"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.