Trovus staggered up the forlorn and jagged stairway, tilting back the bottle in an attempt to get to what remained, but found a solid chunk of frozen ale wouldn't fit through the neck. He grumbled, stumped his toe, and almost fell face first into snow again. By Bahamut, it was black as the Abyss out, which meant it was either evening, night, morning, or day. You really couldn't tell anymore.

The caer was as desolate as the day he had become speaker. Hardly anyone went up here, and why would they? It was a cold and ruined . . . well, ruin. It used to be only him, but now it was that one-armed High Elf as well. The smithy was the only building the town had bothered to somewhat restore and preserve — and yet it remained nothing more than a dilapidated hunk of broken rock still exposed to the biting winds. A true affront to Gond. The thought struck Trovus only partly in jest. He had put 'fixing the roof' down on his to-do list a long time ago, but that was a list quite extensive and ever-replenishing. And what good was a smithy without someone to work it?

At some point during his patrols he'd left his shirt somewhere. Probably in the tavern, or in the pile of snow he roused from. His full plate as well, come to think of it. Only now that the forge's fire reached him had he taken notice. No matter — he'd locate them later. He stepped inside the sorry building, spotted the High Elf, and reasoned it was probably not nighttime since she was still working.

The Dragonborn Speaker stood there, putting the bottle down at his feet before leaning against the wall, his silver scales reflecting the warm fire. "Oy!" he called out, his voice deep with that telltale roughness of a creature with reptilian lips. "If you keep at it, the Dwarves goin't've be the ones buyin' swords from us when they next pay us a visit. Now, wouldn't that be a world? How do you reason they'd take it? An Elf bein' better at their job?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:57, Mon 11 Sept 2023.

The staccato tang-tang-tang-tang-kung-kung-tang-tang-tang-tang-kung-kung of Idrianthe's hammer striking her work and the anvil made the caer feel lived-in again, at least by her own measure. A dwarven keep felt empty without the work of masons, jewelers, and smiths echoing around its ancient and sturdy halls, and the smell of brewer's work filling every occupant's nose. Idrianthe couldn't provide all of those things, but the smithing? That she could do. Perhaps mason's work if she had free time tomorrow; strong winds were guttering her small furnace, and the Ten Towns couldn't afford frivolous wastes of fuel. To that end, the firelight that illuminated Trovus when he came to the elf wasn't even half what the workshop was capable of. It was barely enough to put sweat on the elf's brow, really, but it was practical and conserved materials.

She had her back to the flames as Trovus settled, which threw the apron-clad, short-haired elf into lopsided silhouette. In her left hand was her hammer, silvery and glittering, slim in design but coming down with the force of a four-pound head on an orange-glowing billet of steel. Every blow drew the material out longer and thinner, and Idri kept the rhythm of her hammerblows going on the face of her anvil while an ice blue spectral hand repositioned the work for her. Every passing second cooled the steel, shortening the time she had to make it behave before it needed another heat.

"Your people like their blades, Speaker," she answered casually, not breaking her flow for an instant as the metal in front of her continued to change. "And the dwarves would probably be quite pleased to see weapons made in the traditions of Citadel Adbar, undercutting their prices aside.

"I don't blame them -- the villagers, I mean. They live in strange country and a sword brings a certain primal comfort, even to those who swing it like a tree branch. Maybe especially to them, come to think of it. It's not all swords, though; some want maces, some want axes, one chap insisted on a pike, and that doesn't even touch all of the fish hooks, spearheads, arrowheads, flints, ice saws, you name it. Those thieves didn't do anyone any favors, did they?"

Tang-tang-tang-tang-tang-tang-tang-tang.

"Didn't you own a top, yesterday? And plate armor?"

"Yessiree~" Trovus responded, clearly equally as confused by his current attire. Or lack thereof. "I seem to have misplaced 'em. The shirt I have spares of, but my plate . . . Reckon you could strike me up a new one?" If it hadn't been obvious, the smirk and glint in his eye conveyed that the ask was meant purely in jest.

He took a moment's respite and listened to the rhythmic clangs of a job well done. "What did a small hamlet like ours do to deserve the likes of you? Even if you're just passin' by." He sighed deeply, shrugged, and began to answer his own question. "Recompense, I s'pose, for their bumblin' Town Speaker. Balancin' the scales! Don't let anyone ever tell you the Gods ain't watchin'!" A sharp, silver claw was wagged in Idrianthe's direction.

The Dragonborn shook his head and walked over to some of the many weapons Idrianthe had finished during her brief time here. It was a simple shortsword. Modest in design, but yet so elegantly. He ran a finger over the sleek steel, and though he wanted to pick it up and test the balance he felt no true need — it would undoubtedly rest better in his hand than most he had held in all his life. "Weaponry for the common people!" he proclaimed loudly. "Have 'em protectin' 'emselves against invisible threats!" As he had come to do every second step these last tendays, he peeked the corner of the partly-crumbled wall to spy for tracks in the snow. He hadn't seen any on his way up here, and he didn't expect to see any now. But he peeked anyway. "Swingin' wildly at things that ain't there . . . No. Protectin' 'em should be my job . . .

"But I'll teach 'em the ropes. Make sure none o'em don't go 'round pokin' each others' eyes out. I might be a right shite smith, but fightin' I know." He looked down at the worn stone floor, the creeping snow evicted by the heat of the furnace. ". . . fightin' I know."

Idri chuckled. "Why, of course I could! Find me... Oh, shall we say three months with nothing else on my plate and a couple of skilled apprentices, we'll have you armored up again like new." The billet in front of her, now longer and flatter by far than when she started, had cooled to a red glow. The spectral hand picked it up from the anvil and delivered it back into the forge to heat again. The hand moved a brick to block so much of the heat escaping, casting the forge in far dimmer light. Idrianthe's eyes had no trouble with it, but she knew that Trovus lacked her catlike vision.

For his benefit, she ran a thumb up the length of her hammer, and its head seamlessly reshaped to feature a sharp engraving tip opposite the face. With the tip, she drew something onto a small metal badge that sat on one of her worktables, and gave it a tap. Instantly, it was like she'd lit a candle, filling the forge with a cool blue light. Into the apron her hammer went, alongside the mundane tools she was borrowing from the workshop while she smithed for them.

Now illuminated, the sweat and grime from working around a heavy flame, coal, and oil were more obvious, and they stained Idri's pale face and work clothes like warpaint. The once white sleeve which was pinned to her right shoulder had gone especially gray, as Idri tended to use it to wipe her left hand off without thinking.

"You didn't do anything to deserve me, Trovus, meaning you, personally. It's not your fault that things are the way they are up here, all I'm doing is trying to help your people catch up with the challenges you've been forced to shoulder." Idrianthe answered, and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She then walked around to the bellows and began to work its gasket with her foot. The coal smoldered as great breaths of air were introduced.

It was hard not to admire her own work a bit while the dragonborn drew attention to it. The lines were distinctly dwarven, heavy angles and sturdy construction that would hold up in any normal fight, but with a lightness to the shape that made it hers. Each blade had been given a sparse ornamentation of Jotun and Dwarvish runic script in the fuller that she hoped would satisfy local tastes, and a stylized, three-part M was stamped deep into both faces of the crossguard.

But even looking at the table of weapons, knowing how dire the situation was for the people who had ordered her tools of war, brought a deep frown to Idri's lined face.

"You will teach them, won't you Trovus? I'm... Well, I've not sharpened them as much as I can, yet. Just enough of an edge to hurt if they're used, but I won't forgive myself if someone does that damn fool thumb-slide on one of my swords and it costs them a digit. Or worse, they spar untrained and... Less said the better."

With the forge hot, she approached Trovus and picked up another of the shortswords, checking the line with her practiced, pale eye. "Anyway, they're good for the task. But swords are difficult to learn, we both know that."

As if unconsciously, Idrianthe spun the weapon in her hand, walking through a slow sequence of graceful dips, vertical swipes and quick lunges, albeit neither fast enough nor hard enough to compare to the likes of Trovus.

"Aye, good balance," she confirmed absently. "But two spears and a shield will be better. A tight fighting line, safer, simpler to learn. Shortsword or a mace in reserve if the spears are thrown or lost. That's the proper way to field a militia." Idri seemed to get lost in a thought as her eyes dilated. She winced, gripped the sword tightly once, then turned and put it back. "And... And mages. Teach them that first, Trovus. If they see someone working a spell, that's when you throw the spear. Throw it straight away, don't give them time."

Trovus found a stool to sit on, one that hopefully wasn't used by Idrianthe in her work. "How much more do you think they'll take? Yesterday it was invisible blue buggers, tomorrow who knows? And the sun ain't risin' first things first." He paused long enough to almost doze off again. "Sooner or later everyone'll get their thumbs out their arses and the Ten Towns will be a barren, frozen wasteland once more."

"Can't wait for the day," he added. "A weight of my back, really. Won't have to train 'em at that point! Ah, did you speak with the wizard? Can't recall if I told you already, but she came out askin' for you earlier."
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:55, Sun 17 July 2022.

The dragonborn's question, idly thrown out as it was, made Idri sigh deeply as she turned around to look at the dilapidated workshop. She crossed her left arm over her chest and cradled the end of her right arm, an approximation of crossing them that additionally helped warm her hand against the chill winds.

"Don't be so sure that day's coming, friend," she cautioned gently. "There's a powerful magic to home. Once someone or something starts to think of a place that way, it generates a certain... Attraction. Slow to bind but hard to break. As long as there's land to live on and shelter from the elements, home will still be real for at least some of your people. They'll spend their lives keeping it home, or try 'til they die.

The second question perked Idri back up, allowing her to put on a shroud of enthusiasm. "Briefly! She gave me a mineral fragment that she says is important to the duergar. Haven't had a chance to look closely at it yet, or ask her more. Been a busy day. Can't even remember if I've eaten, come to think of it..."

The broad and burly Dragonborn leaned forward with a weary huff. "I hope you're wrong, Idrianthe," he said. "About the people here. No offense. Here, let me help you clean up and cool down the forge. I reckon it's time for myself to find some warmth as well."

---

The Northern Lights was an inn of moderate size. Perhaps it could even be considered large for these parts. Its namesake evershining light, an orb which had been retrieved in the Duergar raid, hung above the entryway from a chain, illuminating it for any and all visitors. Inside, the younger Shorard sister, Alice, lithe and charming, swept the floor for the night. She greeted Dame Idrianthe with a genuine smile. Trovus she scowled at, though the Speaker knew not the reason. Nor would the innkeeper hand him the drink he soon requested, forcing him to take his leave for the Hook, Line, and Sinker where the proprietor was more lenient.

Idrianthe could find Vellynne Harpell in her room, reading and writing glyphs. A piece of Chardalynn rested underneath the lit candles, its black, rugged form catching and reflecting the light. The wizard had asked for the largest room in the establishment, furnished at the very least with a desk and a chair. It had been granted her, and she had paid a large sum upfront for a prolonged stay.

The woman was old. Her well-kempt hair was starkly gray, almost white, and she wore a patch over her right eye. Her familiar, a Barn Owl, rested silently by her bed's raised footboard slat.

"Did your examinations prove worthwhile?" she asked without taking her eye from her spellbook. She dipped the pen, flipped a page, and continued, "I requested your presence earlier today."

---

Idrianthe Arcana on the Chardalyn (w/ Advantage due to Proficiency with Smith's Tools) [19 9]: A hard but brittle material with innate magical properties. Namely, it has the power to absorb a spell, which it releases upon shattering. The larger the Chardalyn, the more potent the spell it can hold. Little to no leakage occurs, meaning the spell would reside within the crystal for centuries, perhaps even millennia. Vellynne, of course, already knew this. This explanation had been given Idrianthe when the wizard had handed her a blank sample.

What she might not have known, however, was that it had a melting point beyond anything her forge could generate. When subjected to its maximum heat output, the Chardalyn hardened to the point where it required significant force to break. The chemical structure seemed to not deteriorate as was the case with emeralds. The composition wasn't carbon, so it wouldn't sublimate or combust like diamonds would if one could somehow generate enough heat to achieve that — it likely had a melting point. Just not at a temperature achievable by ordinary forges. Furthermore, its ability to retain heat far surpassed most workable material, like steel and iron, which meant it cooled slowly. When it finally did, it returned to its previous brittle state.

With a tap of her shiftweave pendant, Idrianthe's ensemble reverted from her soiled smithing ensemble to sturdy, hefty, and warm winter clothing, complete with a large red scarf and a coatsleeve pinned where a shirtsleeve was before. It still had the faint aroma of coal and soot as the dirtied fibers simply shifted, but that was her perfume of choice anyway.

Idrianthe smiled sadly at Trovus when he wasn't looking at her. She'd seen many dozens of people fall into drink in her life, and he was a tragic example: A warrior who gave a damn about his people, but who couldn't find it in himself to resist the temptation, anymore. What a gain it would be for Caer-Konig if their speaker could get back on his feet...

But it wasn't for her to wrestle with. No, what she needed to focus on was Vellyne Harpell and her chardalyn fragment. Now that was an interesting material. The first thought through Idrianthe's mind was making shields of it to charge with magic, but they would shatter easily if not kept hot -- that was out. Almost any worn or carried object was as well, except for those which could maintain a heat source of sufficient temperature. A flaming sword might work, if allowed to reach its hard temperature, and may even be easier than most metals to enchant. Indeed, that would be a fearsome thought, duergar armed by the platoon with flaming, magic weapons. But even that was only touching the surface of its potential. No, Idri had a much more dangerous thought about how they might use it...

"I was working, nobody came to say," she explained to Vellyne off-hand, smiling to the barn owl and nodding to its mistress. "But yes, I think they did. This is a very useful material, under the right circumstances. Granted, those circumstances are... Niche... But keep it hot and this chardalyn crystal would be a worthy entry to the pantheon of hallowed minerals, proudly alongside mithral and adamant. Tougher than steel, more trustworthy than diamonds -- but only if kept hot. I've got a few theories how it might be employed to good effect, more importantly which fit the style and methods of the duergar, at least as I know them."

Idrianthe rubbed her chin and leaned against the wall by Vellyne's desk. "Magical weapons are possible. The spell-storing properties may make the substance easier to enchant as well as giving fighters an option in battle, so long as the weapon is flaming and thus kept hot. However... The far more concerning option, the one which I will assume is the case until proven otherwise, is some sort of construct. Most likely, a golem. A terribly powerful golem, stronger than steel, approaching the strength of adamantine, maintained by some form of magical heat, and made of a mineral in great supply. Possibly even several such war engines, in fact, if they have enough and the skill to imbue them with form and life."

"Is that so?" Vellynne answered, her attention split between Idrianthe's words and the pages beneath her pen. "A construct . . . a shame, the fate of our thieves." The wizard was of course referring to how the band of invisible Duergar, or those remaining when they realized their defeat was inevitable, slit their own throats instead of risking capture. Trovus, intent to shoulder every burden in sight, blamed himself for the incident. After all, he had taken the forefront in the raid alongside Idrianthe.

She closed the book and put down the pen. And her reading monocle. "I called upon you because I have conferred with the Host Tower," she said, turning to face Idrianthe. "There are limits to what I should disclose, but I am compelled to inform you the Duergar you faced were the pawns of a Xardorok Sunblight, a warlord whom is believed spurred to the surface by Deep Duerra. In other words, not an adversary to be underestimated. And you have just slain one of his sons. Or rather, he slew himself." She waved a dismissive hand. "Same difference."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:39, Mon 12 Feb.

The corners of the Witch Knight's mouth turned down subtly, but the revelation of slaying a warlord's son didn't elicit any greater emotional response than that. "That's a shame. I'd rather none of them had died, but I imagine there are a great many fathers and mothers who would want vengeance on me, Trovus and Caer-Konig. Can't blame this Sunblight for that, nor any of the others."

She looked to the window, at the infinite twilight beyond. "But that does mean I should leave Caer-Konig soon, and loudly. If he blames me personally, then I may be able to spare this town more anguish my drawing his ire out into the wilderness. I'll confer with Trovus about it, when he's sober. Few more days of work to finish, then I'll make tracks. If there's anything you aren't compelled to tell me but decide to anyway..." A little smirk. "I promise I won't tattle."

I'll confer with Trovus about it, when he's sober.
"I fear you will then wait until the Dusk War," Vellynne said as she suppressed a chortle. It wasn't a topic to jest about eagerly.

"The Duergar staunchly follow a 'might makes right' doctrine. In this way they are a predictable sort. It is possible that this son, in his failure, inspires not vengeance but disappointment in his father — especially given Caer-Konig's remoteness and insignificance," Vellynne continued, hands comfortably in her lap. "Speculation, admittedly. But we do know he is after Chardalyn, and we know this village holds none. Furthermore, this Xardorok Sunblight might have no idea as to your identity or involvement.

She allowed a brief pause to fall over the conversation. "Know that I decide to stay despite these revelations," the wizard offered. "And if the Duergar do intend to descend upon Caer-Konig, your presence would be valued greatly."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:40, Mon 12 Feb.

Idrianthe clicked her tongue softly about Trovus. "I grew up with dwarves, I have a different threshold of sobriety than you. But... You aren't wrong."

The elf listened thoughtfully to Vellyne's explanation, and she didn't have a reason to doubt the mage's wisdom about the duergar and their methods.

"Then it sounds as though the best thing I could do is learn where chardalyn is concentrated in these lands, and from there begin to predict how the duergar might approach their harvest. I have no intention of abandoning Caer-Konig or Ten-Towns, I only acknowledge that it is better I bait foes away from unprepared villagers than try to fight a battle in their streets.

But what is it that continues to be of value to you, here, Vellyne? You don't strike me as sentimental, and I don't know how much more you can learn from the inside of this room -- even with the help of an able scout." She smiled at the owl.

Mercuri, the Barn Owl was called. For the most part, she kept him here in her room alongside her during her studies, allowing him only the briefest of expeditions. "You'd be surprised," Vellynne said, not turning to face her conjured companion, "what one can achieve from the comfort of a small and warm study. Caer-Konig is more strategic than you might believe. I would tell you of my endeavors, but you might then think less of me, though I assure you my goals continue to be dignified. Much in contrast to my colleagues'. To put it briefly, I am engaged in a race to locate two things — a tome, the Codicil of White, and an ancient Netherese city by the name of Ythryn. The denizens of Icewind Dale should pray that I come out on top."

Her sharp, unflinching gaze lingered on Idrianthe. "I tell you this because I have come to trust your character. I realize it is much to ask for one in my position that the trust be mutual, but in its stead I ask you to trust my expertise."

"I don't distrust you, personally, Vellyne. And I don't particularly distrust your order, although that comes with a caveat: I trust them to behave as wizard's guilds generally do. Which is... Not the kindest thing I've ever said." Idri answered pointedly. "But you seem less prone to hoarding your knowledge and snarling at curious passers-by, so that puts you quite far above others."

To the issue of Vellyne's studies, Idri had to spend a moment wracking her own extensive stores of knowledge, trying to remember if she or her past lives knew anything substantive about this Codicil of White, or knew much of Ythryn.

---

Religion check (22) for the Codicil of White, Arcana check (18) for Ythryn.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:42, Sat 23 July 2022.

Idrianthe's assessment drew a slight smirk and chuckle from the otherwise stoic wizard. "You seem to have an accurate assessment of my brood. If only it weren't so . . ." She paused for a brief moment, as if weighing her next words carefully. "I believe you must have heard of her on your way through — Avarice. Let us describe her as the wrong kind to enter our ranks. Vindictive, power hungry, and unfortunately an immensely skilled Evoker. I believe that if I don't act with haste, she will be the one to retrieve both the Codicil and the lost secrets of Netheril, and she will utilize it all to her own ends and her own ends alone. The people of Icewind Dale? Their existence is barely a presence in her mind." She slowly stood and folded one arm behind her back as she stepped up to Mercuri to gently scratch its chin. The Barn Owl accepted with coos.

"Dzaan, a Red Wizard. Of far lesser merit, but dangerous through unpredictability. He shies no means. And by that I mean none. Lately, he's stirred up quite a ruckus recently and has been fleeing the authorities — him and his Simulacrum alike. One of them burned at the stake, but I am yet to determine if it was the authentic one.

Lastly there is Nass Lantomir," she continued, "a Diviner apprenticing under one of our archmages. She was first to arrive here, but she was last seen in Bremen Tendays ago. Hopefully both she and Dzaan has met a timely demise, but all her knowledge is lost to me."

She hesitated while she stroked the Barn Owl's head. "I am behind, Idrianthe. The only lead I had to work from was the Spire, which I cannot brave myself, and now the Sunblights, which I was only able to pry from my institution because of the intelligence you managed to unearth. A shame it is, that our dealings must always be so transactional . . ."

---

Religion Check on the Codicil of White [22]: The holy scriptures of Auril. It is uncertain if she had a hand in the tome's creation or if it was merely the work of reverent followers. Over the course of history and Icewdind Dale's turmoils it has traded hands uncountable times and its current whereabouts are a mystery.

Arcana Check on Ythryn [18]: One of the Spectacular Enclaves of Netheril that came crashing down nearly two millennia ago. Little information has been preserved, and all its secrets were lost in the catastrophe that was Karsus' Folly.

Idrianthe listened with rapt attention to Vellyne's surprisingly forthcoming breakdown of the Brotherhood presence and interest in Ten-Towns, for a greater boon she could not ask. This

Dzaan was an odd one, being that he was either at-large or quite dead, but whether or not his simulacrum was a good or bad person, she couldn't begin to speculate. That was a magic she had little experience with, and far beyond her own kenning.

This Nass Lantomir, likewise, was an unknown element. But Diviners could be truly devastating foes, so long as they had the support to make use of their brilliance and foresight. At the very least, there would be no catching that one by surprise. Idri was not, however, inclined to try that anyway -- even being capable of some stealth, more with her arcane armor, it felt... Dirty. Stabbing someone in the back. A recourse for dire times, then.

And Avarice. Sounded almost as though she fancied herself a dragon with a name like that, and an evoker as cherry on top. Idri couldn't expect to take that sort of power on directly or alone, especially if she gave a more powerful wizard like Vellyne pause. And her temperament was everything already wrong with Icewind Dale, so... At least she fit in.

"There's a... Purity, to transaction," Idri opined. When you deal often with a person, and you come to learn their reliability, then you likewise begin to trust what they offer. It's a valuable position to be in, knowing what you're getting. And if the price is comprehensible and forthright, all the better to weigh the value. I'm no tracker, but that spire already interested me on its own merits. I would be open to sharing my findings with you, when I find the opportunity to pursue it. Although, with so much interest in Ythryn from your guild, I would be unwise to go alone. Hm. Trovus can't leave, nor would I want him to. Perhaps I shall seek mercenary support, or other interested parties with more palatable motivations. Can't imagine any will be easy to find, but you can't fault a lady trying..."

"Thank you," Vellynne said further. "It is in times like these I must remind myself to stay patient. That will be all, Idrianthe. I wish you a good night." With that, Vellynne returned to the book beneath her candlelight.

---

From her own room, not soon after, Idrianthe heard stirring, and the sound of Mercuri taking flight.

Continuing from Chapter 3, post #199 . . .

---

Caer-Konig was a humble lakeside town, built into natural terraces that receded from the shore like an amphitheater. Buried under the snow on the slopes above the last row of houses laid the ruins of the Caer, the town's namesake. Contrary to the Caer of Dineval, this was in a sorry condition, comprising nothing but crumbled, worn walls and pilasters. A ruin, through and through.

There were, however a certain warmth to the town that Caer-Dineval had been missing. Bright, orange lights from windows pierced the dim surroundings, and while there certainly existed more busy towns across the lands, the people here showed signs of life — a woman stood outside her porch, shoveling snow, and down on the ice were fishermen toiling in similar fashion to the Targosi.

But it was not the woman shoveling snow or any innkeep or barkeep who greeted the party and instead someone else entirely, someone lying in a pile of snow on the outskirts. A Dragonborn of silver complexion. He was shirtless, worse for wear, and either dead or unconscious. An empty bottle laid next to him, having accumulated snow from the previous night, just as its owner.

---

Rhydd will know that the town has one tavern (Hook, Line, and Sinker) and one inn (The Northern Lights). The Hook, Line, and Sinker is kept by a jovial Half-Elf named Glen. The Nothern Lights is kept by the Shorard sisters. Both establishments and its proprietors are accommodating and competent, though only the latter offers lodging.

Compared to Caer-Dineval, Caer-Konig was a far more cheerful and welcoming sight.  Though what qualified as cheerful and welcoming in the Ten-Towns was its own thing... Mallory could feel her standards diminish by the day.  But she preferred the state of a lively town with a dead castle over the opposite, no doubt there.

Of course, she also preferred the sight of living people over dead ones, but it hardly seemed like she was going to get her way more often than not.

"Oh gods.  Is he...?" the young noble drew their sled to a hasty halt when she realized there was an apparent corpse in the snow on their approach toward town.  Being passed out half-naked in such dire weather didn't bode well at all for their chances, even if they were a Silver Dragonborn.  She knew their kind was sturdy in the face of cold, much like Farwalker was, but still...
This message was last edited by the player at 21:07, Mon 19 Sept 2022.

Rhydd was not at all displeased to leave the unwelcoming environs of Caer-Dineval behind them. All in all, he was well-pleased to be outside walls, and enjoying some small measure of freedom -- at least by comparison to the way he felt when he was inside the walls of a town . . . any town.

The good gods smiled upon the small party, it seemed, for they suffered no "adventures" on their travels to Caer-Konig, and the fact that Rhydd had been through this area before aided the archer in leading the party unerringly to their goal.

"Well, here we are," he said as the group crested a small rise and had a good view of their destination. "I must say, it already looks much better than Caer-Dineval did."

"I daresay that we will find ourselves much more welcome here than we did in that last place that we showed our backsides to, earlier in the day-- and good riddance to it."

"I can recommend a tavern here -- the 'Hook, Line, and Sinker'. There is a good inn, also -- 'The Northern Lights'."

When Mallory pointed out the Dragonborn who lay in a snow-drift off to the side of their route, Rhydd grunted. "That was a silly thing to do," the archer muttered upon glimpsing the lack of clothing worn by the dead or unconscious person, "even for a Silver Dragonborn."

The archer made his way over to where the Dragonborn lay, and knelt down beside the motionless figure. To be sure, the lack of clothing made it slightly easier to check on the condition of the person than would be the case if he were wearing heavy winter clothing. Of course, offsetting that somewhat was the fact that Rhydd had no formal training in the use of herbs or medicines . . .

---

OOC:

12:15, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 8 using 1d20+2 with rolls of 6.  Medicine Check: Dragonborn.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:08, Tue 20 Sept 2022.

The Dragonborn sat slightly askew up on the snowbank, but had suffered a considerable layer of snow atop his maw, and the rest of his body, for that matter. No matter his condition, he had been laying like this for hours. Taking the pulse on a creature with a hide as thick as a Dragonborn's was no trivial matter. Both neck and wrist were scale-clad, tough and unyielding, which meant the hunstman had to resort to leaning in to feel for the exhalation of his nostrils, since neither the rising and sinking of his breast was perceptible.

And indeed, the Dragonborn was alive. Rhydd received more than he bargained for as the Dragonborn puffed heavily, dispersing dry snow onto Rhydd's face. He roused, slowly opening his bright violet eyes to his surroundings. "Ough . . ." he grumbled as he propped himself upright, rubbing his temples. "Gods above and fiends below . . . what day is it?"

Mallory gingerly leaned and gawked from her spot at the front of the sled while Rhydd checked on the fate of the poor, surely frozen-solid fellow.  Inwardly she was already in the process of thinking over how best to fit the body into the sled's platform, who they might contact to report and leave the remains with, and so forth.  So it came as an immense relief when the Dragonborn popped right up with a bit of prompting.

"Oh, thank goodness..." she sighed, equal parts gladdened and frankly impressed that he'd not somehow expired in the night.  "It's the twentieth--"  she chimed up from her spot.  Though after a glance at the fellow's emptied bottle and his state, she added "--of Uktar." just in case.  In all honesty, she'd had a few evenings of weakness where she'd awoken not knowing the month herself...

Mallory hopped from the sled and made her way over alongside Rhydd with arms out to offer the Dragonborn a helping hand up.  "Come along sir, let's get you up and in proper sorts.  Are you quite alright?  Do you need a lift to your home or a physician?"

"I am freezin'," the Dragonborn responded. He looked down on himself, noticing his absence of any outerwear to cover his torso. "I thought I found my shirt . . ." He accepted the offer to steady himself, though he was large, burly, and despite his condition he very much did not need the assistance. "Thank you kindly. I'd ask you to take me to the tavern, but I've the feelin' that's not the best of suggestions. In which case I don't reckon any of you kind strangers have remedies for a throbbin' head?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:12, Tue 20 Sept 2022.

"My suggestion would be to head for The Northern Lights," Rhydd replied to the Dragonborn.

"And as far as remedies go, I think that you have established that rolling around in the snow with most of your clothes off is not a good one," he observed dryly.

"Three fried eggs with pepper sauce, a fatty cut of fish, and an entire pot of kaeth usually does it for me." Mallory added on her own accord as she lingered at the Dragonborn's side long enough to ensure he could stand on his own before she stepped away.  A quick traipse to the sled let her snatch her blanket from where it was bundled against her bedroll and, unless the Dragonborn tried to shoo away the aid, she swung it about to drape over his broad shoulders.

"Be it for the hangover or hypothermia, the best remedy is getting a proper meal and a warm bed to recover in." With a quick gesture and a faint flicker of arcane energy off her fingertips, the blanket promptly became toasty warm about the Dragonborn's frame.  She flinched and fought back a shiver herself though; she was limited in how much she could enchant and came to the habit of warming her own, Rhydd's, and Khulekani's boots while they traveled.  Thus she chose to break the spell on her own footwear for the sake of the Dragonborn's comfort rather than put her companions out.  "We're only passing through town ourselves for some supplies, but we could drop you off at the inn on our way...?" She was uncertain of he was actually a local with a residence himself, all things considered.

---

Prestidigitation on the blanket to help try and warm up the Dragonborn.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:54, Tue 20 Sept 2022.

The Dragonborn simply smiled as Mallory let him stand on his own two feet. He had no trouble with it. "My, am I fortunate to have had you stumble upon me. More sinister things lurk out there," he cast a glance up the hillside towards nothing in particular. As Mallory's magic set in, the Dragonborn shivered and his attention was pulled back. "Oh, oh, that is quite lovely! I don't s'pose I get to keep this, do I? Much better than my shirt. Graaah . . . All jokes aside, my hardship is my own. I shall accompany you to the Northern Lights, where I shall learn your names and repay you to the best of my ability."

"You can keep it for the hour the charm will last, but after that it's just a blanket.  I'd need a day and a handful of resources in order to make the enchantment permanent, but that is quite doable." Mallory motioned to usher the Dragonborn along to their sled.  At the mention of 'resources', she rubbed her fingertips together around a proverbial coin to make her meaning clear.  "Have a seat then, sir, and point us in the right direction.  The sooner all of us are out of this awful cold and get some proper breakfast, the better.  Caer-Dineval was hardly forthcoming with hospitality and we have a very long day ahead of us."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:10, Wed 21 Sept 2022.

"Ah, I see," the Dragonborn responded as he found seat in the sled. "Perhaps arrangements can be made and 'resources' can be procured, so long as the price is not too steep." Though a Dragonborn's facial expressions were often hard to discern — a more rigid maw and reptilian eyes had that effect — it was clear he became thoughtful from where he sat wrapped in the blanket bestowed him. "Aye, I've heard of the troubles in Caer-Dineval. A shame, really. It once was a town with a welcoming and open folk. It was a town with a heart. But it has now been ripped from their chest . . . Do not be quick to judge the people there. It is solely within the castle that the rot festers."

"It seems that there is no shortage of ill-tidings and troubles these days," Rhydd replied when the Dragonborn spoke of Caer-Dineval, contrasting the way that it once was with the way it was now.

"But as for the here and now, I suggest finding a stable for the beasts, and moving on to The Northern Lights, ourselves."

Turning to the Dragonborn he asked "Are the Shorard women still running the inn?"

"Oh, and I am Rhydd, by the way. Rhydd Maldhon."

The Dragonborn's acquiescence on the matter of money perked Mallory's brow.  A half-naked drunkard who passed out in the snow wasn't the sort she'd imagine as being an investor... of course, she was hardly one to talk.

"Mallory Bonheur of Neverwinter." she introduced herself a beat after Rhydd while she settled back into the driver's seat of the sled and regathered the reins.  A quick snap was all it took to have them cantering along at an easy pace through town, careful of any passerby citizens who might've crossed their path.  "Our stoic companions here are Miss Farwalker and Squire Kumalo.

We're not to stay for too long at the moment, though.  We're on a bit of a search-and-rescue mission in the tundra to the north, so we need to set out after we've enough chance to eat and purchase a few supplies." the young noble gave a droll sigh.  "Should we happen to come back alive after who knows how long, I'd be happy to enchant you a cozy bit of clothing then.  But for now, I'm afraid we don't have a day to wait here first."

“I wouldn’t say I’m stoic. Simply busy, an unworried about his health.” Farwalker was very carefully sewing something together. Which was different from her usual task of carving. She wasn’t exactly the fastest, but she also didn’t really have to worry about needles jabbing into her fingers. They simply weren’t sharp enough. “But yes. These are the kinds of things that happen when a goddess throws a tantrum. Sacrifices, never ending nights, copious amounts of werebeasts.” She made an annoyed noise at that last one. She’d taken the time to pray for guidance, and had gone through the process to rid both her and Rhydd of any lingering curses.

Which left her slightly irritable, as she shouldn’t need to do that in the first place. But that was a rant all on it’s own.

"And I am Trovus," the Dragonborn said, "of nowhere important. Your business here is intriguing — I know of someone you might like to meet." Trovus nodded and responded in the affirmative to Rhydd's question on whether the Shorard sisters were still running the Northern Lights. And when the establishment, a charming two story building by a sloping hill, was reached and entered, it was Allie, the younger one, who greeted the guests.

"Did you fall asleep outside again?" Allie asked from where she leaned across the countertop. She was a slight woman, with kerchief to tie back her thick brown hair. "I swear, Trovus, you have to stop relying on the kindness of strangers." She turned gracefully on her heel and opened the door to the kitchen. "Heat up something for Trovus! He's been out 'patrolling' again."

Trovus grumbled in response. "On and on she goes . . . is it too much to ask for just a mote of gratitude? 'Thank you, Trovus, for all you do for our town. What would become of us in your absence?' Graaah . . ."

Also sat in the taproom of the inn was an aged woman with an eyepatch¹. She sat sipping on tea, reading what appeared to be a meager tome, and she was joined by a Barn Owl perched the back of the chair next to her. Also by her table sat a one-armed Elf, enjoying a midday meal. Trovus nodded a polite 'good morning' their way, though it wasn’t exactly morning. Upon witnessing the entry of the newcomers who followed behind the Dragonborn, the elderly Human cast a curious glance up from her book.

"Any animals?" Allie asked once she'd turned back around. "We can fix you up with some lodging in the stable. And some feed, too. Oh, and kick off properly as you enter, please and thank you."

---

¹ The old woman is familiar to Mallory — it was the wizard she saw when she prodded Dzaan's mind.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:30, Sat 24 Sept 2022.

As was ever the case in Ten-Towns, Mallory was all too eager to get indoors out of the bluster of a frozen morning.  Thankfully it hadn't been snowing too hard compared to past days but there was still good reason to linger at the doorway and dust off proper as they were urged.  Though even as she withdrew her hood Mallory's dark gazed lingered on the elderly woman across the taproom...

---

Deception - masking her recognition
Mallory Bonheur rolled 17 using 1d20+1
Just in case, for the sake of any active or passive Insight that may come her way.

---

It was a momentary pause, as brief as could be.  Just the slightest tension in her shoulders.  The tiniest gleam of recognition in her eyes.  A heartbeat of hesitation before, just like that, the young noble was instantly back to her usual airs.  The walls came back up, the mask was back on, and the dance began anew.

"Good morning to you as well!  We've a horse and Axe Beak outside who could both use a good meal and watering, please, but we'll not be in town for more than a few hours at most, so full stabling isn't necessary.  If you've travel rations for both man and mount alike, we'd certainly like to buy some for the road." she chimed affably before, with a sharp flick of her wrist, all the snow and mud that clung to her tall boots simply evaporated away under a whisk of arcane cleansing.  Mallory turned about to put her back to the room for the sake of tending to her companions as well.  "Come here a moment, let's not go tracking across the floors."

Amid her rather forceful doting, refusing to let Rhydd and Khulekani past her before she'd given them each a few swipes to magically clean their boots and clothes, Mallory leaned in briefly a bit closer between the two of them.  Gloved hands rose to grip their shoulders a moment and whatever traces of frost left lingering on their gear was swept away instantly.  Mallory raised her palms in offering to Farwalker in open request to do the same sort of tidying, though she somehow doubted the Goliath would actually care in the first place.

"Mister Trovus, was it?  Please don't tell me this is something you make a habit of?  Think of your health!  Freezing aside, had you been any deeper in the snow before we found you, you'd have suffocated or been trampled." the Dragonborn might've hoped for gratitude for his efforts, whatever they may have been, but concerned henpecking came from all sides instead.  It came from a place of care, at least.

"I believe rations can be arranged," Allie responded with a smile to Mallory's request. She then went to grab her own shoes off the rack in preparation of tending to the steeds. "And who's this beaut?" she said as she spotted Astre and reached out a hand for him to greet.

"Bah," the Dragonborn complained as he found himself a seat at the table. Not long after did the second Shorard sister swing out of the kitchen with a jug of kaeth and cups at the ready. "If the cold bothered me that much I wouldn't be here in the first place. Besides, someone has to keep watch. There are invisible thieves skulkin' about, would you believe it? Just ask her." He nodded in the direction of the Elf. "Duergar." The kaeth being boiling hot bothered Trovus little. In fact, he simply tossed the entire cup's worth down his gullet in an instant. "Grim buggers. Offed 'emselves when confronted, entire lot of 'em! Right in front of us . . . Is there more kaeth?" He found his answer himself as he reached for the jug to pour himself another cup.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:08, Sat 24 Sept 2022.

Said beaut, laid about Mallory's shoulders like a smug-looking scarf, readily lifted his head at the reach and, with a cursory sniff at Allie's outstretched fingers, tucked to nuzzle at her knuckles with obvious relish for the attention.  Mallory indulged him with a roll of her eyes and a slight lean Allie's way. "This is Astre, and now he's going to be absolutely insufferable with that stroke to his ego."

"Mrrnm" the Tressym chirruped.  Whatever he'd retorted with just got a playful scoff out of Mallory and a hypocritical, if understandable, scritch under his chin for an extra layer of pampering.

Trovus' talk of invisible bandits was just the sort of dazed rambling one might expect out of a town drunk, though the clarification of Duergar promptly shunted any such doubt out of Mallory's consideration.  The mention that they'd apparently all committed suicide together blanched the color out of her cheeks in outright dismay.  "Ghastly..." she grimaced.  "Don't tell me it's yet another batch of cultists?  We've come from Bryn Shander and it's been nothing but talk of cults and zealots for days.  We had quite the harrowing encounter with a tribe of Reghedmen who'd sold themselves to Malar.  And that's just the most recent!"

"Damned if I know," Trovus went on. "I figure they offed 'emselves precisely so we didn't know what they were up to. Sort of admirable, in its own twisted sense. Either they're doin' somethin' pretty damn important or their higher-ups are good at makin' that somethin' sound pretty damn important."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:35, Sat 24 Sept 2022.

Rhydd nodded without comment when Mallory whispered her warning about the woman with the eye-patch. The noblewoman was much more glib than he was, and a magicker in her own right, so his solution was simply to let the friendly wizardess deal with the suspect wizardess -- if, in fact any interaction was necessary. The laconic outdoorsman was perfectly happy staying quiet and keeping his own counsel.

He was unable to make up his mind about this Trovus fellow. Certainly, being willing to stand Watch outdoors at night was a worthy goal, but then again, he was unsure how useful a sentry who got drunk and passed out really was. He resolved to reserve judgment on the Dragonborn for the time being.

Trovus' news about the oddly-behaving Duergar did catch his attention, however, and the archer glanced sharply at the Dragonborn as he was striding across the common room to claim a table . . .
This message was last edited by the player at 15:10, Sun 25 Sept 2022.

---

Rhydd's History on Duergar [6]: Duergar did indeed live underground. Which was why it was curious that they were even brought up at all; never in his life had Rhydd heard tell of Duergar anywhere in Icewind Dale.

"I've never heard of Duergar anywhere in Icewind Dale -- and certainly not above ground." Rhydd replied to Trovus. " I wonder how they came to be here?"

He paused a moment, then continued. "And why would they kill themselves? Why wouldn't they kill you instead -- or at least try? After all, as the old saying goes, dead men tell no tales."

"I've never understood that colloquialism.  Communing with the dead is often easier than with the living: they tend to be far less reserved." Mallory noted as she stepped along after Trovus for the table he'd taken.  Astre continued to lean and stretch out behind her to keep within petting reach of Allie, at least for as long as he dared without toppling right off his companion's shoulder, but was ultimately carried away.

Alas, the days of expecting chairs to be pulled and doors to be opened were far gone.  Mallory helped herself both to a seat aside the Dragonborn and a cup that had been brought with the batch.  She couldn't toss back piping hot kaeth as readily as he did, but she was damn near close when it came to how deeply she drank for the sake of caffeine and warming her belly.

"I've certainly never heard of Duergar traveling the surface either, though I suppose with perpetual nightfall in these parts, it's easier on them." she muttered with her voice partially echoed into her mug.  "We're only a stone's throw from Menzoberranzan, relatively speaking; there are surely entrances into the Underdark scattered throughout the Spine of the World or at the base of Kelvin's Cairn.  The real trouble is whether those Duergar acted on their own or if they were sent by their masters.  The latter holds... very troubling notions."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:54, Tue 27 Sept 2022.

Farwalker had kept with her sewing as she moved, occasionally having to go back and restitch something, but she didn’t seem too bothered by it. She found it relaxing, really. “Indeed. Some dead are in fact overly chatty. Our ship was attacked by ghostly pirates on my way back from Chult some years back. That was a strange day.” She frowned at the recollection then let out a short laugh with a shake of her head.

She stopped her project long enough to set her pack down and begin the process of chair testing. She hated breaking chairs. Sure, she could fix them, but it was just annoying in general. “Just add it to the pile of other troubling news. It’s becoming less troubling, and more expected lately.”

"Well, we didn't happen to have a Priest or Shaman with us," Trovus said as he reached to pour himself another cup of kaeth. Cari would soon have to come out with a new batch with how hot a commodity it proved. "But you're welcome to make the trip back to their cave if you'd like a go at it."

"One might often find," the woman with the eyepatch interjected in between sips of her tea, "that the dead lose a certain coherence upon their passing. Furthermore, inflicting pain upon a ghost is a tedious affair. Duergar, similarly to the Drow, have a reputation of treating their prisoners poorly — mayhap they project that same trait unto us surface dwellers and thus feared capture more than death."

"So, where're you headed?" Allie nosily inquired upon her return. "I don't know if anyone's told you, but Caer-Konig is pretty much as far north as you come. Unless you're to visit the Dwarves in Kelvin's Cairn, I suppose."

"Duergar, similarly to the Drow, have a reputation of treating their prisoners poorly — mayhap they project that same trait unto us surface dwellers and thus feared capture more than death."

"The only reasons I could imagine a whole group would kill themselves is because they're a cult or they have a secret they couldn't possibly part with.  And in the latter, they'd simply kill the ones they outnumbered instead." Mallory agreed on Rhydd's take of the matter; if they had the superior numbers, why not save suicide for a last ditch effort?  "No, if it's Duergar we're talking about, I'm more concerned they weren't given a choice in deciding when they would kill themselves."

To that, Mallory raised the back of her wrist to her lips and wiggled her fingers about beneath her chin in a somewhat silly-looking gesture, apparently in reference to something.  One quickly abandoned in pursuit of drinking more kaeth though.  "I don't suppose you preserved the bodies or their equipment, did you Mister Trovus?  It's hardly any of our business, but you've gone and sparked my curiosity about trying to dredge up clues."

Allie's interjection as she returned inside from tending to the animals was a jolt away from such grim conversation, though Mallory wasn't unhappy for it.  If they were to have breakfast soon she didn't want to be chatting on doom and gloom over a meal.  "You know, we're not entirely certain.  We're on a rescue mission looking for some missing folk from Bryn Shander." she explained as she shifted her cup to one side.  A gesture waved across the tabletop as, with a shimmer in the air akin a heat mirage, Mallory conjured up demonstrative illusions of their quarries.  The others in her group had often seen her use simple handheld illusions as examples but this time was different; the illusions manifested onto the tabletop as a row of individuals about a foot tall each and of such precise detail they seemed like exceptionally carved figurines.  The three missing adventurers, both known forms of Sephek Kaltro, and Arkemos all stood side-by-side in a remarkably realistic rendering much more pristine than her usual conjurations.

"It seems various people have gone missing from the area as of late and we're tracking them down.  Found a few the other day; they'd been captured by Reghedmen to the south and only one poor fellow had survived.  We're still following the trail of the others; a trio of mercenaries allegedly set out from here, so the plan was to scout the tundra to see if there's any trace to be found.  I was thinking we might start east by the lakeside since it's the nearest landmark." she indicated the three adventurers; a Human, Dwarf, and Halfling.  Her hand motioned in gesture next to the two forms of Kaltro and the hooded Arkemos, with his raven perched on his shoulder.  "These gentlemen are a different matter.  Apparently there was a murder in Targos and the sheriff believes they might know something, as they left town on the night of.  I don't suppose anyone here has seen these varied folk of late?"

---

Mallory invokes Misty Visions - Silent Image to cast her illusion.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:27, Sun 02 Oct 2022.

And in the latter, they'd simply kill the ones they outnumbered instead.
"Grah, believe you me, they tried that as well," Trovus grumbled. "There weren't more than five of 'em when we found 'em in their wee keep in the mountains. Grew to tremendous sizes at first, then when they were beat — much thanks to the prowess of that one over there," he nodded in the direction of the one-armed Elf, "I gave 'em the option to surrender without further bloodshed. Instead, they decided to pull out dirks and slit their throats. Had I known they would stoop to such lunacy, I'd just 'ave come crashin' down with full force and we would've had some live ones to answer for 'emselves. Mrhm. We gave the bodies and place a search, but there weren't anythin' beside basic supplies and what they'd stolen. We did manage to retrieve Bertha and Holly, but they'd killed and cooked poor Maura . . ."

"Our Rothé that went missing," Allie clarified on her way into the kitchen. "And those three were here some time back." She pointed to the three conjured adventurers — the Dwarf, the Halfling, and the Reghedman. "They went missing? That's terrible. They were saying something about a spire, if that helps at all."

"You raise an interesting hypothesis," the old eyepatched woman said, disregarding much of the conversation matter at hand in favor of Mallory's cult comments, "one that shouldn't be readily dismissed. I did wonder upon their motivations myself. A curious case, irregardless." She looked up thoughtfully, as if bouncing the proposed idea in her head.

"Oh, and some Chardalyn," Trovus snapped his fingers, then glanced at the woman and the Elf. "Did I have that right? 'Chardalyn'?"

Mallory rather visibly paled in outright grimace at the mention of names and one having been cooked... though her shoulders slumped in relief when they were revealed to simply be beasts.  That the Lycanthropic Reghedmen further south had turned to cannibalism was a nightmare in and of itself; she wasn't sure she could handle finding the same horror further north among Duergar as well.

"You raise an interesting hypothesis, one that shouldn't be readily dismissed..."

"I'd rather it remain speculation than ever meet one of those abominations in the flesh.  The very idea they lurk within the Underdark is bad enough." the young noble shuddered at the very thought despite having been the one to propose it in the first place.  Her memory flickered back to the sundered ship they'd witnessed adrift in the Astral Sea through the barrier of her pocket space; that was as near as she would dare come, if she could help it.

"Oh, and some Chardalyn.  Did I have that right? 'Chardalyn'?"

That, in particular, sparked a look of obvious recognition and curiosity from Mallory.  Her gaze followed over to the Elf, interest firmly piqued.

Having given Trovus a polite nod when he walked in, Idri spent the next few minutes picking at her meal while her pointed ears remained perked and alert to the conversation happening. These folks were adventurers, that would have been obvious even if it weren't spelled out. Fine belongings, eclectic mix of personages and cultural backgrounds, the temperament to help Trovus when they saw him passed out instead of checking his pockets then lighting out, it all spoke to the strangers' truth.

And they weren't in town long, that meant she had to act fast. If only--

Idri had held her tongue when Mallory conjured visions of strangers. Well, mostly strangers. One she knew, and that worried her. Her gaze moved only briefly from her bowl to Vellyne when she noticed, but saw little recognition in her face. That boded perhaps well, perhaps not...

It was only as the conversation proceeded and their reactions to the duergar arose that Idri's hackles dropped. These ones weren't squeamish -- well, maybe the mage -- but they weren't nearly callous enough to be cultists.

"Did I have that right? 'Chardalyn'?"

"In fact, you did," Idrianthe answered, her voice low and level. With an unnecessary daub to her lips with a clean rag from her work apron, the elf stood from her seat and walked closer to the table of adventurers. Still dressed in a smithing apron and sooty clothes from the "morning" of work, insofar as morning existed in the Dale, Idrianthe offered a quarter-bow to the group. "I can only speculate why duergar would want chardalyn, but it exists in no small abundance around this region. Absolutely marvelous mineral, finicky and brittle until you get it roaring hot -- then sturdy as diamond with none of the complications of carbon. And that doesn't begin to touch on the magical potential and its more unique properties." She deliberately left the information hanging, hoping she might lure them in with curiosity. Interested adventurers are hirable adventurers, she reminded herself.

"And this one," she pointed to the image of Arkemos with her one hand, muscles corded and skin scarred in a way few of her people often displayed. "I crossed paths with him at Caer-Dineval, on... I believe the 7th? Give or take a day; time is difficult to measure by mundane means, as I'm sure you're all aware."

Quite an odd assortment of fellows to be found, Mallory mulled.  A sheriff or local do-gooder fond of drink, friendly innkeeps, and a scarred woman she could only assume was the local smithy by appearance.  Rather better trained than the average horse shoe-and-nail maker, however, which was a lovely surprise.  Though the woman with the eye-patch remained a question Mallory was uncertain she truly wanted an answer to... at least, not if it wasn't on her own terms.

"Caer-Dineval over a tenday ago?  Hmn..." Arkemos' inclusion in the roster had been something of a red herring by her own intent, but she ended up with more than expected by happenstance.  The questionable state of things at Caer-Dineval's castle potentially took on a whole new angle if a conspiring cultist like Arkemos had been hanging around there recently.

"As for chardalyn, it is quite the remarkable little mineral.  We actually happened across a sample out between Targos and Bryn Shander, though I'm not sure if it's from here or was dropped from a merchant's wagon.  The roads have been terribly treacherous to say the least.  I've been mulling over how best to make use of it with my own enchantments."  Thieving Duergar fanatics, collections of magically-attuned stones, the Underdark... it sounded more and more like things were somehow connected and that didn't bode well at all.  For one who could see the future as she could, uncertainty and obfuscated situations rankled Mallory in an ever so unpleasant manner.

A sudden shift in mental gears had the young woman give a quick shake of her head as she rose out her seat.  "I'm terribly sorry; here we all are going on like this and we've not even given our names.  Traveling north has been utter ruin on my sense of etiquette." They certainly were an eclectic bunch of all sorts; Mallory in particular had a knack for standing out in her well-curated appearance, tailored red coat, and courtly bearing that spoke of a finer upbringing than most.  Doubly so as she actually gave a curtsy in greeting.  "Lady Mallory Bonheur --."

"Mrrrlp." the Tressym laid about her shoulders chirped in, even if he didn't bother to lift his head from his lazy drape.

"-- and Astre, of Neverwinter."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:06, Wed 05 Oct 2022.

Rhydd's gaze was drawn to the platinum-haired female Elf. Not only was her garb unexpected . . . well, from the archer's point of view, any way -- although if pressed, he would admit that there must be craftsmen (and -women) and smiths amongst the Elves, just as there were amongst the Dwarves and Humans. It was more that he did generally not associate Elves with that sort of work.

The other thing that caught his eye -- and earned his immediate respect -- was that the Elf was missing a goodly portion of her right arm. In his mind that marked her as a warrior, although upon giving it a little thought he concluded that it could have been a result of some sort of unfortunate accident -- mayhap forge-related, mayhap not.

Once the outdoorsman had come inside, he had removed his heavy winter jacket and draped it across the back of a handy chair. As he peeled off his outer clothing, he listened as Lady Mallory and the light-haired Elf chatted about some mineral that he had never heard of before -- at least not by the name that they were using -- and the one who answered to "Arkemos".

Rhydd chuckled as Astre's insistent little chirp saw to it that he was included in Mallory's introduction. The archer smiled a thin smile, and added "Rhydd. Rhydd Maldon."

After a short pause, he made a wide circular motion with one of his hands and added "From . . . out there. Around."

“Quite useful for jewellery. Do not forget I am a jeweller. Though, admittedly, I mostly make trinkets.” Farwalker placed her last stitch and let the cloth unfurl, revealing a beautifully embroider cloak, with a rather fetching white fox-fur lining around the hood. “Rhydd. This is for you.” She added without preamble, standing and moving forward to hold out the cloak for his perusal. She’d been going back and forth between her two projects the past while, and worked with slow almost mechanical efficiency on both. “It’s reversible.” She shifted the cloak to show the interior, which was a quilted layer of whites and greys. The initial outer layer was similar to in pattern to her own clothing, just in more earthy tones. “With someone knowledgeable, and the right materials, I should be able to stitch proper magics into it. But for now, it should help obscure your figure in the snow.”

Once she had that handed over, she dusted off her hands and made her way back to sit and rummage about in her pack for her next project. And given the size of said pack, there was much rummaging to be had. “I am known as Farwalker. I lived here, once some time ago. I have returned in an attempt to remove the Frostmaiden’s influence on the land.” She said it simply, like all it would take was a bit of hard work and maybe a touch of elbow grease. Like the Frostmaiden was a particularly stubborn bit of carbonised food at the bottom of a pot.

It’s a nice cloak.

Today: Farwalker rolled 24 using 1d20+6.  Making a fancy cloak.

In reply to Farwalker (msg # 50):

It took quite a lot to surprise Rhydd these days, for the man had seen a lot and experienced a fair amount as well. But given the outdoorman's expression, Farwalker's thoughtful gift was clearly a surprise.

"It's . . . perfect," he said as he accepted the cloak that she had made for him. "When I am not moving, it will render me nearly invisible."

What happened next was mayhap also something of a surprise as the usually stoical archer stepped over and hugged the big Goliath.

"Thank you," he said, reverting back his usual laconic self. But his smile spoke volumes.

---

OOC: Woot! A 24 is a very nice cloak, indeed.

"Vellynne," the old woman spoke simply. "Wizard. My Spirit companion is called Mercuri." The Barn Owl flapped its wings in response, and Vellynne exchanged a communicative glance with Idrianthe. A silent agreement. "Before you depart, I would like to discuss a proposition I have for you. A job offer, which I believe will coincide with your rescue mission."

"I nearly forgot!" Trovus interjected. "Forgive me — allow me to buy your meals. Any care shown to the animals will also be at my expense. Allie?"

The innkeeper veered her head out the kitchen. "You got it. Has it ever occurred to you that you are too charitable with our funds, Trovus? Not that sis and I are complaining in this particular instance."

"Grah!" came the reply. "Money is meant to be spent!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:32, Fri 07 Oct 2022.

"I've been mulling over how best to make use of it with my own enchantments."

"Besides the most obvious value as a waterproof alternative to spell scrolls, I believe the substance could serve well as an alloying or, perhaps, ornamental material, to coax magic into metal which would otherwise resist." Idri offered without hesitation, having been mulling the same considerations over for a time.

The one-armed elvensmith offered a half-bow, left hand over her heart, after the adventurers introduced themselves. She wore no small smile to see the warmth between Rhydd and Farwalker, eyes crinkling and dimples expressed in the hollows of her scarred cheeks.

"A pleasure to make the acquaintance of you all, and may I offer the best of wishes for your noble quest, Farwalker.

"I am Idrianthe of House Mar, long since gone and forgotten besides myself. I hail from..." A self-derisive chuckle rolled from her like the crackling of a low hearth, and she shot a conspiratorial glance to Rhydd. "Citadel Adbar, originally, but I have not called it home for near two centuries. One might say that I, too, am a citizen of the great land of Out There-Around. Visitors should be sure to visit our capital, Thereabouts, and that most legendary of destination locations: Yonder."

The elf glanced over her shoulder when Vellyne introduced herself, pointed to the one-eyed matron, then tucked her fist into her hip. "She beat me to it."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:14, Fri 07 Oct 2022.

"I believe the substance could serve well as an alloying or, perhaps, ornamental material, to coax magic into metal which would otherwise resist."

"For higher tier enchantments where the cost of conductive gold becomes an obstacle, perhaps, or when the medium is a particular resistant material.  But the conditions under which chardalyn must be rendered are far too much for lesser--" the pique of conversation in a shared field was immediate and overt as Mallory set to chattering.  Rhydd would surely recognize it from how Mallory and Dannika would just go on and on and on all night long if given half a chance.  The allure of a peer and colleague was ever-tempting, let alone when they became a genuine rarity in such rough areas as Icewind Dale.

She was sidelined from such talk, however, when Farwalker presented Rhydd with her gift.  The Goliath's skill and generosity was on full display, as ever, though the way Rhydd expressed his own gratitude was what really gave Mallory a pause.  One hand reached for her satchel slung at her hip but halted in the motion; she grew pensive before, with a set of her jaw as if she'd made a decision with herself, left well enough alone.

"Forgive me — allow me to buy your meals. Any care shown to the animals will also be at my expense. Allie?"

That all brought the young noble back into the moment as she lifted her dark eyes to the Dragonborn and innkeepers alike.  "That's very kind of you to offer, but we couldn't possibly accept.  Times are hard here in Ten-Towns, so it's better coin flows into your coffers than from." she gently insisted.  "I'll settle our fee, please."

The matter of money came in many forms.  It was no real surprise when Vellynne extended offer of work, given where they were headed.  With what Mallory knew and kept to herself, she could readily imagine what sort of task the elderly mage was about to extend.  But an upbringing among noble courts made her especially good at playing coy and looking guileless.  "Well, fair coin for fair work is another matter, I suppose.  We can't make any promises, but I'm always wiling to entertain an offer..." she glanced among her gathered companions to see if they shared the same opinion.

---

Do the names Vellynne or House Mar ring any historical bells to Mallory on an academic level?

She hadn’t been all that surprised, and had hugged the man back. She was, perhaps unsurprisingly from a cleric of Sune, a very good hugger. Even if she wore mail like it was an undershirt. “You are quite welcome.”

After rummaging in her bag for a while, she pulled a series of small pieces of bone out of her bag, large chips she’d taken off of even larger pieces. It seemed she was going for more delicate work this time. For once, she had her large chest open next to her, and pulled one tool out, only to replace it and pull a different one out shortly after. She did look up from her work long enough to quirk an eyebrow at the teasing of a job offer. “A dramatic pull for attention. I approve of the method. Please, speak of your request.” It was hard to tell if she was actually looking up, or if she’d just tilted her head. Whichever it was, a contented smile was in place as her fingers kept moving.

"I'll settle our fee, please."
"Then so be it," Trovus responded, clutching his chest theatrically. "Though it pains me to have my offer refused!"

“A dramatic pull for attention. I approve of the method. Please, speak of your request.”
"Hmm," Vellynne gently chuckled as she smiled at the Goliath's statement, "I suppose now is as good time as any." She shut her book and pointedly pushed it aside. "You are headed to the lost Spire of Netheril. Whether on your own accord or on someone else's I'm not sure, but that is your secret to reveal or keep. I have a shared interest in having the spire explored and its mysteries uncovered.

"You will find the spire a few leagues to the east. I can mark its exact location on the map before you set out. Curiously, it is buried somewhere in a glacier, presumably the Reghed or the Endless Ice Sea, though it does not seem that way initially — you will reach it approximately halfway between here and the Reghed, long before any glacier is encountered. You must approach it from a specific direction or you will shoot right past. If you have a compass, I implore you to use it and take note of its behavior." She folded her hands in her lap as she continued calmly. "The tower can be accessed by a tunnel carved by past scavengers. You will likely encounter a group of Bugbears who have taken up residence in the upper levels. They should be the least of the perils the spire will present you.

"If you can bring me back information on Ythryn, the Netheril enclave the spire broke from, I am able to make your journey well worth your efforts."

---

House Mar: Idrianthe can feel free to correct me, but it is a family that belongs centuries in the past and was not significant enough to survive in the history books.

Vellynne: Mallory knows of no renowned Wizard with the name. Nor is it too uncommon a given name for Humans in the Northwestern parts of Faerûn, though a bit dated. Point is, there could likely be several Wizards walking around with the name Vellynne.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:25, Sat 08 Oct 2022.

Mallory spared Trovus a soft laugh and well-meaning smile.  The offer alone was enough for her, though the offer that came from Vellynne was a whole other matter.  Such a forthright explanation of what laid ahead didn't settle easily on her at all.

"You could hurl a rock in any direction and hit a Netherese ruin.  Along with good odds the rock is part of a whole other ruin itself, given how abundantly they're scattered about the realm." she bore a droll tone as she set her hands to her hips.  "As it happens, our lead on the whereabouts of the missing mercenaries does say they were hired to go looking for such a ruin.  It sounds as if you're especially well-informed as to the state of this particular Spire already, so what do you really need us there for?"

---

Does Ythryn ping Mallory's recollection?

History or Arcana - same +7 modifier, so whichever stat feels more relevant
Mallory Bonheur rolled 20 using 1d20+7

Also, does the description of where the Spire is located match Mallory's recollection of what she pulled from the Simulacrum's memories?

"True. And many are unremarkable. This one, however, is not, owing to the extremities of the magic practiced by its parent city," Vellynne explained. "And I need you there precisely because of this. It is far too dangerous a delve for one such as myself. I have done what I can to gather as much information as I could, but there's more lurking deeper within. I suspect far more. The mercenaries you speak of were hired by a rival of mine. Though his was a rash decision, it is entirely possible you will share their fate, whatever it may have been."

---

Mallory's Arcana on Ythryn [20]: Yhtryn. The Necropolis. Not too much is known about it, much due to its tomes being lost to the crash. Interestingly, it is speculated its fall came before the cataclysm that doomed the rest of Netheril.

"A personal rival or a rival by way of organizations?" Mallory prodded in with a tone of reasonable caution.  She gestured back at the lingering illusions of the adventurers she'd conjured up.  "I do like to know who I'm potentially working with, after all.  There are plenty of well-connected interests who go sorting around for Netherese artifacts who don't like to be interfered with.  Our aim is to find these poor missing souls, not to put ourselves into the crossfire between factions.  What assurances can you offer that the rival who hired these three won't cause trouble for us?"

Dark, tired eyes shifted to Idrianthe as well as she appraised the Elf with a new sense of speculation behind her gaze.  "And you, Miss Mar?  What's your part in this expedition?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:36, Sat 08 Oct 2022.

"A little bit of both," Vellynne answered after taking some time to think her response through. "He may intervene, if he is still capable, which is why I am paying you. I am affiliated with the Arcane Brotherhood, though my motivations and ends are solely my own. Now, since I have been generous enough to afford you this information along with what I have discovered of the spire already, I would like you to tell me if you seek it at the behest of my rival. If you are, matters become significantly more complicated."

"My interest is mainly academic," Idri explained to Mallory's question. "A spire of Netheril could hold great and wonderful knowledge about magic, history, the Dale, and much else. Most of the interested parties would destroy or jealously hoard the findings there, the Brotherhood included," she spared Vellyne an apologetic glance. "And perhaps put its secrets to dark ends. As a historian and a scholar, I have a moral and personal obligation to protect such lost history and bring it to the people, if I can."

---

House Mar: Correct, long gone and forgotten.

As Veyllynne had, Mallory too had a few moments to quietly chew on the information yielded before she chose to reply.  "As I said before, our search is for the lost mercenaries, not the Spire.  We've not been hired by anyone, rival or otherwise.  Quite the opposite, really." she let her gaze drift to the illusory figures of the three adventurers and heaved a deep sigh.  "We learned these three had been sent out into the tundra and had not been heard from since.  The Speaker of Bryn Shander refuses to lift a finger in their aid and is content to leave them to whatever fate has befallen them.

It's a decision made of base pragmatism.  For that, I cannot fault her.  Nor can I abide by it.  I refuse to leave innocent lives to suffer if there's anything I may do about it."  Certainly a lofty sort of ideal to spout.  But the fact that they'd all spared Trovus such kindness and she'd acted in the interests of strangers even when it would cost her money spoke well to how readily Mallory truly held her convictions close.  "My companions have agreed to join me in this endeavor and, for that, I'm truly grateful.  If this trio yet live, we'll bring them back to safety.  And if they've already succumb then we'll lay them to rest properly.  They may be strangers to us but they do not deserve to be forgotten in the wilderness."

Her hopes of finding the three adventurers still alive had honestly diminished as they traveled through Ten-Towns.  Once she realized how long it had been since they'd set out into the snow and just how many dangers lurked afield, Mallory had already begun to brace herself to the idea that they would be recovering corpses.  She held out hope though; Adventurers were known to be resourceful, hardy sorts.  If they had indeed made it to the Spire and gotten inside, they might have been able to shelter themselves.  Whether that meant they'd already dealt with the Bugbears or such Goblinoids had moved in after the fact was a whole other issue...

"So, you're affiliated with the Brotherhood, have potential unknown rivals increasing the already substantial risk of this endeavor, and surely require exclusivity when it comes to whatever is found regarding the Spire." the young noble summarized as she pulled her chair and mug over to Vellynne's table, sat down, and politely folded her hands in prim poise.  The airs of a merchant coming to a contract signing were unmistakable and altogether threatening in their own special way for anyone who hoped to keep their purse heavy.  "With all these considerable factors in mind, what precisely are you offering in pay for our varied expertise?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:20, Sat 08 Oct 2022.

Vellynne remained stoic throughout Mallory's explanation on motivation, fixed on her with her one good eye. "Admirable. I, myself, share the ambition of your Goliath friend — I am seeking the end to this everlasting winter, for the benefits of the people here."

"As for pay, it would ultimately depend on the information you can get me," she continued. "Bring me tomes, records, descriptions of artifacts, anything you can get your hands on. It is ultimately information on Ythryn I seek, not the spire itself. I can pay you in diamonds. Bring me scraps, or withhold information from me, and I will hand you a pittance comparatively. Since you are set on undertaking this expedition regardless, I suggest you keep my offer in mind and then we can handle the intricacies of the exchange upon your return. I am giving you much better odds than the trio you seek — knowing my colleague, he likely downplayed the dangers lying ahead to avoid a larger fee for their services. I hope you find them. I doubt they deserved this fate."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:29, Sat 08 Oct 2022.

In an earlier conversation with Sheriff Markham, Mallory had faltered enough in her etiquette to outright laugh aloud at an ill-informed suggestion of his.  The memory of it galled her to the point that she was certain to never slip up like that again, but Vellynne's offer - such as it was - came close to testing her self-control.  Instead the elder would find herself on the receiving end of a long, quiet stare mirrored by Astre as the Tressym lifted his head to double the silent judgement being levied her way.

"I understand that roving mercenaries and adventurers may throw themselves to Tymora's whimsies for its own sake, but I'm a merchant born and a merchant raised.  I don't operate on vague assurances of possible payments." Mallory drummed the edges of her thumbs together while Astre rested his head once more.

"I was recently contracted by a researcher from Candlekeep to aid in her study of Chwinga in this region.  She put up not only gold, but useful equipment--" she nodded over her shoulder to where her Lantern Rod hung latched at the strap of her satchel; both the shaft and lantern affixed to its end alike bore familiar signs of enchantment etched into their surface.  "--and we brought her a living specimen within a handful of days.  I can't imagine you've come this far empty-handed or ill-equipped; surely a wizard of the Arcane Brotherhood can put something forward as collateral when you're asking us to risk our lives for the sake of your research?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:40, Sun 09 Oct 2022.

Similarly, Vellynne appeared impatient with Mallory's suggestion. Her otherwise stoic face furled into a downright scowl. "Are you slow, girl? I am not asking you to risk your lives for the sake of my research. You choose to do so independent of my prompting. I am simply asking that you share your findings with me upon your return, for which I will pay you handsomely. The transaction naturally comes later in this scenario. But if you are so insistent on upfront pay, I can throw you some coinage. Two hundred gold. More than what I would consider fair. Keep in mind I have already shared my initial research with you, which I could have chosen not to do. Do not think I hold no risk in our agreement — you speak to lofty ideals, but I have only just met you. It is preposterous to ask me to shell out large sums for the mere possibility of your cooperation when we can both guarantee our mutual benefit at a later point in time."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:06, Sun 09 Oct 2022.

Fifty gold apiece was a slim fee by Mallory's own count, though it would at least help recoup the cost of supplies.  There were other things she was tempted to ask on but chose to hold her tongue on that regard; no need to press her luck when she'd already proven a knack for being a bother to elderly women throughout the Ten-Towns.  Getting Vellynne to agree to any sum was itself of more value in the moment anyway, as it at least offered assurance there was indeed concrete profit rather than hollow promises.

"Very well.  Two-hundred gold as an assurance of exclusivity, with further individual negotiations based on performance." she repeated, in summary, as she shuffled a hand to her pack to withdraw her jeweled pen and a sheaf of parchment from amid her writing supplies.  "A simple enough contract and receipt to draft.  I trust you carry a signet?"

---

Just fluff for the sake of officiating things.  Mallory is using her Emerald Pen as the item description says it can write normally without needing ink, rather than just casting Illusory Script.

---

While she wrote, a glance bounced up from the paper to Vellynne and Idri in turn.  "I am curious about your rival in this matter though.  As we've traveled through Ten-Towns, we've heard talk of members of the Arcane Brotherhood and all sorts of strangeness, so it's possible we might've caught something of interest." While she considered the information about the Spire Vellynne offered as necessary part-and-parcel with the job, rather than a boon granted, she felt it better to extend a branch rather than leave the negotiation table with a strained agreement.  "Do you have any particular questions?  Never hurts to ask."

"No, we operate on vague possibilities of unknown persons still possibly being alive after being missing for some time." The large woman added dryly, her quiet voice still rumbling and loud in the room. Finished with one link of her bone, she tilted her head up again, pearlescent eyes focusing on Vellynne. "Setting aside everything else for the moment," She continued, not at all worrying about any conversations she was pushing her way into, "You said you had diamonds. Would it be possible for me to look at them with the intent to purchase?" She'd even set her tools down, carefully of course, so she could give the woman her full attention.

"I would very much like to have some on hand. Their price is minuscule compared to the life they will save." She sounded entirely certain that it would be used to save someone's life some day, she just wasn't certain about who or when that would happen.

Vellynne sighed. "I find it all unnecessary when our arrangement is this sound. But very well. I shall fetch my ring. I am not too interested in purchasing exclusivity, much because I realize it is a tall ask, and it would presumably violate the tenets of my Elvish acquaintance who will be joining you. Of course, I would urge you not to share any of it with my rivals within my organization — they are an ill sort with ill intents. And resourceful on top, unfortunately. Consider my affiliation one out of absolute necessity." Her chair creaked as she pushed it into the table once she stood. "The one who has troubled me most recently, and the one who likely hired your mercenaries, is called Dzaan. A Red Wizard of Thay. Foiling him has been a priority of mine, though I speculate he may recently have done my work for me."

It was when the Goliath raised her request that she hesitated. Then she cast a glance around the room, finding Trovus and Idrianthe in her presence. "I can bring them down." Mercuri joined her on her shoulder as she went to climb the stairs.

---

Vellynne Insight into Farwalker's (and by extension, the party's) motivations [10]: If they were trying to rob her, it would be foolish to attempt it here.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:55, Sun 09 Oct 2022.

"No, we operate on vague possibilities of unknown persons still possibly being alive after being missing for some time."

"Perhaps this time we won't cross paths with Arveiaturace and Meltharond again.  Once in a lifetime is plenty for me." Mallory quipped back in a similar deadpan.

---

"Of course, I would urge you not to share any of it with my rivals within my organization — they are an ill sort with ill intents. And resourceful on top, unfortunately. Consider my affiliation one out of absolute necessity."

Insight check on that last part in particular, please
Mallory Bonheur rolled 17 using 1d20-1

---

"The one who has troubled me most recently, and the one who likely hired your mercenaries, is called Dzaan. A Red Wizard of Thay. Foiling him has been a priority of mine, though I speculate he may recently have done my work for me."

"How do you mean?" she asked as she set aside her pen for a moment.  Mallory loosened the bindings of her long glove and bit the fingertip to help her slip out of it with a tug.  Loathe as she was to bare any more skin than necessary in such bitter cold, even in the relative comfort of the great indoors.  On her middle finger rested a fine platinum ring with a flat face that sported a well-inlaid flower motif - lily of the valley - which took quite well to a bit of rubbing from her pen's tip.  Laden with ink, she pressed it flat to the receipt to mark it with her own personal signet.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:07, Sun 09 Oct 2022.

Vellynne sat back down, having brought her ring, a bottle of ink, and a piece of cloth to wad it. She two signets to choose from, and let two into view for Mallory. The first was unmistakably that of the Arcane Brotherhood, bearing a silhouette of the Host Tower of Luskan. The second, however, was a branch of ivy leaves bearing a Thorass motto 'Resonat resonat'*. It was this she dabbed and stamped.

"Dzaan had a compulsion to be in two places at once, which he achieved by means of a Simulacrum spell. One Dzaan met an untimely demise in Easthaven, though I have not yet devised if it was the original or the copy," she explained as she cleaned the ring. "In the case of the former his agency is severely reduced. Over time, the Simulacrum will inevitably deteriorate."

"I do have one question for you," she continued, carefully placing a fine pouch on the table and undoing its lace. Within were a handful of small diamonds. She gestured for Farwalker to inspect them at her own leisure. "I take it you passed through Caer-Dineval on the way here? Did you visit the keep?"

---

*History or Arcana Check.

---

Point of clarification
Quality diamonds, which these are, are valued at 200 gp per carat. Farwalker can count in the excess of two dozen diamonds in the pouch, most between 1/4-2 carats, with a couple of outliers clocking in at 3.

In reply to Idrianthe Mar (msg # 53):

Rhydd stepped back from Farwalker, as if already wishing to distance himself from the softer emotions that he had just revealed.

He smiled at the one-armed Elf who built upon the introduction that he himself had given, adding There and Yonder to realm to which they had both alluded.

He was surprised to hear Idrianthe name Citadel Adbar as her place of origin. He suspected that, like most Elves, she most likely came of age in some nameless (well, to Humans, any way) place out in the trackless Wilds -- mayhap still settled by her people, or mayhap not. But he reasoned that her spending a sizeable amount of time in a reknowned Dwarven redoubt might well explain her affinity for smithing. Plus, it hinted that there was likely an interesting tale to be told -- although whether it would be still remained to be seen.

Without really giving it a great deal of thought, Rhydd strolled over to the table where the Elven smith sat. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked.

"If you would prefer to maintain your personal space, 'twill not offend me. Those of us from Out-There-Around understand such things. Oft-times, I find myself wishing for more space than I have at that particular point in time."

History or Arcana, same modifier.  If they would yield different fields of information in this case, I'd go for Arcana.
Mallory Bonheur rolled 10 using 1d20+7
Straight up the middle.

I'm weighing whether to have Mallory reveal more about the Simulacrum, but that depends on the results of her earlier Insight Check.  I want to figure out whether she believes Vellynne's claim of association-by-necessity.

---

Oh, right. Forgot to cover that, my bad. Thanks for reminding me.

Mallory's Insight into Vellynne's claims on her Brotherhood association [17]: There's nothing indicating she's being untruthful.

Mallory's Arcana into Vellynne's signet ring [10]: It took no genius realize that this was the Harpell heirloom, a house of Wizards familiar to any and all scholars on the Sword Coast. They resided in Longsaddle in the Ivy Mansion, bringing prestige to an otherwise small and unremarkable hamlet. Their reputation was a good one, at least when it came to morality. Their aptitude was another matter.
This message was last updated by the GM at 18:18, Sun 09 Oct 2022.

"We've heard that rumor as well; that Dzaan was burned at the stake in Easthaven some time ago." Mallory agreed.  "Though to be perfectly honest, I can't give it much merit.  The idea of a Red Wizard falling as easily as that?  I'm personally a believer of the old adage: 'If you kill a Wizard easily, you didn't really kill them'."

As the various diamonds were scattered out across the tabletop, Mallory paid them little mind.  Astre was another matter.  The gentle clatter and sparkling gleam of small, easily-batted-around gems instantly caught his eyes as he tensed and wiggled, ready to pounce right before Mallory palmed his face again.  "Don't." she warned squarely.  For as much as she adored Astre, his outraged pout at being denied didn't move her.

"I take it you passed through Caer-Dineval on the way here? Did you visit the keep?"

"We avoided the castle, despite the innkeeper being quite adamant we go straight there.  The whole thing smelled suspicious and it appears there's something afoot when it comes to the allegedly ill Speaker's alleged new caretakers." she explained as she offered Vellynne her pen and tapped at different spots on the parchment.  "Not sure what, exactly -- sign here and here, please -- though to be honest, I'm rather curious.  But we couldn't spare the time from our search.  Whatever is happening there has apparently been going on for some weeks now, so it seems stable if amiss."

Mallory took a moment to quench her voice and ruminate on her own thoughts with a sip of kaeth.  "Another curiosity; what would it mean for you and your endeavors if the likes of Dzaan and others of the Brotherhood truly were out of the picture?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:05, Sun 09 Oct 2022.

She signed 'Vellynne Harpell'. "That would be a great boon," she said. While tending to the receipt, she kept a close eye on any hands that found their way to the pouch of diamonds — snatching one and tucking it into a pocket would be a quick affair. "It would mean I can conduct my research unhindered. As it stands, it is not Dzaan who is my greatest adversary, but Avarice, a Tiefling who has taken up residence in Caer-Dineval. Which is why I inquired about your presence there. I've not heard from or of her lately, which is cause for concern in its own right — she isn't the type to idle. Furthermore, as if I didn't have enough on my plate, another member has stolen one of my prized family possessions. It is the other reason I find myself in this dismal place." She shook her head in obvious irritation. "As you can tell, we are quite the organization."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:51, Sun 09 Oct 2022.

Though suspicious of Vellynne to begin with given her affiliation, Mallory found it increasingly difficult to hold a sense of ire the longer they conversed together.  She liked to think herself a decent judge of character and the elder certainly struck a chord of sincerity - it was hard to fake that sort of disgruntled annoyance.  But it wasn't until Mallory pulled over the receipt to pen in her own name and she saw the other signatures that things really clicked in for her.

"Wait... Harpell?  The Longsaddle Harpells?" she intoned in genuine surprise.  She hadn't expected to find anyone she'd heard of from back south so far into the frozen reaches of the Sword Coast.  That matter rather immediately side-tracked her from her guarded inquiries.  "You're kin of the Archwizard Malchor Harpell?"

---

I'm always in this weird "is this meta-gaming?" spot when it comes to general world knowledge and lore, especially where well-known NPCs are involved.  I figure that's something Mallory would know, given her history and standing.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Mon 10 Oct 2022.

"The very same," Vellynne answered flatly. "Malchor is my great-granduncle, though I've only met him on a couple of occasions. He rarely finds his way back to Longsadddle, but I suppose that's to be expected of a man past a-hundred-and-fifty."

---

I don't consider it meta-gaming, since I figure any contemporary wizard would know of the Harpells. Malchor is also reasonably close to Neverwinter to be the standout. Now, having knowledge of their entire family tree (especially since no such thing exists) does not seem believable to me, so Vellynne Harpell is not a name Mallory has heard of before.

With the delicate, cautious nature of someone that had spent a lot of time around small things, Farwalker sorted through the diamonds, deftly pulling the larger ones to the side and singling out the smaller and occasionally poorly cut piece. Once she had everything carefully organised, she pulled her loupe from her chest and went over each diamond with the critical care of someone that knew exactly what they were doing. It didn't take too long and she eventually had a small pile separated out from the rest. "This is close to exactly six-hundred gold worth of diamonds. I wish to purchase them." Once again, straight to the point.

Though, this did have her turning towards the rest of her traveling companions. "Though, I admit to being short one-hundred gold. I would ask for a loan, in this matter as with my current funds I can nearly save two lives."

More than happy to just listen in and evade the contractual efforts as they unfolded, Idrianthe had just returned to her table when Rhydd joined her.

"Please! She smiled, and gestured with her severed arm. The specter of her lost hand materialized and travelled forward to pull Rhydd's chair out for him.

"I'm not in the habit of turning down company, and it sounds as though your cadre has a story worth telling. And anyway, theirs is not a conversation which demands the involvement of a smith or warrior."

She spared a glance to Farwalker, considering the diamonds. "Except that part, that part may be important for you."

Rhydd cut a sharp glance towards the spectral hand that suddenly appeared -- at the behest of Idrianthe, as near as he could tell -- to pull a chair out for him to join the Elf at the table.

~~Another magicker, 'twould seem,~~ the archer thought to himself. ~~I would not have lumped that sort of thing in with skills that most smiths would have, although I can imagine that for high-level work it could be most helpful.~~

"My thanks," he said with a nod as he sat down in the proffered chair. Like Idrianthe, Rhydd had not been taking part in the ongoing conversation, which seemed, to his ear, to consist of primarily mage-blatherings . . . things regarding which he had only passing interest, and even less to contribute.

The Elf's gentle suggestion about a matter of importance, however, had the outdoorsman scrolling back through the conversations that, on some level, he had overheard.

He raised his hand when he remembered that Farwalker had spoken of needing a loan to cover the purchase of some diamonds. Personally, he did not see how such shiny baubles could lead to the saving of lives. ~~Mayhap Farwalker plans to purchase some healing potions with them. That must be it.~~

"I can cover that," he told the Goliath. "And I see no need to consider it a loan, if the result of your acquiring such gems will benefit the party as a whole."

Indeed, no one had quibbled with him about his owing them a portion of the value of the magicked bow that he had recently come to own, undoubtedly due to the same line of reasoning -- by being used to vanquish their foes, it would benefit all of them.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:48, Mon 10 Oct 2022.

Yeah, I figured the same as well.  There are a lot of well-known Harpells and the Ivy Mansion is certainly famous, but I figure Mallory (especially with a 10 History check) would naturally be most focused on things like the Big Extra-Famous Relative or Dowell Harpell since he's part of the Lords' Alliance.  I always get iffy with lore though since there's ever a chance a given DM might want to deviate away from established canon and change something.

---

"My goodness, you couldn't have buried the lede any deeper if you had a shovel." Mallory laughed gently.  As much as she wanted to ask further about Malchor right then and there, she more than recognized the sort of expression that came from one weary of hearing others fawn over a famous relative.  An extremely common experience among nobility, indeed.  "Really, you should've led with your family name.  My family's shipping company has done trade with Longsaddle for decades!  Honestly, this is terribly embarrassing.  Please forgive me; had I known, I'd never have sat here haggling at you like a Waterdeep corner vendor."

"Though, I admit to being short one-hundred gold. I would ask for a loan, in this matter as with my current funds I can nearly save two lives."

"I can cover that."

Mallory had just begun to open her mouth to volunteer her own gold to the matter when Rhydd beat her to the punch.  Rather than insist she ceded the matter and instead scooted her chair a bit closer to Vellynne with little scuffle-hops, seemingly far more keen on their conversation now that family recognition had been revealed.

"I'm afraid we don't know much of this Avarice individual - just bits here and there, surely nothing you don't already know yourself.  Though it sounds like we had a narrow miss in keeping away from the castle." she mused for a moment of thoughtful chin-rubbing.  "There's one matter... I don't honestly know if it's related to Avarice or the Arcane Brotherhood, but while in Targos we handled some trouble there.  The town was being terrorized by a Druid who'd magically Awakened a Plesiosaur - of all things - and forced it to wreak havoc on the fishermen.  Then, before we left, the streets were set upon by a pair of Ice Trolls who'd been terribly injured and seemingly driven into town.  If that follows a modus operandi you're aware of, well..."

Potentially unrelated offenders, especially since they'd never managed to figure out who the responsible Druid was, but any amount of scheming in Ten-Towns was worth examining.  Mallory mulled for a moment on another tidbit she felt uncertain of revealing... but, with a sigh, ceded on her own caution.  They weren't going to get anywhere if she didn't take a chance, after all.  "As for Dzaan, I still hold that I don't truly believe him to be dead.  His Simulacrum and Wight cohort, however, are another matter." she gestured back to where their armored companion rested in stoic silence nearby.  "Squire Kumalo and I saw to that ourselves in Bryn Shander."

---

Amusingly enough since I'm the one tracking Rhydd's gold for him, I'll go ahead and mark 100 GP off my sheet.  ^^
This message was last edited by the player at 17:29, Mon 10 Oct 2022.

"It is a weak Wizard who relies on spells alone. The same can be said for family relations," Vellynne answered. Her tense expression had become no more lax despite Mallory's change in disposition. "If it comes to it, I shall reveal it, but until then I prefer to let others judge me as I am. It was not my intention to keep you in the dark."

The aged Wizard listened intently as Mallory became more forthcoming. "Hmm. Interesting. I am only passingly aware of the Frost Druids in the area, though it makes sense that many would have been stirred into action by these recent events. As for the Ice Trolls, I would fear whatever drove them to such a state. Nasty creatures. Ice Trolls, Awakened beasts, and roaming Dragons . . . I'm not sure where I'd rather be — here, or Cania."

The topic of Dzaan's fate, or rather that of his Simulacrum's, piqued her interest where the rest had failed, and she sat more upright. "Well, I know for a certainty that one Dzaan perished in Easthaven. My leading theory is that Avarice ousted him, or somehow worked alongside the militia to ensure his capture. Does it mean the end of Dzaan? Unless his Simulacrum made a Simulacrum, then yes. Did you have a chance to speak to it? Did it mention anything toward this?"

---

For future reference, it is doubtful I'll ever change the broad strokes of the lore. Details, however, are another matter. But when to discern them? :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:30, Mon 10 Oct 2022.

"I'm not sure where I'd rather be — here, or Cania."

"Hardly much difference these days, it seems." She'd come to Icewind Dale in pursuit of business opportunities.  Had she known how things had turned ahead of time, she'd have sooner set sail to Chult.  It would've been safer by far.

"Does it mean the end of Dzaan? Unless his Simulacrum made a Simulacrum, then yes. Did you have a chance to speak to it? Did it mention anything toward this?"

On that, Mallory grew dour as a displeased grimace settled over her features and she couldn't help but slouch back into her seat.  Compartmentalization was a useful skill to have, but there was only so much she could push away the troubling memories of what she'd inflicted on the Simulacrum.  Astre mewled and nuzzled his brow into the crook of her jaw with a reassuring press, though even his fluffy affections did little to ease the noble's feelings on the matter.

"No, the Simulacrum didn't make another.  I would've known if they had." she reached to her satchel once more and withdrew two particular items.  The dull shard of necrotic crystal she'd removed from the Wight's remains and the tightly-bound lock of Dzaan's hair that had served as the Simulacrum's core.  Both laid on the table for examination even as the Wight's Soul Coin remained quite firmly stowed and hidden; that wasn't something she wanted to reveal without damn good reason.  "Squire Kumalo captured the Simulacrum and they were being held by the authorities of Bryn Shander until a few days ago.  Dzaan's Wight attacked, presumably in an attempted jailbreak, but was no match for our good knight." she eschewed her own small part in the destruction of the Undead menace.

"Over-reliance on spells does indeed become a crutch, but there are times when they are the best tool for the job.  Interrogation of the Simulacrum only yielded so much; they were adamant in keeping their secrets and bargaining for their release to pursue the Spire.  I couldn't permit a murderous Red Wizard to walk free - even if only an echo of one - and instead used spellwork to steal the memories of Dzaan and the Simulacrum both.  The alternative was simply too great a risk.  They revealed much, despite their efforts to shield their thoughts from me.  I was... thorough."  Successful as the effort may have been, Mallory sounded disgusted with herself in the recounting as the shame of it made her dark-ringed eyes look all the more tired, weighed down and weary under what she'd done.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:08, Mon 10 Oct 2022.

Vellynne picked up both items for examination. She was quick to identify and discard the bundle of hair, though paid the black crystal from the Wight a closer look. "That only leaves the possiblity that your Simulacrum was unknowingly a child of another parent Simulacrum. But perhaps it was precisely because it was the last Simulacrum that Krintaas, the Wight bodyguard you spoke of, tried to reach it." She rolled her fingers on the table thoughtfully. "This bodes well. Thank you for bringing this information to me. I am curious to your method on prying its thoughts from it. Frankly, I wasn't certain a Simulacrum had thoughts at all. Beneath its facade it is no more than a shifting pile of snow supported by the spell."

She spent a bit more time mulling things over, carefully placing the necrotic crystal down again. "Allegedly, the cabal of Ythryn developed a method to permanently transmute illusions into the corresponding substance permanently. The real thing, so to speak. Dzaan upheld the idea, though if true, it would be one of the greatest breakthroughs in magic throughout all of history, if not the singular greatest. It would if nothing be the most valuable one. For this reason, I am not so easily convinced, nor do I suspect such a thing would happen to be located in the one piece of Ythryn we have access to. Though I won't mourn him for a second, Dzaan knew more of this than I. Perhaps there was a reason he pursued Simulacrums aside from the obvious. Perhaps he believed he had a way to achieve lichdom?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:42, Mon 10 Oct 2022.

While the Harpells had a wide and storied history of magecraft in their family, one constant thread throughout was that it was wide and storied indeed.  No consistent pattern of all of them being remarkable like Malchor nor all useless in far contrast.  Vellynne's remarks on what she knew of the Simulacrum's spellbound nature, along with her comment of not relying overmuch on spells, left Mallory with a momentary adjustment to her appraisal.

"Simulacra are unusual things, to be certain, but they do indeed carry thoughts and memories.  Just not their own, per say.  They're a vestige of the creature the spell is focused upon; as such, this one held Dzaan's memories and demeanor.  But they cannot grow beyond that, which makes them something of a walking record." Mallory explained as she retrieved both the hair and crystal alike to stow away safely.  "Through that, I was able to learn of yourself and Avarice, among other things I've yet to discern.  It's why I know the faces and names of our lost adventurers despite having never met them myself, or how I know Dzaan was terribly fond of the writings of Hu Ling Do which honestly is just typical of his sort..."

Talk of what had been accomplished by Ythryn's mages sounded impossible on its face but, given her tutelage, Mallory knew better.  What the Neth had been capable of in the height of their empire made even the most potent of modern magecraft look like silly parlor tricks in contrast.  Even diminished as mortal magic was compared to its might in long-gone eras, to make something truly real of an illusion was still possible.  The very sled that had carried them along was one such example of the concept.  But to do so with ease and reliability for its permanence, or with a greater capacity beyond such minor conjurations... now that would indeed be something marvelous.  Well-suited to the wonders of Netheril.  Mallory's thoughts recalled the image she'd seen in the Simulacrum's mind.



"Allegedly, the cabal of Ythryn developed a method to permanently transmute illusions into the corresponding substance. The real thing, so to speak.

Perhaps there was a reason he pursued Simulacrums aside from the obvious. Perhaps he believed he had a way to achieve lichdom?"

Mallory's eyes narrowed as she lingered on the memory of the Simulacrum's yearning for the Spire.  Its or Dzaan's?  Did it truly matter which?  But if Ythyrn's magic could indeed make an illusion into reality, then...?

"No, even with the might of Nethril, it would be beyond preposterous to think..." she muttered more to herself than anyone.  A shake of her head brought her attention back up to the elder.  "Regardless of Dzaan's reasons, they're well and thwarted now, one way or another.  What becomes more of a matter is why others of the Arcane Brotherhood, like Avarice, might seek Ythyrn themselves.  You mentioned something of yours that was stolen by a rival before?  An heirloom or some personal item?  Does that factor into this at all?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Mon 10 Oct 2022.

"A Professor Orb called Skant that once belonged to my distant forefather Noyreth Harpell," Vellynne revealed. Now that a rapport had been established and the discussion became even, she clearly felt more comfortable with airing detailed information. "Stolen by Nass Lantomir, a Diviner, who was last seen in Lonelywood more than two Tendays ago. Professor Skant was primarily a linguist capable of reading and speaking Loross, the dead language of Netheril. He also possessed quite an extensive knowledge on the Netherese Empire in general. Ythryn, however, was somewhat of a blindspot, though it is difficult to fault him. It is as if the city has been purged from the records of history."

Arcana check to know what a Professor Orb is?  Or would that reasonably be something Mallory is already aware of?

---

This is a toss-up. The Professor Orbs are something specifically introduced for this module, with no information on how widespread they are. It sounds to me like its something that most scholars would have heard of, but I can only assume. But let us do exactly that and say Mallory has some passing familiarity, and then we can do an Arcana check for extra information.

Mallory's knowledge on Professor Orbs [13]: Sentient magic items with deep knowledge in different academic fields, often very specific. Though they are excellent resources for academics, they are exceptionally rare and difficult to create. One is located within the Blackstaff Tower of Waterdeep.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:33, Tue 11 Oct 2022.

One could always split the difference and say there are more commonplace items that have similar functions as Professor Orbs, but the genuine article is a real treasure.  The fact that it's a Sentient magical item is absolutely remarkable; there aren't a lot of those to begin with and a lot of them were probably destroyed during the Spellplague a century ago.

---

Mention of a genuine Professor Orb raised Mallory's brows quite high and she could certainly understand why someone would want to pilfer such a wondrous artifact.  Especially if it held intimate knowledge of the Neth.  That it had been taken by a fellow Diviner stuck in her craw as well; she may not have chosen to specialize in Divination herself, but she still had a sense of pride in it.  One surely using their abilities to unsavory ends reflected ill on the whole practice.

"I can certainly understand why you'd want that back, sentimental value aside.  Even I'd not hesitate to march out into the tundra for such a relic." Mallory admitted.  "I'm sorry to say I've not heard any rumor of it or this Lantomir person.  But I'll certainly keep more than just my ears open here on out.  I've a Diviner myself, so I may be able to find some way to help in that regard."

The young noble mulled over the whole mess as she finished off the last of her kaeth and hoped there'd soon be more.  "Dzaan effectively out of the picture, Avarice lurking nearby, and a rogue rival Lantomir who knows where.  Yourself, and ourselves; all lines surely leading to this Spire one way or another." she summarized with a half-hearted smirk of resignation.  "A simple rescue mission has become far more complicated than I feared.  I should've asked for two hundred gold each, instead.

Do you expect a likelihood that we might encounter Avarice or Lantomir?  If you know the location of the Spire well enough to mark it on a map, surely they do as well?  Dzaan certainly had a solid idea of where it is himself.  Roving Bugbears and whatever beasts have moved into a ruin are one thing, but I'd like to know what sort of capabilities we risk contending with if your enemies might be prowling around as well."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:46, Tue 11 Oct 2022.

"Lantomir you can handle," Vellynne said as she simultaneously tended to the diamond transaction. It seemed the Goliath knew what she was doing, but customs required Vellynne to verify their carat and cut herself. She brought out a pocket-sized balance scale and stacked the side with weights until it matched the diamonds Farwalker had picked out. After that, it was a simple exchange of currency. Diamonds had their purposes, but they were also treated as having a fixed value determined by a rigid system similar to other gemstones. The carats could be a few percent or permille off, but given the circumstance and lack of access to a more precise scale and weights that couldn't be avoided. "Avarice you cannot. I can offer no guarantee that she doesn't decide to seek the Spire during your journey, but I can attest that she has not done so thus far despite her knowledge of it. It is possible she doesn't know its location. Though if she does come, I will do my utmost to warn you through my Familiar."

---

What do you say to try and wrap things up here? I don't want to drone at length at the risk of boring the others :S

Seems like a good time for it.  Introductions made, rapports established, diamonds purchased.  We can handwave/narrate breakfast, supplies, and so forth.  Mallory does want to get a chance to speak with Rhydd in a relative amount of privacy before the Party sets out though, but that should be a brief chat.

---

When you mention supplies, do you intend to visit a shop? The inn can arrange Rations for you if you need it, but not much else.

Just rations.  I don't think an inn would sell medical supplies, so just food for the Party and animals should do.

As the guests ate what comprised a modest arrangement of cheeses, breads, and cured meats, Vellynne once more went up to her room to collect the party's upfront payment. She also brought a map of Icewind Dale for the expeditionists to keep, on which she marked the location of the Spire.

"You must approach from the southwest relative to the Spire by a five degree margin before it falls into view, otherwise you will not encounter it at all. If done correctly, the night sky will rotate," she went on to explain. "And when you leave, leave in the opposite direction from whence you came. It will seem counterintuitive, but you must adhere to this, or you will find yourself with a long, long way back home."

---

The party is given 200 gp and this map. Since you have now been provided a more definitive location, Rhydd (owing to his Outlander Background) can reason it would take about 16 hours to reach.

I will proceed to narrate the beginning of the expedition, but consider there to be some room here for further character interaction. Depending on how much you feel like rushing, I envision you spend ~1-2 hours eating and preparing in the inn.

---

THIS PASSAGE HAS BEEN MOVED TO CHAPTER 3.

---

Rhydd can give me a Survival Check. Disadvantage can be negated by having either of the characters possessing Darkvision Work Together with him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:29, Fri 14 Oct 2022.

Rhydd was impressed by the quality of the map that was provided -- it contained a goodly bit of detail, mayhap even enough for the others to find their way to the mysterious Spire if something were to happen to him. He thought about the distances involved -- at least according to the map -- and the conditions that the party would be likely to face in their trek.

"I would estimate that 'twill take us 15 to 20 hours to reach the goal," he said after a bit. "Although, given the raw conditions outside, I'll wager that it may feel much longer."

The archer fixed himself a plate with plenty of food. "Food is fuel in these conditions, so we should all eat up whilst we can. Trail rations will keep us alive, but it may be a while until we can eat a hearty meal again. I'll do my best to keep us supplied with fresh meat, but you can never tell about such things," he added with a shrug.

"A lot will depend upon the weather."

After a moment's thought, he added "Since we will be traveling after darkfall, I would appreciate the assistance of someone with Darkvision."

---

OOC: 12:52, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 14 using 1d20+5 with rolls of 9.  Survival Check .

Comments: I went ahead and rolled without Disadvantage, based upon Idrianthe's comments in the OOC thread. I set up Rhydd's IC post to allow her an opportunity to jump in (IC), if she so desires. An okay roll but not great. We'll see what it brings us. :)

While the travelers ate, Idri went up to her room to pack for the journey. It wasn't a swift process, but gave Rhydd time to study the map.

She returned carrying a large traveling pack on her shoulder, braced against a shield that was bound across the elf's back. Sundry small bits of gear were tied to and dangling from the sides of her kit, and plates of shining, silversteel armor were carefully mounted on the exterior of the bag.

The whole jangling package hit the ground as she took a seat with the adventurers, still dressed for a day in the forge.

"Since we will be traveling after darkfall, I would appreciate the assistance of someone with Darkvision."

"I would be happy to help you navigate!" She chimed in. "It's only fair I help in some way, to show my appreciation for tagging along."

Breakfast and a map were both welcome items to end up on the table as far as Mallory was concerned.  She scooted in close at Rhydd's side to study the layout along with him and make mental notes on their route; it yielded an odd bit of thought-work to blend presented information with the stolen memories she'd taken from the Simulacrum to mesh them both together into something functional.  When it came time to eat, she happily availed herself of a hearty meal but kept an eye on Rhydd throughout with a glance his way from time to time.  She let him eat uninterrupted until he seemed to reach a point where his appetite eased or he at least had a moment between getting a second portion, then spoke up with a gentle clearing of her throat.

"Ah, Rhydd?  May I borrow a moment of your time, please?"  She gestured to the nearby stairs that led to the inn's second floor.  There weren't many opportunities for personal space given the open layout of main room, but a quick ascent to the upper hallway would allow some modicum of privacy.  Better than stepping outside into the cold, certainly.

---

Farwalker and Khulekani; don't forget to add 50 GP to your inventory.  I've already tracked it on Mallory and Rhydd's accounts.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:38, Thu 13 Oct 2022.

In reply to Mallory Bonheur (msg # 98):

Rhydd raised an eyebrow at Mallory's request. He tried to think of what she might wish to speak to him about, and came up empty.

He nodded his assent [to the ascent :)] and waved for the wizardess to proceed him up the stairway.

After all, why waste words when gestures were perfectly sufficient?

A quick climb and a few steps beyond into the hall was sufficient for Mallory before she turned to regard Rhydd.  She knew he had no patience for bothers, despite how often he put up with her antics, and chose to be quick to the point despite a bit of uncertainty in her chest.

"I... ah, well, I've made something for you.  The timing's gone a bit awkward after Farwalker's gift, I suppose, but still.  I didn't want to step on her toes by giving you this in front of everyone... that, and, well... I mean, as I've been raised, it's not proper for a lady to give a man a token in public, so--" she realized she'd gone to rambling all too quickly.  Where Rhydd found ease in his silence, Mallory relied on overabundance of words instead.

From her satchel came a rather sporting, sturdy pair of high boots.  Solid leather, good stitching, reinforced heels; just the sort of thing for rough terrain.  The tops were tufted with icy white fur that spilled inside as a dense, insulating lining throughout.  As soft as a rabbit's pelt to the touch, somehow, yet the coloration was all too obviously that of the Ice Troll hair she'd been spotted working in her downtime since Bryn Shander.  Though as she handed them over, a shift in the lantern light showed that the leather of the boots bore faint, almost imperceptible etchings of fine arcane inlays across the surface.  The interior arch of each heel bore the same lily-of-the-valley seal as Mallory's signet ring - her family crest - along with the words 'Bonheur - Neverwinter' scripted in Dwarven runes ever so subtly around it as a maker's mark.

"I've enchanted them; so long as you wear these, they'll protect you from the cold and keep your stride sure even in the worst of blizzards.  Plus they're broadly invulnerable to wear-and-tear and will resize themselves to fit the wearer, so they're bound to be the most comfortable boots you'd ever own.  So long as you don't do something silly like toss them into a volcano, they'll last... well, forever." she explained hastily and spared him the finer details of the work in lieu of their base utility.  Mallory's dark eyes bounced about - to the boots, the floor, up to Rhydd's face, and back away again as she found herself uncertain of where to look.

"We're going into danger and I want to be able to protect you, as you've done for me so many times, in whatever way I can.  And I felt they would suit you, given your ways.  Something to keep you warm and steady in the wilds, right?" she lifted her gaze again with a soft smile.  "And... well... they're a token of my esteem.  I just want you to know how grateful I am to you.  For being here, for being with me, for just... being you."

---

Mallory has crafted Rhydd a set of "Boots of the Winterlands".  Given the timing already planned before we set out, he'll have time to Attune to them before we leave town if he wants.

Boots of the Winterlands:

Uncommon Rarity - Requires Attunement

These furred boots are snug and feel quite warm. While you wear them, you gain the following benefits:

• You have Resistance to cold damage.
• You ignore Difficult Terrain created by ice or snow.
• You can tolerate temperatures as low as -50 degrees Fahrenheit without any additional Protection. If you wear heavy clothes, you can tolerate temperatures as low as -100 degrees Fahrenheit.

This message was last edited by the player at 22:43, Thu 13 Oct 2022.

Rhydd's eyes widened in surprise when he saw what Mallory had lifted from her satchel, and soon his smile widened into a grin as she explained what she had wrought for him.

"Wonderful . . . they're just wonderful, Mallory," he said quietly. He stepped over and ran his hand over the leather and fur, admiring the workmanship. Come to find out, not only were they finely crafted, they were magicked as well.

"Perfect," he added quietly, seeking Mallory's eyes with his own. "I can't begin to tell you how many nights I have spent trying to dry my feet and keep them warm. It's one of the most common problems for those people like me who make the Wilds their home, and oft-times sleep rough. Now I'll never have to worry about that sort of thing, ever again."

Rhydd lowered his head, perhaps a little bashfully. "I've never had anyone who cared enough about me to gift me with anything . . . ever before. Never, ever. And now I've received two wonderful gifts, both on the same day."

As if on impulse, Rhydd stepped forward and put his hands on Mallory's hips. An instant later he had picked her up and her feet were a foot or more off the floor. Then, grinning like a fool, he laughed and swung her around in a circle.

After one circular rotation, he lowered her to the ground. Reaching down to push her hair aside, he bent over and gently kissed her forehead. Looking into her eyes, he said "Thank you. This is a wonderful gift, and I shall treasure it -- them -- always."

Pursing his lips, his expression became slightly . . . well . . . roguish. "I shall think of you whene'er I put them or take them off."

Seeing Rhydd smile at all - let alone with such a broad and genuine grin - was a rare sight, but one that brought its mirror to Mallory's own painted lips.  Her expression warmed and words eased from the hesitation she'd been taken by at first as he looked so sheepish himself instead.  "You're a good man, Rhydd.  A bit rough on the edges, to be certain --" she teased knowingly "-- but you deserve good things.  Besides, there's no harm in letting yourself be spoiled a bit every now and then, is there?"

As he reached for her with hands outstretched, Mallory too opened her arms readily.  She expected a hug, the same he'd given Farwalker in return for her gift.  Hoped for, even?  She wasn't certain herself, though she knew she'd have felt a bit put-out with anything less.  But rather than just an embrace she found herself swept away off her feet!  Downstairs, where Astre sat curled in Mallory's otherwise vacated chair, Astre's ears sharply flicked as he heard her surprised "Oh!" chime from the top of the stairwell.  She braced her hands to Rhydd's shoulders for balance as he swung her about, unable to keep back her laughter in the moment as her long, dark hair billowed about in her wake.

A touch, a gaze, a kiss on the brow.  A lot more than just a hug, that was for certain.  The young noble pressed a hand to Rhydd's chest to hold him back at arm's length, but not at all in disdain for his fond gestures.  That much was obvious as her other hand was modestly set over her face as she looked aside, unable to hide neither dark blush nor unmistakable, silly, altogether-too-pleased grin that she had no hope of truly holding back.  Despite herself, there was only so much her sense of etiquette prepared her to handle all at once.

"Yes, well... I daresay you'll look quite dashing paired with your new cloak and bow." she hardly managed to keep a squeak out of her voice as she felt her ears burn from how bright her blush glowed.  She wasn't the sort to ever truly be at a loss for words, but Rhydd had certainly come close to it as she peeked up at him bashfully through her fingers.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:51, Fri 14 Oct 2022.

Rhydd was pleased to see that Mallory seemed . . . well, pleased, herself . . . by the archer's impulsiveness. It would have been embarrassing, indeed, had she slapped him or pushed him down the stairwell.

He chuckled at her comment after he had set her back down on her feet. "Dashing ... aye, no doubt that's how all the maidens will think of me when they see my eye-catching new boots!"

Now that the impulsiveness that had led to . . . well, what it had led to . . . had faded, Rhydd was uncertain what to do now.

He reached down and grasped the hand that Mallory had placed against his chest in one of his own, and gave it a squeeze.

A man who was more experienced in softening the hearts of maidens might have brushed Mallory's hand with his lips; but then, Rhydd was not that sort of man.

Instead, he pulled Mallory to him for a quick hug, then released her.

"We . . . should go back downstairs, I suppose," he murmured, his voice a little husky.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:31, Fri 14 Oct 2022.

Though her hand had pushed to keep him away for her own bashfulness, as Rhydd took it in hold she let her delicate, gloved fingers curl to hold his in return.  Once again she found herself swept off her feet as he pulled her in close, the both of them seeming uncertain with how to carry on.  Mallory herself could hardly hear anything other than the thud of her own heartbeat in her ears and fretted for a moment that he'd feel it as he held her in, and as her own free arm curled up across his back to share that embrace.

"I... suppose so, yes." she agreed even as she simply rested there a moment longer with her head on his shoulder.  Words said one thing while actions said another.  But the knowledge that the others were just downstairs and likely to be waiting on them soon tugged at the back of her thoughts.  Ultimately, reluctantly, she withdrew first.  "Go ahead and put those on now though; it'll take an hour or so for the enchantment to attune itself to your body, so best to do it now than out in the cold." she urged as took for the stairs, intent on going ahead first.

Though as she started down she paused just a beat - long enough to cast a glance back over her shoulder and indulge in that smile again.  Then off she went with a decided spring in her step and sway in her hips.

Rhydd took a seat on the top riser of the steps and began unlacing the boots that he wore, intent on replacing them with the new, magicked boots that Mallory had crafted for him.

But he found himself distracted as he returned her parting smile with one of his own, and he enjoyed the view as she sashayed her way down the stairwell . . .

~~Pay attention, lackwit,~~ he urged himself as he realized with a start that his fingers had ceased their work. ~~These boots won't unlace themselves, nor will the new ones lace themselves up.~~

The journey back to Caer-Konig was trying. Night had swept in, and with the blizzard blocking out Selûne the otherwise bright and glistening snowy landscape was blanketed in utter darkness. Rhydd had to guide, and he knew it was all too easy to slowly and imperceptibly err from a path charted straightforward in whiteout. And with the winds erasing every footprint made they could in the worst case end up heading the complete opposite direction without even realizing.

But by looking down and taking care to maintain the angle of the snow drift on the broad side of his snowshoe and praying to higher powers the direction of the wind didn't abruptly change, Rhydd could maintain what he hoped was a linear trajectory.¹ It helped to have others devoted to the same task to correct for any misjudgements, and, on instruction, the Bugbears, wearing what was essentially just long, straight planks for snowshoes, could help as well.

It was thusly, as the blizzard began to wear off and the whiteout lifted, that Caer-Konig came into view. The Bugbears wanted nothing to do with any city-state other than Kharkolok and so said their farewells continued on their lonesome.

Only dim candles burned in the windowsills here and there, but the lantern above the doorway of the Northern Light burned as true as ever. When her former guests unexpectedly arrived, Allie opened the door in her night clothes, brazing against the harsh winds. "Goodness me, get on in, quickly!" she ushered the group along and quickly closed the door, then put on her coat and shoes. "You head to your rooms, I'll see that Wifni is fed and stabled."

---

Rhydd's Survival to navigate to Caer-Konig during a whiteout [16]: Success.

¹ This was essentially the method Claus Helberg employed after operation Gunnerside. Once back in the mountains, he left his group of saboteurs to retrieve his civilian clothes from a cabin. When he then skied to join the others, a blizzard struck and he successfully navigated by this method to the meeting location.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:30, Wed 05 July 2023.

It was a long, bitter trek, and most certainly one Mallory was all too happy to put behind her.  The entire experience was one that would surely trouble her for years to come just by simmering low in the background of her thoughts anyway.  When the time came to part ways with the Bugbears, she wished them her fondest farewells and genuine sympathy over their loss, along with assurances she'd try to visit Karkolohk when next she could.  The prospect of helping establish a proper trade line there was worth considering, after all, if the rest of the citizens were as personable as the duo-once-trio had proven themselves to be.



"Don't bother - she's not with us anymore." Mallory didn't elaborate on what that meant exactly while she groaned and grunted over the effort of helping haul in their various new cargo.  Magically dismissing their sled was one thing, but they'd gathered so much - many of it bodily remains - that they couldn't just leave things tucked in the corner of the stable.

Rather than make her way immediately for their rooms and the deep allure of a bed, however, the young noble slumped herself into a chair in the dining area with a heavy sigh.  She barely spared a moment to catch her breath before she began to dig about in her belongings for a small, palm-sized brazier made of finely wrought brass.  "Something to drink, please... we've been walking for hours."

While retrieving Zula from where she resided when not on the Material Plane had not been a long ordeal, it hadn't mattered much in the long run. The intense blasts of snow, and the deep drifts had made it so difficult to travel that Khulekani often had to dismount and lead the magnificent creature through the freezing terrain. Any advantage being mounted might give her was thus negated in the long run. As used to the warmer southern weather as she was, the Knight Errant's teeth were literally chattering by the time they managed to stumble through the doorway.

She didn't exactly regret coming this far North to right wrongs, but perhaps when this was all done, perhaps Anauroch could use some patrolling.

"Zula is smart enough to see herself to the stables, so please do not bother yourself..." Khulekani said through a wave of shivers.

She quickly stripped out of her boots, cloak, and all other gear that might have been covered in snow and placed them as near the fire as she could without actually setting them ablaze. With a series of curses and cold wriggling, the young paladin managed to doff her chainmail, which fell into a heavy pile on the ground. Peeling off her heavy woolen socks, she wrung them out into the fire with a steaming hiss, before placing them on the mantle like most peasants in wintry lands. Only her relatively dry tunic and breeches remained on her person, and Isiliva remained in it's swordbelt, slung over one shivering shoulder.

"Aye, something warm to drink, I beg you...Oh, and if you have any oil on hand, whale, lamp, vegetable, it matters not. I need a bucket of it. It's going to be a long night," she grunted, indicating the dripping wet chainmail.

Idrianthe had spent most of the journey back analyzing and refining her transcription of the chant from the spire, and mentally composing a letter to send the shieldmaiden's family, informing them of her brave end against a subterranean menace, saving her cohort from its hunt. But this loss was not hers, and she could sense the more real grief coming from Mallory, especially, at the loss of her dear friend.

The weather itself was fierce, almost divine in its wrath, but Idrianthe was no stranger to storms as impressive as this. They usually had less snow and more thunderbolts, though. Auril must have been having a delightful time when she spun it from the clouds.

When they hit the inn, Idrianthe set her pack down and tapped the brooch of her cloak, activating the shiftweave to transform into her more comfortable and breathable work garments. She sat at one of the tables near the fire, and gently tied off the empty sleeve over her right shoulder.

"Knight Kumalo, may I assist you? I am well practiced at caring for mail of this kind, and the work of two may spare you extra time for rest."

Allie wordlessly closed the door, having taken off her boots again, and went over to the fireplace to stir the smolder back to life. ". . . quite a journey, huh? And not of the thrilling kind, I take." She disappeared briefly into her own room before emerging in something warmer and more appropriate than a nightgown and lit the candles on the counter and table. "I'll set some tea for us — or some Kaeth for anyone who would prefer."

Before long she had poured nice, hot brew, brought a jug of wine, and handed the requested lamp oil to Khulekani.

There had been moments prior where Mallory had resisted the siren call of strong drink in lieu of focusing on duty.  She'd fallen to self-medicating her woes as she traveled north more frequently than she'd honestly like to admit, though felt she had enough control to fight the urge when it mattered.  But after all they'd been through?  Mallory didn't hesitate a moment to pour a full mug of the offered wine and drink deeply.  A full pour drained all in one before she even thought to give a word of thanks for it.

Of course, it wasn't as if table wine was a particularly potent potable, so it was frankly more of a placebo at that point.  One the young noble seemed intent on retrying until it worked, as she poured herself another mug quite promptly.

"Less 'thrilling' and more 'deeply traumatizing'." she heaved a sigh dredged up from somewhere deep and took another - albeit more reserved - swallow of wine.  "Our rescue mission was a failure.  The ones we hoped to save were already long dead or otherwise wholly unaccounted for beyond recourse.  We made a new friend out there... who was also killed.  And then we all nearly died two or three times over in the process."

Mention of both the Illithids and Auril alike was left out quite intentionally as Mallory glossed over things.  Word getting around of such things being a tangible threat so near to Ten-Towns would only cause a panic, after all, and it felt as though the atmosphere was especially bad enough as it was.  "Still, it counts for something that we were able to at least learn the truth of the matter out there.  It may not have turned out well, but thanks to my companions we can at least set the lost mercenaries to a proper rest rather than leave them forgotten in the wastes.  I never could have done it on my own."

Something Mallory was up to on her own, however, involved that tiny brazier and a satchel of various packaged herbs and compressed charcoal she retrieved from her belongings.  It may have been a bit uncouth to graffiti someone else's property, but that didn't stop her from drawing a remarkably even circle directly onto the tabletop with a stroke of charcoal.  It would wipe away later, in any case.  Her drink was set aside so she could focus on her present task as she picked small pinches of various dried, aromatic herbs from an assortment of folded paper sachets to carefully pile into the brazier bowl.  Small sniffs were taken here and there as she adjusted different volumes of the strange incense she compiled together one bit at a time, careful to gauge by scent and adjust accordingly.

Rhydd had shrugged both his pack and his heavy winter coat from his shoulders as soon as he had entered The Northern Lights, hanging both from pegs on the wall. "Good to see you again, Allie," he said with a nod to the younger of the Shorard sisters who greeted the party.

The outdoorsman made his way over to the fire, and added some wood to the low-burning coals. Before too long a crackling blaze added both warmth and light to the room. In spite of Allie's offer for her guests to make their way to their room, the party made itself comfortable in the common room.

Rhydd himself stood by the fire for a bit, warming his hands and fingers. His feet and toes were amazingly comfortable, undoubtedly due to the magicked boots that Mallory had crafted for him.

After a bit, Rhydd claimed one of the chairs for himself. Once he was seated, he raised his left leg and held it straight out in front of him. "These boots are amazing, Mallory," he remarked, wiggling his boot-clad foot back and forth.

"I'm not sure that I have gotten us here in the middle of the blizzard -- in the dark, no less -- without them. They kept me comfortable in spite of the storm, and allowed me to turn my complete attention to studying the landscape and keeping track of the direction of the wind."

"If I had not been able to do that, 'twould have been distressingly easy to have gotten turned around in the wrong direction. Which is quite dangerous, of course . . ." he shrugged as his voice trailed off.

After a moment, he spoke up again. "Obviously, I have no inkling  as to what is involved in the magicks needed to create such marvelous footwear, but my recommendation would be to fashion some for Idri and Khulekani as soon as ever you can."

Rhydd's remarks drew a smile out of Mallory despite her weariness and the overall stress of the day behind them.  Were it anyone else, she might've considered it mere flattery.  But he wasn't the sort to give idle praise as far as she'd experienced, thus she was comfortable taking his word at face value.  Genuine gratitude was so often hard to come by.

"A man so reliable and stalwart as you is a rare thing these days.  We'd not have made it back without your guidance.  Nor your--" she raised a gesture to the others where they'd settled in their tasks about the room "--strength in protecting us all, from start to finish.  I wish we could have saved more lives, but saving each others' and returning in one piece is no small feat."



That got a nod of consideration in return as Mallory returned her focus to her arcane scribing, working small etchings of coal across the surface of the table in between portioning out careful applications of herbs and incense.  "If you're curious, I could always teach you a bit?  Arcane work seems opaque but there's a certain sense about it once you begin to learn its framing, and there's great utility to be gained by even the most primary of spells.  I daresay your field of work would benefit greatly from having an animal companion, like Astre, at your side." she offered with a smile.  "With all we gathered at the Spire, I've many options ahead for further works.  Idri and I have already discussed it a bit while she helped me with getting my own boots finished, though there's a bit of a problem in her case.  The enchantments in her own armor aren't readily compatible with those I use, so making items she can employ is difficult.  We're working on a way around that; a different medium other than boots, perhaps." she explained with a shrug.  The workings of magic were varied and strange; from an outside observer's view, one might assume all magic was uniformly the same and thus interchangeable.  Hardly the case though.  There was much tweaking and careful modification to be managed.  If nothing else, that could be gleaned from whatever arcana she was in the midst of working right then and there on the tabletop itself.

"Our good Squire, however, holds no such obstacle.  With Idri's kind assistance, I should be able to have a set for her by the end of the day and still have some Ice Troll materials left over for other uses.  Which would you prefer, Squire Kumalo?  I could enchant the boots you have now or a different set if you've a spare."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:19, Sun 16 July 2023.

It pleased Rhydd to hear Mallory speak of him as reliable and stalwart -- assuming that "stalwart" meant what he suspected that it did. Although he nodded his head in acknowledgment, he kept his expression neutral -- he was not much given to boasting.

"Just doing my part," he said after a moment, shrugging his shoulders. "We all contribute as best we can."

The archer had no illisions about Mallory's offer to teach him magicks. He reckoned that the chances of his being able to learn such things were slim and none. It was clear, however, that the wizardess had his full attention when she spoke of the possibility of his gaining an animal companion -- "like Astre", she had said.

"Wait," he blurted out, a little more sharply than he had intended.

"How is such a thing even possible, for a non-magicker such as myself?"

Idri was busying herself with the challenge of warming up, and assisting with armor maintenance if Khule had accepted her offer. "Yes, my armor is a very particular sort, none too easy to integrate other magic into. There are ways, but I never really had the knack for it even in my heyday. I shall, of course, be more than happy to continue assisting in outfitting the squire with the best available." She took a glance at Khulekani's boots, still sodden. Those probably won't give her gout once they're stuffed full of abjurations, Idri convinced herself silently.

"Everything Mallory and I are capable of can be learnt, Mr. Maldhon, even something as dear and special as that. Given enough multitasking or multiple lifetimes, in the case of elves, you can even learn quite a few different ways to do it. With a good teacher and commitment, you don't even really have to learn the rest of it to start figuring your way around rituals."

Idri's offered explanation of things was paired with a nod in agreement out of Mallory.  "While my ability to divine the future is innate - born on Tymora's most auspicious day as I was - everything else you've seen me do with spellcraft was all learned.  Taught to me by skilled tutors, gleaned from my peers, or even just developed by my own hand and effort." she elaborated further.  The strong reaction Rhydd had to the idea caught her a bit off balance in its forcefulness, though something about it struck her as charming all the same.

"There's no such thing as a non-magicker, Rhydd.  Magic exists in all things; some may show a greater natural aptitude for it, but all creatures have the capacity.  The extent of which is limited only by how far they can push themselves.  Spellcraft is no different, in essence, to any other skill or trade." Gloved hands gestured across the arcana display she had laid before her.  A ring drawn in charcoal that, with every passing stroke of the coal pencil, gradually drew more and more into an involved glyph.  A humble brass hand bowl set at its center, an assortment of powders and herbs and incense being pinched out in particular measurements.  To an uninformed viewer it certainly looked like inexplicable occultism but, to Mallory herself, it was literal child's play in its simplicity.

"Do you remember a few days ago when I told you of the first spell I ever cast?  That slew a boar in an instant?  A terrible thing, that.  But... not quite accurate, I confess.  I cast that spell by way of a scroll; it was far too powerful for someone of my inexperience at the time to achieve on my own.  But this - what I have before me - is the first spell I ever cast entirely of my own effort, as a girl of only seven summers.  A ritual to summon a dear companion.  Just what my heart needed after such an awful, but vital, first lesson from my teacher." she gently drummed the edge of the little brass brazier to make it ring like a dull bell.  "I have every confidence you could learn this spell yourself as well, with proper time and tutelage." a coy smile tugged up the edge of her painted lips as she leaned a playful tilt Rhydd's way.  "Though... if you were feeling a mite impatient for a fluffy or feathery cohort of your own, I could fashion an enchanted device for you that would do the heavy lifting in your stead.  I actually developed it a number of years ago during my schooling - they became quite popular among my fellows for a time."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:43, Mon 17 July 2023.

"Rudimentary spellcasting is surprisingly simple to learn," Vellynne said in part yawn as she slowly came down the stairs, making sure she had a good grip on the railing. "But I'm always equally surprised at how many are incapable of even the rudimentary — magic or otherwise. Ow," she groaned as she made the last step with a hand on her hip. "Sickness claimed my eye and now time has come to claim everything else. To be an Elf and be afforded several lifetimes . . . you cannot comprehend the depth of my envy."

Her Owl familiar Mercuri flew ahead of her and perched himself on the back of an available chair, cleaning his wing until the arrival of his Mistress. "Forgive me if you'd rather speak on the morrow, I was simply too curious of your findings."

Rhydd was quite taken by surprise s both Idri and Mallory assured him that, given enough time and effort, magicks could be learned by anyone. He supposed that it was rather like using a longbow. Some took to it much more easily and quickly than others, but he supposed that short of a physical handicap like missing fingers or an arm, pretty much anyone could eventually learn to use a bow, given plenty of time and practice.

Still, the thought of being able to use magicks was so foreign to him that he was unsure how to respond. Did he wish to learn such companion-magicks for himself, or did he prefer some sort of magicked item, like unto that which Mallory had mentioned? He had no idea.

The archer was mulling all of these unexpected possibilities over in his head when Vellynne tottered down the stairs and announced herself to be "too curious" as to the group's findings.

As a man who preferred fewer words than most, Rhydd stayed silent, glancing between Mallory, Idri, and Squire Khulekani. He expected one of the others to take the lead in responding . . .

It was a fair surprise that Vellynne joined their company all a sudden.  Though, as she thought on the matter, Mallory actually wasn't certain what time it even was.  She'd known many an elder - research-driven scholars especially - to wake very early in the morning before even laborers would simply by habit.  Had they arrived in the dead of night or just before what should have been dawn?  The perpetual state of twilight and snow storm was going to drive her sense of time to ruin.

As Vellynne settled to her chair, Mallory drew over a spare mug and served a steaming cup of kaeth for her.  "I daresay my report on the whole affair would be far more coherent after a few hours of sleep, to be honest." she remarked dryly as she returned to her ritual work.  "We discovered quite a bit within the Spire, though we brought back far more questions than answers.  Certainly a number of things that can use an experienced arcanist's eye.  As for your Ythryn... nothing specific, I fear.  I did find what may be a clue though.  I don't wish to raise your hopes too high but, should my hunch be correct, it could very well be a guide to wherever that lost Enclave has fallen to."

Mallory didn't wish to keep their patron in suspense but she didn't want to string her along with potentially hollow hope either.  In-between motions of her ritual, she shuffled into her satchel and retrieved a spare bit of chipped stonework she'd taken from the Spire, which bore the bizarre fractal patterns as all else had.  A tiny bit to examine, though she had many other elements that bore the strange corruption to cover later.  "That said, the Spire itself and its many contents were tainted by some kind of Aberrant influence.  It was everywhere.  We also discovered what may well be its source, but I'm reluctant to partake too thoroughly of our acquisitions before we fully understand the scope this Aberrant influence might have on them."

Vellynne examined the extended stone but didn't reach to touch it, instead settling her hands snug into a blanket she had brought from upstairs. "Yes, I am aware of this blight on the exterior. Aberrant is good guess. You say it extended to the interior too? Curious. I have yet to come up with a concrete theory on what it is or why it's there, but if you say it stems from a source within that you took with you, that is worrisome. I trust you have taken precautions bringing it here." She drew her gaze from the stone to shoot Mallory an anxious glance while Mercuri extended his neck and tilted his head for closer examination. "Have you heard of Faerzress? It is an arcane radiation that permeates parts of the Underdark. Residual High Magic. Some plants and fungi feed on it. It also prevents scrying, which certain Drow have incorporated into their city plans. My worry is we're dealing with something similar here and that those fractal patterns are merely manifestations of an invisible effect lingering in the air itself."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:30, Mon 17 July 2023.

"As much as we had available to us.  Given the... situations... we encountered while there, leaving it behind was not an option.  Regardless, the source itself is most certainly not from around here." the young noble was uncertain of how much she should speak of with Allie so nearby.  She didn't want to go troubling others or causing a spread of rumors with unsettling news, and the mere mention of Illithids was often enough to cause a panic in already strained communities.  "Rhydd and I came into direct contact with it and there was indeed some sort of emanation.  So it'll be us two you'll want to keep an eye on for potential side-effects from exposure."

---

Arcana check on Faerzress - Player knows, but let's see what Mallory knows.

Mallory Bonheur rolled 27 using 1d20+7
Nat 20.  Apparently she's familiar.

---

Mallory's Arcana on Faerzress [27!]: https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Faerzress. Vellynne is correct in her information.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:08, Mon 17 July 2023.

In reply to Idrianthe Mar (msg # 109):

"I would be in your debt. I know among warriors, there is much debate on the merits and flaws of different armor, and while some swear by the mobility granted by rings, there are so many nooks and crannies to clean. Literally thousands of them. Sand and oil were how I was taught to clean them, but if you have a swifter, more efficient technique, I would love to see it, Mistress Mar," she replied with a chattering bow.

At Mallory's question, she turned and considered her answer for a long moment.

"I would say the boots I have now. If we are to face more such dangers in the near future, I would have comfortable footwear. Not time for blisters and breaking in new leather when fighting for our lives, or running like the Nine Hells are at our backs," the young woman said with an amused smile.

"I'm too cold to go into the particulars just now, Master Maldhon. But opening up your heart to the will of the gods can also be a path to wondrous and magnificent abilities, for those of a faithful heart. Just something to consider..." Khulekani muttered, hugging herself tight against the cold that was infused into her bones.

Idrianthe offered the brave squire a warm smile. "You were taught well! There are shortcuts, though, that the wizened and wrinkled can tell you," Idri tapped her decidedly not wrinkled nose; elves had it good, as Vellyne observed aloud a moment later.

"Ah, but for every lifetime a death, Mistress Harpell," the worldworn elf replied, and then gestured to her tied-off right sleeve. "And plenty of years between the deaths for maimings."

Overhearing Mallory begin to deliver their findings, Idrianthe perked up one her slender ears at the mention of something she wasn't all too familiar with, this Faerzress.

But her attention had been engaged by Khulekani, and the excitable craftsperson in Idri was too awakened to ignore. "So, in principle, your method is the best. But the process can be much hastened by mixing sand with vinegar in a barrel and dunking the mail inside, really slosh it about. Take it out, wipe it down, then a second bath in a mild solvent to get all the gunk out from the crannies. Strong spirits are ideal, but sufficiently dilute acid can do the trick very nicely once you have the quantities down. Absent a good amount of sand, a simple, aggressive water bath and then sun drying will also do the trick." Idri quirked her lips at the obvious absence of sand and sun, mumbled indistinctly to herself, then stood up from the table. "But, for practical purposes, we'll cut corners. Squire, could you please strip the gambeson from your armor and hang it from the wall sconce, here?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:51, Tue 18 July 2023.

Mallory half-listened to the topic of cleaning methods on armor and gave a gentle sigh.  Given all they'd been through, she much preferred such mundane conversation over mentally re-living the Spire's events.  "I'd offer my cleansing cantrip, perhaps.  As a child, I used it to hasten my chores in laundry and washing dishes from hours to mere seconds.  Though if your armor requires any sort of special conditioning - oils and the like - it might not be wise."  A promising notion indeed.  Mallory had frequently used just that trick to whisk away filth from herself as they traveled, leaving her always looking freshly laundered at any given moment.  Though she did offer Vellynne a sidelong smile and shrug. "I fear that spell doesn't differentiate between the good and the bad when it comes to cleansing.  My grandmother nearly flogged me after I unwittingly purged a generations-old patina from her favorite iron fry pan.  Magic is wondrous in its many ways but, as our good Madame Harpell observed, over-reliance on it leads to failure."

A total over-reliance on magic resulting in disaster... indeed, that about summarized the state of the Neth, Mallory mused, as she returned her thoughts back to the more pressing topic at hand.  And speaking of a crutch-inducing magic: "I'm quite familiar with the Faerzress; given its effects on divination, I took considerable effort to learn all I could of it over the years.  I don't believe that to be the culprit at the Spire though.  Faerzress disrupts magical expression quite a bit and our spells all worked just fine.  It especially muddles teleportation, but that was no issue either even within the Spire itself." Mallory pinched up a bit of incense between her fingertips to work it into a finer powder before it was smeared about the charcoal circle.  "Still, we aren't far from several major Drow cities a few miles below the surface, so it's certainly not beyond the realm of possibility for Faerzress to be involved.  We'll just need more testing, is all."

With all her many powders and herbs sorted into their sundry piles, Mallory redoubled her attention on the charcoal glyph once more and set into the more involved aspects of its construction.  Soft taps and scrapes sounded as she continued to draw with well-practiced motions that seemed more reflex than anything by that point.  "Regardless.  I'm not going anywhere for the next hour, so we might as well get to it.  Which would you prefer, being our generous patron as you are?  A full run-down of events and what we found one step at a time?  Or shall I just skip to the potential clue to Ythryn?"

"I want a full rundown of events, and I'll pay you for this information, as is proper," Vellynne said, producing her sheet of small diamonds and moving one to the center of the table. "My offer to buy any books or artifacts stands, but I'd rather first inspect the one you say you have brought with you before an eventual purchase. Should it be dangerous you can keep it yourselves. The debris with the blight on I am not interested in."

She then folded the diamonds back up and stowed them in pocket, before leaning back and taking a sip of the kaeth. "I doubt I will be able to fall asleep should I try, so I have risen for the morning. Cover what you feel like you have the time and energy for and we can resume tomorrow."

---

To reiterate, one diamond is worth 200 gp per carat. The one she offers can be eyeballed to 2 carat.

"Well, there is some blighted materials you may be interested in.  Among the various elements we encountered and recovered while there, we have the remains - or at least the skulls - of those who died in the Spire.  Including that of a Neth who presumably lived within it, given the personal bedchambers we also found there." Mallory barely even glanced across the diamonds when they were presented.  Her whole cause for being so far north was to collect funds, of course, but she was accustomed to large scale business deals from her lifestyle prior.  "Given the passage of time, I'd say we're likely far beyond the point of easy resurrection, but spells to commune with the dead should still work just fine.  Assuming the aberrant corruption doesn't somehow interfere."

Thus, over the course of the next hour, Mallory set to explaining the events in summary.  While she didn't conceal anything from Vellynne, it was obvious from her bearing and particularly selective phrasing that she was dodging some more troubling details here and there.  Any time Allie drew too close within range of the conversation, Mallory's retelling became more vague or she greatly abbreviated them with a remark of 'But there's too much to say there, so we'll discuss it more later after I've rested...'.  Vellynne would have to return to those topics later when there wasn't the risk of troubling the locals with what might be revealed.  But, even with her dancing about the more difficult aspects of their experience, the adventure was retold.  From the strange fractal contamination that coated the Spire outside and in, to meeting the Bugbears, to delving each curious, upside-down chamber and the dangers they held.

Along with each element discussed came different items associated with the encounters.  The one vial of ancient Potion Mallory herself still held from the mounted chest she'd picked.  A stout stack of various books written in tidy old Netherese.  The strange mystery potion that had been produced seemingly from nothing by the mysterious Mystra-carving room, along with details of its odd manifestation.  Normally she would have littered her retellings with illusions to visualize what she saw herself rather than simply rely on verbal conveyance alone but, in the process of a ritual casting as she already was, the young noble couldn't interrupt it with the activation of other spells.  Even as she retold their adventures and drew out various items to present to Vellynne for inspection, she was clearly only half-focused on that while still maintaining her arcane work on the table itself throughout

---

I beg forgiveness if I'm assuming too much, but it seems like everyone else is set to their own matters for the hour, so I'm just going to roll with the idea that Mallory is in charge of the business dealings for the group here.

In regards for what she reveals, she'll tell Vellynne everything they came across, but will specifically eschew mention of the Illithids and Auril.  She'll let Vellynne know various dangerous foes came upon the Spire directly - seemingly alerted to the Party's presence within - who forced them into combat and hiding to escape from.  But she'll not discuss the details until they're somewhere more private.

---

"Quite a lot to take in, and that's really only the half of it.  If I had my way, I'd have taken the better part of a week to write a proper dissertation in report for you rather than try to abbreviate it right after the fact like this." Mallory sighed out.  The table beyond her glyph work was absolutely laden with all sorts of debris by that point.  Books, skulls, tidy stacks of scribbled notes analyzing the Super Heavy Magic structure and enchantments they'd found at the Spire's lowest - or rather highest - end, samples of Black Ooze in bottles, and the still-locked silver chest taken from the hidden bedchambers.  The only items she didn't immediately produce were the Shield Guardian Amulet, the Mirror, the Pearl of Hadar, and the Illithid device they'd recovered.

"I'm personally very interested in this chest we found.  We've given it some inspection and I feel I've enough skill to pick the lock, but it was too pressing a chance at the moment we found it to risk.  Now that we have more time to do it at our leisure, it should be no trouble at all." a gloved hand gestured over the sealed silver chest in passing.  "It may contain useful documents and information, though we've no way of knowing just yet.  The other clue we found was a control amulet for a Shield Guardian, partially thrown outside the Spire itself at a point where the structure had fully sundered amid the ice.  Though there was absolutely no trace of the construct itself.  I haven't had time to inspect it properly but, if it still functions, it's possible the Shield Guardian it's connected to may still be within Ythryn and thus serve as a beacon to locate the Enclave itself by.  Assuming, of course, it didn't also get hurled out into the wild blue yonder to land who-knows-where when Ythryn first fell."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:36, Fri 21 July 2023.

In reply to Idrianthe Mar (msg # 124):

With obvious reluctance, Khulekani removed herself from her place near the fire, and went over to her dripping clothes that hung to separate the gambeson from the mail. She wrung out the layered cloth as much as she could, before hanging it back up where her Elven companion indicated.

"In what way are you planning on 'cutting corners' my friend? For I was planning on digging through the snow and unfreezing some earth near the fire in order to retrieve the appropriate sand. And idea that would make that unnecessary would be  true godsend," she asked with a weak smile.

"Forgive me, I poorly specified my antecedent! My mistake entirely," Idri explained, and returned the gambeson to dry by the fire while instead hanging up the chain itself on one of the tavern's presently-unlit fixtures. Then she reached with her absent arm to cast her spectral hand behind the bar and retrieve a good-sized bucket, which she placed below the mail and then filled with the lamp oil Khulekani had been provided.

"Now, I'll do a better job of this up at the forge tomorrow, but for now this should do the trick." Idrianthe took her hammer off her belt and casually flicked it around in her left hand until, quite literally by magic, she was holding similarly ornamented tongs instead. She used them to draw a small mark on her forehead in glowing blue script, then gripped the chainmail with the tongs to steady her focus. Then, in a clear voice, Idrianthe spoke the Jotun word for flame.

For only the briefest moment, heat surged through every ring and flushed Khulekani's mail a cherry red, searing away any moisture that remained in a cloud of steam, as well as whatever early motes of rust that might have had the chance to form, then Idri pulled the magic away and it rapidly began to cool again. When it was down to the color she wanted, the seasoned master used her tongs to thrust the mail down into the bucket, stabilized it with her foot, and worked it around in the oil with the sort of confident ferocity that came with skill. The bucket smoked a touch, but fortunately there wasn't enough oil to make a real mess of the air.

The result wasn't pretty, by any means. Lamp oil was fine for the task, but it didn't blacken the steel like good linseed oil might have, and she only had a pint to work with anyway. However, it did what she wanted, and left every ring with a thin layer of the oil seared onto its surface.

"And there you have it! Technically that's called blacking, but it's not literal in this case. The rings will have scraped most of the coating off against each other in... I should say a week, maybe two, of regular wear. But in the meanwhile, your armor will be more resistant to all the excess moisture we have to deal with. It may leave your gambeson messy, for which I heartily recommend Mallory's charm should it bother you, and I'll keep it oiled while we travel. Ironically that's normally the task of the squire, not the knight, but we're something of an unusual case."

Idrianthe held the mail out on the tongs, although her magic had fully drained away and now it was comfortably cool to the touch -- albeit a bit unpleasant in texture, hazard of the process. She was smiling ear to ear, so very obviously delighted to have gotten lost in her passion for a moment.

"A little oil and black flakes are hardly an imposition. Especially in the face of the kinds of dangers that we seem to be facing on a daily basis. Thank you my friend. You have saved me several hours of work. Someday, I hope to earn enough coin to purchase a suit of full plate. Oddly enough, I remember oiling and polishing the suits of my superiors was swifter than what I deal with. Combined with a quality surcoat, and I hope to protect my future armor more than what I have to endure these days," Khulekani said with a warm smile.

Idrianthe beamed at Khulekani, so utterly lost in the pudding of being useful that she was able to suppress some of the things that were weighing at the back of her mind.

"Rest is invaluable; it will always be worth my time to help good people get more of it. And I'll tell you what: The day you have even half what you need, you come to me. It's a boast, to be sure, but no warrior has ever regretted having my maker's mark on her armor -- and I know from experience. You'll be the envy of every auxiliary in your order when I'm done, and some of the knights as well! All the knights, if there's opportunity to fold it with magic." She started to ponder of any of the reagents Mallory had shown her could do the job of enchanting plate armor. It wasn't impossible, although pure theory for now unless Vellyne offered out several more carats of diamond.

"I am unable to commune with the dead myself, sadly," Vellyne said, indicating the three-eyed skull with the spiraling pattern. "But I can have it arranged. I'll also need someone with a firmer grasp on Loross to ask the questions, as mine is fairly rudimentary."

Vellynne spent the better part of Mallory's account simply listening, only occasionally asking some more prodding questions. Some, like 'how many books?' were promptly answered by the stack of physical copies Mallory presented. She tentatively reached an asking hand toward a tome, awaiting permission before she carefully turned the creaking pages. Throughout, she was more interested in the Netherese aspects native to the Spire as opposed to any that might have found their way inside post fall.

"You have surpassed my expectations," Vellynne nodded in conclusion as Mallory finished. "Well done. This amulet you have happened upon is particularly interesting. I hope you will give me permission to study it more closely. As for this Super Heavy Magic, I advise you to keep it from my eyes and ears. I have too much to benefit from sharing any potential breakthroughs with the Brotherhood."

"Such is the manner of my house, and the report of each employer who's given me a task since I've come to Ten-Towns: quick, thorough work with results exceeding expectations." It wasn't said as a boast but simply a matter of fact while Mallory otherwise gave a demure bow of her head.  "As for the follow-up research, there's still more to report and I can be of service there as well.  I'm quite fluent --" she gestured momentarily over the books and Neth skull alike "-- and can help facilitate you in that regard.  As for the other relics, I'd rather we give those greater examination somewhere less... populated.  If you have anywhere you know of, that would work, otherwise I'm quite content simply trekking out a short ways beyond the gates and setting up a magical barrier to work within."



To that, the young noble simply shrugged.  "Good of you to say, but it's hardly an issue to begin with.  Super Heavy Magic in this sort of form is like a lone cog from a Gnomish timepiece.  A fine, precision component, indeed, but comparatively worthless outside of its context and surrounding mechanisms." she elaborated.  "We took it more as a security measure to prevent further degradation to its housing artifact than anything else.  It's certainly worth investigation but is hardly the most pressing of affairs compared to others at hand.  Speaking of which... pardon me one moment; it's about to become a little chaotic in here."

---

It's been an hour now, so that'll be one casting of Find Familiar completed.  Going to need to do some component shopping soon...

---

All throughout the extended conversation Mallory had been at work and, with that moment of warning, had apparently completed her task.  A gloved hand waved over the brazier of herbs and charcoal before its contents abruptly burst into an intense, near-colorless flame that warped the air as Mallory gathered the whole thing up.  Brazier cupped within her palms as she lifted it to her lips and filled her mouth with its still-burning contents, seemingly without discomfort.  There she held in silence for a few moments, eyes shut and lips pursed in focus, while memories flickered about in her mind's eye as they did every time she cast certain spells.  For a moment she was a child again - small, hair braided, eyes and face red from crying, clutching an old tome to her chest with stubborn intent.  She always recalled the dawning wonder in the moment she cast her first true magic, when she refused to let that awful killing spell define what spellcraft would be for her.  When, through focus and preparation and an aching plea from the depths of her heart, she was able to reach out beyond the Veil and call forth a true friend...

Thus, in the present moment, Mallory swallowed the embers and the memory alike.  With a deep exhalation she blew a long stream of pale white smoke from her lips that roiled into the drawn glyph, to fill its space and extend no further.  Like a storm in a bottle the smoke whirled and danced and rapidly took condensed form until it manifested into a familiar shape.  Ashen fur, tail curled to his side, owl-like wings folded peacefully down his back... the still form of Astre restored, sat with his head bowed and eyes shut in echo of Mallory's own pose.  In perfect unison, together, they each raised their heads and saw - before anything else - each other's gaze meeting their own.  A moment of serene greeting, of joining and reunion, just the same as when the two first met with childish eyes full of wonder so many years ago.

...a serenity which lasted precisely as long as it took for Astre to throw his head back and give the most pathetic RRRRROOOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLL~! at the top of his lungs anyone could ever hate to hear.

"Astre!  Gods, you're going to wake the entire place!  Will you-- for the love of, we're fine!  We're all here, we're all fine, now please!  Astre!" the young noble's efforts to console her Familiar were of little good as the Tressym promptly threw himself into her chest in a fit of cuddling and rubbing, apparently quite distressed.  No sooner had she tried to gather him up in her arms than he just scampered right over her shoulder and around to the other side to leap at Rhydd!  Headbutts and rubbing his face over and over the man's bearded jaw so long as he wasn't hoisted away on the spot.  Nor were any of the others spared as he went from one person to the next in a rapid tizzy.  A whirlwind of kitty affection.  Just as before, Astre was intent on winding, rubbing, and otherwise assaulting each of his companions in a fit of relief at seeing them all still alive.  Thankfully he'd at least quieted down to chirps and mewls, but he was still making quite a fuss regardless.

"He's like this every time he gets disincorporated." Mallory apologized as Astre was presently intent on trying to burrow into Khulekani's side, only to abandon her and bounce over to Idri a moment later for more of the same.  "In case none of you speak Tressym; he won't stop apologizing about letting everyone down before."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:18, Mon 31 July 2023.

"Hroo!" Mercuri hooted at both Astre's manifestation and his outburst. The Barn Owl vigorously flapped his wings, but remained affixed to the back of Vellynne's chair. Unlike how a Tressym's intelligence rivaled sapience, and unless Vellynne had somehow augmented it, a Barn Owl's was that of any animal's and carried all the territorial instincts one would expect. Still, he calmed once it was clear the Tressym posed nothing but a fluffy, cuddly threat. So long as he kept such cuddles away from him. Vellynne, however, extended a knuckle for him to greet, and Allie wanted very much to be included among the cuddlees.

---

I don't have anything further to offer the conversation. Should we forward to the next day?

Rhydd welcomed Astre's affections with a huge grin and lots of fur-stroking. He returned the feline's head-butts by rubbing his beard-whiskers on Astre's fur. After a moment, he laughed and began crooning in a low voice "You're a good kitty, oh yes, you are!"

"Astre is the bestest kitty of all, the very bestest kitty! Yes you are! The very bestest!"

Once Astre had moved on to other companions, the archer turned to Mallory. "I wish you the joy of your reunion," he said with a smile.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:20, Thu 03 Aug 2023.

By the time Rhydd turned to Mallory, he'd find she had already been watching him more than Astre.  Chin propped in her hand as she leaned at the table's edge, with a languid sort of smile drawn across her lips.

"We're absolutely getting you a Familiar." she hummed, seemingly quite smitten with his display.

Over the next two hours, while Mallory conducted her rituals and with the permission of their retrievers, Vellynne examined the various artifacts in closer detail.

---

Mallory's Identify on the chest: The chest is under the effects of Arcane Lock, but is otherwise mundane.

Mallory's Identify on the Illithid Laser Pistol: This peculiar device it fitted with various modified Psi Crystals, each of a different color, functioning as Spell Gems with multiple charges. The Pistol has a cylinder with four chambers, each with a loading/unloading mechanism, which can be rotated to align a chosen crystal with the barrel of the Pistol. The Pistol requires Attunement to fire.

• Laser Bolt (5 charges): You shoot a beam of concentrated light at a Creature or Object within 120'. Make a Ranged Attack against the Target. On a hit, the target takes 3d6 + 2 Radiant Damage. A flammable Object hit by this Attack ignites if it isn't being worn or carried.
• Enlarge/Reduce (2 charges): Make a Ranged Attack against the Target. On a Hit, the Target is subjected to the effects of the Spell Enlarge/Reduce. The effect is determined at random, lasts for 1 minute, and does not require the shooter's Concentration to maintain.
• Misty Step (2 charges): Make a Ranged Attack against the Target. On a Hit, the Target is subjected to the effects of the Spell Misty Step. The destination is determined at random.
  
• Polymorph (1 charge): Make a Ranged Attack against the Target. On a Hit, the Target is subjected to the effects of the Spell Polymorph. The new form and the Duration of the effect (minimum 1 minute) is determined at random and does not require the shooter's Concentration to maintain.

---

You all get a Long Rest.

---

While everyone else got some needed sleep, Vellynne spent the time examining the artifacts and tomes she was allowed to in further detail, taking notes where she could. Allie stayed up alongside her, while Cori eventually rose to tend the kitchen. A groggy Trovus, too, found his way inside to sit by the hearth once the latter hours of morning rolled in, brushing off snow from another night spent outside in the biting cold.

“I have contacted the Host Tower,” Vellynne told Mallory once she had risen. Allie had arranged a table as Cori prepared a very belated breakfast, which Trovus was happy to indulge in. “They will provide someone who can speak with the dead. However,” she continued, “after some deliberation we have decided they will not come here, so I will have to bring the remains to them. All I need to do is draw up the teleportation circle. Because it’s a matter of security, only one of you may accompany me, and you must be prepared to leave any weapon and foci behind.” She looked to both Mallory and Idrianthe as the natural choices.

---

“You’re a ranger from hereabouts, I gather?” Trovus inquired Rhydd, contentedly resigning himself from talk of magic. “I’ve heard Nimsy, the speaker over in Lonelywood, has need of one. Apparently a Moose – yes, a bloody Moose! – has been terrorizing the loggers . . . I’d have gone myself hadn’t I had duties of my own to see to.” He took a hearty swig of Kaeth, which, along with a thick blanket, had gradually brought up his internal temperature after the particularly harsh and blustery night. “If you find yourself there, do go talk to her. She’s one of the good ones. Haven’t lost her raving mind like the rest of ‘em.”

“I received a writ from Lonelywood last evening,” Allie chimed in as she sweeped the floor, “speaking of some murders. Seven killed. Terrible, horrible. Anyone with information on the perpetrator were to forward it to their local Speaker or the constable.”

Trovus shook his head. “Mad times, these . . .”
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:19, Tue 08 Aug 2023.

Mallory did not rise for quite some time.

Once she'd concluded her initial round of affairs with Vellynne and finally retired to a room, she stayed up a while longer still in beleaguered study over her various notes and materials.  Preparation was worth its weight in gold, as the saying went, even if it was a massive pain in the ass to endure setting up.  Eventually she found her way to the battered old bed and let herself collapse into a deep, thankfully dreamless slumber, soothed to sleep both by sheer exhaustion and the comforting presence of Astre laid across her chest and purring deep into the night.

Even with breakfast being held later than usual, it was already halfway done by the time Mallory finally dragged herself out of bed to come rejoin the land of the living.  Though as immaculately made-up and coifed as she ever was, the dark rings that hung about her eyes remained to show she'd really not gotten anywhere near as much rest as she truly needed.  She half-slumped at the breakfast table with her brow rested in an upturned palm, intent on ignoring the impositions of reality until she had at least two or three cups of Kaeth in her first.  Said caffeinated beverages and a hearty plate of food, however, did wonders to get her into a more cooperative state by the time Vellynne's desire for progress overwhelmed her patience.

"Can hardly blame 'em for not want'n to come ou'." Mallory muttered about a mouthful of sausage.  Her normally impeccable table manners had waned in the moment; they'd not had a proper meal since the day prior and she was absolutely famished.  She did take a beat to recompose herself with a swallow of Kaeth, however, and began again.  "As for the remains, we'll have to work out an agreement on where they ultimately end up along with matters of compensation for our work thus far, as well as any more yet to come.  The Host Tower aren't the only ones interested in questions for the dead, after all."  The young noble had her own endeavors and uses for the various remains they'd recovered and wasn't about to simply hand them over willy-nilly.  Still, there was no reason an agreement couldn't be reached.

"All I need to do is draw up the teleportation circle. Because it’s a matter of security, only one of you may accompany me, and you must be prepared to leave any weapon and foci behind.”

That drew an inquisitive brow up.  "You know that spell?  I've always been fond of Oberon's works and that's certainly one of his better creations, even if it has degraded over the years." she nodded approvingly on the notion of being able to jaunt away with magic, having since shown quite a knack for playing with spacial allocation herself.  When the matter of who would go with Vellynne came up, however, her expression darkened in concern and she cast a look to Idri.  "I understand a need for discretion, but surely there's no harm in more than one of us being present...?  Idri and I worked together to compile our findings from our differing backgrounds - the report would be incomplete with only one of us present to give it."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:44, Tue 08 Aug 2023.

---

I wasn't familiar with Oberon until now, but Vellynne absolutely would be.

---

"I have been extensively studying Netherese history for the better part of a year now," Vellynne answered. "We owe a lot of modern spellcasting to the Netherese, Oberon being just one among them. I highly doubt we will uncover more of his legacy specifically, as he seems to stand in stark opposition to the at best tenuous values of Ythryn." Vellynne leaned back, merely observing the breakfast array as she'd eaten hours ago. Over the course of Morning and Highsun she'd alternated between the taproom and her own personal room, preferring to only write into her spellbook while in private.

"All veteran agents of the Brotherhood are expected to know the teleportation circles. As for compensation," she continued, "neither I nor the Brotherhood have agreed to be your patrons. Thus far, we have cooperated because it is mutually beneficial. I hope it continues to be." To Mallory's proposal of bringing both her and Idrianthe along to the Host Tower, she drew her lips in skepticism. "I will try to convince them. Do understand that an institution like the Brotherhood is wary of accomodating adventurers. Especially several at a time. Since the reformation infiltration has been a constant threat."
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:54, Tue 17 Oct 2023.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 138):

"I am not, strictly speaking, numbered amongst Eyes-of-the-Hawk's band of rangers," Rhydd replied to Trovus' assumption.

"That said, I flatter myself that I am at home in the Wilds as many rangers," he hastened to add.

The archer listened as the other man spoke on. "A moose, you say?" Rhydd echoed.

"Loggers are generally a rough lot. And logging is not a solitary endeavor. An animal such as a moose attacking a group of such people sounds . . . unusual."

~Almost as unusual as a couple of Trolls daring to attack an entire town.~

"And adding in the murders that you mention . . ." Rhydd commented, glancing now at Allie, " Lonelywood does seem to have more than its fair measure of Troubles these days."

"I shall certainly keep these things in mind, although I cannot say where our travels might next take my companions and myself."

"Indeed, indeed.  My first tutor of the arcane was deeply invested in Netherese methodology, so it's likewise been the foundation of my own practices.  I'm far from a traditionalist, but a solid grounding in their fundamental works cannot be overstated." Mallory seemed quite proud of the fact.  It had served her well her entire career, after all.  Despite the awfulness the Neth got up to as a society and the ultimate end they brought upon themselves, their works were still the stuff of wonders.  "It really is a shame.  I mean, there's figures like Matick who are among the founders of modern arcana, buuuuuu-t he was also a bigoted, genocidal maniac who killed hundreds of thousands of innocents.  And, of course, Karsus himself simply goes without saying."

Despite the dire topic itself, Mallory was just happy to have a moment of relative normalcy to enjoy.  Being able to speak on scholarly matters over a meal with genuine peers was something she'd missed terribly in the months she'd been on the road.  Her thoughts promptly shifted onto Dannika in idle curiosity of how she, Moyrah, and their little Chingwa friend were doing, though she rallied her focus when Vellynne spoke further on coming plans.

"I will try to convince them. Do understand that an institution like the Brotherhood is wary of accomodating adventurers. Especially several at a time. Since the reformation infiltration has been a constant threat."

To that, the young noble blew a faint scoff out her nose - though whether it was disdain of the label or self-deprecation of her being given it after her performance at The Spire was anyone's guess.  "Well, they should be quite at ease then, seeing as how I'm far from an adventurer.  I'm a scholar and a merchant, Madame Harpell, even if I am unafraid of doing my own dirty work.  I'm hardly a threat to anyone, let alone those I'd hope to entertain a fruitful working relationship with going forward.  Especially since you'll surely need capable hands and willing boots in your own endeavors throughout the Dale.  Personally, I'm terribly curious about your missing Professor Orb." she swirled her Kaeth about its mug for a moment and drummed a fingertip at the edge to send a small surge of magic through it, which brought the drink back up to a freshly steaming warmth on the spot.

"As for future plans and patronage, you may wish to hold your decision on that until we finish addressing all of our experiences at The Spire, as they may color your approach on other goals.  Full context and all." There had been those pointed moments of delay in their previous discussion, after all, and some elements not revealed.  Once they could secure some privacy, that would change.  "Plus there's the matter of the locked silver chest.  Surely you'll want to see what it contains yourself, before your fellows?"

"Plus there's the matter of the locked silver chest.  Surely you'll want to see what it contains yourself, before your fellows?"
"I would like nothing more," Vellynne said and took swig of her own Kaeth and grimaced. This batch had been made particularly bitter, to Trovus liking, but milk was currently scarce in Icewind Dale. While other settlements such as Good Mead and Easthaven still accommodated Cows, Caer-Konig got theirs mostly from their stock of Rothé, which had been dwindling. "Nor do I have a particular desire to tell the Brotherhood about your findings as I don't know what will reach Avarice's ears. I have been discrete about my own. So if you do happen to be prompted, and I will facilitate it so you aren't, kindly play a bit dumb for me."

Mallory recognized the scowl that followed a swallow of properly strong Kaeth and felt a brief pang of homesickness; she recalled her sister with a similar expression when she first tried learning to like 'grown-up drinks'.  Just as Mallory had back then, she gave a silent 'may I?' sort of gesture Vellynne's way regarding her mug and, if allowed, would tap its edge with another surge of simple magics.  So long as Vellynne consented to it, she'd find her Kaeth lightened in color and flavor alike, as if it had just gotten a pour of fresh, mildly sweet milk from nowhere.  A mere trick of the senses though; a sip would provide no change in the drink's texture or fullness, even if the flavor had improved.

---

"Prestidigitation" remains the best spell in game the game.  Accept no substitutes.

---

"I've no intention of sharing any of our findings at The Spire.  Selling them is another matter, though certainly not before I've had my full use of their potential myself.  As I'm sure your Brotherhood would agree: some things are more valuable than mere coin.

But a certain portion of our findings fall specifically under our contract with you.  So long as you are our benefactor, then your best interests are as my own, and I will defer to any limitations you impose on our operations." A rather mercenary approach, all things considered, but Mallory was indeed a merchant and noble alike.  So long as the terms of an agreement were honored and trust not violated, she'd not betray it herself.  "As for the chest; our inspection of its mechanisms yields that a combined effort with the help of Idri and Farwalker should do the trick.  Since we found it within a personal bedchamber, whatever it contains must be of importance one way or another."

Vellynne politely declined when Mallory offered to milden her Kaethe, insisting on drinking the bitter brew. "I refrain from using magic for mundanities. Call it a pride of mine."

Farwalker took Mallory's hint. "It is ironic, by Sune, show your fair face," she said as she waved a hand across the enchanted chest, brilliant lights trailing her fingertips, "how one can be rid of magic by casting more magic." The safeguarding aura lifted like subtle, luminescent vapor. Farwalker tore off a piece from the heel of bread she was holding and ate it. "Or perhaps it isn't at all."

---

As mentioned previously, it'll be a DC 16 Thieves' Tools (Dexterity) check to open the locked chest.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 09:11, Fri 11 Aug 2023.

Before the lock on the chest could be picked, a few rapid knocks sounded on the door before it opened. In strode a broad Goliath clad in resplendent splint armor.

Farwalker seemed to recognize him. "Stormheart," she spoke. "It's been long." So too did the Shorards know this Goliath, and he them. Trovus, however, had no clue who this individual was for the same reason he had no idea who Rhydd was – he had simply not been present in Icewind Dale upon their earlier forays to Caer-Konig.

The goliath had a wide grin on his face and his arms spread out wide. His voice boomed when he spoke, encompassing all present. "Kin! Friends! Unknown people! Greetings to ALL!"

He strode first up to Farwalker, touching his heart and then his forehead before reaching out to offer a warrior's handclasp. "It's always long between sightings for such as us, but the moment we see once more warms the heart." He hesitated and looked a touch uncomfortable though he tried to play it off, "Being the...unexpected guest of someone powerful can be...thrilling, dangerous, ultimately best kept to short and infrequent occurrences."

To those he didn't know - or hadn't been formally introduced to previously - he faced and gave a nod of his head. "I am Stormheart, of the same tribe as Farwalker. It's good to meet you in a comfortable setting." He smiled once more.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:55, Sat 26 Aug 2023.

Farwalker stood to grasp Stormheart firmly by the forearm as he did hers. "Denz maat zo see deg harten ag vel," Farwalker said in Jotun. 'It's good to see you hearty and well' would be the rough translation. "Sit and eat with us, and let us speak of our journeys. I myself have much to tell you." She indicated those who had been her traveling companions these last eight days.

"It's good to see the Goliaths, at least, are on our side. I am Trovus," the Silver Dragonborn at the table growled, "retired guardsman, former adventurer with little knack for adventuring, hence 'former', and newcomer to these parts . . ."

"Don't forget 'Town Speaker'," Allie added.

Trovus grumbled. ". . . yes, and Town Speaker, against everyone's better judgement."

Being a man of few words himself, the dark-haired Human dressed in a chain shirt and weathered leather leggings returned the newcomer's nod with one of his own.

He noted the friendly greetings exchanged between Goliaths, and surrepticiosly (he hoped) moved his hand away from the handle of his rapier.

"Rhydd Maldohn," he added after a moment, his eyes still on the one who had given his name as "Stormheart".

"A friend of Farwalker's is a friend of mine."

Vellynne's gentle refusal was taken with a shrug as Mallory conceded it, though personally she felt that such restraint was just a self-inflicted wound.  To abstain from indulgence or to avoid over-reliance on magic were their own affairs, certainly, but to deprive oneself of simple comforts over pride?  That just struck her as silly.

Don't forget 'Town Speaker'," Allie added.

Trovus grumbled. "... yes, and Town Speaker, against everyone's better judgement."

At which point Mallory promptly sputtered and choked on her own kaeth.  She hurriedly leaned aside to cough, hand drawn to her mouth to try and hide that embarrassing reaction.  "Wrong pipe..." she weakly excused.  The young noble hastened to recover her bearings and offered Stormheart as demure a smile as she could manage after that faux pas.

"Indeed, it's lovely to meet you, sir.  I'm Mallory Bonheur of Neverwinter.  We've been traveling and working alongside Farwalker for a few days now.  She's quite the stalwart ally." she introduced herself with a bow of her head.  "You're actually quite timely - we were just about to open the coffers of our most recent misadventure together and see what mysteries it might hold."

"We have just returned from exploring an ancient Netherese spire of, what was it, Ythryn? Fun, that. Except for when the Frostmaiden showed up," Farwalker said matter-of-factly. That last part did catch Vellynne's attention, seeing as she hadn't been made privy to that fact yet, but Vellynne narrowed her eyes as her expression turned somewhat sour as she more so focused on the first part.

"Is this your definition of 'tight-lipped'?" Vellynne urged.

"I have never agreed to anything," Farwalker shrugged as she popped another piece of bread into her mouth.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:32, Mon 21 Aug 2023.

"I'm certain Farwalker is speaking metaphorically.  There was some great wintery beast which briefly skulked about outside the Spire, but we avoided it and don't know what it was.  No need to go spreading around baseless rumors and worrying people." There was a particular edge of warning in Mallory's tone on that last part as she gave Farwalker a decidedly keen glare.  There was a very good reason she chose an abundance of discretion in her own report to Vellynne, after all.

The young noble did indeed lean a bit closer to their employer-for-the-moment and spoke in a low, apologetic tone at her ear.  "I'm afraid Farwalker is as subtle as an avalanche.  Previously, she intruded on a private business meeting of mine by literally ripping the entire door out the wall with her bare hands.  It wasn't even locked." she muttered in a low, patient tone that spoke of some level of resignation to fate.  "But she also has frankly little concern for becoming involved with people in general.  You needn't worry of her spreading word around Ten-Towns."

Stormheart nodded to Farwalker and gave one shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Many thanks for hospitality! It has been quite a cold journey!" He looked at each person as they spoke, giving an encouraging and friendly to each person that introduced themselves, attempting to commit names with faces and then both to memory.

He gave a shrug, "Coffers? Treasure?" He spread his hands. "I am a simple Goliath. I have little use for money but now and again, though I do like shiny and magical things." He lightly tapped the silvery armor he was wearing with a smile. Then he remembered something. "Oh! Like while I am in town, I need to purchase some supplies, actually. Which...requires money. So I do have some." He chuckled.

His broad smile began to slowly fade, as he became less friendly and more...confused. The Frostmaiden? That would be concerning if true, but there seemed some...contention about it. He held up a hand. "Please, friends. Do not worry. I am not some hotheaded youth running around blabbering away to everyone I meet. I know how to keep things secret if they must be. And if...that is not what occurred, that is also not a worry." One eyebrow rose up as he was trying to get a gauge of what was being and not said.

He leaned towards Farwalker and lowered his voice a little, "Actually. I have come seeking you and your companions. There are things afoot that I need help with, if possible. We can speak at a better time about it, though."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:55, Sat 26 Aug 2023.

Farwalker frowned under Mallory's glare. This was simply a case of clear disagreement, but Farwalker said nothing more on the matter.

"Forgive me, my good Goliaths," Vellynne said as she reclined in a sigh. "I'm afraid our differences in culture shape our ideas on keeping secrets. But I suppose there's nothing to be done about it now, so I shan't worry. You strike me as good people and I shall trust your judgement." Mercuri, too, trusted this new Goliath. Enough to fly from his Mistress' chair and over to greet him, perching on either an outstretched arm or a shoulder.

Farwalker listened to Stormheart's plea with a Goliath's silent accord, only raising an inquisitive eyebrow at its end. "How did you know where to find us? It's been mere days since I returned to the Dale."

Stormheart glanced over at Vellyne, giving a nod. "I will not share your secrets with others, this I vow." He paused and frowned slightly. "Wait...the...Frostmaiden? You...encountered her?"

He looked mildly surprised when the owl flew over to perch on his shoulder. But he leaned his head awkwardly to one side and tilted to look over and smile at the bird. "Oh! Hello! You are beautiful!" He started to reach up and hesitated.

He quickly cast a spell, making a gesture and uttering a strange word, "Kara'theno.". Once the spell was cast, he solemnly asked of the owl, "May I be allowed the honor of bestowing scritches upon you?" He waited for the answer before moving further.

To Farwalker he replied to the question, "Well, let's see. I was...in Bryn Shander recently. I asked around about you to several people and was pointed here by a scholar named Dannika."

Mercuri closed his eyes and tilted his head. "~Yes, underneath the chin, please~," he answered. Of course, to everyone else it sounded like his usual hoots. He cooed softly as he enjoyed the attention.

---

The contents of the chest found in the Spire's Bedchamber: A luxuriously bound and well kept dark blue Spellbook. The cover was adorned by a twinkling star cast in gold. The pages, carefully indexed by meticulous markings, appeared to belong to someone highly dedicated to it. It contained the following Spells:

1st Level: Shape Water, Mage Armor
2nd Level: Darkvision, Skywrite
3rd Level: Haste, Daylight
4th Level: Dimension Door
5th Level: Passwall

Additional, scribblings and sketches were present in a mix between Loross and a language alien to Mallory detailing the dying star Hadar.

A small flask filled with a glowing, clear liquid accompanied it, and a small, folded note written in Loross: "Muansi lae vi verthicha, kosj lae vi amea,
enadasy zhabir persvek vi vares dea."

Mallory's Eyes of the Runekeep read: "As large as a mountain, as tiny as a pea, endlessly swimming in a waterless sea.

All the contents are covered in a substantial amount of ash present in the chest.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:33, Tue 29 Aug 2023.

Rhydd looked on with interest as Idri opened a leather folding case and drew forth a couple of tools, as if she was unsure which one would actually be needed. As luck -- or more likely skill --would have it, the Elf's first effort turned the lock and popped open the lid of the chest.

"You made that look easy," Rhydd complimented Idri's efforts.

He peered over his shoulder and glimpsed the contents of the chest -- a book bound in luxurious leather that looked as if it would be buttery-soft to the touch, died an attactive dark blue hue.

The archer had not clue what the golden star embossed on its cover might mean, but he thought it likely that the tome held some manner of scribblings that were related to magicks in some fashion.

Smiling at Mallory, he told the young wizardess "More your cup of tea than mine, methinks."

Idrianthe had spent the morning thus far lost in her own mind palace, scrutinizing her memories of the Ythryn tower for anything valuable she had neglected to record, pondering the chant in the artifact chamber, and marveling at the ancient worship of Mystryl preserved in the ice - inverted though it was. Cold food and untouched kaethe sat before her while her eyes whirled around at sights she was desperately recreating while they remained fresh in her mind. If only her memory were still as sharp as it was in youth...

When the time came to relieve the chest of its privacy, she had drawn out her shims and jigs on autopilot, only to pick the two favorites she always defaulted to, steady one with her mage hand, then pop the lock with a twist. Rhydd's compliment very suddenly reminded the elf that she wasn't alone for once and she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Made what- The lock! Yes! Thank you, Master Maldhon, that's kind of you. Anything can become rote with practice, I'm sure your own life experience has taught you."

Her fuzzy attentions crystallized on the contents of the chest, more specifically the glowing flask, which she drew carefully from the container with her Weave-born hand as a matter of safety. "My, what's this..."

She glanced around the room at everyone she had unintentionally been ignoring and realized, oh, there was a new Goliath gentleman among them. "Salutations! I'm Idri," came the much-belated greeting Stormheart was owed.

"Well, let's see. I was...in Bryn Shander recently. I asked around about you to several people and was pointed here by a scholar named Dannika."

The low-simmering grumble over the gathered Goliaths so readily tossing about word of The Frostmaiden never quite left Mallory's manner.  She could excuse Stormheart simply being taken by surprise, yet Farwalker's demeanor always struck her as being intentionally rebellious.  Yet, as their newest acquaintance mentioned Dannika, she perked right up.  "You met Dannika?  Was she well?  Did she look like she was eating right?  Was she in the company of a Half-Orc woman and a Chingwa still?"

Thankfully, Idri's handiwork brought the young noble's attention back to the matter at hand before she could pester Stormheart too much.

"Indeed, my locksmithing skills are simply from hobby.  As the saying goes; if you want bread, go to the baker." Some matters were best left to the professionals, as it was, and Mallory was quite agreeable in giving credit where it was due alongside Rhydd.  "You as well, Farwalker.  Thank you for your own lock-breaking."

With all defenses bypassed and the treasure ready for the taking, Mallory chewed at her lower lip in anticipation as she gently raised the chest's lid, cautious of disturbing anything potentially delicate within.  A book, a bottle, and a note.  What would likely seem a paltry find by most - and certainly not 'treasure' in the conventional sense - had Mallory look to be on the verge of tears.  She couldn't keep an absolutely elated smile off her face as she gingerly reached for the fine cover of the journal, hesitated just a moment as if she feared to touch it, but then finally gathered it up in a delicate hold.  Her eyes shimmered with scholarly joy as she carefully perused the pages within, unable to keep from squeaking every few moments out of sheer excitement.

"This is... oh, this is marvelous!  Such meticulously detailed notes, and in their original Loross!  A genuine original work!  This isn't merely a recreation; this is a personal account written by Netherese hand directly!  And such an fascinating assortment of spells... were they an explorer?  Oh...? OH!" she stood right up out of her chair, eyes wide as she turned the book about to show off a particular page.  Its contents were little more than dense, literally arcane gibberish to most people and were surely nothing but nonsense to the majority of the group.  Doubly so since it was mostly written in a language none of them could even read in the first place.  "This is amazing!  Look, look!  This spell is classically known as 'Oberon's Extradoor', and it's confirmed to have been invented by said Netherese arcanist in -990 DR.  But this spell!  This transmutative one here; it's commonly nicknamed as 'Skywrite' - the origins of this spell have been contested for generations.  It was originally attributed to the wizard Myrl when it first appeared in his published works during the 12th century, but it's been a hotly debated subject as to whether or not Myrl was truly its creator.  But here it is!  In an authentic, first-account Netherese spellbook over two thousand years before Myrl was born!  This proves Myrl wasn't its inventor and bolsters the theory of its origins belonging to ancient Druidic conclaves of the Eaerlann!  Oh, I can't wait to write a dissertation!  This will rock the columns of every arcanist's academy this side of Kara-Tur!"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:33, Tue 29 Aug 2023.

"Of course!" Stormheart smiled and reached up to give the owl what was asked of him, happily, watching the animal enjoy the attention. Nature and simplicity, two of his favorite things. He very quietly asked,

He assumed that being able to open a lock on the first try was impressive, though he had little knowledge of such things, so he echoed the others, "Yes, good job." He gave a small nod to Idri, that wouldn't disturb the owl on his shoulder, but also with a friendly smile. "Hello, Idri."

To Mallory he pondered and then answered, "Apologies but...I don't know the person well so can't speak too much on it, but..." He paused in petting the owl to spread his hands and gave a very slow shrug, "They seemed healthy enough to me at a glance I suppose. I did not see them eat anything while I spoke with them."

He then continued, "As for who they were with, I didn't see any half-orcs with them, and...a chwinga? I think so, if I understand correctly what you're speaking of."

"~I am a Spirit of another plane~," the Owl responded. "~My needs and wants are not those of an ordinary animal. But yes, I am content in servitude to my Wizard~."

Vellynne ceirtanly shared in Mallory's enthusiasm, though hers was more restricted. She leaned in for a closer look as Mallory thumbed throuhg the pages. She understood bits and pieces, for she had studied Loross, but it was more difficult to her compared to what Mallory was capable of with her occult eyes. "A great many spells must have been forgotten to time only to be rediscovered or reinvented at a later point. Such could have been the case with those penned Myrl's Text."

---

This message was last edited by the GM at 11:19, Tue 26 Mar.

---

Idrianthe's Identify on the flask with the clear liquid: This is a Potion of Sweet Water.

Potion of Sweet Water:

A single drop of this Potion will neutralize any poison it is poured into. If poured into a Potion, it will ruin its magic. The contents in this specific bottle are enough to transform up to 80,000 cubic feet (2,265 cubic meters) of polluted, salt, or alkaline water into fresh water, or turn up to 800 cubic feet (23 cubic meters) of acid into purified water. All effects of this Potion are permanent.

It also has many uses as a Spell Component, and can serve as a base for arcane solutions applying Blueshine, an enchantment that prevents armor from being tarnished, becoming rusty, or being damaged by Acid.

Upon studying the flask, Idrianthe finds that it has likely been opened and used several times already.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:14, Tue 26 Mar.

That Moyrah was apparently no longer accompanying Dannika was a troublesome notion.  Best Mallory could hope for was that she simply hadn't been present in the moment Stormheart encountered the Candlekeep scholar.  That Dannika might be going about unguarded, or that Moyrah herself might be on her own and in a risky situation, didn't settle well.  She'd have to collect some means of contacting them, and soon.

"Certainly, though it does raise a certain level of delicious scandal as well." Mallory had to admit some indulgence on the matter when it came to uncovering other mages' dirty laundry.  Myrl, after all, had never dissuaded anyone from thinking he was the inventor of the spell and had presumably been happy to have it attributed to him.  Arcane plagiarism!  Oh, she could already hear the shocked harrumphs and sputtering of some particularly grumpy academics back home...

While Idri set herself to examining the potion, Mallory resumed her reading.  There was much to consider within beyond just the spell work, after all, though the contents became concerning after a point.  Not to mention the penmanship suffered too, which was never a good sign.  "There's a point in the telling here where the author takes on a particular obsession with the Far Realm entity Hadar.  Which coincides with what we discovered at the Spire as well... the corruption that fractalized over the surface of everything there appears directly related." the young noble mulled on the timing of it all.  The journal had been written and sealed obviously some time before the Spire fell.  But Ythryn's own fall was allegedly not part of the cataclysm that brought down all the other Netherese enclaves across the realm.  "I wonder... did this somehow cause Ythryn's fall?  Or did the greater enclave eject the Spire when the corruption manifested within, like severing a gangrenous limb to save the body?"

Turning back to Farwalker once more, but not neglecting the owl's scritches while he did so, he spoke and didn't temper his volume to be unheard, in case others were interested as well. Which he hoped they might be.

"I've heard some disturbing things that I think need to be looked in to, and I am...cautious about doing so by myself." He gave a small shrug and smile before continuing, "The Tribe of the Wolf, goblins causing issues, owlbears in trouble, the whale ferry in trouble...there's a lot going on."

He frowned a bit and looked down a moment, pondering. "One of the owlbears is having trouble feeding their new babe. Another has been hibernating too long and when it wakes up..." He shook his head. "That's near Kelvin's Cairn and likely the quickest to resolve, and a starving creature is the most needy in my opinion."

He made kind of a half-shrug. "But I'm more than willing to discuss each in more detail, at least of the little I know of each issue."

"Always the caretaker," Farwalker smiled. "Many are struggling, and many will continue to struggle so long as things are as they are. I can depart with you to see to the Owlbears if that is what you want." She reached for her pack – or rather, the parts she kept at hand – and pulled out a slab of wood and her carving utensils. A new project was in order. "Tell me, how fares the clan? I haven't been able to visit yet."

Vellynne perked up, not at the conversation between the Goliaths, but by what Mallory had just explained. The mad scribblings in the spellbook had only struck her as supplementary notes to the spells it contained, something one would expect from any dedicated arcanis, but now that she pointed them out to pertain Hadar, Vellynne looked at them differently. "Hadar? Let me see," she said and more aggressively seized the tome for a closer look. "That is . . . 'unexpected' would be the best way to put it. But it would explain a great deal. Going by our research collected from another enclave, we know something deeply unsettling ended up consuming Ythryn. In a scholarly sense, but perhaps also literally. Hence the 'Blight' you've come across. We could be sitting on the source." She flicked to a page depicting some dark tendrils in a complex, rotationally symmetric pattern. "But if it indeed led to Ythryn's fall, it must have somehow affected the Mythallar. Vellynne could make out the Lorss for 'curved Realmspace' and 'reverse polarity'. Most of the words, taken in isolation, weren't completely inane. "And we . . ." She stopped herself from going on, instead leaning back and resigning the tome to Mallory. "I apologize. There is information I am not prepared to divulge just yet. At least, it wouldn't be prudent for me to do so without proper conference with my colleagues. Perhaps more can be revealed upon your visit to the Host Tower."

In reply to Stormheart (msg # 164):

As Mallory prattled on about mysterious things that apparently held great interest and meaning for her, but (truth be told) little of either for Rhydd, the archer's expression had become that of a man whose mind was elsewhere.

Said expression immediately brightened when Stormheart listed a catalogue of non-Netherise woes that could each merit some attention.

Turning to the Goliath, Rhydd said "If you don't mind a little company, I would be pleased to assist in your efforts to put things right."

Given how deferential Mallory had become to Vellynne once she'd learned of their patron's name and that she was to be their patron in the first place, it said a lot that she held on tighter to the ancient tome when the elder mage grabbed for it.  The look she gave Vellynne was more scolding than anything; not jealously holding to the book as a matter of greed, but more of a stern 'mind your manners' scowl she'd often received as a child from her tutors.  She'd quickly come to see Vellynne as a bit more of a peer than a superior in their few interactions and it clearly changed the frame in which she behaved herself as well.

Mention of Hadar's corruption potentially influencing Ythryn's Mythallar soured her expression.  "What a ghastly notion to consider.  Though, surely the enclave's Mythallar is gone by now?  As far as is known, none survived Karsus' Folly, let alone after all the repeated disruptions The Weave has suffered since." If there were any Mythallar left in existence, they were beyond common knowledge to say the least.  Mallory herself theorized about the artifact in the Spire potentially drawing power from Ythryn's core source, but even that was merely speculation on her part and not a genuine consideration.  "Well... regardless, such matters - and those others we've yet to cover - would be better addressed in proper company, with proper resources at hand."

The nearby conversation on Stormheart's cause amid the woes of Icewind Dale, along with Rhydd's desire to help, brought a faint smile to Mallory's delicately painted lips.  "You'll not find a more stalwart ally than Mister Maldhon here, so long as you can stomach his sense of humor." she gave a well-meaning prodding given the man's usual habit of threatening to feed annoying people to wild animals.  "It would do well to keep busy while we're gone to the Host Tower as well.  I'm unsure how long we might be away..." she glanced to Vellynne for some indication, clearly already on the assumption that Idri would be coming as well "...and I've no doubt we would simply slow you down tromping about the snowy wilderness, ourselves."

Stormheart smirked at Farwalker. "If you are not certain about the tribe, then perhaps that is an indication that you have been away too long and are due for a visit." He was teasing them a little. "The tribe seems to be well. I visited not too long ago on my way to find you."

He glanced over at Rhydd with a friendly smile and a nod. "Any help is most appreciated. I believe you and I could take care of at least the owlbear, maybe both of them." He turned his attention to Mallory. "However, I would caution...I am not certain what the problem is with Angajuk the Whale Ferry and what might be required, but the goblins and the Tribe of the Wolf will require much more than just two of us can manage I fear. The Tribe..." He shuddered slightly and faltered. "That may need to wait a little, but not too long."

He looked grim. "The Goblin band is not subtle and not only appear undeterred by Auril’s curse, they seem to thrive where others suffer. They are not only foraging and hunting, too much for the wilds to sustain for long, but attacking caravans as well. They need to be tracked down and stopped."

"Goblins, you say?  Do you happen to know if they're from Karkolohk?" Mallory canted her head to one side in a moment of consideration.  "We actually made friends, of a sort, with a few Bugbears from there.  They said it was a Goblin stronghold and trading hub.  As I recall, they do business with some mobile group of scouts called the Redrust Ravagers.  Does any of this ring a bell, sir?"

Stormheart blinked a few times, and then nodded. "Um. Yes. All of those names are familiar to me, at least in passing." He began to tick off things on his fingers as if for his own memory. "The goblin band is said to be called the Red Rust Ravagers I believe, and they are, or were, from Karkolohk."

He wasn't sure how to reconcile what she said versus what he'd heard. He shrugged. "I'm not sure how much is truth, but...they seem to have little to no respect for sustainability, and if the attacks on caravans are true..."

"Well, to be perfectly fair, things are terribly difficult here even amid the relative civilization of Ten-Towns.  It can only be far more dire circumstances beyond, so it's little surprise that some may resort to banditry to survive.  We even encountered a tribe of Reghedmen who'd resorted to cannibalism." Mallory tried to be objective on the issue of robbery when it came to others possibly just trying to live another day.  Cannibalism, however, was a whole other matter entirely.

"Have the Ravagers killed or kidnapped anyone?  Or has it just been robbery of goods?" she asked curiously.  "The Bugbears we met were quite agreeable once we managed to converse with them.  I daresay there may be a chance of diplomacy with the bandits if they're simply looking for resources."

Vellynne offered no apology for her overstep. In fact, her returned glare communicated she seemed rather annoyed Mallory had taken issue with her. "The Mythallar keeps the enclave in the air. For the enclave to plummet, the Mythallar must fail, either temporarily or permanently. I don't consider 'ghastly' notions, I only consider notions."

"I can speak to the Goblin raids," Trovus said from his chair by the table where he was cleaning his teeth with a fishbone. "We've heard of 'em from neighboring towns. Easthaven's had it the worst, but we've also heard from Good Mead, Targos, Termalaine and Lonelywood. Big, strappin' armored wagons, the reports say, spikes and the whole getup. And yes, they have killed. And even if they hadn't, they at some point would." He succesfully flicked out a piece of meat. "You're givin' Goblins too much credit. Bugbears too."
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:45, Mon 04 Sept 2023.

"Sir..." Mallory still couldn't quite wrap her head around Trovus being Town Speaker and couldn't get the proper title out "...I understand cause for bias when your neighbors and community are made victims.  But to dismiss any Being - Goblinoid or otherwise - simply for what they are is folly."

Of course, she had to clear her throat softly a moment later in addendum: "...excepting Ceremorphs and Undead, of course." she conceded.

Stormheart stiffened a bit at one thing Mallory said, but waited until after others had spoken. He gave a nod to Trovus when they backed up the rumors he had about the goblins. "No full race can be condemned for the actions of a few...but in the case of goblins, they do tend to have chaos and destruction on the mind when gathered in larger groups more often than not."

He leaned towards Mallory, "...do you speak of the Tribe of the Wolf? The Reghedmen cannibals, I mean." He grimaced. "If so, that is the tribe I was speaking of before, and it is much worse than that. They are worshipping Malar and many of them have become Werewolverines."

Trovus only shrugged at Mallory's rebuttal. "It's a nice thought. Wrong, but nice."

Some time passed while Vellynne privately conferred with her contacts . . .

“I have struck an agreement with the Host Tower,” Vellynne informed Idrianthe and Mallory after returning to the common room. “The two of you have been granted permission to accompany me with no further stipulations. However,” she went on, “while the Circle I draw links to the Host Tower, as specified, there is no permanent Circle drawn in Caer-Konig to access upon our return. The closest one, which I used not long ago, was inscribed in Bryn Shander by a former member of the Brotherhood called Vaelish Gant. He has since been excised and disowned, but the Circle remains for our use. It is in the crypt underneath the House of the Triad. A secret entrance leads out, so we shan't be seen.” The implications of this separation was left for Idrianthe and Mallory to consider, and should they be judged too severe, Vellynne was prepared to call the whole thing off.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:50, Fri 08 Sept 2023.

Conversations on the morality of approaches and the validity of other species' standing were hardly good talk to have over breakfast, so Mallory didn't press the matter on Trovus further.  There were other pressing matters to attend to anyway.  The young noble busied herself with finishing her meal and preparing her supplies, as well as working briefly with Farwalker when it came to readying the corpses they'd stored as respectfully as possible for the night.  The body of Apple and the slain Illithid each were bound up in spare wrappings and cord for what respect could be offered in such a state.  Thankfully it was so cold that they were in no risk of decay overnight.

Vellynne's announcement of the conditions for their visit was of no surprise.  "Well, we were planning on returning back to Bryn Shander sooner than later.  I suppose it'll be sooner still than even that." It would surely be too much to ask for a spell scroll of Teleportation to return by of their own accord, and Mallory wasn't certain she would be able to properly utilize it with a place like Ten-Towns as the destination to begin with.  "The others are going afield west of here anyway on their tasks, so meeting back up in Bryn Shander should be no issue for us.  How long do you expect the Host Tower will need, Madame Harpell?  A few days, a week...?"  Unless the Host Tower had some particularly effective means of interrogating the dead, the rituals would likely necessitate taking place over an extended period just for the sake of covering all bases.

"Well, I was thinking a day at most," Vellynne admitted, "but accommodations can be arranged. Perhaps we should see how the interrogation goes and take it from there."