.

He went for the trading post's front door, which was unbarred, unlocked it, and traversed the darklaid streets of Targos. Without realizing someone tailed him, he utilized a snug back alleys to arrive deeper into the residential districts. A bit north of Troll carcasses, he unlocked and entered a small building nestled between a couple taller than it. It was yet another trade depot of sorts — Triglio's.

---

Astre would have momentarily slipped into Telepathic range while he followed the Halfling.

Astre tensed up for a moment when the Halfling seemed to lay eyes on him despite his supernatural shroud, yet eased when it seemed to just be a case of happenstance.  With a few last sniffs around to take in the Halfling's scent specifically while it was fresh, he stealthily made his way in the man's wake to see where he'd leave to.  If he had another strange doorway for himself, there'd be no helping it...

Thankfully it wasn't the case.  If he was going to use magic to spirit himself away somewhere else, he would've done it already.  Instead Astre took in the apparent resting destination for the stranger - Triglio's - and finally wheeled back toward the Luskan Arms' general direction.  Unseen to all, the Tressym only had to fly a short ways before he simply poofed out of existence, spared another flight through the cold as he returned to his hideaway between realms.

---

"I can only speculate to some degree, but Arkemos was certainly acting on someone else's orders... he was here to investigate Maer Dualdon itself, though to what end and who's presence threatened him to flee his task, I'm uncertain." Mallory tucked two fingers beneath her chin as she worked to deduce what she could.  "I understand if this may be difficult to believe, but Arkemos is in league with Fiends; they are the source of his magic.  I recall the wizard Morienus's tower stood and fell on the banks of the lake just north of here in centuries past... it was due to his foolish use of Fiend summoning that led to The Great Thaw and his downfall in the first place, so perhaps there's some connection."

Another moment of insight seemed to strike the young noble as she paused abruptly and her gaze went unfocused.  Naerth could see a string of emotions flicker across her face; surprise, annoyance, and finally a sort of surrendering acceptance.  "Well... it's of no matter.  Arkemos is gone for good, now.  Whatever scared him from this place has driven him to escape to another Plane entirely - one he may very well never return from." As her eyes refocused she offered Naerth an understanding look; she knew full well how much she was asking him to take at face value, but hoped she'd proven her reliability thus far.  She once more raised her hand to conjure another illusion; the image of the unknown Halfling fellow.  "This man is Arkemos' accomplice and was the one who facilitated his escape from this Plane.  He's gone to another building nearby; Triglio's.  Arkemos is beyond our reach, but I suggest you send Skath and his men to apprehend this fellow for questioning... covertly, after he's taken to sleep.  If a capture is too obvious, he might escape the same way Arkemos did."

---

Insight Check on Naerth, to see if anything about the description of Arkemos' investigation of Maer Dualdon seems to register.
Mallory Bonheur rolled 8 using 1d20-1
lol naw
This message was last edited by the player at 18:52, Wed 18 Aug 2021.

In reply to Rhydd Maldhon (msg # 80):

"Like the Tressym's owner, the critter has surprised me in many ways with its capabilities. Who knows what would have happened in its absence." Once again, back in the comfort and warmth of Luskan Arms, Moyrah has taken off her coat, folding it in two over the back of her chair, before taking the spot she previously occupied. With her hands rubbing continuously, she turned to the ranger to satisfy further her curiosities. "How does this latest trip to Targos fare, in comparison to the previous ones? It has been a bizarre couple of days, for me at least, and as you probably know, it's not usually like this around here, apart from the hangings, there isn't much that shakes up the stagnation. Have you heard about the caravan you came with leaving tommorow? Are you going with them too?"

Naerth resumed leaning against the drawer, tapping his fingers as Mallory laid out the information. Nothing about any mad mage, Maer Dualdon or Arkemos’ investigation on it seemed to stir him, but then he could simply be skilled at keeping a straight face — his profession would even necessitate it. The information on Arkemos’ flight, however, did seem to register. Very much so. “I see. I have a suspicion as to his destination then. I will have a chat with Triglio tomorrow. Now,” he said, looking very sternly at Mallory, “tell me everything you saw related to our cultist’s sudden departure.”

"I'll do you one better; I'll show you." It didn't seem as though Mallory was of a mind to try and maintain secrecy of what she'd learned.  At least not in regards to the facts themselves... the method of their acquisition, however, was another matter entirely.

Sat once more alongside Naerth, she flexed her arcane and narrative skills alike in fashioning one illusory scene after another to tell of what she'd learned.  Not just for the sake of clarity, but to help impress the notion of her seemingly supernatural awareness; the images showed precise details of locations - buildings, streets, and the like - that would surely be very familiar to the local Town Speaker but not at all to an out-of-town noble who'd just rolled in the day prior.  It yielded a slide show of sorts; a string of still images one major moment after another as Mallory explained what her visions showed her at each beat.

Xhar leaving the alleyway after Rhydd and Moyrah attempted to hold contact.  A brief fight through the snowy skies before landing down and revealing itself to be an Imp, and its skittering route taken through to where Arkemos waited.  The conversation between Arkemos and the strange not-quite-Halfling, not-quite-Gnomish fellow was repeated verbatim.  When items such as that curious keyring and the sword-shaped amulet appeared in the moment, Mallory extended the illusion to show a more focused version of those in particular.  Once all was revealed with Arkemos disappearing through to an unknown realm and the diminutive accomplice returning to his home, the images finally faded away to nothing but wisps of smoke.

"Rival cultist groups throughout Ten-Towns, The Black Cult, strange magical items, a man who can open a Planar door to Sigil, 'Avarice'... I'd assume a pseudonym, or perhaps a Tiefling given their unconventional naming habits..." she shook her head gently.  "It would appear there's some conspiracy brewing beneath the surface here." Ultimately that was Naerth's problem though.  If he wished for her help, it was something to be requested, not volunteered given the broader reaching baggage of such a situation.  Though she could offer something, at least: "If meeting with this Triglio fellow yields any questionable magical trinkets... or if you have any others on hand... I can examine and identify their specific arcane properties for you.  For a nominal fee, of course.  Either way, I remain at your disposal so long as I'm in Targos."

---

As a matter of course, Mallory is going to resummon Astre in a corner of the room where he'd be out of the way and unlikely to be stumbled across, preferably on top of some shelf or in the rafters (if accessible) where he'll have a good view of the room, preferably well away from the snake cage.  He should still be Invisible, as that lasts for 1 hour and being dismissed wouldn't break that effect.  Mallory will leave Astre in Naerth's office once their meeting concludes to spy on the Speaker for the remainder of the spell's duration, then dismiss him back to his pocket dimension once the hour is up or if he's in immediate risk of being discovered.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:24, Wed 18 Aug 2021.

"Excellent. As simply as it gets," Naerth responded after having witnessed the reenactment of events. "I will call upon you if you're needed. You've been of great help here."

After Mallory's departure, Naerth sat down at his desk and picked up a loose coin, rolling it between his fingers for a couple of moments. He then retrieved a piece of blank parchment from a drawer and began writing. It was no simple task for Astre to find a vantage point to spy the letter's contents — jumping up on the desk meant rustling the papers and notes — but he managed to catch a glimpse when perching atop a dresser. Naerth was writing in code. Completely unintelligible, and likely impossible to decipher from just a simple glance. Once he was done, he sent it out with the remaining Flying Snake before sitting down to pour himself a drink. Astre's time was nearly up, so he was poofed back into his pocket dimension.

---

Mallory's History check on "The Black Cult" [17]: "The Black Cult" is not actually called The Black Cult, it's called The Knights of The Black Sword, and its members swear themselves to Levistus, The Frozen Prince. It did not take long for the name to morph into the far more generic form. For the past few years they've been operating out of the fortress in Caer Dineval, having wrested it from the town's Speaker who now is little more than a mouthpiece for the cult's leader, Kadroth. How the cult has managed to let these secrets slip is testament to its mismanagement.

From the outside, it appears the cultists overarching plan is non-existent. If they wished to widen their influence since seizing Caer Dineval, they've failed miserably. The cult knows The Council of Speakers is aware of their existence and has grown too cowardly to sacrifice anything more than goats or cattle at the risk of repercussion.

No text or tome bear mention of The Arcane Brotherhood's involvement.

"I only hope I can be of more in days to come.  In the meantime, I'll draft a receipt for services rendered that you can address tomorrow morning.  As my father always says; 'If you're good at something, always charge a reasonable rate'...  and as my uncle adds; 'If you're bad at it, charge double up front.'" While she'd been willing to tail Arkemos under the notion that he might've been an accomplice of Kaltro, thus leaving the chase under that larger investigation, all the rest she'd uncovered and delivered had certainly been outside that original agreement.  Sure, Naerth could stiff her on the fee, but that would be poor form and detrimental to their business relationship going forward...

With that, and Naerth clearly looking like he had plenty to attend to himself with all the news he'd learned, Mallory offered a half curtsy in parting.  "I'll take my leave, for now, but I do hope you get some rest sooner than later.  Good night Naerth."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:49, Thu 19 Aug 2021.

Naerth smirked. Mallory's broach of payment for services volunteered was backhanded, but who was he to call the kettle black? "Your uncle is a wise man," he said upon Mallory's exit. "I'm looking forward to a fruitful cooperation between you, I, my associates, and your family. Have a good night."

There was a moment's pause as Mallory stood half out the doorway, halted just so mid-step.  She didn't look back over her shoulder; her expression remained out of sight, though there was a firmness to her tone that would let Naerth readily imagine a return of that sternness in her dark eyes.

"Between the two of us." she corrected curtly.  "My endeavors are my own and if you wish to keep my aid, they will stay that way."

Oh, how she hated the dance.  The back and forth vying for the upper hand, trying to assert control and dominance.  Naerth pulling up her family and the mention in just moment was all too clear.  A promise of meddling at best and a threat at worst.  So it was met with a warning of her own in return; she had no qualms with dirtying her own hands, but her hands alone.  'If you wish to keep my aid'.  A promise of profitable cooperation at best and a threat at worst.

With that, Mallory stepped out into the hall beyond and let the door shut quietly in her wake.

---

I've removed futzing around with copying letters and deciphering spells prior, for the sake of rules discussion of the moment.  It will be added onto this post instead once we have everything squared away.

Astre - Perception
Mallory Bonheur rolled 8 using 1d20+5
lol all this chatter on the ruling and I roll a 3.  XD

Mallory - DEX check
Mallory Bonheur rolled 9 using 1d20+2
If it's just raw DEX or Forgery (which Mallory doesn't have), it's 9.  If it's Slight of Hand, it's 13
This message was last edited by the player at 01:01, Fri 20 Aug 2021.

It boiled down to optics, and Naerth seemed happy letting Mallory leave on one last yip. When he sat down to write the letter, he whistled a perky tune.

---

Mallory was left with a set of unfamiliar symbols angling gently down one side of the paper. They comprised of circles, lines, and dots, interspersed, intermingled, and continuously flowing in every sentence, never divided by spaces periods, and Naerth only ever began a new line when the quill reached the end of the paper. Even if Astre had gotten a proper view of Naerth's writing, identifying and separating unique symbols as she wrote blindly would have been strenuous. It would take an entire team of Neverwinter's best scholars weeks to crack the cypher, especially if Mallory's hasty copy was all they had to work from. But she had something better. After she'd gone through the laborious process of drawing up the circles and chanting the proper incantations, the symbols reformed in her mind to something that bordered on readable.

". . . . frivolousknowIwotmakeittothetemplefortheaforeme
ntioneddea . . . lioswilltravelinmyplaceheand . . . regardi
. . . stthreebagsofscrapmetal . . . hippingintheformofe. . . "

A few long moments of quiet scrutiny were given as Mallory glared into the paper she's scrawled all over; anyone looking in might've thought she'd lost her wits for all the sense it made, be it the action or what was written.  She hummed softly to herself all the while; an unfamiliar tune, but one she repeated again and again until she felt it put to memory well enough.  Ultimately the scribbling was folded neatly and stowed away amid the pages of her notebook.

"Every little bit counts, I suppose." Mallory sighed as she pushed from the bar to turn about in place to where Moyrah and Rhydd had taken their table nearby.  Not a moment later Astre would suddenly stride out from below the table, idly winding his way against their ankles with an arching stroke of his back.  "I don't know about you two, but I'm ready for this night to be over... I learned much about Arkemos, but it's nothing that can't wait until breakfast to retell."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:38, Fri 20 Aug 2021.