“This is outrageous!” one of the Waterdhavian merchants bellowed. Though his voice was deep and gruff, it carried only to his immediate vicinity, muffled by the sharp snow and howling winds that pummeled the caravan. He held a leather-gloved hand up to shield his face. “Someone get ahold of that blasted guide! I demand to know precisely where we are!”

More than an hour had passed since the caravan had been expected to arrive at Bryn Shander. A mere six wagons in length and transporting mostly grain and salt, it was of dire importance to the populations of Ten-Town that the caravan arrived, as the situation up North had only worsened over these past months. Since no-one was permitted to venture past the Spine of the World without a guide these days, everyone accompanying had relied on said guides’ prowess with the terrain to get safely through the mountain pass and onto the snow-covered roads. They seemed to know what they were doing. New, long-haired horses adapted to the cold climate had been provided, and the wagons had been fitted to more resemble sleighs. However, once the storm hit it was becoming clear that they had led the entire expedition astray, as the beaten road was replaced by ragged, uneven, and barren terrain. Many of the less adequately clad individuals were growing increasingly anxious, especially now as the day was rounding up and the twilight turned to complete darkness.

One person who did not seem anxious in the slightest was Dannika, a half-elven scholar who claimed to have studied at Candlekeep and was now venturing north in search of beings she referred to as ‘Chwingas’. With a pole-mounted lantern swaying above her head, she was nestled in the back of a wagon and bundled up in layers upon layers of warm wool clothing. Even now in this fierce weather she continued to flip through her books, holding the pages still with her oversized mittens.

“Brigands?” another merchant a bit further up front asked as he pointed to a small hill adjacent to the caravan’s path. Several looming figures had begun to appear in the distance, mere silhouetted blots barely visible by the lights of the caravan. The merchants had taken to arguing what they could be. “I bet it’s that darn goliath! She’s set a trap for us! I told you!” He looked over his shoulders, trying to spot Farwalker.

Dannika’s lantern flickered green, which immediately tore her away from the book she was trying to read. She turned and stood on her knees, tugging her scarf away from her face. “Stop the carriage!”

“Stop?!” the portly Waterdhavian shouted. “Are you mad?!”

---

The area immediately surrounding the caravan is lightly obscured. All characters have disadvantage on Perception checks that rely on sight. The area further away from the caravan is heavily obscured unless you have Darkvision or provide a source of light, at which point it becomes lightly obscured.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:45, Sun 03 Apr 2022.

Arno had opted to walk along with the caravan. While he surely could have gotten a horse to ride when leaving his home, it did not feel right for a pilgrimage to be such a simple task. So he trudged along, the longsword hoisted in his left hand, carried in its scabbard, while the right one was kept up to shield his eyes from the elements. As the caravan started coming to a stop, and shouting came on, he stopped and looked ahead, trying to discern what was going on.

"What's going on?" he calls out to no one in particular, simply anyone who might answer with a proper answer. He moved forward towards the lead of the caravan, trying to see what was up in front.

--- ---
23:05, Today: Arno de'Lyon rolled 34 using 2d20-1 with rolls of 18,17.  Perception (Disadvantage).
I messed up the roll but I got 16 (17-1) for Perception

Arno was met with severe resistance from the wall of wind as he trod the snow.

"Blast it all, I would like to know that too!" the merchant yelled as the horses continued to pull the sleighs. "But I'm not about to become food for savages! Or freeze to death for that matter! We can't just stop!"

Off in the distance, Arno tried to discern what the blots in the distance were actually supposed to be. They were far too small to be Goliaths. In fact, they did not resemble upright creatures at all. One was walking on all fours. All of them were.

Rhydd had been walking alongside a wagon ever since some time prior to their getting hit by a blizzard. His job was to provide fresh meat to the caravan whenever possible in exchange for free passage up to Bryn Shander, but attempting to hunt during a blizzard was a waste of time.

~I wonder how far astray that lackwit has led us . . . ~ he thought to himself -- the "lackwit" in question was the caravan's official guide. Given the uneven ground and rocks that were underfoot, it was clear to Rhydd that the caravan was no longer traveling along the road that led travelers to Bryn Shander.

~. . . and where we are now?~ For all he knew, given the weather conditions, their guide had gotten totally lost and the caravan was not even heading to towards Bryn Shander at this point. He had found enough frozen bodies in his time to know that once travelers lost their way in a driving blizzard, it was only by pure good luck that they did not perish.

The hunter heard snatches of conversation which led him to believe that someone amongst the caravan had spotted something or someone off in the distance. He found his snowshoes and began putting them on -- if trouble was headed their way, the attackers would need to be stopped before they got in among the wagons and merchants -- whom Rhydd expected to wave their arms and bleat and run about like sheep if the danger came too near.

---

OOC: In addition to using italics for unspoken thoughts, I bracket my PC's thought with tildes (~) instead of the quotation marks that are used for spoken words. To my way of thinking, that makes it a little easier to distinguish between the two,

Holding his hand over his eyes to try and focus on.. Whatever it was, Arno squints... It was creatures. Wolves, perhaps?

"Looks like some beasts. Are they wolves? Or bears? Do you have them this far up north? I can't quite see what they are.."

Even as he spoke, he reached for his sword. Something just didn't feel right. He looks to the others joining the caravan as guards and miscellaneous.

"A pity that one would think my ways duplicitous." Farwalker's voice rumbled it's way through the wind. She'd been through much worse before, and there was a way to talk that helped cut through the noise. She didn't use that particular trick here, letting her words be pulled from her lips and driven from the world. For the best, that.

For now, she was marching steadily behind one of the wagons, letting the tracks compact the snow so that she didn't have to wear the snowshoes. She hated the damned things. They always made her feel ungainly. Fortunately, this left her in the position of being able to hop into the wagon that held Dannika. The flickering lantern was a bit obvious when one was standing behind it.

She had to squat down so that the two were on a more even level, and even then she towered over the woman. "What do you see in the darkness that would have us stop?" Perhaps a little vague and poetic, but one had to keep up appearances.

Amid Dannika and Farwalker in the back of that particular wagon sat a heavy bundle of furs piled in a corner, tucked into some space between two hefty bags of grains.  Nothing more than spare pelts at first glance, perhaps, but it wasn't long after chatter and shouts came from outside the wagon that the pile shifted a bit and sleek, white-furred cat slunk his way out with a languid stretch.  No mere mundane feline though - an arch of his back to loosen up let free a pair of lushly feathered wings, like those of a snow owl, which fluffed and settled as the cat gave the two women a passingly suspicious look.  A strange but lovely creature to be certain, along with an obviously intelligent intent in his gaze and movement as he hopped deftly out the back of the wagon and clambered up the covered side.

Meanwhile, also from within the heap of furs, came a dull groan and a heavily-gloved hand that blindly reached out to grope around where the Tressym had been a moment prior.  "Nnn... Astre?  Come back, baby, it's... nn... too cold out." a muffled voice grumbled in what sounded like a half-asleep daze before the hand retreated back under cover once more.

Outside on the roof of the wagon, the Tressym - Astre, apparently - turned his attention outward to the surrounding area.  The howl of the dense bluster around him didn't seem to bother him all too much; a thick coat and pale color helped him contend with the weather just fine.  Nor did the dark seem any concern either as his keen eyes glowed in the gloom and sharp nose lifted to sniff at the icy winds for whatever traces of nearby life carried in.

Familiar - Perception w/Advantage via Keen Smell
Mallory Bonheur rolled 25, 24 using 2d20+5
Nat 20 on the skill check, if that matters

Astre is using his sense of smell primarily, along with having Darkvision and a Passive Perception of 15 to back it up where visual is concerned.  He'll telepathically communicate whatever he notices down to Mallory and prompt her to link their senses if something dangerous is found.

"Chwingas! Here!" Dannika eagerly exclaimed. It seemed like she was going, irregardless of whether or not the caravan halted. Poised on the edge to drop into the snow below, the green light faded from the lantern. "Shucks."

Animals, not people, Astre saw from atop the wagon-sleigh's roof with his immaculate feline eyes. Their scent carried down to the caravan through the wind, confirming it. Wolves. Four of them, perhaps more hiding beyond the hill. Astre noticed another four of the clever animals trying to stay concealed off in the distance on the opposite side of the caravan. They had not taken Astre into the calculation for their two-pronged attack.

Arno located one of the caravan's guards close by. They did not number more than two, apparently having been cut to save coin, as one had complained. Salim, Arno had come to know him as. Both the hired guards carried crossbows and shortswords at their hip. "Would bears attack a caravan like this?" he shouted as he shielded his eyes. "Wolves, certainly! People aren't the only ones who's been starving in these times!"

Rhydd's suspicion was turning true - the merchants had caught whiff of what was coming and were yelling among themselves, some expressing regret over ever taking part in the expedition. He had a decent idea of where they were at this moment in time. It seemed Niels, the lead guide, had veered off north-west and continued up in an S-shaped manner, snaking between the hills. While the surface was rocky and jagged, it was curios how accommodating the route itself had proved, all things considered. As if this had been a road a long time ago. As Rhydd finished putting on his snowshoes, Alma, the guide who typically stayed at the back, rode up to him. "Wolves! Are you heading out? I'll ask Niels what he thinks we should do!"

---

Rhydd's mental map would say the caravan is currently around these parts, marked by the red circle: Map

Let me know if you can't access it and I'll find another site to host it on.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:38, Sat 12 Dec 2020.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 8):

Rhydd turned to address Alma. "Don't waste your time talking to Niels," he growled. "He is the lackwit who got us lost."

He took a deep breath, and glanced around, shaking his head at the panic amongst the merchants. "My advice is to see if you can get these people to pull their wagons into a rough circle."

"'Twill give them something to do. And if they are busy doing something, hopefully 'twill keep them all from pissing themselves in fear  -- which would be bad, in these frigid conditions. It might make the wagons easier to defend, if our attackers manage to get close."

"And aye," he added, "I am heading out, to see if I can put some arrows into whatever is coming our way, with ill-intent."

With that, Rhydd strung his longbow (while the hemp and linen materials that the string was made of had a natural resistance to water, he did not wish to expose the string  to as much moisture as was in the air during a blizzard until he was ready to use his bow), and turned, beginning to make his way towards the spot where one of the other travelers who looked like he could wield a weapon was talking to one of the caravan guards.

---

OOC: Rhydd plans to make his way to where Arno is speaking to the caravan-guard.

Bears, can Rhydd (IC) hear the comments about wolves? Thus far he has not made his own Perception check.

And yes, I can see the map -- thanks!
This message was last edited by the player at 17:39, Sat 12 Dec 2020.

The heap of pelts continued to drift between a state of low mumbling and almost-about-to-snore sounds before, with a sudden jerk and a snort, it perked up.  All at once it surged upright to reveal that it was no mere stack of furs but rather a dense array of protective winter clothing and layered cloaks that had been bundled up tight about their bearer.  Namely, a well-dressed young woman who staggered up onto her boots with a half-asleep wobble and suddenly wild look in her eyes, as if she'd taken a fright out of nowhere.

"Wolves!  Wolves!" Mallory yelped from inside the wagon, certainly loud enough for the others to hear and risk spooking some less-prepared folk in her haste.  From their nearness, Dannika and Farwalker could each see the young woman appeared blind as her eyes were clouded over and white, unfocused on anything as she stumbled around the back of the wagon bumping into things in her panic.  "Four wolves ahead!  Four more hidden to the southwest, flanking us!  Guards!  Guards!"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:17, Sat 12 Dec 2020.

Hearing the woman scream wolves to confirm his assumptions, Arno unsheathes the longsword and puts the scabbard onto one of the carts. He wouldn't be needing that part for a while. "Alright, everyone keep together, back to back if need be. Don't let them get on your sides, or worse, get at your back. Watch your throats. Fight smart, not hard here, folks." he says, looking around to those armed, to gauge their average skill. Sure, they had travelled together, but so far it had been rather calmly so. Push was coming to shove, and he didn't feel like ending up in a shallow, snow-clad grave any time soon. At this point, it was the guards and the folk in the wagons he feared for the most.

"I'll have to get to Niels to stop the caravan!" Alma responded to Rhydd, but before she could lay off into a trot Niels came riding down through the deep snow. "No need! A circle is a good idea!" Niels was an aged ranger, clad in a gray woolen cloak, with a mustache just poking out. Even considering the weather, he should have been familiar with the terrain and he absolutely should not have committed such an egregious error. Keeping his hat pinned down with a hand to avoid it being carried away by the wind and pointing to Alma, he shouted; "We need to hurry! You ride up upward, I'll ride downward! We converge around the center!"

Alma made her way up, informing the guard Arno was talking to about the situation as she talked to each of the merchants to get them to turn their carriages. "Good luck, Arno!" When Rhydd came up, the guard nodded before hopping over to the other side to inform the other guard on the opposite side of the caravan.

"Hey!" Dannika caught the guard's attention as he passed by to relay Mallory's information. "There's wolves to the southwest too! Four of them!"

One of the wolves on the hill howled. The distraction team made no effort to conceal their location, having gathered very obviously at the top, and looked about ready to start downward.

Raising his voice so that it might carry over the blustery winds, Rhydd called out "Good work, whoever spotted those wolves coming in from the other side!"

And he meant it. If they had not been noticed, the second group of wolves might have slammed into the unwary caravaneers sight unseen, whilst the travelers concentrated their attention on the group of predators who had sky-lined themselves up on the top of the hill.

~Come on, Rhydd. Pay attention!~ he chided himself. ~ You should have suspected that there was a second group of wolves, and spotted them yourself. Mistakes like that can get a man killed.~

---

OOC: Now that he is aware that there are two groups of wolves, Rhydd will turn his attention to the group that he judges will most quickly close the distance and attack the caravan.

I rolled a Survival Check in case it is needed, but I think that it could be argued that given his background as a local hunter/trapper/guide, Rhydd would routinely be familiar with common wolfpack tactics.

 15:02, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 14 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 10.  Survival Check re: Wolfpack Tactics.

---

Rhydd's Survival Check (14): Optimally, the stealth-group, being extremely hard to spot through the darkness and whiteout, would hit a moments notice before the hill-group, taking the caravan by surprise and drawing focus away from the much more overt distraction force. This way they would achieve their desired effect and be able to fight all at once in order to suffer minimal losses.

But then again, they were animals - who knew how refined their hunting tactics were.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:31, Sun 13 Dec 2020.

Farwalker hummed thoughtfully to herself, then moved to steady Mallory. "Be at ease. Panic will only cause more harm than good. We travel in a group for occasions such as these." Her hands were very large, and unsurprisingly strong, but gentle. "I am a guide throught the beaty of the night. It is within my power to keep most everyone safe." And that was that. Once she was certain that Mallory wouldn't be trying to damage the cart with her body, Farwalker slid her bag from her shield and made to hop down from the wagon, and to trudge as close to the center as she could.

She wasn't wearing gloves, so it was easy enough to make sure her shield was properly on her arm, stars seemingly reflecting off it's black surface. She'd just had the thing repainted, and didn't particularly look forward to finding another painter on par with the last. For now it was just waiting, keeping as close to the center as she could while keeping an eye out for the wolves. Hopefully her timing wasn't off.

---

OOC:

So a 19 on perception. My idea here is to time it so that she gets off one 'round' of her Channel Divinity so that everyone is under it's effect before the wolves arrive.

Today: Farwalker rolled 23 using 1d20+4.  Forgot Disadvantage.
Today: Farwalker rolled 19 using 1d20+4.  Perception

"I'm going out to face off against the wolves that are coming in from the southwest," Rhydd announced to any who were within earshot. He found himself wondering whether Niels and Alma would be able to goad the merchants into circling up their wagons before the wolves hit. He supposed that it would depend upon how far away the two groups of wolves were, and how fast they were closing.

Putting his words into action, Rhydd stepped over to the side of the caravan where he judged that the second group of wolves would strike, and peered into the swirling snow . . .

---

OOC: DM, I was not sure whether a Perception Check would be needed in order for Rhydd to spot the oncoming wolves, since he knows (more or less) where to look for them. In case it is needed, here it is:

12:34, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 24,10 using d20+4,d20+4 with rolls of 20,6.  Perception Check re: Oncoming Wolves (w/Disadvantage).

Notes: Also, I was not certain whether the Disadvantage to Perception Checks still applies, since presumably the wolves are closing the distance, and Rhydd knows where to direct his eyes.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:11, Mon 14 Dec 2020.

As Rhydd moved off slightly, Arno turns and looks to him.

"Just don't stray from the caravan, wouldn't want you flanked by a pack." he calls out, his sword gripped in both hands, and angled slightly forward, ready to strike incoming foes. Now that they all knew danger was about, he wasn't gonna let his guard down.

The merchants worked quickly to get their carriages arranged in a circle. "The horses!" Niels called out, him and Alma having gathered by Arno, where Rhydd previously was. "Turn them toward the center, they can't get spooked!" Fortunately some of them heard him and started relaying the information. Niels and Alma unstrapped their own shortbows.

The wolves had started down the hill, running as fast as they could. Though they were clear targets, the darkness still made them hard to pinpoint as they kicked up snow.

---

Not my prettiest work, but it will have to do for now: Battlemap
1 square = 5 feet.
Let me know if you feel I've made a mistake in the set-up.

Order of initiative:

• Rhydd (22, wins tie with Mallory by having a higher Dex score)
• Mallory and Astre (22)
• Wolves (19)
• Niels, Alma, Guards, and Merhcants (-)
• Farwalker (11 15)
• Arno (6)

(I make the NPCs act simultaneously as enemies to maintain flow. Typically I will deem who goes first on a case by case basis. In this scenario Niels and Alma will act first, followed by guards, then merchants.)

Wolf AC so you know whether or not your attack hits: 13
Ranged attacks made into darkness has disadvantage.
Wolves to the southwest can only be attacked if you succeed on a DC 16 Perception check (w/ disadvantage due to the darkness). Astre does not need to roll again, so as long as Mallory looks through his eyes she knows where they are.


Edit: Changed the battlemap to take Farwalker's last post into consideration.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:50, Wed 16 Dec 2020.

Rhydd caught a glimpse of the Wolves that were closing with the caravan -- their motion helped him spot them, he felt certain -- if they had been still, he was unsure if he would have seen them amidst the whirling snow.

"Four wolves to the northwest, 40 or 50 feet away!" he called out, raising his voice in the hopes that he would be heard over the blustery winds. Everyone should have been aware of the Wolves by now, but in his experience there was always some lackwit who was not paying attention.

He already had an arrow nocked, so he raised his bow in a smooth, long-practiced motion, sighted, and fired on one of the oncoming Wolves. He could tell from the beast's reaction that he had scored a solid hit . . .

---

OOC:

Free Action: Speak.

Move: None.

Action: 14:13, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 9 using 1d20+7 with rolls of 2.  Ranged Attack on Wolf (AC 13).

14:16, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 8 using 1d8 with rolls of 8.  Superiority Die-Roll (Precision Attack) .

Total Attack Roll: 17. Hit.

14:16, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 10 using 1d8+3 with rolls of 7.  Damage (Longbow).

Miscellaneous: 14:28, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 7 using 1d6+3 with rolls of 4.  Temporary Hit Points.

Notes: Rhydd aimed at the Wolf in Square M-9. He used a Superiority Die, and has three remaining (expended dice refresh after a short or a long rest). He has the "Archery" Fighting Style (+2 to Attacks with ranged weapons).
This message was last edited by the player at 20:12, Wed 16 Dec 2020.

Mallory startled a bit at Farwalker's reassurances - somehow she didn't quite seem to hear her properly, as if deaf on top of being blind - and jerked back at first brush.  Being urged to sit once more didn't do much good either as the fretful young woman immediately scrabbled about to stick her head out into the bluster... an action she instantly regretted as soon as the bitter wind made her skin ache on contact.

"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods..." she whined and whimpered even as, just above her atop the wagon, her feline companion remained attentive in his passing gaze about the impromptu battlefield.  Why were they in a fight?  Why was there such danger on - presumably - the main road?!  Despite her confusion and fear Mallory hurriedly cupped her hands together around a whisper of arcane words that gathered amid her palms like sparkling dust, growing brighter with each utterance.

"Spirits of the Slumbering Realm, dancing amid moonlit shade.  Steal away the furtive worries of mortal hearts and lay with me, perchance to dream." a low incantation swirled from her lips along with the steam of her breath.  With a little 'hup!' she tossed the motes upward to her Familiar who, with a swift flap of his wings, scattered it out into the winds and onto the heads of the approaching wolf pack.

---

Mallory will Ready an Action for when the second group of Wolves comes within 30 feet of the wagon circle.  She's casting a spell without an attack roll requirement, so it should be fine regardless of visibility since she has Astre as well.

Readied Re/Action: Mallory will upcast "Sleep" at 2nd level, attempting to hit all (or at least the majority) of the second wolf pack.  She wants them to fall asleep within range of the wagon's defenses so they can be picked off easily.

Total HP affected: 29
Mallory Bonheur rolled 29 using 7d8 (blech, really low roll for an upcast spell)

Just for the sake of clarity, Mallory isn't casting a spell through her Familiar.  The description is just for the sake of flavor.

Rhydd's arrow was set to fell the beast, but either Rhydd's eyes had deceived him and the hit had not been as dead on as he had thought, or a miracle backed the wolf, urging it on. It continued to charge into the caravan's defenses alongside its brethren, ramming into the guard closest to Rhydd despite the arrow firmly lodged in its neck. The guard was knocked down into the snow. Another wolf hit Rhydd, but he managed to fend off the bite.

Dannika had watched in amazement as Farwalker strode into the middle of the caravan, weaving her blessing unto everyone in the vicinity, and now watched Mallory as she cast her spell. "Wow, good thing you're here!"

High in the air, Astre deftly scattered the dust, adjusting for the heavy winds to carry it to the wolves below. While Astre had spotted the wolves, the wolves had not spotted Astre, none-the-wiser as they continued to prowl closer. One briefly stopped upon contact with the dust, wrinkled its nose, and sneezed before falling asleep. The magic was sufficient to affect one more wolf, but scarcely coated the fur of a third one.

Had Arno not been warned of the oncoming ambush it would surely have caught him by surprise, but as the wolves emerged from the darkness and into the caravan's light he was able to glean them from the surroundings. There were not four of them, as was warned, but two. Though much less dire, the wolves still coordinated their attacks and bit him firmly in the leg.

Alma and Niels both hit the biting wolf with their shortbows, swiftly felling it.

Salim, the guard that was knocked prone, scrambled to stand upright in face of the snarling wolf. He drew his shortsword and lashed out. His fellow guard, Mikel, fired his crossbow at a nearby wolf. Both of them missed their targets.

The merchants had taken to lighting torches, in case the wolves managed to irk through the outer defenses.

---

Battlemap.
1 square = 5 feet.

Arno takes 9 6 piercing damage from a wolf bite, reduced by Heavy Armor Master.
The wolves on AD32 and AG31 have fallen asleep.
The wolf on Q16 is heavily wounded.
The wolf on AE20 is dead.
The guard on S17 is wounded.

Order of initiative:

• Rhydd (22, wins tie with Mallory by having a higher Dex score)
• Mallory and Astre (22)
• Wolves (19)
• Niels, Alma, Guards, and Merhcants (-)
• > Farwalker (15)
• Arno (6)

This message was last edited by the GM at 05:03, Sat 19 Dec 2020.

Farwalker stood in the center and stared up at the sky, as she had so many times before. The blizzard wasn't exactly the best view, but it was still a beautiful one, in it's own way. It would be a shame to ruin the moment, but something was already coming along to do that. She rolled her shoulder at that though, settling the shield on her arm just a little more. It was a heavy thing, even for her. But that's what happens when it's made entirely of steel.

She eyed the battered edge of it thoughtfully, and then slammed the back of her axe into it, letting sparks fly into the air and get carried away by the wind. But that was the point, and the still burning sparks exploded into an aurora around her, swirling and dancing with the storm.

When the wolves neared and the battle commenced, a lance of light sparked out of the aurora, striking towards the most heavily injured wolf.

---

OOC:

Movement: N/A
Action: Sacred Flame to most injured wolf. DC 12 Dex Save
Bonus Action: N/A

Don't forget about your free Temp HP! (This also applies to the guards >.>)

With longsword in both hands, Arno held fast as the wolf closed its fangs around his leg. Luckily, feeling the rejuvinating influence of Farwalker's weaving, the hit did not feel as bad as he had feared, and luckily, the thick protection of the boots took most of the brunt anyhow. Though with some quick footwork, he switched his stance, and aimed to bring his sword down hard on the other wolf that was close by. He made a quick motion with his hand across the length of the sword, causing it to ignite with bright flame, and then made a trained arc down at it.

---

Bonus Action: Searing Smite.
Adds 1d6 Fire Damage to Target.
Target must succeed a Con save vs DC 13 or take 1d6 additional damage.
On a successful save, the spell ends.

11:39, Today: Arno de'Lyon rolled 4 using 1d6+3.  Arno temp HP.

4 Temp HP before Wolf attack, reducing it to 2 damage total suffered.

Action: Attack
Attack Roll: 15 vs AC, 12 Slashing + 3 Fire Damage

11:47, Today: Arno de'Lyon rolled 15 using 1d20+5.  Attack Roll (Longsword, +5) vs Wolf.
11:49, Today: Arno de'Lyon rolled 12,3 using 1d10+3,1d6.  Longsword (Versatile) damage (Slashing), Searing Smite damage (Fire).

The oncoming Wolves closed quickly with the defenders who were clustered near to the wagons of the caravan. One of the beasts singled out Rhydd and was soon too close for the archer to get off another shot.

Without turning away from his attacker, Rhydd reached behind him and dropped his bow lightly so that ended up leaning against a nearby wagon -- he did not want it lying lengthwise in the wet snow.

Drawing his rapier, he lunged at the Wolf, only to have the blade miss the beast. Rhydd scowled in aggravation -- he knew that he was better with his bow, but he prided himself upon being able to give a good account for himself with his blade.

~Going to have to do better than that, Rhydd-me-lad,~ he thought to himself, even as he brushed some snow out of his face with his free hand.

---

OOC:

Object Interaction (Free Action): Draw rapier.

Move: None.

Action: 12:27, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 7 using 1d20+5 with rolls of 2.  Melee Attack v. Wolf (AC 13). Miss.

Notes: I do not believe that Rhydd can unsheathe his blade and ready his shield in the same turn (at least, not without using his Action for the round to ready his shield), so his AC is still at 15.

Mallory paid no heed to the grateful remarks issued her way for the sake of her magics - she was quite preoccupied in that moment with a rather unusual look about herself.  Eyes still glassy white and blind to the world, head tilted back as if she were not in control of her own movements; a plume of constant steam wafted from her parted lips as the flow of magic spilled out without pause seemingly of its own accord, escaping from her rather than being blown by her.  The heat of her breath on the frozen wind was laced with glimmering dust that whipped and whirled, driven out by Astre's busy wings into the darkness beyond.

Action: Mallory will upcast "Sleep" at 2nd level again
Mallory wants to target the first pack of wolves to the west.  If the spell only targets enemies and won't affect her allies, she'll drop it right in their midst at R-17 to catch all of the wolves in its reach.  If it would also affect allies, however, she'll instead target it at N-17 so that it'll just catch the three western-most Wolves.

Total HP Affected: 49
Mallory Bonheur rolled 49 using 7d8 (that's more like it!)

The wolf Farwalker kept in her eye had glanced upward, noticing the aurora as it was bathed in its green light. When the lance shot downward, it jumped aside, letting only the snow in its wake spatter in the impact.

Arno, however, did not miss. His sword, heavy and true, sliced a cut deep enough to fell any wolf. It collapsed at his feet. On his side, there were no more wolves approaching, the threat having seemingly been taken care of. “Where’s the rest? There were supposed to be four!” Niels yelled and Alma nodded. Both of them had failed to see Mallory cast her spell amid the spectacle of the caravan rearrangements. Niels peered over the landscape to see if they still laid in wait but could not spot their winter coats against the snow through the darkness.

The wolf by Rhydd, having deftly dodged the swing of the rapier, managing to barely find an opening and sink its teeth into his side.

Before Salim could lunge at the wounded wolf just next to him it fell into a seemingly inexplicable slumber. He stared with surprise, seeing two other wolves in the pack had fallen asleep as well. The guard beside him stabbed his sword through the sleeping wolf, ending him. Salim waded through the snow, over to Rhydd to lend his aid and thrust his sword into the snarling wolf's shoulder.

---

Battlemap.
1 square = 5 feet.

Rhydd suffers 6 piercing damage.
The wolf on U15 suffers 2 piercing damage and is the only enemy still conscious.

Order of initiative:

• Rhydd (22)
• Mallory and Astre (22)
• Wolves (19)
• Niels, Alma, Guards, and Merhcants (-)
• > Farwalker (15)
• Arno (6)

This message was last edited by the GM at 07:58, Tue 22 Dec 2020.

The last wisps of that strange, glimmering magic eased from Mallory's slack mouth into the air and...

ki-^chuu!

...she suddenly startled back into a sense of lucidity as she gave the tiniest of little kitten-sneezes that blew one lingering puff of sparkles out her chilled nostrils.  "Ugh, why does that always go right up my nose?" she grumbled to herself as she rubbed her face into the crook of one arm, but pointed out into the snowy darkness with the other.  "The other two wolves are asleep fifty paces to the south-east!  There!"

Free Action: Mallory directs attention to where the other two Wolves she put to Sleep lay.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:24, Tue 22 Dec 2020.

Niels briefly tried to locate the person who was talking to him, seeing the bundled woman next to Dannika. "Got it!" He laid out with his horse, Alma on tow, and dissapeared beyond sight.

Farwalker once again channeled through the aurora swirling above her, calling forth another lance that struck towards the wolf engaged with Rhydd.

---

Slightly updated Battlemap.
Since technically no one has acted since Mallory's last post I'll use the ranger's movement now.

The wolf on U15 takes a whopping 1 damage from Farwalker's Sacred Flame and is very much still alive.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:12, Mon 28 Dec 2020.

Arno had a hunch that there would be no more wolves on this side, but the animals were a clever bunch when it came to hunting tactics. As such, he remained on this flank, just to make sure the civilians weren't set upon.

"Just stay where you are, if there are more, I'll protect you."

He keeps his sword at the ready, looking out into the snow, but also glancing to the other side of the group to make sure that side did not get any more problems. They seemed to be keeping it together though.

Rhydd had narrowed his eyes, squinting into the blustery winds and blowing snow, as two of the Wolves attacking on his side simply lay down in the snow, without suffering any obvious wounds. ~Magicks?~ he wondered to himself. ~If so, I need to treat someone to some ale -- or wine -- once we reach Bryn Shander.~

The only Wolf that was still active on his side of the wagons was the one that was still trying to make him its meal. As soon as he had the opportunity, he slipped his left arm through the strap of his linden-wood shield, and stabbed at the attacking Wolf with his rapier. It had snapped at his leg with its sharp teeth only a short while before, but the Northman had felt none of the pain that he had expected from such an attack. ~More magicks?~ he found himself wondering. ~I shall have to ask around when time allows.~

---

OOC:

Object Interaction: Ready shield.

Action: 13:01, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 9 using 1d20+5 with rolls of 4.  Melee Attack v. Wolf in U-15 (AC 13). Miss.

Notes: Rhydd has suffered 6 points of Damage, leaving him with one Temporary Hit Point. Thanks, Farwalker! :) Rhydd's AC is now 17 (armor, Dex, and shield).

For Rhydd's three Attacks, I have rolled two 2's and now a 4. One of these days, I'll roll in the double digits! It is a good thing that other PCs are picking up the slack, or else Rhydd would be the Wolves' dinner by now!
This message was last edited by the player at 18:12, Tue 29 Dec 2020.

There were indeed magics at play in the frostbitten air; cascading sparkles of faint light that gleamed across the fur of the unconscious wolves, holding them down in a supernatural slumber.  What there was not, however, was a bold spellcaster leaping into the fray as Mallory quite immediately hunkered herself back down in the back of the wagon when Arno moved in with a declaration of protection.

"Just stay where you are, if there are more, I'll protect you."

"Yes, please do!" the young woman yelped as she cloistered herself amid the security of obscuring cargo.  Outside, meanwhile, her winged feline companion continued to gaze about with glowing eyes keen on the surrounding battlefield, ever astute while his master cowered away.

Familiar - Perception check for any other trouble or noteworthy events outside
Mallory Bonheur rolled 24 using 1d20+5

The wolf still left fighting, outnumbered and wounded from Farwalker's swirling lights, shrewdly surveyed the battlefield. Whether or not he realized much of his pack was sleeping and not dead was hard to know from his reaction, but what it did betray was the realization he was now fighting by his lonesome. He snarled as he slowly backed off, deciding to cut his losses. The moment he had put enough distance between him and the caravan he turned tailed through the snow and dissapearing into the blizzard. Tomorrow he might starve, but today he might live.

Mallory, through the eyes of Astre, followed his trajectory as he fled up the hill from whence he came.

Niels and Alma returned from the darkness, Niels holding his hat as he shouted to Arno: "One wolf has been dealt with! The other one got up and ran!"

---

Battlemap.
1 square = 5 feet.

The two conscious wolves disengage and flee. Combat ends unless they are pursued or attacked.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:55, Wed 30 Dec 2020.

"Even the beasts waste away in this endless night." Her aurora still swirled around her, and would for a little bit longer, little pieces breaking off to float around anyone that touched it. It soothed fear and simply made people feel more alive. Or maybe just a bit healthier. It did nothing for exhaustion, sadly. She could dismiss it, but she just liked how it looked.

With a simple series of words, a short prayer to the beauty of the stars, and Farwalker's voice cut through the wind. "Perhaps it would be best if the sleeping wolves were put down. The loss of life is a tragedy, but I do not wish for them to attack us when we are less prepared." It wasn't that she was shouting, it was just that she was loud. Magic was useful like that. "If anyone was injured outside or through my protection, come see me. Where we walk, we walk in light of night and no injury shall last into the dawn." The last was said with the intonation of a prayer. Which made a lot of sense given who was saying it.

"Whatever you plan to do with them, do it quickly!  The magic will only keep them asleep for another few moments!" Mallory's voice insisted from within the safety of the wagon as the woman herself didn't seem keen to poke out into the blizzard again if she could help it.  She'd used such spellwork to ease others who had trouble sleeping into a relaxed slumber for the night since one laid in bed had no inclination to awaken when the magic faded.  But, with the howling winds and aching cold in the air, she had no doubt the wolves would spring awake as soon as her supernatural influence was spent.

I know there aren't any Coup de Grace rules in 5e, but the sleeping wolves have the "Unconscious" condition, meaning they automatically fail STR/DEX saving throws, attacks against them have Advantage, and melee attacks are auto-crits.  I would assume that two melee combatants per wolf could rather easily dispatch them one at a time without us having to go through the slog of whittling HP away in turn order.

As Mallory calls out, Arno looks to Niels and Alma, gives them a nod, then jogs over with sword still in hand (held by the blade, handle forward for easier movement) and moves up to the wolves who are.. Asleep? He must have missed that part. He agreed with Farwalker, and unless someone intervened to stop him, would raise his sword and put them out of their misery.

Before Mallory had a chance to get properly comfortable, Dannika had come up to her, rummaging through her backpack. "That was so cool! Here! Take this!" She shoved a small hooded lantern into Mallory's lap.

Alma and Niels steered their horses into the center of the caravan where the merchants were talking. Mostly they seemed relieved the threat had been dealt with, though some voiced concerns that it might not be over. And that they were still lost.

"Let them be!" Alma protested Farwalker's proposal, but it seemed too late to stop Arno. "They'll get up and leave! They weren't hurt!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:58, Thu 31 Dec 2020.

Arno stays his blade as Alma complains. "How can you know this? They've attacked us once, what say they will not try to hurt us as they escape? They are mere animals. They fight for survival, and a cornered animal is at its most dangerous." he says, keeping his blade at the ready still.

“They’re animals, and they were hungry. Their attack is in shambles. They’ll leave, you’ll see.” Alma said.

Niels rode up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Stop, Alma. They helped us, let them do as they wish.”

Arno is quiet for a bit, but takes a step back after a short while.

"There is nobility in mercy." He lowers the blade slightly. "Surround them halfways; if they wake and see them at such a disadvantage, they may indeed simply flee.."

~Sleep, eh?~ Rhydd thought to himself. ~I did not know that -- I thought them dead. It seems that I have much to learn about magicks.~

When the conversation started up about how to deal with the sleeping Wolves, the outdoorsman steeped over to where he had set his bow, leaning against one of the wagons, and lifted it up out of the snow. He set it down in the bed of the wagon, intending to retrieve it later.

After a moment, he turned to face those who were discussing what to do with the sleeping Wolves. "I am inclined to agree with Alma," he said. "Wolves are surprisingly intelligent creatures, and this lot should have figured out that we are too strong for them."

"If 'twere up to me, I would give them the opportunity to depart with their lives."

Farwalker rolled her shoulders in a shrug, not particularly caring one way or the other about the fate of the wolves. "If you find fault with my recommendation, then so be it." It was more the fate of other that she worried about. "I shall pray for the safety of other caravans or travellers, and hope that they are as well prepared as we were." By that point, she'd finished the trudge towards the wagon with her pack, and had placed her shield back upon it. She could carry it about all day, she just really preferred not to.

It wasn't too much longer that the aurora around her faded away as she waited for anyone that needed assistance. If no one did, she'd just help move the wagons back into a more travel ready formation.

"At least someone here doesn't have manure for brains." the portly merchant huffed, huddled among the other merchants. He offered Arno his torch. "Leaving their departure to chance sounds like a terrible idea to me. And they attacked us." He sternly pointed to the ground to emphasize his point. "As much as I hate agreeing with the goliath, it's got a point - they could attack other caravans. You know what, I'll come with yo-"

Salim, the guard, stepped in among the merchants and interrupted the Waterdhavian. "Stay where you are." He took the torch and nodded to Arno. "Your plan is solid, Arno. We'll help you see it through."

The other guard walked up beside him, grabbing another lit torch from one of the merchants.

"Mmh." Niels kicked his horse into a stride. "Once the wolves have been dealt with, we'll get the caravan back in order. Alma, take the back."

As Arno and the guards, and whoever else wished to accompany, took position near the base of the hill the wolves began to stir. They growled, both surveying the area, and saw nothing but flickering torchlight. They turned around, whimpered, and fled.

---

Sorry for the delay! Expediting things along slightly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:01, Sun 03 Jan 2021.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 42):

Rhydd had taken a seat on one of the wagon-beds and had been examining the string of his longbow to make certain that the dampness of the snow had done it no harm when he heard the "manure for brains" comment of the fat merchant, and took offense.

"Shut up, lard-ass," Rhydd growled, pushing his way off of the wagon and striding aggressively to where the merchant who had nothing but wheedle and squeal when the Wolves had threatened was now holding court and breezily instructing anyone who would listen on what should be done, now that the danger was past.

"I feel much more at home in the company of Wolves than with the likes of you. Mayhap we should cut your hamstrings and leave you behind as an offering for Nature's hungry creatures -- that will solve two ills."

"Shut up, the both of you!" Mallory interjected amid the arguing to try and silence the lot, but it was no good.  Even with her voice added in, it was just another bit of noise in the jumble as they continued arguing all the same.  Rhydd's following threat - made so grim and elaborate in manner - widened the woman's dark eyes as she reflexively gasped and shrank back in obvious fright, even if it hadn't been directed at her to begin with.  It wasn't until her feline friend, Astre, fluttered back down to curl about her shoulders like a furred boa did she regain a bit of her spirit to steel herself for another go.

Thankfully, it was one that appeared in a momentary lull in the antagonistic conversation.  Mallory lifted the lantern that had been thrust upon her and, with a sharp snap of her fingers that echoed unnaturally loud, the lamp immediately lit with an intensely red flame impossible to ignore amid the surrounding gloom and snowy white.  "Enough already!  The wolves won't attack any other travelers unfortunate enough to drag themselves to the ass-end of nowhere like us, because we're not even on the damn road anymore!" a very obvious thing to point out, but a fact that went overlooked in the stress of the moment, it seemed.  Mallory directed her stern scowl over at Niels and swung the lantern his way.  "You there!  We paid good coin on the promise of safe passage, and you've led us into the wilds and nearly to tragedy!  Get us back on course at once, or at least find us somewhere to wait out the storm before we all freeze to death out here.  We'll be discussing restitution for this utter debacle once we get to whatever excuse for civilization is out here."

The merchant stood his ground, but obviously struggled to come up with a retort. Instead, as Mallory saved him, he spat on the snow and grumbled. "Lady's got a point! I ain't about to freeze over due to some petty word-slinging." When he went back to his wagon he seemed more than a little deflated.

"Apologies, madam. We're working to fix it as soon as we can." Niels tilted his hat at Mallory without turning to her or raising his voice. He seemed more than a little apathetic to the whole ordeal as he continued to herd the merchants back into line, answering their pleas for a time-estimate with a bleary "soon".

Salim helped them steer their horses, and turned to Arno, shielding his face. "There's been a few reports of brigands! Not on the main road, but further up. Though I don't know how much water it holds. I figured that was why me and Kirdan here," he gestured to the other guard. "were contracted as extra security. Now, I'm not saying..." he trailed off, patting one long haired horse as it finally managed to turn the wagon-sleigh. Niels took the front, and the caravan slowly resumed.

"Hang on." Dannika said through her thick scarf, continuing to sift through her bag, not paying much attention to Mallory's invective. She produced an entire rod, metallic in material and as long as she was tall. It did not seem like it could extend or retract, nor did it have any bends or folds. She rotated it in her hands, studying it briefly. "I expected to have to search for a while longer for someone like-minded to help me! If the lantern lights green, you know you're near the Chwingas! And of course, with the funds I've been granted from Candlekeep, I can pay you if you find one!" She swooped in and stole Mallory's lantern right back, then attached it to the top of the rod. It now looked very much like a streetlamp, and Dannika promptly handed it back. Her own lantern swung above one of her shoulders, attached to a similar, though darker rod strapped to her back. "Er... I forgot your name."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:45, Mon 04 Jan 2021.

Rhydd balefully eyed the merchant as he turned on his heel and retreated in the direction of his wagon. ~It pains me to see Nature's creatures wasting away and starving,~ the outdoorsman thought to himself, ~while ones such as him continue to pack on the blubber whilst serving as a living monument to gluttony.~

After a moment Rhydd shrugged his shoulders and turned away, even as he heard some of the other travelers carping at Niels for letting the caravan wander off the road. Truth be told, they had a point, for with the weather as bad as it was, getting lost could get you dead. The archer had spent enough time in the wilds to have developed a better than average sense of direction, and he had a good head for remembering landmarks and terrain that he had seen before.

Granted, all of the snow and swirling winds had hidden away the sun and stars, and made navigation considerably more difficult. But nonetheless Rhydd felt fairly confident that he knew where they were -- well, within a few miles, either way -- and which direction they needed to travel in, in order to arrive at Bryn Shander.

He found himself wondering whether Niels knew how to get them there.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:09, Tue 05 Jan 2021.

Farwalker was very carefully not bashing the sharp end of her axe into someone's head. She'd dealt with such people before, but there was a special irritation with those that called her it. But she wasn't a child, letting her irritation control her. Instead, she used it to sharpen the blade of her axe. Not that it really needed it. It was just therapeutic. Plus it let her sit in the back of the wagon.

"What exactly is it that fascinates you about the chwingas?" She called behind herself to Dannika.

"Oh!" Dannika beamed, seemingly glad someone finally asked. "They're elemental spirits, and they're the answer to all of this, definitely! They were first encountered on the peninsula of Chult, but were later found all over Faerûn. Confirmed sightings have occurred near Cormyr, Chondalwood, Evermeet, and just south of Baldur's Gate in a mountain pass. There have probably been many more undocumented sightings. Previous research indicates they possess the ability to alter their surroundings, and my leading theory is that something has upset them, or that at they at least know something about this eternal night that is going on. They're painfully shy, but if you know to look for them you can find them. I think. I haven't yet, but I will! I would very much like to study one up close."

---

It would make a lot of sense to me that Farwalker knows of these spirits, in other terms, shape, or form. If you want to know more, I'll have you roll a Religion check.

Farwalker's Religion check (10): While she hasn't encountered one herself, tales have passed down her former tribe. By passing conversation it seems like some of the locals living in the Ten-Towns know of them too. Most think them mere legends to explain away misfortune or luck. Mainly misfortune, as they can be quite mischievous, often stealing small items or trinkets. Though it is said that if one is ever encountered, it will bestow gifts upon those who treat it respectfully.

Mallory's Arcana check (8): Something similar to what Dannika is describing has been mentioned here and there in books and tomes Mallory's read over the years. If anything, the literature is scarce and poorly substantiated. Few scholars actually acknowledge their existence outside of Chult.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:45, Tue 05 Jan 2021.

"Er... I forgot your name."

"Mallory... Bonheur." a simple introduction in reply, though with a distinct sense of hesitation and forlorn resignation at the mention of her own surname.  It was little susprise Dannika had forgotten it though - Mallory had never told her in the first place.

All things considered, Mallory wasn't quite certain of what to make of Dannika.  Her frenetic manner and the way she kept hoisting items to and fro left the woman at a bit of a loss just trying to keep up, though she rapidly found herself without the patience to even try.  As the scholar went on at length about children's stories of mystical creatures that controlled the weather Mallory just sighed a long, weary sigh and slumped back into her seat once more.  The scepter-like lamp that had been thrust upon her laid across her lap while Astre sniffed at it, half-walked down his mistress' chest to stretch and poke about curiously.

"Sounds more like the mischief of Pixies and Sprites." she grumbled dismissively beneath her breath.  Though the mention of a budget from Candlekeep tickled her rather chilled, cold-reddened ears.  From what she knew of that esteemed archive, even getting in required a considerable amount of wealth.  The excitable scholar clearly had resources and connections available to her...  Shrewdness overcame melancholy for the moment as Mallory rallied what little patience she had left in her to try and contend with the storm that was Dannika once more.  "It may interest you that I'm a Diviner of no small skill.  I daresay that, with enough backing and support, I might be of use in narrowing your search for these... eh... capricious spirits.  You mentioned funds?"

While they chat, Mallory will Ritually cast "Identify" on the lantern she's been given to see what she can learn of its allegedly magical nature.

A particularly chilly wind blew in beneath the covers of the wagon, causing Dannika to shiver. "Well, it's not a massive grant, mind you, and I'm not sure how long I have to stay in Ten-Towns. But if you can bring me a live specimen I'll pay you, say, three-hundred gold pieces?"

---

Identify (spell) on the lantern:  The worn, matted glass or metal framing itself seems completely mundane, but the wax of the candle burning inside contains traces of something magical; mud from a tropical location. The light will shift to a green hue when in proximity of these Chwingas, just as Dannika is describing. It requires no command from the wielder. The candle will also never burn out.

Interestingly enough, the rod exudes a magical property of its own. Since Mallory wasn't focused on it, she learns little before the spell fades.

---

"Wait, hang on a second." Dannika raised an eyebrow, standing beside Mallory. Just when the wizard's spell finished, Dannika removed a mitten and tapped the rod twice with two bunched fingers. The rod slowly started to move, affixed in the air inside the wagon as the caravan continued on, bumping into sacks of grain, dragging them along and pushing them aside. One tore on the chipped edge of a plank, leaving behind a trail of its contents. "Drat! I took the wrong one with me. Rector Durham is going to be so mad." She then clumsily rushed after it, stumbling and falling over a displaced sack.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:39, Wed 06 Jan 2021.

The patiently hopeful expression Mallory had taken on turned a little strained at the edges as Dannika suggested capturing a live specimen.  Wonderful... why not just ask her to gather a few of Tiamat's toenail clippings while she was at it, for all the likelihood there was?  She held such sarcasm away in lieu of diplomacy, however, as she shuffled to sit a bit closer beside the scholar with a friendly manner about herself.

"I was thinking something a little more research-based, darling.  Surely you have a place to stay?  A budget for daily expenses?  Or at least a contact with whom you plan to stay?  We could stick together - you and I - to follow leads and do investigations, then hire some strapping worker fellow to do the legwork." she tried to negotiate sensibly since, the more time she spent in conversation, the more she felt Dannika didn't actually think such things through at all.  Mallory herself wasn't looking forward to contending with Ten-Towns, but an absentminded sort like the scholar would be eaten alive by the ruffians and brigands of the area!  Especially if she went around popping off that she had a few hundred gold on her person...

The ever-distracted Dannika fiddling with the lantern rod once more, however, brought Mallory back to the here-and-now as the woman gave a surprised yelp.  Like the scholar, she lunged after the suddenly suspended shaft but had more luck in grasping it, feeling her heels skitter along the wood of the wagon's bottom for a moment as the vehicle continued to move beneath her.  Astre swiftly darted down her arm and drummed his little kitty paw against the same spot Dannika had and sent his mistress crashing back ass-over-teakettle into the wagon bed once more as the device unaffixed itself from that point in space.

"Why--" Mallory deadpanned as she sat up braced on one elbow, ruffled and disgruntled, but with the lantern rod safely in hand.  "--do you even have an Immovable Rod in the first place?  These are industrial equipment!"

"Ah, yes. Those creatures." Farwalker nodded her head. She knew them by a different name, but it didn't much matter. "Best to be avoided in most cases." She wasn't all that sure how willing she'd be to try and capture one. "They aren't known to be harbingers of good luck." She did pause in the sharpening of her axe to look back in time to watch the... shenanigans with a pair of raised eyebrows.

"Useful industrial equipment. Are you well, Dannika? Please watch your footing, I wouldn't wish you to be injured." She said, while sitting in a bouncing wagon while sharpening an axe. Admittedly, her skin was just a lot tougher than the other woman's.

"I'm... okay!" Dannika answered Farwalker as she lunged forward to catch the rod before it exited the wagon. Before she managed to deactivate it with the tap of her fingers she was dragged along it's path. If a moment more had passed, she would have hung outside the edge and tumbled into the snow below. "Whew!" She crawled backward to safety.

"As I said, it was a mistake. I intended to bring with me ordinary ones." She patted down her layers of woolen clothing. "I'm not going to have any use for it." She hesitantly extended the rod, lantern on top, back to Mallory. "Er... I suppose I did give it to you. It's worth a great deal, so I'm going to need it back at some point, but if you want I'll let you hang on to it."

"As for research," she continued, pacing about. "you can certainly help me, but at this point I think I'm stuck treading water unless I can examine one up close. Perhaps ask it a few questions, if it's willing to answer. With the lanterns it's not impossible to find them. In theory."

---

Rhydd's Survival check for Chwingas (23): Rhydd has heard of these beings before, going by that exact name. They're real, and they're very difficult to spot due to their small size and the fact that they never leave prints in the snow. Usually, their presence is foretold by a subtle shift in the weather-pattern, be it a gentle breeze, the sweet smell of flowers, dancing fireflies, or the soft fall of snowflakes.

Rhydd had always thought of himself as a practical man, so he was a little surprised to find himself drawn to a theoretical discussion about the mysterious Chwingas. His feet made no noise in the fresh snow as he stepped over to where the two Human females and the female Goliath were holding their discussion.

"I have never seen a Chwinga," he offered during a pause in the conversation, "but I have heard a bit about them from those who are not given to telling falsehoods."

"From all that I have heard, these are real beings, not imaginary, as some believe them to be. They are small in size, and very difficult to detect by normal means," he added as he glanced over at the magicked lanterns that were supposed to aid in that purpose, "by reason of the fact that they leave no footprints in the snow, and their own natural timidity."

"I have heard tell -- again, this is coming from those whom I know to be truth-tellers, and not my own personal experiences -- that a Chwinga's presence is foretold by subtle things . . . a fresh breeze that was not present before, the smell of flowers of the field, fireflies gamboling about in the air, and a gentle snow-fall which is different than what came before -- these are all examples that have been told to me."

"Wait, I've got to write that down!" Dannika pointed to Rhydd as he approached their wagon before proceeding to fish out a quill, bottle of ink, and some paper. Another gust of wind caught some of the empty sheets and carried them far off into the freezing darkness.

While progress was slow and grueling, Niels at the very least led the caravan in a somewhat consistent direction, Rhydd figured. So far, They hadn't looped back and begun anew at any point. Coupled with the fact that the path was mostly accommodating, it seemed the lead guide had regained some semblance of navigational sense - or at least not tossed it completely wayward.

After a cold, harsh two hours, the merchants' complaints were replaced by the clatter of their teeth. Atop their horses, they huddled into whatever pelts and blankets they had brought, hoping it would be enough for the continuously dropping temperature as the late evening hours crept in. The portly Waterdhavian had elected to trod through the snow on foot and lead his horse as to not remain motionless and lose his warmth, per himself. When one of the others tried to convince him that it would only lead him to lose warmth faster, he was having none of it. To his credit he at least kept pace.

In what the merchants claimed a blessing from the gods, the blizzard finally started to diminish. Niels had led the caravan atop a vantage point at the crest of a hill, and not far away were the lights of what must have been a small town, nestled against a frozen lake. He had the caravan press on, steering it back onto the road. Once close, the caravan traveled alongside the wooden wall that encircled the settlement before reaching a lifted portcullis flanked by two watchtowers. There were no guards to be seen. On the rightmost tower was a coat of arms, partly covered in snow and hanging askew. It depicted a sailboat on a blue background.

This was Targos, not Bryn Shander.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:44, Mon 11 Jan 2021.

As a follower of Tymora and one who had experienced the highs and lows of life quite a bit in her short years thus far, Mallory was familiar with the fickle whims of luck and fate.  How easily they could twist away and turn on a person who thought, foolishly, that they were assured.  And as she stared up with a deadpan gaze at the flagging sign of Targos, just as chilled and battered-feeling as the old sign itself likely was, she was of the distinct thought that she was being punished.

"Targos." she announced flatly, her voice almost lost amid all the frigid wind as she stuck her head out the front of the wagon.  What wasn't lost, however, was the rapidly rising outrage and volume alike as she cast a glower ever so venomously Niels' way.  "Targos!  Targos?!  How in the name of Tymora's tinseled tits did you lead us so far astray as to overshoot the entirety of Bryn Shander?!"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 22:35, Mon 11 Jan 2021.

Niels steered his horse to the side of the caravan, letting the merchants enter with their wagons. The road here was easier to maneuver, with a shallower layer of snow covering it. Despite the obvious shortcomings in their manning efforts, they had at least kept the path plowed.

Several of the merchants had already expressed their dissatisfaction, and as Mallory lashed out, Niels simply stared stared at her, unflinching. In many ways it looked like he considered this entire mishap merely a big chore. "My sincerest apologies," he said and tilted his hat. "I am certain amends can be arranged. I will have a word with the town speaker tomorrow. For now, I suggest everyone find shelter within the city walls. There is an inn by the harbor, the Luskan Arms."

“Your skills must be impressive, then.” The goliath stepped up next to Mallory, her pack, which seemed more chest and barrel than pack, on her back. She’s been walking the last hour with it on her back. It wouldn’t do to let the wagons make her complacent. She had much more treacherous ground than this to still cover. “To have never made a mistake, especially in the worst of conditions. Most impressive indeed.” She didn’t smile as was her norm, instead she narrowed her eyes towards the open gate and lack of guards. Out here? That was decidedly odd.

“Normally, I would be happy to see any sort of town after the storm we found ourselves in. A lack of welcome is a mite worrisome, however.” Shrugging her shoulders to resettle her pack, she kept making her way forwards and into the town. Best to see what was going on sooner rather than stand around worrying.

Farwalker's comment ended up with Mallory turning several shades of red and purple across the face in short order, as if she couldn't decide whether to be abashed or even more angry.  She sputtered about for a moment before she found her voice once more.  "A mistake?  Losing a bit of luggage en route is a mistake.  Being a few hours off schedule is a mistake.  Getting us lost in a gods-forsaken blizzard, set upon by ravenous wolves, and missing our destination to end up in a completely different town is a bit more than a mistake!"  It seemed whatever grace allowed Farwalker to take such a turn of events in stride was not something the young noble had a surplus of at the moment.

“Normally, I would be happy to see any sort of town after the storm we found ourselves in. A lack of welcome is a mite worrisome, however.”

"They're probably all keeping warm indoors, like sensible people.  The storm's only just let up - what use would it be to have gate guards freezing their eyes out staring out into the middle of a blizzard?" she groused as she slumped back down into the wagon with a heavy thump.  "Let's just get to that inn already before we all get even more frostbitten.  My warming magics aren't going to be able to contend with this for much longer."

Farwalker laughed as she kept moving, turning her head to call back over her shoulder. “Bryn Shandar is but a few hours south. Even in a blizzard like this.” She grinned then, a wide flash of white teeth, “And far worse than wolves hide in these storms. Here there be dragons and giants and astounding dangers! With the beauty to match!” She let out another laugh, this one much louder and cheerful. “Not even a week back and something has tried to eat me. It’s good to be back home. I missed this.”

As the caravan neared the gate with the open portcullis, Rhydd sought out Alma. He would have spoken to Niels as well, but the head guide was busy defending himself from the tongue-lashings of some of the irate travelers.

"Something seems off," he remarked to the female guide. "It seems odd that both of the watchtowers would be unmanned whilst the portcullis was left up -- they should have lowered the portcullis if they were going to leave the gate unguarded."

The archer pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Do me a favor, and keep alert. And pass the word to Salim and Mikel to do the same."

Rhydd kept his head on a swivel, searching for anything else that seemed out of place . . .

---

OOC: 21:28, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 21 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 17.  Perception Check: Anything to See?
This message was last edited by the player at 03:12, Tue 12 Jan 2021.

Alma was just behind the last caravan that made it through the gates, having climbed off her horse and holding it by the reins when Rhydd approached her. "I agree, this is rather strange. It's been some time since I've been to Targos, but I doubt it would be this run down by now. Perhaps it's just an oversight?" She nodded at the mention of alerting the guard. "Aye. I'll do that. Their contract ends here, but they both seem like upright guys."

Dannika had climbed out of the wagon and now stood beside Mallory and Farwalker, having gathered her books and various items she'd taken out of her satchel during the trip. "Atchoo!" she sneezed, alerting them to her presence. She was trembling in the cold winds and her nose had started to run. "We're dot id Bryd Shadder? We were supposed to be id Bryd Shadder!"

---

Rhydd's Perception Check (21): There were torchlights beyond the city wall, and Rhydd could briefly see a person moving between two buildings with one, in a north-eastern direction. If he listened closely, he could hear the distant chatter of the city-folk.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:20, Tue 12 Jan 2021.

As much as she hated to leave what little cover the wagon offered, it was necessary to move along sooner than later.  Mallory clambered down among the others with a pack in tow over her shoulder - she had meager belongings, from the look of it - and clutched the lantern rod she'd been given all the tighter for the trouble.

"Honestly, you lot are being ridiculous.  There's no sign of any kind of struggle, now is there?  Here, I'll prove it;  Astre, darling, do us a favor and have a look around if you'd be so kind." Mallory rolled her eyes at the others' wariness as they seemed blase about genuine danger yet overly cautious at mere suspicion.  Her winged feline shifted from his spot about her shoulders with a languid stretch and, as requested, took to the skies with a bounding flap.  Thankfully with the storm having died down he didn't have to worry about being thrown about in the winds as he circled higher and higher for an aerial view of the town.

"We're dot id Bryd Shadder? We were supposed to be id Bryd Shadder!"

The stuffy comment from Dannika drew Mallory's gaze back down from the skies and she clicked her tongue in dismay at the state the young scholar had already gotten herself into.  "No, our intrepid guide has put us completely in the wrong-- oh, goodness, Dannika dear!  Come here a moment." Another round of whinging at Niels was waylaid by doting on Dannika instead.  The noble woman fretted about for a moment in taking the other by her shoulders and, with a moment's focus, set a crackle of mystical shimmers that radiated from her grip down along Dannika's coat from collar to hem.  Within a matter of seconds she'd be able to enjoy the same benefit Mallory herself had to fend off the chill; a boon of soothing, steady warmth as her clothing became comfortably toasty against the cold air.


Mallory casts "Prestidigitation" on Dannika's coat to help keep her warm for the next hour.

Astre Perception
Mallory Bonheur rolled 12 using 1d20+5

Much lower than Rhydd's, but an aerial view and Astre's Darkvision might yield some different observations, at the very least.

"Oh! Danks." Dannika said as her clothing began to heat. She hugged herself tighter and a sincerely grateful smile spread across her face.

"What day is today? The tenth?" Salim asked after Alma had spoken to them. The always-silent Mikel nodded.

Astre flew up ahead, above the sharply angled rooftops which allowed snow to easily slide off. There was a gathering in the town square by the harbor. People had come out with torches and stood around a scaffold. A man was dragged up its steps, kicking and the screaming, by what appeared to be two town guards judging by their helmets and leather armor.

The crowd was eerily solemn. Aside from the struggles of the man, who was just being led underneath a noose hanging from the beam, there was very little commotion. No booing, yelling of insults or throwing of things as one might come to expect at a public execution.

---

Mallory's Perception Check (through Astre) [12]: Mallory learns there is a public execution taking place. Astre is too far away to hear anything being said.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:57, Tue 12 Jan 2021.

Mallory offered a brief but genuine smile for Dannika's sake as she shifted to stand beside the young woman, one hand still on her shoulder.  The grip was not for the sake of continuing her magics but simply to steady herself as her dark eyes grew visibly clouded over, suddenly swept to a pale white that stared unblinking into the aether.

"There, it's just as I said - no trouble at all.  The townsfolk are all safe as houses, gathered off just down this-- oh!  Oh, goodness, how ghastly..." a starting air of smugness in her tone immediately gave way to dismay.  Her expression grew troubled as a hand lifted reflexively to cover her mouth.  "No wonder they're all gathered up.  It's a public execution - a man is going to be hung."

Insight
Mallory Bonheur rolled 0 using 1d20-1
XD

The very notion of an execution was enough to turn Mallory's stomach.  They were somewhat common back in Neverwinter, in that they happened... but the laws were so well-laid that a death sentence - let alone one performed in public - was a true rarity.  "The man to be executed is putting up quite a fuss with the guards... can't blame him, really.  And everyone else is rather stoic about it - normally when someone does something bad enough to be sentenced in the public eye, it would be quite a ruckus of jeers.  I'd imagine doubly so out here in the sticks where there's nothing entertaining about.  He must've done something truly heinous for everyone to be so subdued about it." she tutted as a shake of her head brought her senses back, clearing her eyes of that mystical fog.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:48, Tue 12 Jan 2021.

"No." Salim commented as he passed Mallory by on his way into the town. "It's quite the opposite. The man has done nothing at all. Targos hangs a person at the last of each tenday."

Rhydd supposed that some Southrons had their fair share of common sense, but it seemed that mayhap that good sense had kept them from venturing into the Far North. For it seemed to him the vast majority of those who came to the Ten-Towns area from the south were lacking in common sense, insofar as it related to living life in the Far North -- but that seemingly did little to discourage them from telling locals how they should go about doing things.

But, thankfully, now that the caravan had reached the safety of Targos, Rhydd felt that he was under no further duty to associate with any of these people. Accordingly, he turned on his heel and moved away from the wagons.

~I think that I shall pay a visit to Mistress Ethen, and then mayhap I shall look in upon Master Vegord.~

If the presence of an execution was enough to blanche Mallory's expression, the reason given by Salim was more than enough to leave her looking utterly gobsmacked.  "They... wh-- wait, what?!  Surely you don't... you can't be... What in the world could ever possess them to do such a thing?!" she insisted with a look about to the others for support in such scandal.  It came as little surprise to her that the roughneck who'd threatened horrible torture on the road didn't seem to care a lick as he trotted off to his own affairs.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:47, Tue 12 Jan 2021.

"Sickness of the mind. Well and truly." Salim shook his head disapprovingly as he went through the portcullis alongside Mikel, disappearing around a street corner.

Alma sighed and led her horse beside Mallory and Farwalker. "I've heard word of this. A few months back, many of the Ten-Towns agreed to sacrifice something or other to the Frostmaiden. Whether it helps in any way or not..." The brown-haired young woman looked up into the dark, cloudy sky for a moment, then pursed her lips and clapped her horse on the neck. "I have to lead ol' Luma here to water and see that the rest are tended to as well. Find yourselves some warmth, will ya?"

Targos was not a vast, sprawling city by any stretch of the imagination. It housed just above a thousand residents - less so in these times. Perhaps two-thirds of the homes had lit windows. The shouts from the town square grew louder as Rhydd approached the inner parts of the city, where the Luskan Arms was situated. They weren't the shouts of the crowd, but of the sentenced man, who now had his head in the noose and was placed upon a stepladder ready to be kicked away from underneath him. He was given his last words by the executioners, which he used to plead for his life, then for just one more tenday, and lastly to invoke his daughter as a final resort. Salim, with his burly arms folded, stood at the edge of the crowd and peered up at the man who's only crime consisted of having had his name drawn from a hat.

Rhydd swung open the door to the Luskan Arms, its sign, suspended from creaky chains, swaying lightly in the wind. He was greeted by the familiar, warm light of the large common room, and by a scurrying rat at his feet. Just beside him were pegs to hang coats on, several of them taken. Aside from an apparent... rat problem, the inn had a very practical, yet homely feel to it, with mugs and buckets hanging from a rope, and food and other cooking utensils placed into the multitude of shelves along the walls. A magnificent set of reindeer antlers was mounted above the fireplace, and the rug of a brown bear laid sprawled in the center of the room. Ethen, the short and old proprietor, was too busy placing some silverware back into their cupboards to notice the ranger's entrance. The few patrons here were seated by the tables and fireplace, drinking warm tea. A few of the merchants had found their way in already and were carrying their luggage up the stairs to the rooms directly above. Rhydd arrived just in time to barely catch the tail-end of Niels disappearing up to the second floor ahead of them. Near a poorly-lit corner by a window sat a grouchy-looking female dwarf puffing on a long pipe, pelt laid out on her lap and war-axe leaning against the wall. She scowled at the ranger's entrance.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:35, Fri 13 Aug 2021.

"Fools." Farwalker scoffed. "She cannot be appeased. Especially not with what she has done to the north already. Dead men will get them nothing." She shook her head and made her way towards the execution. Hopefully, she'd be able to stop it. Somehow. Preferably without her taking the place of the man.

Once she was there, she eyed the stage thoughtfully, taking note of the people up there. Maybe she could just get them to take a nap. Preferably not the man with the noose.

As the group traveled and talked their way toward the grim view that awaited them, a deep sense of unrest brewed within Mallory's gut.  A feeling made all the more unbearable by the cries of the man to be hung - his pleas twisted up her insides and made her very soul ache for him.  When all was said and done she was by no means a bleeding heart who'd indulge every sob story or a starry-eyed idealist who felt she could change the world.  No, she was quite the realist.  But a cynical sensibility did not deaden her to injustices.  Nor did a base fear for her own safety roiling around in the back of her thoughts give her even a moment's hesitation as she strode forward from the bunch.

"Stop this atrocity at once!  Have you abandoned your very wits in the face of tribulation?!  How do you think slaughtering yourselves in some half-baked ritual could possibly be of use?!" Mallory's voice and stride alike carried past Farwalker as she hurried ahead, quick to stalk right up the scaffolding platform's steps.  Unless the guards moved to fully intercept her, she'd thrust the lantern rod she carried amid the rungs of the stepladder and leave it there with a faint click that would lock it - and thus the only thing keeping the man from dropping - quite safely in place.

Don't know if I need a roll for it or if Mallory can pull it off before the guards try and get in her way, but she'll attempt to secure the stepladder where it is with the Immovable Rod.  So that even if the stepladder is somehow moved, the rod is still there for the man to stand on like a bar.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:45, Thu 14 Jan 2021.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 69):

Rhydd halted just inside the door of the Luskan Arms, stamped his feet to dislodge the snow that clung to them, and brushed the snow from the shoulders of his cloak. He nodded to the female Dwarf, then called out to the owner.

"Hoi, Ethen! Greetings to you."

"Perhaps... Ah." It seemed rushing in was what was going to be happening this time. Farwalker hadn't exactly expected that. But it was what it was. As she moved, she pulled the amulet from under her armour and held it in one hand as she chanted. Small motes of light that were mostly unnoticeable floated and drifted their way into her skin. Probably best to be prepared.

"Indeed. My goddess rather frowns on human sacrifice. Especially those that have no reason to be sacrificed." She stood behind Mallory and smiled widely. If nothing else, she was still very large. "And given how this endless night is still going, I truly believe this is pointless."

OOC: Just gunna hit myself with an enhance ability for strength.

Salim saw what Mallory was doing and attempted to reach out a hand to stop her. "Don't!" he shouted, not in time.

Farwalker, as she followed Mallory to the scaffolding, could see one of the men in the crowd slip away and head into the Luskan Arms. The rest turned their heads and started whispering as Mallory rushed up the steps. Dannika trailed even further behind, but once she realized the direction this was going in she stopped awkwardly in the crowd, not knowing what to do of herself.

"Hey! You can't be up-" one of the guards, a young, long faced man, advanced on Mallory as she climbed the stairs to the scaffolding. Before he managed to grab her arm, she ducked in underneath him and dove to wedge the rod Dannika had given her in-between the spreaders of the step ladder. The ladder could now only be removed by being shimmied sideways, and even if that was the case, the sentenced man could reach it with his toes and hopefully not slip.

The second guard, an older man with a bristly beard, paused after seeing the large Goliath the woman had brought along with her. After a brief moment to collect himself, he went to grapple Mallory - but the surprisingly lithe woman slipped out of his grasp as well.

-

The Dwarven woman nodded back at Rhydd, drawing her thin, wide lips into what resembled a smile.

Ethen closed the cupboard and looked up at Rhydd. Her eyes were dull and tired, and she looked like she did not recognize Rhydd. In fairness she dealt with a decent deal of clientele, so it might have just the case. However, the once plump and sprightly old lady had turned lean, and did not give the visitor a cheerful, heartwarming smile like she once used to give everyone who entered, no matter who they were. "Hello," she softly said before returning to her task at hand.

The door slammed open behind Rhydd, and a man shoved his way past him, caring very little if he got snow onto the floorboards. He rushed up the stairway, before a series of brief, but loud knocks sounded and another door was opened.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:04, Fri 15 Jan 2021.

It helped quite a bit that Mallory was bundled up in so many layers of furs for the sake of keeping out the cold - she was actually a rather petite woman and the extra bulk hid the true shape of her body.  It made getting a grip on her quite difficult as efforts to do so only found bits of clothing that offered no solid anchor or just slid past her entirely as she wove through groping arms.  She took the opportunity to lock the lantern rod in place and stood protectively before the man in the still-slack noose with arms outstretched.

"Shedding blood is no way to appease the Frostmaiden!  If she wants death she'll cause it as she pleases on her own - no amount of sacrifice will satisfy one who delights in tormenting mortals!  In blindly seeking to pacify her, you commit affronts to countless other, more powerful, deities!  How can you stand by and allow this to happen?" she insisted to the group at large, voice ragged from the cold but stern in her conviction.  Her dark eyes rounded about on the guards, angry and impassioned.  "How can you turn on your own like this?  It is the role of guards and soldiers to protect their people, not drag them to slaughter!  Who is responsible for this?!  On who's order have you surrendered your own virtues?"

DM - Mallory is attempting to invoke a Persuasion roll against the guards so that one of her sufficiently low Portents can kick in, hopefully to de-escalate the situation.  Let me know if this takes at all.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 74):

~She does not look -- nor sound -- good,~ Rhydd thought to himself when Ethen turned to face him, and spoke in response to his greeting.

Just about then the outdoorsman heard the door slammed behind him and a fellow shoved his way past and hurried up the stairs before Rhydd could  set about teaching him better manners.

With a heavy sigh, Rhydd turned his attention back to the inn-owner. Since he had last seen her she had lost a great deal of weight, and her once-cheerful personality seemed to also be a thing of the past.

Be that as it may, Rhydd realized that no females whom he had ever met -- and truth be told, very few males -- relished being told the truth when they looked bad. So, he did not give voice to the thoughts that were passing through his head.

By now Ethen had turned away and looked to be busy with something involving tableware. Rhydd cleared his throat and announced in an amiable voice, "Rhydd Maldhon here, Ethen."

"Do you have a room that I could rent for the evening? Could be longer . . . truth be told, I'm not certain how long I will be in town."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:30, Fri 15 Jan 2021.

"Yes," Ethen answered, then stopped to reconsider. "No, now that I think about it, all the rooms are taken. Very busy night. But if you wish, there's some space down here if you've brought a bedroll. Though, you'll have some company." The old woman gestured to the weathered-looking Dwarf in the corner.

A tall man with a chinstrap beard in dark, fur-lined leather briskly raced down the stairs, with the man who had shoved Rhydd aside a moment ago following closely behind. After only a brief glance to acknowledge Rhydd's existence he stepped out of the inn to the town square outside.

-

As she spoke to the masses, the guard behind Mallory finally managed to get a hold of her, grasping her tightly with both arms. "Gotcha! Now, shut up, would ya?!"

The other guard ignored Mallory, and instead went to remove the rod. Visible confusion overcame him when he was unable to pull it out. With both feet planted firmly on the platform he gave it a last, heaving tug before giving up. In frustration he yanked the step ladder out instead, and the sentenced man gasped as he fell. The rope tightened around his neck, but his feet touched the rod, and he rocked back and forth to find his balance.

"Release her!" a voice sounded from the audience. It was the man with the chinstrap beard from the inn. The others seemed to give space for him to talk. "And cut the man down!" He waved a hand in air.

The two guards exchanged a befuddled look before they did as they were told, letting go of Mallory and taking out a knife to cut the rope.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 77):

"I've got my bedroll, so a spot on the common-room floor will work just fine for me," Rhydd replied. "It is warm and under-roof . . . I have slept in much less comfortable spots."

"The only real reason that I asked about a room is that it affords me some privacy. There are way too many people underfoot in town -- not just Targos, any town -- and I like to be able to get away from them and hear myself think."

"Speaking of people," he added to gaze after the  men who had just rushed out in such a hurry, "who were those two?"

"Gotcha! Now, shut up, would ya?!"

"I most certainly will not!  Take your--" Mallory wriggled defiantly in the guard's grip as she was caught from behind, though her own struggling was cut off by a yelp as the fuss to keep a hold of her resulted in quite a bit of blind reaching.  "Where exactly do you think you're grabbing me, you cad?!  Mind your scandalous hands!"

The young noblewoman kept up her kicking and shouting without any sign of letting up right until a more sufficiently commanding call came from the crowd.  She frankly wasn't sure what to make of that when it came right down to it, but so long as it yielded a moment's reprieve from such madness, she welcomed it.  Once released Mallory huffed and rounded on the guard that had gotten grabby with her to give him a stern, scolding glare of outright indignation.  There were far more pressing issues that demanded her attention, however, and as the would-be victim was set to be cut down she hurried to hold his legs and steady his stance atop the mysteriously hovering lantern rod.  "I've got you... here, lean to my shoulder.  Yes, just like that, let's get you down.  Tymora preserve me; what is the world coming to?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:17, Sat 16 Jan 2021.

The old proprietor sighed, and a smirk clawed its way to the surface. "Sometimes, I think I understand what you mean, my boy..." Ethen said as she walked over to the kitchen to grab a broom to brush the newly introduced snow away. "That was Kato Naerth. He's the new speaker of the town. That other one was Ingmar, a fisherman." Another rat skittered across the floorboard, which Ethen proceeded to ignore.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 80):

"Your new Speaker is doing a piss-poor job," Rhydd replied, frowning and shaking his head.

"There was no one manning the gate when we arrived, and the portcullis was raised up to the sky. We just strolled right in. There was nothing nor no one to even slow us down, if we had been trouble-makers."

"Kato needs to impose some discipline, to hold people to a higher standard than that. Or else sooner or later, payment will come due for that sort of laxity -- and 'twill not be a pleasant reckoning."

Ethen shook her head, but offered no other opinion on the town speaker as she continued to sweep the floor.

-

The faint cry of a raven pierced the faint whistle of the wind in what seemed a brief respite from the ordeal. It sat perched upon the shoulder of a hooded onlooker and had its head turned toward the man who now made his way through the crowd.

The two guards were still flabbergasted at the sudden turn of the situation. The one who had just let go of Mallory did not know what to make of himself, particularly after her comment about indecent maneuvers, and took a few steps back only to bump into Farwalker. He squealed, cowering beneath the large and intimidating Goliath.

The almost-hung man, with his bloodshot eyes and face soaked in tears, carefully steadied himself on Mallory's shoulders. He was lanky individual, with a bony face and matted hair, and he had a bit of trouble keeping himself upright even as Mallory provided support. The bearded guard set the step ladder down beside him before climbing up and cutting the rope, keeping an eye on the Goliath to make sure everything had truly deescalated. When he was done, he offered a steadying hand to help the man out of the noose and down to solid footing together with Mallory.

"For goodness sake," the man with the chinstrap beard said as he briskly walked up the steps to the scaffolding. "Is he alright? Are you alright, Herve?"

"He'll be fine." Farwalker replied as she stepped up next to the partially hanged man. "May light's soothing glow heal you from that which lurks in the dark." She spoke softly enough that only those nearby could hear her, one large hand on the man's shoulder. Once more, a soft, shifting aurora flowed around Farwalker before settling around the man's neck, sinking in and helping with any tenderness from the rope.

Once that was done, she turned to look at the guards with a frown. "I believe we can take it from here. Why don't you leave this..." The goliath looked around herself for a moment and didn't quite sneer, "Stage and go man the gates? They are open and unguarded. You should know the things that prowl these storms. Perhaps you should focus on keeping your townspeople same from that rather than killing them in the streets." She was only a lot angry. But it was a calm, cold angry that barely restrained her from throwing the guards into the crowd.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 82):

Rhydd had been intending to rent a room for the night and use it to store some of his gear that he seemed unlikely to need whilst in town. But according to Ethen, the only sleeping-space was going to be the common-room floor, so that plan was out the window, so to speak.

The archer stroked the beard-stubble on his cheek thoughtfully -- when out in the field in the midst of a blizzard, trimming his beard had fallen to a very low priority. He considered asking the inn-owner why rooms were in such short supply, but to his eye (and ear) Ethen seemed to be in a rather untalkative mood -- another change from the way he remembered her being, in addition to her down-at-heels appearance.

After a moment's thought, Rhydd decided to stroll over to Three Flags Sailing. In more normal times, he would have deemed it early in the day for that place to be doing much business, but with the weather being as poor as it was, he suspected that some of the fisherfolk would be wary of getting out on the water, and might be wiling time over an ale or three in Vegord Tarsenel's tavern.

"If Alma or Niels asks after me, I'm headed over to the Three Flags," Rhydd called out to Ethen, speaking to the inn-keeper's back as he turned on his heel and moved towards the front door.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:19, Tue 19 Jan 2021.

"T-thank you..." the unfortunate fellow — Herve — said, the words hoarse as he dislodged them from his sore throat. The red wound around his neck began to fade, leaving behind only a faint mark that would heal with time.

"You heard the Goliath lady." The man with the chinstrap beard spoke. "Get back to your posts, and don't. Leave them. Again. And for the love of all that is holy, lower the portcullis for once, will you?" He scowled at the two guards. They shifted uncomfortably before doing what they were told. The bearded one looked like he was about to protest, but instead simply huffed, acting as if a grave slight had just been dealt upon him. "Ahp!" the man pointed sharply at him. "No attitude!" The guard groaned something reminiscent of acknowledgement. Then the man, who seemed to command a great deal of deference, turned toward the crowd and clapped his hands once. "The show is over! Go home! There will be no sacrifices on this day!"

None of them had come to enjoy the execution, but the mood that blanketed the crowd was far from one of relief. Many acted more annoyed than anything, and a few were angry. Some murmured between themselves. None spoke up. One broad shouldered fisher bumped into the hooded figure on his way out. "Hey, watch where you're standing, crow-man," he spat.

Rhydd exited just in time to watch the crowd scatter.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:33, Tue 19 Jan 2021.

Mallory remained at Herve's side to help keep him supported, quick to tuck herself beneath his shoulder for him to lean his weight onto her while Farwalker tended to his wounds.  She offered the Goliath a grateful smile and shifted away once it was clear the poor man could stand properly under his own power.  "There we are.  Best you get to your family now... and perhaps make plans for relocating out of this awful town." she added that last part in under her breath.

With the danger passed, the young noblewoman reached to grip the suspended lantern rod she'd left stuck in the air.  A more petty part of her hoped the guard who'd tried and failed to move it was watching as the device simply came free at her touch, easy as could be, for her to give it a deft twirl to her side.  "And as for you, sir,--" Mallory began as she rounded back to the man with the chinstrap beard.  Though grateful for his intervention putting a stop to the execution, that he commanded authority in the first place was telling.  "--I demand an explanation for this utter travesty.  Who are you to order about the guards?  Did you set this horrific practice into motion yourself?  Explain yourself at once!"

Meanwhile, far overhead, Astre continued to circle about in the cloudy, dark skies.  His white and mottled grey coat ensured he was virtually invisible against the snow clouds even as he maintained a keen watch on the events below.

---

Astre is just going to use his Passive Perception 15 to keep a general lookout and report to Mallory if necessary.

Herve nodded slowly, clearly shook from the traumatic experience. "I... I think I need to see my daughter."

The man with the chinstrap beard patted him apologetically on the back on his way down. "I think that would be wise, Herve."

He remained unflinching as he bore the brunt of Mallory's verbal offensive. “Tell me, what separates man from ogre?” he simply said as he peered over the diminishing crowd with folded arms, picking out the two guards walking back to their posts. He shook his head. “Not this bunch, that’s for sure. Just because they think like one, they fancy themselves stopping one at the gates. We can thank Our Smiling Lady this whole ordeal didn’t go properly wrong…” He paused briefly in contemplation. “I have a lot to thank you for. This entire town has a lot to thank you for due to your efforts on the caravan. I am Kato Naerth. Call me Naerth — everyone does. I am the speaker of this town. And you’re right, I have played a part in this travesty, I cannot deny that. I’ll explain everything over a drink,” he gestured toward the inn. “If you’d be willing to listen.”

---

Mallory's Perception Check (through Astre) [15]: Astre could find nothing out of the ordinary as he scoured the skies. A couple of diligent fishers were hauling their rowboat by rope across the ice and towards the shore after a long day out at the partially frozen lake. Today's catch looked meager.

(Do note for future use that while seeing through a familiars eyes, the caster is considered deaf and blind with regard to their own senses (PBH p. 240))

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 87):

As he stepped out of the front door of the Luskan Arms, Rhydd noticed people walking along singly and in small groups, coming from the direction where the archer knew the Town Square to be. Some were carrying torches, and some were not; some were talking among themselves, and some were plodding along quietly.

He supposed that the hanging that Mallory had spoken of must be over and done with, and he wondered briefly what the guilty man had done to deserve being executed. He supposed that someone over at the Three Flags would probably know all about it -- there were not too many secrets in a town the size of Targos. He made a mental note to ask about it.

~Time to check in on Vegord, methinks. I hope that he has not gone as far downhill as poor Ethen seems to have,~ he thought to himself as he turned and headed towards the town's only tavern.

It had turned out to be quite the interesting day.

He had only recently arrived in Targos and taken up residence at the inn, thinking off taking small jobs here to shore up his monies before moving on. This day had started out like any other, except for the execution which had come as a bit of a surprise. Far more so was learning that the town executed someone every ten-days.

As he witnessed the grim spectacle Arkemos decided there and then to move out before the date of the next execution, lest and outsider like him be chosen for this dubious 'honor'.

Funnily enough, fates had something even more strange in store for this day. A young human woman and a towering goliath woman, both appearing to be outsiders like him, intervened in the execution and as Arkemos looked on with widened eyes, actually appeared to save the man from certain death. The goliath woman appeared to be a priestess with healing magics at her command so it seemed they just might pull it off; especially as Kato Naerth pushed through the crowd and managed to stop the guards or the crowd from doing anything violent.

And here I thought he was nearly useless Arkemos thought wryly, glancing askance at the raven perched on his shoulder as he spoke to it in his minds voice.

Before he could say or do much of anything, a burly fisherman bumped into him as the crowd began to scatter. Rage welled up inside him but like so many times in recent days, Arkemos pushed it down with a force of will and held up his hands, palms facing outwards and said in a casual tone, "Apologies good sir, I wasn't looking."

We should join them and see what this is all about he sent to his familiar as Naerth invited the other outsiders and Herve into the inn for a drink. Traveling alone in the Spine of the World was a death sentence and given recent events Arkemos could not afford to stay in Targos for any great length of time. If this new group of would-be heroes with healing magics at their command and an inclination for saving strangers was going to be leaving anytime soon, Arkemos would do well to be in their company, especially if his past caught up with him.

Under other circumstances, Mallory would've at least had the sense of manners to give a polite chuckle at the turn of phrase.  But in the present moment all she could spare was a deadpan stare, interrupted only by one lone blink, before she spoke.  "How droll." she stated flatly.

Naerth's remark about her contributions on the caravan, however, sparked a wary sort of curiosity in her dark eyes.  As he invited them along for a drink and a talk she cast a look up over her shoulder to Farwalker and Dannika each, then shrugged.  "I think that would be for the best, yes.  But no funny business!"

Farwalker snorted in what could only be disdain. The man had waited for intervention before stopping the hanging. And likely, there were weeks before where there had been no one there to stop them. Hopefully they had been nothing more than criminals, but she doubted that. "Yes. I believe an explanation of this idiocy would be a good start." She replied dryly, her usual smile still missing from her face.

"If you could lead the way?" She indicated with one hand, the other tapping the head of her axe idly.

"I'll have you know, miss, I deal in no funny business," Naerth took a swift bow before leading the way down from the scaffolding, glancing back at Farwalker. "I wouldn't dare."

Both Dannika and Salim had disappeared, and the only one left standing in the town square was the mysterious, hooded figure. The rest had retreated from the cold.

"She's weaving auroras. Did you not see?" Xhar flapped his wings and whispered in Arkemos ear. "Does she freeze? Does she shiver? She's one of Auril's. Watch her."

Naerth led the way in to the Luskan Arms. Ethen averted her eyes, and the old female dwarf, still perched in the corner, glowered at both Naerth and the new arrivals. The common room was mostly empty aside from the few merchants who had still not retired. None of the onlookers of the execution had found their way in, instead retreating either to their own homes or to the Three Flags Sailing. Well, none except for Dannika, who sat in a fur-draped chair beside the fireplace to warm her hands. Naerth removed his gloves and coat before gesturing to an empty round table. "The time has long passed for karsk, I reckon, but we should have a bottle of wine, or akevitt if you'd fancy something stronger. Hells, I'll pour myself one of those, I think."

Ethen went to move for the cupboard, evidently listening to the conversation.

"No, please, I'll get it. You stay where you are, Ethen. Find yourself a seat and sit down for once in a while, would you?" Naerth ducked in front of her and searched for the bottle.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:34, Fri 22 Jan 2021.

“Hmm.” Farwalker eyed the room. It was quaint. Familiar even. “Ah, yes. Drinking the problems away. There’s now way that could ever go wrong.” She said dryly, prodding at one of the chairs before moving to the next. A large woman needed a sturdy chair. It was always a problem to find one. When she found one suitable enough, she pulled it up next to Dannika.

“Feeling any warmer? How are your hands and feet doing?”

Yet another dingy old tavern in some forsaken backwater.  Mallory had grown uncomfortably familiar with such settings the further north she traveled and while ending up in another didn't surprise her, it still did leave a foul taste in her mouth.  The displaced noblewoman heaved a rather self-pitying sigh but made her way into to the offered table all the same - her desire for warmth and comfort more than outweighed her dismay at her surroundings for the moment.

"Wine, please.  Something red." Mallory had long since embarrassed herself enough times in such places prior to bother daring ask about vintage, but she would be thrice cursed if she couldn't at least hope for a wine that took well to being heated up.  She withdrew a seat at the table and was in the process of sitting down when she gave a startle and jolted back upright again as she nearly sat on something that already occupied the chair!  A quick turn about had her rolling her eyes as she found Astre curled there, having appeared seemingly from nowhere as cats were wont to do.

"Really?" she groused impatiently.  The Tressym just gave a low rrrrrro~wrl in reply and flicked his ears aside, which was met with a scowl out of Mallory.  She set her hands to her hips in a show of indignation.  "Well, yes, I suppose.  It's not as though I'm ungrateful, but you could at least--"

"Rrrpp~?" the feline chirped.

"That is hardly the point and you know it!"

"Mmrrwll."

"Fine.  Have it your way."  At that, Mallory heaved a sigh of surrender and, rather than lift her cat out of the chair he'd stolen, actually pulled over a different seat for herself.  But no sooner had she planted herself down did Astre simply hop across to curl himself up in her lap, absolutely ignoring the sour glare leveled down at him as got cozy.  "Consider yourself very lucky you're so blasted adorable, you utter scoundrel." she sighed once more as, in another show of defeat, she set to stroking her hard-working companion along his furred-and-feathered back.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:40, Sun 24 Jan 2021.

"If only it were that simple. If one could drink their problems away, the world would be a merry place," Naerth said as he returned with two bottles and three cups. He set one down for Mallory, one down for himself, and one to the side. "But a brief respite it does provide." He poured some of the strong, brown liquid from the clear bottle for himself, and some red wine from the green bottle for Mallory. "Been a long time since I've seen a tressym. Figured they didn't venture further north than Waterdeep."

The chair creeked underneath Farwalker as she sat, but held.

"Tscheee!" Dannika sneezed in response to the Goliath's question. She had partly removed and unwrapped her headwear, revealing long, disheveled blonde hair that further jostled from the sneeze. "No. I dink I bight be detting dick..." she sniffled and brushed a stray lock from her face. Although Mallory's spell was still working, the half-elf was still clearly freezing, evident by her clattering teeth.

A rat squeezed its way out from underneath the floorboard right beside Dannika's chair leg, to which she remained oblivious.

"Normally they don't; unlike people, Tressym have enough sense to migrate east rather than north." Mallory grumbled bitterly.  She most certainly didn't exclude herself from that particular statement and, despite Naerth's remarks of drinking not solving anyone's problems, she still reached out to press a fingertip to the neck of the wine bottle to insist on a much deeper pour.  Not that she seemed especially happy about it when she did take a slug of the dark beverage, really.  She was quick to drink but visibly recoiled at the taste, stuck for a moment with her cheeks puffed out and a conflicted expression as to whether she dare swallow or spew it out onto the floor.  Good manners... or perhaps just an unwillingness to lose booze... won out in the end as she grimaced and choked it down.

"Oh gods, that's awful." she coughed, yet still pulled the bottle back her way to refill her cup back to the top.  A wave of her hand around the cup sent an odd shimmer through the air between her gloved palm and the wine within; all at once the drink began to steam and took on a far more appealing aroma of mulled, spiced wine with a little arcane influence flexed on it.  Something much more agreeable to the noblewoman's sensibilities as she took another drink without complaint, but shifted in her seat to offer the glass over to Dannika.  "Here darling, have this.  It'll help take the chill out of you."

Astre, meanwhile, had been content to linger in Mallory's lap without much a care for anything else other than being pampered.  Right up until a tiny vermin poked its way up from beneath the floorboards...

---

Astre Will Save vs. Feline/Bird of Prey Instincts - let's say DC 10?
Mallory Bonheur rolled 2 using 1d20+1
Nat 1!

---

...at which point the Tressym's full and undivided attention locked on instantly.  Pupils dilated out wide into broad circles and he immediately hopped down to the floor, already set with his wings tucked back and rear end in that tell-tale shimmywiggle cats were known for.  Being out in the cold on a long, boring wagon ride had apparently given Astre some nervous energy he needed to work out and, without hesitation, he shot after the rat to pounce and give chase!
This message was last edited by the player at 23:46, Sun 24 Jan 2021.

Farwalker simply snorted and shook her head. “A crumbling wall is a pathetic thing to hide behind. Often, it will fall on your head. But given that you’re hanging men in the streets, I feel you’ve had several fall on you already.” She made a dismissive gesture towards the man. Her opinion of him had started low, and really it was only getting worse. The rats weren’t particularly helping the mood either. At least the cat was happy.

With a sigh, she placed a hand on Dannika’s shoulder, “Heavenly light, guide us to a land of strength.” She intoned, a crown of glittering, golden stars appearing and dancing around Dannika’s head before slowly fading away. “That should help. And here.” Farwalker shifted enough to pull the bright shawl from her shoulders and wrapping it around the woman like a cloak. “Be sure to keep warmer than you have been.”

---

OOC: Good ol’ Lesser Restoration.

Appearing to ignore Xhar's devious yet disturbing whispers for now, Arkemos made his way inside the tavern after the others. He took a seat at a seperate table from the others yet close enough to make it obvious he was joining them.

He listened for a bit before speaking, "Yes Naerth, what is the point of hanging men in the street every ten-days? Do you think such superstitions make a lick of a difference; it hasn't be getting any warmer in case you hadn't noticed."

He gazed with interest at the crown of golden stars conjured by the Goliath priestess, and waited to see its effect on the half-elf before adding, "And do you think the townsfolk will take sparing the man lightly, or should we expect a mob with torches and pitchforks to show up during the night once word gets out their latest sacrifice didn't go as planned?"

Arkemos glanced with a degree of appreciation at the other newcomers to the town and pulling back his hood and revealing a handsome, yet somewhat sinister looking face said, "Well met, I am Arkemos, a recent arrival here myself. That was...quite the daring thing you did out there, lets hope it doesn't end up poorly for the man you saved, or us."

"Oh..." Dannika sniffed. Farwalker's magic quickly took effect, coursing through her body and clearing whatever minor ailment affected her. Her fever slowly faded and her nose cleared. She inhaled a couple of times through her nostrils for verification. "I... I can breath again!"

Though Astre was quick, gracious, and silent, the rat noticed the ferocious, cold-hearted beast as it deftly drifted through the air. It whirled its tiny feet with the force of a thousand storms, desperately trying to grab a foothold and propel itself forward. It darted between the chair legs underneath where Dannika sat, and Astre tucked his wings, turned gracefully, and followed it, prompting a yelp from a startled Dannika who almost toppled her chair. The hunter and prey dashed across the room, before the rat jumped up on a stool, then upon the buffet Naerth had retrieved the drinks from. Astre followed, almost knocking an ornamentary saucer down. The nimble rodent had its eyes set on a tiny wedge in the wall that led out to freedom, but before it could escape, the tressym managed to grab its tail, yank it back, and bite down. Victorious, Astre looked to the side at the saucer that slowly stopped rocking.

He then laid eyes on a more adequately matched adversary as Arkemos walked through the door. The raven perched on the hooded man's shoulder lowered its head menacingly, locking eyes with the tressym in an intense staring match.

Naerth had watched the chase closely and had failed to spot Arkemos until he sat down at the table. "Ah, a man with opinions!" Naerth exclaimed. "And strong ones at that. It takes a certain amount of bravery to speak with such confidence about matters one knows nothing about. In your own words, you're only a recent arrival. But sure, join us for a drink, and I will try to shed some light on this situation."

"First and foremost, I was not the one to institute this policy. It was the speaker before me, and I upheld his pledge to the Council of Speakers. Secondly, to say it hasn't gotten any warmer is a misrepresentation," he gestured to Mallory and Farwalker. "I heard you traveled through a blizzard. Then when you reached Targos, the blizzard had faded. Now, I'm not ruling out a coincidence, but if you won't take my word that it has been a recurring pattern as of late, you can ask the town-folk. Hells, you can even ask the Dwarf over there and she'd have a hard time denying it."

He took a breath and leaned in closer on the table. "And thirdly — and by far most importantly — I have worked tirelessly to rid this town of the executions. The Council of Speakers has as a whole voted on performing sacrifices to the Frostmaiden in some form or another, be it food, warmth, or human. The shipment you partook in was originally headed for Bryn Shander, correct? Take a wager — what do they sacrifice?"

---

Rat [16] vs Astre[17].

Victory for Astre!
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:23, Mon 25 Jan 2021.

Mallory largely ignored the small measure of chaos Astre caused as he pursued his unfortunate prey.  By and large she seemed wholly accustomed to such little rampages from her companion, though anyone who owned a cat was surely of much the same nature.  She was more inclined to focus on Naerth's explanation for the abominable turn of events they'd stumbled upon while also scrutinizing the labeling on the bottle of wine provided as if it had personally insulted her lineage.

She did, however, spare a beat of awareness when Astre and a newcomer's pet bird got into quite the glare with one another.  "Astre, don't you dare." was all the warning she gave to her feline.  That seemed enough as the tressym just scowled and settled back from his rambunctious scampering to begin grooming himself and preening his wings, as if he hadn't cared about the raven in the first place.

"Well met, I am Arkemos, a recent arrival here myself. That was...quite the daring thing you did out there, lets hope it doesn't end up poorly for the man you saved, or us."

"Mallory Bonheur.  And it's not a matter of daring, but a matter of righteousness.  Such cruel barbarism should never be permitted." a gentle huff was directed more at the situation than Arkemos, as she was glad to see someone else that actually had their sensibilities about them.

"I heard you traveled through a blizzard. Then when you reached Targos, the blizzard had faded. Now, I'm not ruling out a coincidence, but if you won't take my word that it has been a recurring pattern as of late, you can ask the town-folk. Hells, you can even ask the Dwarf over there and she'd have a hard time denying it.

...The shipment you partook in was originally headed for Bryn Shander, correct? Take a wager — what do they sacrifice?"

"Yes, and back in Neverwinter we hold a festival on the solstice where a bunch of people have a footrace up and down the shoreline in their underclothes to see who gets to splash into the frigid ocean first.  It's more an excuse for drunken revelry and indecent exposure than to quell the Frostmaiden's mood at this point, but it's vastly more reasonable than any of this." the noblewoman didn't seem keen on buying into excuses to try and justify the lunacy she and Farwalker had interrupted outside.  "It sounds to me as though you have the whole affair backwards.  The Frostmaiden delights in tormenting mortals - it's more likely the sacrifices aren't causing the blizzards to relent and that she simply intensifies the cold to prompt you into action each time she wants to watch you all tear each other apart and throw away things you need to survive.  Like a lord summoning his jester with the ring of a bell.  You're just giving a malicious entity a stream of entertainment at your own expense."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:41, Tue 26 Jan 2021.

"Mind you, I do like arguing. Always have. No man is infallible, and everyone should always be open to having their mind changed. But when the issue is as serious and close to heart as this, it admittedly does rock me." Naerth leaned back in his chair and swirled his drink without taking a sip. Just staring solemnly into the brown liquid. "Entertainment, appeasement. Who are we to tell? Consider my next question, Miss Bonheur — if you found yourself in my seat as town-speaker, what would your course of action be? Your goal is to minimize death. Not pain, not suffering, not anything we could all get through by holding hands and singing cheery songs. Real world, tragic, uncompromising death. Here in Targos. When your people freeze over amass, when they starve, what will you do? If your answer is nothing, then I am afraid we do not see eye to eye."
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:03, Tue 26 Jan 2021.

"Just what part of leaping to the defense of a man about to be murdered by his own makes you think I'm the sort inclined to do nothing in the face of trouble, Mister Naerth?"  Being forlorn in the face of a terrible turn of fate was something Mallory was quite familiar with, given what brought her so far north in the first place.  She could understand where Naerth's cynicism welled up from given the impossible position he'd found himself in, but there was a vast rift between understanding and condoning.

"Back home in Neverwinter, I and my family managed shipping businesses borne up by the proud shoulders of hundreds of loyal workers.  We shared in our hard work and good fortunes.  When hardships arose - when our funds dwindled and our people risked starvation and poverty - we did not cast aside them aside.  We work to seek solutions together, tighten our belts together, we support one another. And if all that fails then we suffer together while sparing all we can to help those who sought a different path." Mallory's tone remained coldly level as she fixed the Speaker with an unimpressed glower.  "That is what good leadership is.  That is how a community - be it a kingdom, a business, a town, or simply a family - thrives in the face of adversity.  I have no doubt you suffer for your role in all this, Mister Naerth, but don't you dare cast me as some idealistic fool or yourself a man with no other options to try and soothe your own fouled conscience.  There is no justification or excuse for callous murder."

The wine bottle was thumped down back to the table with a firm thud strong enough to jostle the other cups and bottles that stood there; a reflection of Mallory's passionate disdain for the whole situation.  "Elaborate for me.  What, precisely, have you done to resolve this affair?  Aside from enshrining useless bloodshed set into place by your predecessors?  What research have you done into the cause of all this?  Has anyone communed with the Frostmaiden to discover why she has stirred up this cold?  Has anyone even begun to develop an evacuation strategy to move southward?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:34, Tue 26 Jan 2021.

“It is not within my power to order the people to leave their town. I am not a king, or a lord, or a duke. Those who wished to leave have already done so. And pardon me, but to my ears, what you propose sounds much like holding hands and singing happy songs.” Naerth furrowed his brow, becoming just as annoyed as Mallory was. “As for what I have done, I will gladly tell you. Bryn Shander sacrifices food. And for all their lofty promises of redistribution, they seize everything that comes to the Ten-Towns, and then lay it out in heaps for Auril. Why no-one does anything about that is beyond me. But thanks to your efforts you’ve provided me with alternatives. Sure, my people will stay hungry, but they will not starve. At least until I can magically conjure a new solution, like you seem to think me able to.”

"Fo-cus."  Mallory insisted with sharp enunciation on both syllables.  "You're not listening at all.  If finding a solution that doesn't involve blindly destroying yourselves is 'holding hands and singing happy songs' to you, then I suggest you stop drinking whatever that is since it's clearly addling your wits.  Now stop grousing, shore up a sense of responsibility, and work.

"I certainly didn't come to the Ten-Towns for this, but perhaps you can benefit from some outside perspective being involved.  As it just so happens, I do in fact have some knack for magically conjuring solutions, though I dare say hard work will suffice instead." the noblewoman sighed and rubbed at her temples to soothe the onset of a stress headache.  A large part of her wanted to take up the bottle again but she judged better for the sake of maintaining her wits.  For a moment her dark eyes flickered and hazed over with a pale glow that shone from under their half-lidded droop - a minor flex of some kind of supernatural power - before her vision returned to normal.  "I see the newest catch from the ships just coming in is meager at best.  The nets are far too light to sustain Targos, let alone if some measure is taken to Bryn Shander.  Would securing a greater food supply help you work toward putting an end to this horrific practice each ten-day, then?"

---

Just to clarify, Mallory is only doing the Familiar Vision for the dramatic effect at the moment and just relying on what Astre reported to her from the earlier Perception check.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:13, Wed 27 Jan 2021.

“Us.” Farwalker said thoughtfully, seemingly tasting the word. “A strong word for someone that did nothing. Do not take liberties you have yet to earn.” She patted Dannika on the shoulder before pulling back, never really looking at the man that had interjected himself. “Remember to keep yourself warm, and don’t forget to eat. Though, it seems food might be somewhat difficult to get given the current situation.” She smiled reassuringly at the woman, the metal studs in Farwalker’s lips glinting in the firelight with the movement.

It seemed while she was taking care of the young woman, Mallory had gotten into a somewhat heated argument with village head. Not really unexpected. She’d only been half listening, but it all sounded like excuses and poor solutions to Farwalker’s ears. But she knew nothing of running a town, only that needless destruction was happening. “Hard work can only go so far.” Farwalker pushed her way into the conversation, her deep voice rumbling slightly in irritation. Not at anyone in particular at this moment, but the situation. “No, this issue is not something you can work through. I have seen hard winters before, here and in other lands. This is worse. And it will keep getting worse. Whatever sacrifices are being made, be they man or food, they will never be enough. These sacrifices may, may slow your deaths, but you will die. This night will not end. Anyone that thinks otherwise is blinding themselves with ignorance. I’ve come to bring a light to this darkness, dim though mine is. Ending this night is the only way you have to live. Everything else is just a stopgap.”

"Great, I'll leap up into the sky and smack Auril down myself." He scoffed at Farwalker's ominous and pessimistic comment. "And I'm the grouching one. At least you—" he pointed to Mallory. "—is starting to speak my language. Pragmatism. And your eye is sharp, my fair madam — our catch has indeed been meager as of late. Targos has relied on the lake for both food and livelihood since its establishment. Now we've partly been cut off. Ice fishing is slower, and not everyone has the equipment for it. We've got coin, but importing drills has proven hard. As has importing literally anything else. The Alliance seem to think everything is fine and dandy with Bryn Shander, and it has proven much too difficult to convince them otherwise.

"To make matters worse, fishers who venture out to the lake have a tendency to go missing. We organized a scouting expedition, but that went missing too. Boat, oars, and every man. Some of the townsfolk are speaking of a lake beast, an old legend around this place, but I cannot verify. My theory is they froze to death and the boats were simply carried to somewhere we haven't found them yet. But," he shrugged. "It would be good to get confirmation. If this problem could be fixed, it would go a long way toward securing the safety of the townsfolk, in more ways than one."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:41, Wed 27 Jan 2021.

Arkemos inclined his head slightly towards Mallory as she introduced herself, and also subdued her Tressym. Behave he sent sharply to Xhar.

No one would call Arkemos gentle or one to go out of his way to aid his fellow man by any means, but he was pragmatic. Thus he agreed with Mallory's assessment about cruel barbarism (though perhaps for not the same reasons). As it was, barbarism often led to instability and chaos detrimental to everyone concerned, at least in his experience.

To the Goliath priestess he reacted with a small smile that did not reach his eyes, pulling his hood back up as if to ward off the cold. "Apologies my lady, I only wished to make it clear I am not a resident of Targos, but an outsider like yourselves," he said to her in a polite yet flat tone.

Thereafter Arkemos listened carefully to the conversation and stroking his chin asked Naerth, "So this supposed lake beast is the cause of food shortage? If this were to be verified and put to rest, one way or the other, the increase in fishing would mean sacrifices of food rather than men, correct?"

He wasn't really volunteering for anything just yet, but the simple fact was if he was to gain the trust of these potent newcomers, helping them and the town would be an excellent first step. Not to mention the pointless human sacrifices were rather crude, wasteful and most importantly, posed a personal risk to a stranger in town such as him.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:56, Thu 28 Jan 2021.

"I'm afraid that, at the moment, a stopgap may be the best immediate course of action.  There's simply too much unknown about this whole affair that requires more investigation." the noblewoman wasn't about to shoot down Farwalker for her claims since they were quite right on their own.  But their capacity to do anything about the situation was limited... if they were to help enact any greater change, they'd need to do so one step at a time.

"So this supposed lake beast is the cause of food shortage? If this were to be verified and put to rest, one way or the other, the increase in fishing would mean sacrifices of food rather than men, correct?"

"Driving away such a beast would certainly improve things regardless.  Why, if it could be slain, I imagine it might even become quite a resource itself.  Meat and blubber are incredibly valuable in these conditions." Mallory noted as she stroked under her chin in thoughtful consideration, clearly running numbers in her head.  A self-proclaimed woman of business, after all, was one to always look into the necessary angles for any endeavor.  "Though if food is being taken by Bryn Shander and left to rot as sacrifice, there's always the alternative course of traveling there and seeing if they can't be convinced to change their practices.  If I recall my geography correctly, Bryn Shander is only a few miles southwest of here - easily reachable by mount and wagon."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:22, Thu 28 Jan 2021.

"I never said stopgaps weren't necessary." Farwalker replied, shaking her head slightly as she did so, feathers in her hair bouncing with the movement. "But you're also looking at the problem as if it will go away by ignoring it hard enough." She waved a hand. Her point was made, no use going on about it. "But a strange beast is indeed a decent starting point. I am curious about whether this is as simple as it seems." Which was possible. But, she'd ended up here rather than where she initially intended, and was led to this point.

As the conversation went along, Naerth rose and walked over to his jacket where he found a small tin box containing tobacco and some brown paper. The box had a symbol engraved on it. "Talking to Bryn Shander is not going to help. Believe me, I've tried. As far as the lake monster,—" he said as he rolled a cigar. "—don't get your hopes up. So far there's only been one direct sighting from a... less than reliable source. Heilar used to be a fisher, but lost his hand in an a collision with a boat from Termalaine. He was never the most stable guy, I heard, but the remainder of his wits went along with his hand. Either talk to him, or don't. I don't care one way or the other. As for payment, let's say a hundred gold pieces if you can determine the fate of the fishers." Naerth lit the cigar on a candle and tucked the tin box into his shirt pocket. "If there is a beast involved, I'll give you four hundred if you slay it. But it would be best to report back to me if that were the case."

After taking a drag he pointed the cigar at Arkemos. "He can help, I bet. Not like he's doing much else around here besides taking up a room in my inn."
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:27, Fri 29 Jan 2021.

Naerth stood there, smoking, and surveyed the room. "Think on it. It would do this town a lot of good. I'll have your answer tomorrow," he said and turned towards the innkeeper. "Ethen, make sure our guests have rooms to stay in. I'll be covering them."

The old and spindly woman looked like she was about to protest, but held her tongue. "...yes," she simply answered and walked over to a drawer and started sifting through some keys.

"If there's anything else on your mind it'll have to wait until morning," Naerth continued for the new arrivals, blowing smoke from his nose. He then stared at the old dwarf in the corner. "You'll be okay down here, I trust?"

She sat smiling in her rocking chair, puffing her longpipe. A fair ways away from the fire, she was wrapped in a tribal-patterned blanket and had a pelt laid on her lap. "Aye, Naerth. I've got my good socks on." She lifted her feet, showing what was indeed a hefty pair of woolen socks.

Naerth met her gaze for a moment before heading for the stairs. He left the bottle of wine and akevitt on the counter. "Alright. Don't be bothering our guests, now. I'll be retiring."

"Have a good night, Naerth," the dwarf called after him.

It wasn't until a few moments after Naerth left to take his rest for the evening that Mallory drew a slow, considering breath to ponder over what all laid before them.  Frankly the whole affair wasn't any of her business; she wasn't even supposed to be in Targos, let alone mucking about in local troubles.  But if things were really spreading so badly across to other parts of the Ten-Towns as well, there would be no escaping it.  Odds were other towns would begin more bloody sacrifices as well with the desperation mounting higher.  Any sort of aid that could be rendered to one town would hopefully help spark a cascade to others...

Mallory gripped the bottom of her chair and gave a few quick, seated hops that clnk-clnk-clnk'd her a bit closer to Farwalker and Arkemos, for the sake of speaking with some level of discretion.  "We're really doing this, then?  Because if we are we're going to need a lot more than just you two fighting some aquatic monstrosity." Though willing to help all she could and clearly not afraid to put herself into harm's way, as demonstrated at the gallows prior, Mallory was under no delusion that she'd be worth half a copper in a fight.  A war mage, she was not.  "Surely we could recruit some of the sailors to help us?  They must want an end to this even more than we do."

"I do hope you're not talking to me," Dannika said, staring at Mallory wide-eyed. Thanks to Farwalker, her ailment had completely faded, giving way to her former energetic and expressive personality. "I was completely useless against some wolves, I'd be the first to be eaten whole by whatever aquatic monster we're talking about here. But please, if you do see it, take notes for me!" She scrambled for her overstuffed satchel that she had kept leaning against her chair. "I think I have some paper—"

She was interrupted by a loud scraping noise from across the room. The dwarf had blatantly decided to ignore whatever Naerth had meant when he had asked her not to disturb the guests. Upon being excluded from the conversation she had climbed out of her rocking chair and was now gratingly pushing it over to the fireplace. Once she had placed it next to Dannika and Farwalker she climbed back on through a series of grunts and creaking joints, exhaling wearily after she finally managed to settle and toss her blanket around herself. "I curse the gods who decided to make me dwarf. To think I have another century of this ahead of me..."

The door to the inn opened, letting in chill winds that swept in snow. Rhydd entered.

"I am not overly worried about it." Farwalker replied to Mallory with a smile and a roll of her shoulders in a shrug. "I see no reason that who, or what, we require will make themselves known to us when we need them to." She leaned over to fiddle with the straps on her pack for a moment, pulling the small chest and small keg off of the bracing so that she could open both.

From the first she took out a strip of jerky along with what appeared to be a chunk of ice, and from the second she poured herself a measure of... something strong smelling into her battered wooden tankard. Where she also put the chunk of ice.

She nodded at the door as it opened, one of the members of the caravan stepping in. "See?"

"Of course not, darling.  You and I have no place trudging into dangerous spots like--" Mallory began to reassure Dannika, though she was interrupted by the heavy creak and dragging din of the elder Dwarf making such an extended fuss of moving her seat.  It was all the woman had in her to just stare blankly until the droning noise halted, then blow a sigh out her nose.

"I am not overly worried about it.  I see no reason that who, or what, we require will make themselves known to us when we need them to."

An unconvinced gaze was turned Farwalker's way.  "Nonsense.  I've experienced firsthand that one can't simply entrust the whims of fate and chance with everything.  This requires a firm and direct--" the Goliath was spared a lecture when Mallory was cut off once more by Rhydd's arrival, though it was more out of the words dying in her throat as she grimaced at the sight of the man once again.

"See?"

"You have got to be joking, surely?" the noblewoman's tone hushed lower as she turned her head so that Rhydd couldn't clearly see her talking in low hisses to the others.  "Have you forgotten that he threatened to horrifically murder a man just hours ago?  Empty threats or not, no good can come of consorting with brutes like that."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:59, Mon 01 Feb 2021.

Farwalker began a chuckle, but stopped it before she took a drink from her mug. Nothing good would come from her drink going towards her lungs rather than her stomach. It didn't stop her pearlescent eyes from glittering with mirth. Somewhat literally. "When you hunt a monster, that's exactly the kind of man you want." She replied cheerfully, not doing anything to hide her voice. She wasn't exactly built for subtlety. "You're in the Ten Town. The sailors are just as bad. If not worse. A lot more crude, if you know what I mean. That's for certain."

"When you hunt a monster, that's exactly the kind of man you want."

"It really isn't!" Mallory insisted with a bit of a squeal at the end of her whisper.

When Farwalker reminded her of the obvious - that she was indeed in Ten-Towns - it seemed to be a blow to the noblewoman in and of itself.  Enough to jolt her out of one state and into another as she gave a low groan and reached for the bottle of wine once more.

The weathered dwarf remained by the fire, gently rocking back and forth and listening to the parts of the conversation she could hear. The flames lit up her face as she continued to puff on her pipe, revealing the visage of a warrior beaten and scarred by the trials of time — and likely something far more dangerous. "You saved the man who was going to be hanged. To me, you seem like good people," she finally spoke. And left it at that.

Ethen straightened, having finished searching the drawer. She held two keys in her hand and went over to Mallory and Farwalker to give them away, not making eye-contact. "Up and to the left, the two doors at the end of the hallway."
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:40, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 118):

Rhydd slammed the door shut against the gusting winds that seemed to be blowing almost all the time now, and went through the normal series of actions -- stomping his feet to knock off the snow and ice, pushing the hood of his cloak back, and brushing the loose snow from his shoulders.

Glancing around the common room, he took in the small group gathered around the table and nodded to them without comment. Making his way across the room, he stepped near to where Ethen stood.

"I'd like to speak with you -- somewhere private," he said to her. His voice was quiet and neutral in tone, but after a moment he smiled a thin smile in an apparent attempt to put the woman at ease.

"Nuthin' bad -- leastways, not from my side of things," he hastened to assure her. "I just got this little itch of curiosity that you might be able to help me to scratch."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:14, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

"There isn't necessarily any aquatic monstrosity," Arkemos replied to Mallory with a smile. "Tales have a way of become rather tall in these parts. Hells it seems an easy way to pocket a nice amount of change, just talk to this Helios gentleman and do some poking around, then return to make a report to Naerth. The fishermen likely got a good catch and made off with it to another town to sell it, or maybe they had an accident and drowned."

Pondering for a moment he shrugged and added, "Ofcourse, there are many a dark thing slumbering in the frozen depths, perhaps awakened to action by the lure of the Frostmaiden. In such a case we could alert the town guard, or hire a couple of archers to pepper it from shore. The priestess here can heal us back up if things go south," he added with another smile directed towards Farwalker.

As the door opened and another member of the caravan company arrived, Arkemos quieted, giving the man a cautious nod of greeting. Mallory's words warned him the companions were not necessarily all too friendly with each other, and he didn't want to end up taking any sides in their internal conflict. At least for now.

Interesting, this party is not as united as I thought. We can use this to our advantage if we need to, and this 'brute' could be useful as an ally or even a bodyguard, Arkemos sent to Xhar, wondering what his familiar thought of the situation.

Mallory kept a cautious side-eye on Rhydd as he went about his own business and shrank away a bit as he came to loom near Ethen as the woman brought over a set of keys.  She took the one offered her with a tiny "Thank you..." as the best she could reply, clearly uncomfortable in Rhydd's proximity.  It wasn't until Rhydd focused his own attention elsewhere in quiet conversation did she scoot her chair a few more hops closer amid the group, apparently finding Arkemos' company at least slightly more reassuring.

The strange man's approximation of the situation at hand, however, did yield a distraction for her to focus on.  "I don't fault your suspicion of the fishermen; desperate times make for desperate men.  But I'm a Diviner.  My vision showed me the nets they just drew in from the waters.  A pitiful catch, to be frank.  If they've taken a share for themselves, then they must've eaten it raw and wriggling before they came ashore." she gave a dismissively sarcastic take on that particular matter.  "Regardless, we should begin sooner than later.  The fishermen are whom we need to speak with one way or another, be it for help or simply for information, as they're the ones closest to this whole affair.  I saw another tavern by the waters; a sign emblazoned with a trio of flags.  I dare say that's a likely spot for us to begin our investigation."

Farwalker stood respectfully when Ethan came over to hand her the keys. "Thank you." She gave the woman a slight nod of her head in thanks. Conveniently, the man she wanted to speak to came up to them on their own. She smirked slightly at that, looking over and down at Mallory as she spoke to Arkemos.

"Reed, was is?" She asked Rhydd, turning to the man. "I don't think we were ever really introduced. When you have time, I have a rather lucrative offer for you. It may prove... interesting." She nodded at the man then sat back down, leaving him to whatever business he had.

Catching the end of what Mallory had to say, Farwalker just looked amused. "How likely do you think it is that we find someone unusual for this, ah, investigation?"

Xhar put his beak into Arkemos's ear, an annoying habit of his. "Fear," he whispered, whatever that might mean. Then he cawed, as if laughing.

Ethen looked around the room upon hearing Rhydd's request, searching for something or someone. It almost looked like she was searching for approval. Upon finding none, she turned back to Rhydd and nodded. There was no secluded space here in the first floor, as even the kitchen was out in the open. "...upstairs is best, I reckon." The frail innkeeper went for the stairs and steadied herself on the railing, expecting Rhydd to follow. Once upstairs she led him to a room to the immediate right. A few voices — three, by the sound of it — came from the door just opposite the hallway. "—another place to stay the night," an unfamiliar voice said. The next one was familiar. "I did my part." Niels's. "You did. And I'll speak with my contacts." the first voice answered. Then, after another grumble from Niels, the door opened and the guide stepped out. Without his hat on he looked a fair bit older and worn, the bald part of his head uncovered and tired eyes catching the candlelight. He glanced at Rhydd, gave a quick nod before closing the door behind him, and continued down. Though Rhydd had only been given a brief glimpse, he could spot the two other figures. One was the man who had hurried outside earlier that evening, standing with his back turned and arms folded, and the other was someone clad in heavy armor sitting in the corner by an iron oven, twirling a knife. From this angle, Rhydd could not get a look at his face.

The room Ethen had led him to seemed to be her own bedroom. It was small and cramped, with no oven of its own. She kept her belongings and spare items for the inn on a shelf, including a set of dusty books, some cutlery, and a couple of vats. A footlooker was placed in front of her bed, a blanket resting on top of it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:07, Wed 03 Feb 2021.

Rhydd smiled at Farwalker's miss-speaking of his name. ~~Hells, Reed ain't a bad name. I been called far worse. An' she'll eventually get it right -- or she won't. It don't much matter to me.~~

"I got somethin' I need to do at the moment," he responded to her mention of a "lucrative offer". If it involved guiding a gaggle of whiney, soft Southrons somewhere, he didn't think that he would be interested.

He shrugged and said "I'll be back in a bit, and we can talk." Then he turned face Ethen. He returned her nodd, as if encouraging her, then followed her up the stairs.

What he heard on the second floor gave him pause. ~~Men up to no good -- plotting something,~~ was his initial thought. The voice saying that he would "speak to his contacts" put Rhydd to thinking about the Zhentarim again. He grimaced when he heard Niels saying that he had "done his part", and it was all the archer could do to keep a neutral expression as the guide stepped out of the room and edged past him to head downstairs.

Rhydd glanced around Ethen's bedroom and noted the lack of a heat source, unlike the room where the three men had been gathered.

~~Nothing to be gained by beating around the bush,~~ he told himself. ~~I might as well get right down to it.~~

"Now Ethen," he began in a low whisper, as he tried to paste an uncharacteristically gentle expression on his face, "I want to ask you something, as your friend."

"Has this Naerth . . . did he steal the Luskan Arms away from you? Is that why you are so downcast?"

After a short pause, he added "You don't have to say 'Yea' or 'Nay', if you don't wish to . . . just a nod or a shake of your head will do."

---

OOC: In addition to using italics and bracketing my PC's unspoken thoughts with tildes (~~) instead of the quotation marks that are used with spoken words, I commonly use a different color to make the thoughts a bit easier to differentiate at a glance. Generally I use gray for unspoken thoughts, but since the DM is using that color for his NPCs, that is a no-go.

Hence, in this game, I think that I shall use dark blue for Rhydd's thoughts, to help differentiate them from his spoken words. :)
This message was last edited by the player at 18:01, Wed 03 Feb 2021.

Ethen was unable to meet Rhydd's eyes and remained silent for a while before slowly shaking her head. "...he pays. And helps me when I need it," she spoke softly, then fell quiet again momentarily. "...and the master bedroom was the only room big enough for arranging meetings. Naerth is the town speaker, so he is a very busy man..."

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 125):

Ethen's answer surprised Rhydd, a little -- well, except for the fact that Naerth needed the master bedroom as a place where he could conduct his meetings. "Aye . . . I noticed one of those meetings on our way up here," he said, dryly. ~~And if shady goings-on aren't afoot in that room, I'll eat my quiver-full of arrows.~~

After a moment's pause, Rhydd asked "Well, then . . . does he treat you well enough?"

Before the inn-keeper could reply, he added "And if that isn't the problem, what has got you looking so downtrodden, Ethen? By all the good gods, I'm not sure whether I would have recognized you if I had passed you on the street, so thin and melancholy you have become."

---

OOC: Testing another color (that has not already been chosen by other players or the DM) for Rhydd's thoughts. The blue/dark blue experiment does not offer enough of a contrast, IMO.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:49, Wed 03 Feb 2021.

"I ... It's been rough, Rhydd. These times, with the cold and all. I haven't had an appetite ... don't blame Naerth for it," Ethen answered as she shifted a bit. Her voice, once clear and steady, now had a faint quiver. "... was that all?"

Rhydd's lips were comressed into a thin line as he listened to Ethen's explanation. It was certainly true enough that different people reacted to hardships in different ways, although he had never before seen anyone so obviously turned topy-turvy as the inn-keeper had been.

"Well . . ." he said after a moment, "can I do anything for you?"

"Can you think of anything that will help restore you to the way that you once were?"

Ethen was one of the few people in Targos whom Rhydd would go out of his way to help. He had never thought about it in those terms before, but after a moment he decided that it was because the old Ethen whom he knew from before had invariably greeted him with a smile, and had always made an outsider like him feel welcome under her roof.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:39, Thu 04 Feb 2021.

That Farwalker seemed intent on following up on her idea of bringing Rhydd into the affair didn't settle well with Mallory at all.  But, then again, if he could be useful... well, they were in little position to deny help.  Odds were she'd have to swallow being in the company of far more unsavory company so long as she was forced to linger in Ten-Towns.  Best to buckle down and get used to it.

"How likely do you think it is that we find someone unusual for this, ah, investigation?"

"I'm not looking for 'unusual'.  Quite the opposite, really - we need to speak with the fishermen who know these waters and the recent trouble with familiarity.  Their aid will be instrumental to uncovering what is at play here and how to counter it." Mallory sighed as she mulled over their options.  "That said, it's entirely likely we'll run into some stand-out who might be of particular use in our efforts.  The more we can recruit to help, the better."

---

While Mallory had allowed her focus to be taken by planning and conversation, Astre had slipped off on his own.  Perhaps out of concern for his master's fear of Rhydd or just feline nosiness; he trailed quietly in the man's wake just around corners and at the end of halls.

Astre's going to shadow Rhydd and listen in on the conversation that's been taking place.  Sort of a retroactive situation, but all those posts came in while I was waiting for Arkemos to reply in the meantime, soooo...

Stealth - Trying not to be noticed
Mallory Bonheur rolled 17 using 1d20+4

Perception - Listening in on the conversation
Mallory Bonheur rolled 19 using 1d20+5

Standing close to the door, Astre listened with perked ears. The voices were muffled, but he could clearly hear Rhydd and Ethen conversing.

"That is nice of you to say, Rhydd." the innkeeper's voice said. Astre could not see, of course, that she had smiled slightly as she had spoken. Only Rhydd could. Though it appeared more like it a guilty smile than a genuine one, it was more than anyone had been able to draw from her over the evening — and perhaps for a long time. "I think I'll be alright. I shouldn't complain, really. There are many worse off than me ... I have a roof over my head, a warm bed, and food if I'd like it. But if there's anything, I'll let you know. Thank you. Now, I usually brew some Cloudberry tea for myself at this hour, if you'd want any. It helps me sleep."

---

From the other side of the hallway, Astre heard the voice of the man who had talked to his wizard downstairs, and another, unfamiliar one. "I'm not sure," the first voice said. "... they might leave for Bryn Shander. We'll see."

"Might be for the best." The unfamiliar voice was gruff and deliberate. "You don't want too many folks snooping around, folks who're thinking they're doing good without doing much actual thinking. In my opinion, you were too lenient with them. You might have given off a ... weak impression."

"Disagree. Better to make friends than enemies. And these are skilled individuals. And the wizard in particular could prove cooperative. I just hope the dwarf isn't filling their heads with muck by now."

"Hmm. And the cultist?"

"Let's see how he fares. Right now, I just want him out of the inn. If he's ostracized we could appear complicit. Which would be bad. But if he's not, we can't outright throw him to the curb. I'll have to contact someone in Caer Dineval ... if they can get their damned shit in order."

---

Rhydd's Survival Check on Tressyms [11] — Tressyms are rare magical beasts that usually keep to temperate lands. Astre, Mallory's pet, is an unusual exception, but he has a thick coat to protect him against the cold. Just like typical house-cats they are easily domesticated. Their wings are great aids in hunting, making them bigger threats for rodents and other small creatures than ordinary cats. At times they hint at a higher intelligence than their non-winged counterparts, though they possess most of the same instincts.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:31, Sat 06 Feb 2021.

Rhydd smiled, but shook his head at Ethen's offer. "Thank you, but you should hoard your supply of tea. Keep it for yourself -- times being what they are, one never knows whether our supply of something or the other will last us as long as we will need it."

The archer moved over to the door to Ethen's small room, where he turned to face her. "Take good care of yourself, Ethen. I don't know how long I'll be in town, but as you said, please do feel free to let me know if you need anything whilst I am around."

With that, Rhydd left the room and quietly shut the door behind him. A hint of movement over to the side and low down in the shadows -- even though it was immediately stilled -- caught his eye, and he smiled as he recognized the Waterdehavian magicker's pet Tressym.

~~Chasing a mouse are you, Tressy? I am sorry, but I miss-remember your name, if ever I heard it. Well, in any event, I wish you good hunting!~~ Not wishing to interfere with the efforts of a fellow-hunter, he kept his thoughts to himself instead of speaking them out loud.

As he moved across the second-floor landing to the stairs leading down to the common room, Rhydd heard the drone of voices from behind the door of the room that was rented out to Targos's current Speaker, and he changed his mind about being quiet. ~~Sorry, Tressy, but I need to make a little noise here -- and then we shall see what we shall see . . . or more like, hear what we shall hear.~~

Putting his thoughts into actions, Rhydd purposefully made his footfalls loud, so that the men in the Speaker's room would surely hear him tramping over to the stairwell. He was curious as to whether they would cease speaking until he had made his way down the stairs. ~~If not, well and good. If they do, 'twould seem that they have something that they do not wish to be overheard -- whate'er that might be.~~

Once he had made his way down to the common room, he walked over to the table where the others were gathered, and waited to hear if the female Goliath still wished to speak to him.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:06, Sun 07 Feb 2021.

Upon Rhydd's romp, the chatter from the room did in fact still. Astre, who remained, could hear it resume.

"Speaking of our cultist ..." the husky voice said. "Get rid of him. I've word that the Arcane Brotherhood is involved."

"Really now. What a mess ..."

They started talking in more hushed voices.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:13, Sun 07 Feb 2021.

Astre, in the true manner of any feline, completely ignored Rhydd as he passed by.  Only the stomping made him fluster up a bit with a quick arch and fluff of his downy wings in objection to the noise, but at least he didn't hiss over it.  Once the man left, Astre idled a bit closer to the still-shut door to give it more direct attention.

Perception - Listening at the closed door
Mallory Bonheur rolled 17 using 1d20+5

There didn't seem to be too many avenues to pursue, and Mallory's suggestion was good enough for him. "Agreed, let us question the fishermen first, perhaps we can get to the bottom of the investigation with a meeting with them there and then," he replied to the Diviner.

If what she said was true and they were not be selling the fish and pocketing the monies, they could have been responsible for the disappearance of the others. Or perhaps if there was a monster they could pinpoint the exact location of the beast for them.

"Whose fear do you mean?" he asked Xhar curiously, but not really expecting a serious reply. The raven was oft given to cyptic musings, during which Arkemos was sure it laughing at him.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:04, Wed 10 Feb 2021.

“We shall head out shortly, then.” She gave a slight salute with her mug and then didn’t down it. Because that would have been a terrible idea, even with the mostly melted ice chunk. At least it was delicious. At some point, she’d eaten her jerky. “It should be entertaining, if nothing else. It’s about time for them to be drunk.” And there was always alcohol.

“Ah. You’re back. Good.” She waved Rhyd over when he eventually came back, then went back to drying her much before stashing it away. “Some fisherman have gone missing. We’ll be investigating the reason. Possible monster, or dangerous people. It’ll be profitable and likely interesting. Hundred gold.”

In reply to Farwalker (msg # 135):

"Missing fisherfolk?" Rhydd echoed the big Goliath.

"Could be some water-creature's work," he agreed with a nod. "Bandits . . . I dunno. Seems a bit unlikely to me -- after all, who would want to steal a load of dead fish? Although admittedly times are hard, and I suppose that food-stuffs are  worth a lot more than they would be in normal times."

"Could have been caught out in a bad storm that sunk their boat," he added as another possibility, shrugging his shoulders. "Anyone who goes into the frigid waters out on that lake won't last very long."

"So . . . who's in, thus far?" the archer asked, glancing around at those who were gathered at the table. "If you are going to be heading out on the lake, you're going to need someone who knows how to handle a boat -- plus, you are going to need access to a boat."

"Oh . . . and who's paying for this? One hundred golders are well beyond most folk's means, these days."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:42, Mon 08 Feb 2021.

Astre perched right next to the door to hear what they were discussing next. Naerth and his friend had fallen into a whisper, and he had to strain a twitching ear to catch any words. "... isn't a monster. That would be for the best, as I won't have to scrape down the funds to pay them. They seem like the lot to not bother consulting with me first ... I barely have enough to keep the fishermen afloat as is."

"Tough being town speaker. I'm sure you'll figure it out. This is your area of expertise." the man said, then grunted. "I should get on up and let you enjoy your evening." Astre heard what must have been the noise of the man standing, then walking toward him. He was accompanied by the clinking of metal. The footsteps drew closer, but before Astre figured it was time to get out of the way, the loud bang of a boot stomping on the floorboard startled him. "...there, you bastard." The man grunted again, and Astre heard the squeaks of a rodent. "One for your snakes." The footsteps then approached the door.

----

Xhar stood on Arkemos's shoulder, beak in the air as if he was looking down on everyone around him. He did not bother to dignify Arkemos with a response. There was a high likelihood it was just another one of Xhar's puzzles that was purposefully constructed to be unsolvable. Something either ripe with meaning or devoid of it entirely.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:03, Mon 08 Feb 2021.

When it came to questioning fear there was a pretty obvious choice in the room.  As Rhydd joined the lot of them at Farwalker's invitation, Mallory blanched and tried her best to hide herself behind her drink.  But whether it was out of liquid courage bolstering her resolve or simply the acceptance that she'd need to deal with Rhydd sooner than later, the noblewoman drew a steadying breath and rallied herself.

"The offer's been made by the Speaker, Mister Naerth." she clarified stiffly.  "And yes, that's exactly why we're headed to speak with some of the fishermen about this.  The more of us there are to spread out and gather information, the better.  We'll try to recruit locals to help us out and handle the matter of boating... though I'd much rather we stay ashore if at all possible."

On the matter of how many were involved, though, Mallory cast her gaze briefly about the table.  Just the handful of them, it seemed.  She certainly didn't expect Dannika to rise from her spot by the fireplace and Dwarf alike anytime soon, nor did she even think it a good idea for the dotty researcher to trouble herself.  The more she focused on keeping out of trouble and fascinating herself with her chingwa legends, the better.  "I'd say we're all present and accounted for.  Wait... Astre?  Oh, for goodness' sake, where's he gone off to now?" she realized her feline companion was absent and looked about beneath the table more out of annoyance than concern.  Cats did as they pleased, after all.

---

Astre, meanwhile, listened for as long as seemed a good idea to do so.  While he was quite certain he was well-hidden from a passing glance hunkered down as he was, the prospect of a heavy-booted man who liked to stomp on things wasn't a risk worth taking.  Rather than linger the Tressym turned and scampered off down the hall in Rhydd's wake and hesitated up at the top of the stairs just long enough to get a look at whomever was about to exit the room.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:31, Mon 08 Feb 2021.

Rhydd nodded upon hearing from the magicker (the outdoorsman did not think that she had ever spoken her name within his hearing -- of if she had, he did not remember it) that the effort to find the missing fisherfolk -- and presumably deal with whatever or whoever was responsible (as long as it wasn't bad weather) -- was being financed by Naerth.

~~That makes sense, I suppose. He is the Speaker, after all. If anything is to be done about missing townsfolk, it is probably up to him to do something about it. And as far as the golders are concerned, there is the town treasury -- I doubt that he will be financing this out of his own pocket.~~

For a brief moment Rhydd considered telling the others some of his suspicions about Naerth, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He did not know any of these people, and had no idea whether they could be trusted to keep their mouths shut. Nor was this a good place for such a discussion -- the old saying "The walls have ears" came to mind.

"If you are interested in talking to any of the fisherfolk about this, I'd say that your best bet is a tavern named 'Three Flags Sailing'," he said by way of a reply.  "The owner is a mild enough fellow, but some of his patrons may have gotten pretty rowdy by this time of night . . . forewarned is forearmed."

The archer glanced around the table and pursed his lips thoughtfully when the magicker said that the group that would take the Speaker up on his offer of a job was "present and accounted for". Logically, that would have included everyone at the table -- well, with the exception of any fisherfolk who had yet to be recruited -- since she had not excluded anyone, but Rhydd was not sure that was what was intended.

Rhydd smiled when the magicker started peering under the table and calling for "Astre". "Are you looking for your Tressy? I just saw him up on the second-floor landing. I'm sure he'll be along when he is good and ready."

As an apparent afterthought, the archer glanced around the table once again and raised his hand in greeting. "I have met some of you, but not everyone. My name's Rhydd . . . Rhydd Maldhon. I'm local to the Ten Towns area, but not to Targos in particular."

---

OOC: I waited as long as I could this evening to see if there would be any more IC posts, but I am running out of time at the keyboard. I'll be happy to pick up any loose ends tomorrow (2/9). :)
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 04:28, Tue 09 Feb 2021.

“Don’t think too much on it. No information, no point. Suppositions can muddle things later.” She was in the process of strapping her chest and keg back into place on her pack. It was less strapping, and more making sure the weight settled properly. There was nothing quite like having a strap dig into the shoulder just wrong enough.“I also recommend not spreading out too much. Or at least being somewhat near me.” She didn’t bother explaining further on that. Either her reasoning was obvious, or it wasn’t. With a final tug of a line, Farwalker nodded her head in satisfaction and then stood, slinging her pack into place on her back. It seemed she wasn’t the kind of person that liked leaving their stuff in a room.

“Well then, I’m ready.” Her shawl was still with Dannika, but that was alright. She preferred the brisk air anyway. “The sooner the better, I believe. If you have issues with the night, let me know and I will see what I can do to assist.”

"Onward to the Three Flags, I suppose," Rhydd said as the Goliath adjusted her gear and announced that she was ready.

"Well, as soon as Astre has rejoined us, that is," he added, with a nod to the Human female magicker.

"Since I know my way around town, I'll take you all there. With the weather being what it is, there aren't too many people out on the streets at this time of night -- might be difficult to ask directions."

A blow to the underside of the table made it and the glasses all jostle about as Mallory quickly tried to stand back up as Rhydd mentioned having seen Astre about the inn.  She appeared upright a moment later wearing a wince and a blush as she rubbed the back of her head, but otherwise tried to play off her mishap with whatever grace she could salvage.  "Ah... yes, well, thank you.  Still chasing rats, I suppose... honestly, I don't know why he even bothers.  He doesn't even eat the filthy things." she huffed as she set to gathering her paltry belongings.  "Dannika, darling, I'll be back in a little while.  You stay warm and safe, alright?"

"I have met some of you, but not everyone. My name's Rhydd... Rhydd Maldhon. I'm local to the Ten Towns area, but not to Targos in particular."

"I suppose we really haven't been properly introduced, have we?  Mallory Bonheur, of Neverwinter." it was actually quite the faux pas that she'd traveled with Rhydd and not at least gotten to know his name.  She could already imagine the scolding her father would give her over not learning an employee's name, even if he was just a temporary escort.

"Since I know my way around town, I'll take you all there. With the weather being what it is, there aren't too many people out on the streets at this time of night -- might be difficult to ask directions."

"Turn left out the door, head up five dock landings, and watch out for the half-rotted barrels of refuse that have spilled from a side alley along the way there." Mallory rattled off quite specifically at that prompt.  She had to recover some bit of dignity, after all, and did so with a literal flourish as she spun about her lantern rod in a swift twirl over the back of her wrist like a performer's baton.  As it spun the mounted lantern set atop one end promptly welled aflame with bright, warm light to be set just over her shoulder with a jaunty tap.  "I am a Diviner, after all.  It's already been foretold."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:45, Tue 09 Feb 2021.

The door opened, and Astre was confident he could remain unseen where he stood at the topmost step of the staircase. It was partly shaded and had the benefit of a wall to cover him. Peeking the corner, he saw an armored, red skinned Tiefling with a sheathed longsword strapped to his hip stop in the doorframe. "I forgot to ask — the Tabaxi — where did he run off to?"

"Said he had business in Termalaine. I didn't pry. But that was more than a Tenday ago. He did leave something behind..."

The Tiefling just nodded contemplatively, lingering for a moment. "I'll have a look at that tomorrow. Good night, Naerth." Then he closed the door and headed for the stairs.

----

Dannika seemed a bit uncomfortable at being called 'darling' over and over by Mallory. Perhaps there was friction due to a disparity in upbringing. It was highly unlikely the lectors and scholars she associated herself with went around and referred to each other by such terms of endearment. "Uhm, sure. You have fun with whatever it is you were going to do." she answered, shifting a bit awkwardly in her seat. Presumably she had been lost in her own thoughts for a time.

The Tiefling from the floor above came briskly down the stairs. He glanced around briefly, noting the new arrivals, before grabbing his dull-brown overcoat and flinging it over his armor. It bore Targos's blue-and-black coat of arms on a small insignia sewed onto the back. "Enjoy your evening," he smiled and said before exiting, making sure to shut the door quickly to not let the warmth flee.

"That was Skath, the newly appointed Captain of the Militia." the Dwarf spoke up for the first time in a while. She continued to stare into the flames. "Damn Naerth and his pests are overrunning the place quicker than the rats are ..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:11, Wed 10 Feb 2021.

"I am Arkemos, a newcomer here myself," Arkemos replied to Rhydd. "I was thinking of moving on soon but after seeing the performance of the two ladies outside the inn, when they saved that poor sod from getting hanged, well I knew this was a group I wanted to have at my backs," he added with a small smile.

The fact that Rhydd knew his way around town, or so he claimed, came as a bit of a relief to Arkemos. He was not looking forward to traipsing around in the cold, especially not after getting warmed by the inns fire, but if the warrior could lead them right to the docks it would save time and they could have this entire mystery resolved before dinner time.

He noted Skath leave but made no comment. He had seen the Tiefling briefly before but not had a chance to make himself known to the captain, nor did he have any desire to, especially not after learning about the ten-day 'sacrifices'.

Strapping his travel bag more snugly to his side Arkemos indicated he was ready to move to the others.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:01, Wed 10 Feb 2021.

~~Seems like there's a goodly number of newcomers here in town,~ Rhydd thought to himself when the fellow who gave his name as "Arkemos" introduced himself.

~~Certes, Naerth counts among that number. It seem a bit odd to have lots of new arrivals, considering the foul weather in the area. I wonder if this Arkemos could be one of Naerth's informers who has joined up in order to keep an eye on us? Time will tell soon enough, I suppose. Mayhap I should turn the tables and keep an eye on him.~~

The archer nodded to the Tiefling as he passed by the table, then turned his attention to the Dwarf who had spoken of "Naerth and his pests". "I need to run an errand at the moment, but I would like to get your thoughts about the new Speaker and his people when time allows," he said quietly to her, under his breath.

Rhydd had also nodded to the female magicker when Mallory Bonheur of Neverwinter had introduced herself. He remembered someone's magicks as being quite helpful during the attack by the wolves, and assumed that at least some of the credit for that should go to this woman. He also remembered her as being uncomfortably strident, but admittedly she had not shown that side of her personality within his hearing since the caravan had arrived in town.

Mistress Bonheur's predictions as to what the group would pass by on their walk over to the Three Flags caused Rhydd to raise an eyebrow. "In truth, I have never counted the exact number of docks," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"I just know the way, and where to go. But we should certainly count as we walk along, as well as looking for those barrels of trash that you mentioned."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:11, Wed 10 Feb 2021.

"Mmmh." the wrinkled Dwarf hummed in response to Rhydd's whisper, glancing briefly over her shoulder discerningly, as if unsure of his character. The two did not know each other at all, and Rhydd had been granted only a brief amount of time to make an impression. "And I will learn what your chat with Ethen was about. When the time allows. I'm not going anywhere ... " She patted her legs and smoked her pipeweed. "And if I do, it will be very slowly, so you'll have plenty of time to catch up."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 22:10, Wed 10 Feb 2021.

The exit of the Tiefling fellow got a polite but knee-jerk gesture from Mallory as she bent her knee in a faint curtsy.  "Good evening, and stay safe yourself, sir." she didn't know him, but manners were manners!  In as unpleasant a place as Targos she would be absolutely damned if she didn't savor every bit of social grace she could scrape together.

Mallory was promptly distracted as Astre ambled his way from the stairs as he pleased, which was the usual manner for a cat in any condition.  She just pouted his direction and raised an arm out, to which the winged feline leaped and fluttered from above to walk daintily up the length of her outstretched limb.  "About time you showed up.  Off wreaking havoc on vermin again, I take it?  You better not have left a mess in your wake." she huffed as Astre sauntered up to lay himself about her shoulders like a living shawl and nuzzle his head into the crook of her jaw.  Despite her scolding, the noblewoman immediately melted at the affection and devolved into pampering her pet with loving little scratches along his neck.

"Very well then.  Shall we be off?"

---

Mallory's good to go.  Astre will inform her of what he learned as the group travels via telepathy, but that wouldn't impact her ability to travel at all.

“Rest your bones well, venerable one.” Farwalker said to the old dwarf. She’d always had good relations with the clans around here. But then, most Goliaths had an appreciation for Dwarvish work. Her weapon had served her long and well, after all. “The darkness grows deeper, but we are of rock and stone, and always steady.” With that, she cinched the strap around her waist properly and made to move towards the exit, turning briefly to call back to Dannika, “Do take care of my shawl while I’m out. I’m quite fond of it.”

Back in the Luskan Arms, Dannika had apparently made herself busy. Sitting crosslegged on the floor with a logbook in her lap, she'd sprawled an endless array of notes and books about on the floor in front of the fireplace as it was the only area that provided adequate lighting. She frantically leaned over to flip through an open book, brushing some disheveled blonde hair away from her eyes. "Oh!" the half-elf blurted as the wind was briefly allowed to enter the common room, reaching to stop a parchment from being blown into the hearth.

Neither Ethen nor Naerth were anywhere to be seen, but the Dwarf had climbed out of her rocking chair and was slowly shuffling toward a bucket of logs to grab another for the fire, one hand on an aching back. Upon seeing Farwalker, Mallory, and Rhydd she shook her head, exhaling wearily and nodding toward whatever it was Dannika had preoccupied herself with.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 149):

Rhydd took in the scene in a glance, and smiled at the Dwarf. Stepping over to her, he flipped back the hood of his cloak and said, "Have a seat and rest your back, saemiligr* one. Let me take care of the eldi-vior** chore."

---

OOC:

*Dwarven; means "honorable", or "venerable", in the context of an older person (props to Farwalker). :)

**Dwarven; means "firewood".
This message was last edited by the player at 22:48, Mon 22 Feb 2021.

The return to the Luskan Arms was a quicker trip, mostly because Mallory had no desire to linger out in the night any longer than absolutely necessary and made for a brisker pace.  Even then, with her warming magics reinforcing both herself and Moyrah, the young noble was still huffing and chattering her teeth by the time she got back indoors again.  Compared to her hearty-bodied companions Mallory was an absolute waif, perhaps only a bit sturdier than Dannika; she simply didn't have enough bulk to insulate herself with once the chill got through her furs.

Despite the cold, Mallory's focus was quite immediately taken on the elder Dwarf as she hobbled in effort to get more wood on the fire.  "Goodness, no, let me hel--" her first instinct was to lend a hand, but she was cut off as Rhydd strode right over to assist instead.  Both his actions and words seemed to take the noblewoman by mild surprise as she regarded him in a slightly better light than she had before.

"You speak Dwarven, Mister Rhydd?" Mallory seemed pleasantly surprised.  Though Rhydd had beaten her to the punch she still came along to help with the firewood as well.  Astre, meanwhile, didn't seem to care as he sprang from his companion's shoulders to amble over to where Dannika had all her work sprawled out to curiously sniff and examine the papers himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:40, Mon 22 Feb 2021.

In reply to Mallory Bonheur (msg # 151):

"Aye," Rhydd replied to Mallory's inquiry, which was, to his mind, more of a statement of fact.

Glancing at the wizardess, he added "Bryn Shander is used as a trading post by the Dwar who work the mines at Kelvin's Cairn. I spend a little time there -- at Bryn Shander, that is -- along and along, and I have pestered the Dwar who trade there enough for them to eventually give in and teach me a bit of their tongue."

"If it ever matters, I can also get by in Elven . . ." he said.  ". . . Elven rangers in the Wilds," he added, as if that explained everything.

Turning back to the Dwarf, he said over his shoulder, as if in afterthought (mayhap by way of an explanation to  Mallory and Farwalker as to why he volunteered the fact of his ability to speak Elven, without prompting) "Sometimes it is useful to be able to converse in a tongue that others to whom you do not wish to reveal your thoughts may be unlikely to understand."

"Although," he added, nodding to the Dwarf and flashing a quick smile, "in this instance 'twas purely a matter of byrma*."

---

OOC:

*Dwarven: "Showing respect".
This message was last edited by the player at 01:00, Tue 23 Feb 2021.

"I've always wanted to learn Elven... it's a lovely language, though I always have trouble with how one pronounces those vvvv sounds..." Mallory seemed momentarily wistful but quite promptly returned herself to the moment for the sake of helping with chores.

The explanation of Bryn Shnder being a trading post got a nod.  "Mmn.  Yes, that's actually why I've come up this way.  My uncle Hukkush set up a trading line there a year or two ago, last I'd heard, and I was hoping to come work with him." she sighed over having ended up in the entirely wrong place, though it was perhaps for the best.  If things had gone as planned, poor Herve would be dead and his daughter an orphan in an already unforgiving place.  "I learned to speak Dwarven as well for precisely that same purpose - trade and business.  Draconic too.  I never understood why my father insisted on such lessons until I joined the family business, and goodness did it all become clear."

A thought occurred to Mallory that had her drum her fingertip against the edge of her dark-painted lip.  "Come to think of it, have you heard of my uncle, Mister Rhydd?  He's a Tabaxi named Andaj Hukkush; I believe he intended to open a shipping office managing imports and exports." It never hurt to ask.  "Friendly fellow, quite placid in temperament if not a bit absent-minded sometimes.  He's an excellent businessman."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:24, Tue 23 Feb 2021.

Even though Rhydd went to assist the Dwarf, she continued on, throwing a dismissive hand. "If I sat on my arse all day I'd become as sprightly as a boulder. Go dust off some ash if you want to help. Then Ethen won't have to do it in the morning." Still, she made no effort to stifle her groans as she bent down to pick up the log and carefully toss it into the fire.

"Vaendin'thiil." Dannika said as the conversation turned to language, emphasizing the pronunciation of the v for Mallory. "Something my mother used to say when my siblings and I were small. 'Fatigued by life's dark trials'." She smiled and stroked Astre's fur as he stepped close to inspect her papers. Perhaps there was order to the chaos, but to anyone but Dannika everything just seemed randomly and haphazardly strewn about. Not to mention hazardously, judging by how close some of it was to the fire. Fortunately, none of the newly kindled embers from the added firewood reached anything. The piece of parchment Astre sniffed at had a drawing of a masked figure made of straw, with some information scribbled around it. The half-elf's attention was pulled away from her logbook, however, as Astre — undoubtedly in full control — came dangerously close to treading on the parchment. "Wait! Don't step on anything! Your paws are dirty, let me see them!" she exclaimed, reaching for Astre's forepaw. Her concern for cleanliness had clearly not extended to Farwalker's shawl that hung loosely on her shoulders, as she'd spilled ink on it.

While Astre did not seem particularly put off by Dannika's demands he not step on anything (because what feline cared a lick about others telling them where they couldn't go?), he did look absolutely offended at the insinuation that his paws were dirty.  It said much both of the Tressym's intelligence and expressiveness that he actually managed a wholly recognizable look of kitty outrage at such spurious claims against his dignity.  He sat back on his haunches and offered out both paws for Dannika's inspection to prove his innocence.

"Mrrroww..." the Tressym groused in a low vocalization.

Mallory, on the other hand, stiffened and gave her furry friend a scolding look.  "Astre!  That sort of remark is wholly uncalled for.  Apologize to Miss Dannika this instant."

"...Rrrrm."

"That's better."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:00, Tue 23 Feb 2021.

In reply to Mallory Bonheur (msg # 153):

Rhydd thought for a moment after the wizardess asked him whether he knew her uncle. After a brief pause, he shook his head. "Nay, I have not heard of your Uncle Hukkush, Mistress Mallory."

"As you might expect, Tabaxi are quite rare in the Ten-Towns area. Although I am no expert, I understand that they are from much warmer climes, so mayhap that should come as no great surprise."

"Now that I think on it, off the top of my head, I cannot recall meeting any -- or even hearing about any of them being in the area. You might want to ask our new Dwarven acquaintance, though -- seein' as how she lives here, she'd know Targos better'n me."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:04, Wed 24 Feb 2021.

Dannika narrowed her eyes at the Tressym. His paws were truly, without a doubt, squeaky clean. "Alright. You're off the hook . . . for now. But I'm keeping an eye on you," the scholar said, pointing her index and middle finger in a V-shape to her own eyes, then shifting them to Astre's repeatedly. After pretending to slowly recede to her logbook, she did it once more for effect before smiling and scratching his head, going back to her research for real.

"Aaagh. . ." The Dwarf groaned as she climbed back into her chair. After settling in, she pulled out a rare and expensive devise from within a fold in her shirt — a clockwork pocket watch. While most were bulky and impractical, this one was small enough to fit in her — albeit Dwarven and therefor larger — hands, and had a fine and ornate silver casing. She flipped the lid and glanced briefly at the time before closing it with a thuck and stowing it back into her pocket. "Hmm. I remember a Tabaxi in Bryn Shander." she said. And then she went back to smoking her pipe, adding nothing further.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:44, Wed 24 Feb 2021.

Rhydd's explanation left Mallory in quiet thought for a moment as she tucked a curled finger at her chin and shared a look over to Astre.  Though the Tressym was occupied letting Dannika inspect his paws, he did look over his companion's way to share a moment of meaningful eye contact.

"I see... that's rather enlightening, actually." she muttered to herself.  Though the notion that the elder Dwarf might know more and the remark to that end had her looking hopefully to the old woman.  Expression eager and hopeful for further explanation.

...
...still hopeful.

...
...still waiting.

It took a few beats of silence before Mallory's manner deflated when it became obvious the Dwarf had absolutely no intention of making herself useful.  The young noble cleared her throat pointedly and put on a more productive air as she swept on over to that rickety old chair's side.  "How are your shoulders, grandmother?  The cold always makes my muscles terribly stiff... would you care for a rub?"  In matters of research and business alike, buttering someone up to get cooperation was never something to shy away from.

Persuasion to get the Dwarf lady talking
Portent 12 + 3 Persuasion skill
Total: 15

---

In the meantime, Astre just sniffed haughtily as he was deemed tidy by Dannika's appraisal.  As she settled back into her work he did the exact same... with a purposeful climb right into her lap to plop himself down in a downy curl across her legs.  Well, at least he was warm... and her petting atop his head soon had him purring pleasantly all the same.  No hard feelings, it seemed.

---

Astre will also spend his time reading Dannika's work and keeping Mallory abreast of the information contained within.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:01, Fri 26 Feb 2021.

The old dwarf eyed Mallory curiously for a moment, blowing some smoke out of her nostrils. Her resting gruff expression made it look as if she was perpetually annoyed. And perhaps she was. "Alright, miss . . . Bonheur. I do have some knots to work out. Don't be too soft, but don't be too hard either. And I do have a tendon that's acting up, and some slag in my left joint, so watch out for that." She then wiggled a bit in her chair and propped herself for Mallory's hands.

Chwingas are drawn to music. Hlin, an old Mountain Dwarf, informed me she attracted an audience of three or four Chwingas who viewed her from a distance, sat atop some rocks, when she played her longhorn. Dannika dipped her pen in the bottle of ink she'd placed next to her. She'd made enough room for the intruding — but more than welcome — Astre, which meant she had to hold her logbook rather awkwardly. As he was no normal feline, his feathered appendages posed an additional challenge. "Could you. . . ." she elbowed his wings, making him tuck them further in so she could get her arms into a decent writing position. Once she'd achieved a somewhat satisfying outcome, she put her pen back on the paper. Though Hlin insists she is not a good musician, it was nevertheless sufficient to draw the Chwingas attention. Similar observations have been made in Chult, as noted by Magus Yndrava in Southern Faerûnian Ecology, Volume Two. Although it is noted she was exceptionally skilled with the bandore. She then reached over to a book with that very title, only having to bother Astre slightly in the process, and flipped through a few pages until she arrived at the mention of Chwingas. With it open beside her, she continued writing: Previous studies are inextensive and inconclusive. Further experiments must be conducted with different instruments to confirm the hypothesis.

Farwalker stayed outside as everyone moved into the warmth. She preferred the cold, and it had been a while since she'd truly been able to enjoy it. Setting her pack down next to her, she opened one of the actual bag's pouched and pulled out a piece of bone and several tools. It was more to give her hands something to do while she stared at the sky. It wasn't particularly clear, but she could see the stars anyway. She could always see the stars, even when the light of day tried to hide them. The land may have been dying, but it was a beautiful death. That made it worse, in a way.

Once she was done pondering, she tucked her tools away, but kept the carved bone and made her way inside. She eyed the room thoughtfully before making her way next to Dannika. With the careful movement of someone that was used to being much larger than everyone around her, Farwalker set the little carving down on an unmarked corner of the scholar's notes. The little carving was very obviously a caricature of Dannika herself, designed to be worn as a charm on a necklace or bracelet, much like the many charms Farwalker herself wore. "I believe it is time for me to rest for the night. I will see you in the morning. Or what passes for one, here." And with that, she started her way towards her room.

Though she was a dainty sort, all things considered, Mallory never shied away from hard work; she was no worthless, idle noble!  A few twists of her wrists and cracks of her knuckles got her hands good and limbered up before she clapped them together with a brisk rub of her gloved palms.  That was enough to rile up a gentle surge of magic as she heated her gloves to emit a steady warmth, then set to work.  Much to the Dwarf's benefit, the noblewoman was no slouch; not only did she have nimble fingers, but she also had a lot of experience soothing the muscle aches of her various elder relatives growing up.

"So, about this Tabaxi you recall?  How long ago was it?  Were they simply passing through en route to some other town, or were they set up in Bryn Shander to stay?  My uncle should've put down a home office somewhere to operate out of..." Rather than beat around the bush, Mallory got straight to it with her questions.  It was more a matter of barter as far as she was concerned; the sooner she could figure out where she needed to go to try and get her life back on track, the better.

Working the Dwarf's shoulders was more like kneading rock than flesh. On the onset of the massage the old Dwarf twitched, hissing as Mallory must have hit a nerve she shouldn't have. But once the diviner had gotten the opportunity to prove her mettle, the Dwarf started to relax more, sinking into her hands.

"Mmmh. I saw him four-five Tendays ago, prior to my arrival here. I was just passing through Bryn Shander myself, coming from Easthaven. He's done trade with some of my cousins, buying ore and metals and occasionally worked with the Blackiron Blades, the smithy there. That's where I saw him. I advice not going there — they specialize in cheap junk. He was conversing with Brelza, who handles the adventuring gear — ice picks, snow goggles, crampons, what-have-you. Mayhap the Tabaxi was selling them wares from his company. What was the name of that . . . the H&S Packet Company? Or K&S Packet Company. Something like that. If he's set up for trade, he'd most definitely have set up in Bryn Shander — everything goes through there." the Dwarf said, occasionally shifting her shoulders to retain comfort or nudge Mallory's hands.

Dannika was too absorbed in her work and barely noticed Farwalker kneeling beside her. She didn't spot the figurine until the Goliath had walked away. Once she did, however, she picked it up and studied it closely. It was very obviously meant to resemble her. She turned her head toward the stairs, but figured she didn't want to raise her voice to thank Farwalker at this late of an hour.  Instead she held it up for Astre to sniff and admired the craftsmanship. ". . . this is really good."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:38, Sun 28 Feb 2021.

Not having a dog in the fight, so to speak, with respect to the current conversation, but being one who tended towards the practical side of the spectrum, Rhydd started doing the little things that needed doing before he turned in for the night.

First of all, he removed the string from his longbow, and stored the wooden stave in its leather sheathe. Leaving a bow strung (unnecessarily) eventually took its toll on both the string and the wood itself.

Then he shrugged his shoulders out of the straps of his backpack, opened it, and pulled out his bedroll, which he spread on the floor of the common room at what he felt was a good distance from the fire -- close enough to feel the residual warmth from the coals over the course of the evening, yet far enough away not to be troubled by flying sparks whilst the fire was active.

At a point the Dwarf decided Mallory was done. She brushed away the noblewoman's hands, then shuffled to her feet to poke the fire before making her bedroll somewhere close to Rhydd. As with the outdoorsman, she wanted to cherish the residual heat from the flames.

Due to Dannika's chronic lack of spacial awareness it had taken some time for her to realize the common room was slowly being vacated, but once she did — and Astre jumped off her lap — she gathered her notes into her satchel and took Mallory up on her proposal of sharing a room, retreating up the stairs along with her.

Arkemos, having remained silent and contemplative during the later hours of the reconvening at the Luskan Arms, sat on a stool by the window, occasionally conversing quietly with Xhar. Then he had briefly opened the window and the raven had flown out into the night without returning. He'd gone upstairs to the room he'd been staying in before everyone else.

Once the last embers faded the night turned awfully quiet, dark, and chilly. The inn was properly insulated, but Auril's heightened cold was incessant. It did not take long before the freezing temperature outside seeped into the open and spacious common room. Like it had been obstinately banging on the door, eagerly waiting for the opportunity. For the warden to slumber. The Dwarf shifted in her bedroll. "Ethen. What did you speak of with her?" she said in a low voice. Whether Rhydd was awake or not was another matter, but either she'd get a response or she wouldn't.

There was a bit of time amid the massage and brusque conversation that Mallory got a bit lost in her task.  The old woman's muscles were knotted up in the most curious of ways and it left Mallory almost too focused on undoing a chain of bunched tension points with a ginger dig of her elbow to actually listen to what was being said.  "Mn?  A joint venture then?  That would make sense... I'll have to speak with the local exporter and see if there's a guild representative anywhere..." she thought aloud.  When the Dwarf decided enough was enough, the noblewoman relented with a bit of surprise but no resistance.

As it was time to get some rest, Mallory helped Dannika gather her papers (assuming the eccentric scholar wasn't touchy about other people handling her work) and ultimately opened her arms to Astre.  "Come along, it's bed time."

To which the Tressym just turned his head away.  "Mrrwl."

"Fine, just don't keep everyone awake chasing around rats or whatever else.  Honestly..." Mallory dropped her arms to her sides with a defeated flop, then turned to escort Dannika to their room.  Leave it to a cat to keep its own hours.  Astre just hopped up with a flutter to land atop the fire place mantle to tuck in comfortably, though he gave a quick chirp after Mallory before she was out of sight.  She didn't even look; she just gestured flippantly over her shoulder where a flickering wave of arcane energy made the dimming fire in the hearth flare up a little for a few moments as it was supernaturally stoked.

Once they got to their room, Mallory sighed at the furnishings.  She'd endured worse on the road, all things considered, but it didn't make having to stay in shabby dives any more palatable.  Still, better than freezing out in the snow.  For her own peace of mind Mallory set the loaned Immovable Rod across the door and clicked it into place to bar it shut; there was no way anyone would be able to sneak in at night with that there.  "You know, Dannika darling, you might want to speak with some of the fishermen about your chingwa search.  They were quite the vocal bunch once they got going.  I'm certain they must have plenty of tales to tell being locals up here.  Perhaps their rousing work songs might draw attention?  Creatures like spirits and Fae do so love music, after all."

---

As ever, Astre's going to hang out so he can spy on folk and keep watch through the night.  He should still be within telepathic range of Mallory unless the inn is way bigger than I imagine, so he'll relay information to her so long as she's awake.  Once she goes to sleep, he'll hold off on informing her unless it's something really important.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 164):

Stretched out on his bedroll near to the smoldering fire, Rhydd opened his eyes and considered the Dwarf's question. After a moment he answered. "Ethen is a mere shadow of her former self. She has lost lots of weight, and she looks unhappy and sad -- unlike the cheerful person that I remember from past visits to Targos."

"My concern was that this new Town Speaker -- who, to my eye, appears to have claimed the best room and seemed to be ordering Ethen about . . . that he had somehow cheated out her of ownership of the Luskan Arms -- mayhap forced her to sell for a mere fraction of its value -- and that she was reduced to working as a servant in an inn that she used to own."

"Something like that would explain her . . . her present circumstances. But . . . she denies it."

Whenever the topic steered to chwingas, Dannika never failed to light up — no matter how late the hour, it seemed. "I just spoke to Hlin about this! And it's a great idea to speak with the fishermen, I'll do that first thing tomorrow. It seems the spirit's presence is stronger up here, as it is in Chult," she said as she folded out her bedroll, which she also kept in her satchel. "I'm optimistic! We'll figure out a solution to this problem in no time, I'm sure."

—

The Dwarf stirred in her bedroll. Finding a position that caused no aching or soreness got more and more difficult over the years. After settling into a somewhat comfortable rest, laying on her back with her hands folded in front, she scoffed. "Of course she denies it. Ethen looks out for everyone but herself. And Naerth has not bought the inn, no. I'm afraid he is much more subtle in his methods. We should not fool ourselves — he has become its true proprietor. A bully is what he is. It is why I'm here — Ethen needs a friend to watch her. Well, one reason why I'm here. The other is tracking down a criminal from Easthaven, but I'm afraid he's slipped through my fingers. . . I'm not the warrior I used to be, regardless of how much I want to pretend." She fell silent for a moment. "I am Hlin. I've known Ethen for a long time now. She's one of the few decent people I've met in all my years, and I've come to consider myself a fairly good judge of character. I am sure Ethen is thankful you are here . . . Rhydd, was it? I've heard your name around, I think. Curious how we haven't met before. I must say, you're certainly better than that wizarding friend of yours. And that uncle of hers." She shifted to her side, turning away from Rhydd and groaning somewhat. "The Goliath is alright."

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 167):

~~Interesting,~~ Rhydd thought to himself as the Dwarf who had given her name as Hlin spoke her piece.

~~She has tracked a criminal here from Easthaven -- alone, to hear her tell it, through weather that will kill you if you don't know what you are doing . . . or, mayhap, if you are simply unlucky. That speaks to an unusually high level of commitment.~~

~~And she has done enough digging here in Targos to know that Nerth is now the owner in fact of the Luskan Arms, although he is not the legal owner. She has also gleaned that the man is a bully. These do not appear to just be random, unrelated occurrences. It seems that Hlin is more than just the routine Ten-Towns traveller.~~

"Any friend of Ethen's is a friend of mine," he replied, after a moment. "And aye, 'tis Rhydd . . . Rhydd Maldhon. And I would hazard a guess that the reason that we have not crossed paths before is that I spend much more time out in the Wilds than I do in the so-called civilized towns of the Ten-Towns."

"And -- speaking of hazarding a guess . . . would you happen to be One Who Harps?"

Rhydd chuckled, a sound of genuine amusement. "Never mind. I suspect that you could not tell me, even if you did . . . Harp."

"But let us assume that you do, Hlin," he added, his tone now serious,"just for the purposes of our conversation. That being the case, if you, as a friend of Ethen ... or otherwise ... find yourself in a situation where you are in need of assistance, please think of me."

---

OOC:
12:29, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 20 using 1d20+2 with rolls of 18.  Insight Check re: Hlin.

Notes: Rhydd (IC) is assuming that Hlin is being generally truthful whilst not telling him everything. Does a pretty good Insight Check reveal anything more (or else)? :)
This message was last edited by the player at 23:09, Wed 03 Mar 2021.

It seemed, for a moment, that Hlin had opted out of answering, just as Rhydd had anticipated. But then she finally sighed and spoke. "If only my purpose was as grandiose . . . all my efforts might have amounted to something." And for the rest of the night she said nothing more.

---

From what Rhydd could intuit, the conversation had been exceptionally truthful.

Hlin's comment brought on a raised eyebrow from Rhydd, but he was not one to pry into other other people's private affairs unless required for his own health and well-being.

And so it was that he soon drifted off to sleep . . .

Though there was a bed to sleep on, Mallory laid out her bedroll on top of it as well... along with a few preliminary sweeps of her cleansing magic just to make sure there was nothing unpleasant in the bedding.  The more layers of hygiene and warmth she could set in place, the better.

"You know, I find your enthusiasm reassuring.  It's been a terribly long journey for me over the past few months, but it's nice that you haven't lost any of your spirit.  I'm certain you'll get your results sooner or later." though genuine in sentiment, Mallory couldn't help but feel a little rueful.  "Perhaps the chingwa respond to a tonal resonance?  I've seen many bardic performers back in Neverwinter who cast magic through musical instruments and song; it somehow affects The Weave.  Or perhaps it's some correlation with the emotional context of the music?"

The young noblewoman paused in her task to clear her throat a bit and hum out a few bars.  Just a short melody of some old folk song she'd known since growing up, though she halted and retried it a few times when she went rather poorly off-key.  After a few meager attempts she just huffed and gave up.  "Goodness, this dry winter air is terrible for my throat.  I can't carry a note to save my life with how raspy it leaves me." she sighed and shook her head as she sat down on the edge of her bed.  "The sooner I find my uncle and can return to Neverwinter, the better.  I miss the seaside cliffs..."

---

Performance, for fun
Mallory Bonheur rolled 7 using 1d20+1

Dannika listened, and chuckled under her breath as Mallory tried and failed to stay on pitch. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh — you're doing a better job than I could. Music has never been my strong suit, much unlike some of my sisters and brothers. I did envy them their talent growing up. I think I'll have to pick up a mandolin, or whatever I can find, and start practicing. Oooh! Or a lyre, I've always liked the sound of lyres." She quivered and rubbed her shoulders as the cold of the small room started to settle in her bones. "Brr! Damnation, if it isn't cold up here!" Fortunately for the residents of the Luskan Arms — the ones who had been provided proper rooms, at the very least — there were a couple of thick, woolen blankets folded next to every bed.

The half-elven scholar grabbed one for herself to bolster her already adequate covering, leaving the other for Mallory. If it hadn't been for Farwalker Dannika would have been stuck with a cold, and she did not want to catch one again. "Hlin told me of her longhorn," she said as she wriggled into her bedroll. "She said she'd lost it long ago. I wonder if it was a special longhorn of sorts, enchanted with some kind of magical property, but there are no records of Yndrava's being magical . . . I'll have to ask Hlin come morning."

---

I want to move on to the next day, irregardless of whether or not Mallory wants to keep this conversation going. If you wish to, Mallory, just separate your post into different sections.

---

Dawn came — or what constituted dawn in these enchanted lands. As the sun was set to rise, the Frostmaiden's curse suddenly became very prominent. There were no morning rays to pierce the windows, nothing to warm the inn from its cold, frozen state after the fire had gone out during the night. In its place were nothing but spent coals and the faint smell of smoke.

While it had been the other way around in the evening, Rhydd and Hlin had the worst of it in the morning. Over the night, the common room had been sapped its warmth the quickest as it was by far the largest. Ethen, draped in a blanket of her own, had come down, making little noise as she started on her daily routine. Never-the-less, it was enough to stir Hlin, who rose with a shiver and groan and shuffled over to the dwindling stack of timber.

Not long after, Naerth came down, adjusting the collar of the refined coat he was wearing. "Mornin'," he said before joining Hlin in her efforts to get the fire going. Hlin, in turn, served him a particularly sinister grumble. He ignored it and glanced briefly at Rhydd before stirring the coals with a tong. "I see you decided to spend the night. I don't believe we've had the pleasure?"

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 172):

Although the cold might have bothered some, Rhydd spent a comfortable night wrapped in his bedroll. After all he was inside, out of the reach of the wind and the damp of the snow. He decided right before dozing off ~~If I can't make myself comfortable sleeping indoors, it's my own damned fault.~~

All of the buslting around eventually roused Rhydd, who rose to his feet and began rolling his bedroll. When Naerth spoke to him, he kept on with what he was doing, but gave the Speaker an appraising look -- not actively hostile, but not overtly friendly, either.

"Rhydd Maldhon," he said after a moment.

"I came in with the last caravan," he added, perhaps as an afterthought.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:09, Fri 05 Mar 2021.

Sometime, during the night, the dark, starry sky had lit up green. It was particularly visible from Farwalker's room — which was terribly unbefitting for a Goliath of her stature. The roof was too low, the bed had been too short, and the blankets were too small. The lights danced on the floor and walls, beautiful — and twisted. This was the aurora Auril had stolen and unjustly claimed for herself. The courier of her curse. The spell that wreathed the lands in eternal darkness.

—

"Huh. In that case you should have been provided a room. Had I known of your arrival I would have seen to it. Unfortunately it's been a bit cramped as of late, and Ethen has had trouble finding proper accommodation for everyone. Naerth." he said as he got the fire going. The flames quickly overtook the log, climbing to a proper burn. He straightened and clapped his hands free of bark and ash. "Perhaps you've already spoken to some of your companions, but I offered them a job last night. I heard of you from Niels — you've more than proved your capabilities so you're welcome to participate. If you need the extra coin."

There was a folded letter on the table, tucked underneath a candelabra that was yet to be lit. Ethen went with around with her wooden splint, ignoring the letter when she came to it. It seemed like Naerth had missed it as well.

---

I want a retroactive Perception check from Rhydd, and a perhaps a minor flashback to accompany the roll, depending on the result.

---

Rhydd knew who the letter belonged to. While Arkemos had tried to be silent as not to wake anyone, Rhydd had been alerted of his exit when he the last steps of the stairs betrayed him with a long-winded creak. Before he'd exited out the front door he had placed the letter on the table.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:19, Fri 05 Mar 2021.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 174):

From his vantage point on the floor, in his bedroll, Rhydd had not been able to see what caused Arkemos to linger for an instant near the table. But now that the archer was standing, he could see a folded piece of paper on the table, partially covered by the candelabra's base.

As Naerth was speaking and directing his attention to getting the fire going, Rhydd reached out and claimed the paper, which he quickly stuffed into his belt-pouch. ~~Not sure what is writ on that paper, but I don't see any need for Naerth to know about it,~~ he thought to himself.

"Not a problem," he responded to the Town Speaker's comments about his being due a room. "With rooms in short supply, I am perfectly content bedding down here on the floor. I have a roof over my head, and I am sheltered from the cold and the wind -- I am quite content."

When Naerth spoke to him about the "job offer", Rhydd nodded. "Aye, I've heard about it from some of the others whom I met during the caravan-journey."

The archer shrugged and added "I'll give it some thought."

Farwalker had simply set the bed on it's side when she'd entered the room. It was rare for any inn to have a room in her size, and she'd made do with far worse before. It was why she had a particularly comfortable bedroll, and she preferred sleeping without blankets anyhow. Her rest was interrupted by the green light, beautiful and terrible as it was. She took some time to consider it thoughtfully before going back to sleep. It would take a lot fix the sky, she was sure, but it seemed as if no one else was even working towards that goal. They'd just... accepted it.

It wasn't her place to judge, however, so she went back to sleep. On waking, she performed her usual morning rituals before packing up and settling her gear and clothing into place. She'd have to get her shawl back. Perhaps today, but it wasn't as if she truly needed it. Once she was ready, she left a single golden dragon on the pillow of her made bed. Which she'd set back where it belonged. It was far easier for her to do than someone else.

That done, she headed downstairs, only to find that she was really the only person ready to head out. "Hmm." She eyed the room thoughtfully and shrugged, making her way over to the chair she'd used the previous night. It hadn't broken on her, and it seemed like a good time to make another charm.

"Not too much, I hope. Are you making kaeth, Ethen?" Naerth said, looking toward the kitchen area. Ethen nodded, busy pouring water into a kettle which she could place on a metal rack above the flames in the fireplace. A sack of black beans rested on the countertop beside her, and a pestle and mortar beside that again. "Make some for our guests as well."

He got out the tobacco from his coat-pocket and started rolling a small sheet. "It's a matter of business, Mister Rhydd. Every day that passes is another day of lost profit. Don't dwell on the decision too long, or I'll pass it to someone else. Or," he continued after wetting the rolling-paper. "perhaps you would be interested in a different line of work. Something more permanent. You're familiar with the region, are you not? If I'm to ensure the well-being of the townsfolk we could use every guide we can get. It's a long trip, after all, back to civilization." Naerth looked up and smiled politely. "Forgive me, maybe we should have this conversation after we've had a breakfast."

While Ethen toiled away and started preparing breakfast, Hlin stepped into her boots, preparing to shuffle outside to fetch a new batch of wood for the fireplace. It was snowing softly. She ran into Moyrah in the open air right as she was about to round the corner for the overhang that sheltered the stacks of logs.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:54, Sun 07 Mar 2021.

As the night wore on and people settled into their slumber, there was but one who remained awake to see Arkemos take his leave.  Astre remained a silent observer through the long evening with only the snores of various folk and the dull glow of dying embers to keep him company.  He was still awake by the time the sun rose and the sleepers rose with it; as the night wore on he ascended to the rafters once more, where warmth gathered in what lingering traces could be contained by the thatching.

While Astre had no sleep by choice, Mallory was another matter entirely.  It wasn't too long before the noblewoman herself practically stumbled down from her room with a slow, laborious pace.  Though her clothing was immaculately crisp, her hair and make-up as delicately flawless as ever, no amount of eyeliner and foundation powder could cover the deep, dark circles that surrounded her eyes.  She looked like a particularly well-prepared corpse set to be presented as she staggered her way down with a bitter groan.  The very weight of being conscious after such a cold and restless night weighed on her heavily enough to slump her over into a hunch as she groped her way over to a table to collapse at.

"Kelemvor?  If you're listening, please, just finish me off already..." she groaned face-down into the tabletop.  Not even Astre's flutter down to land and nudge with both forepaws to rock her head side to side got much of a reaction.

---

Today's Portents are: 5 and 3.  Bad Luck is on the horizon, but for whom, it is uncertain.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:18, Sun 07 Mar 2021.

Dannika, having by roused by Mallory's near-sleepwalking, got up in stark contrast to the Neverwintan noblewoman. Here was the quintessential morning-person, ripe with energy further spurred on by the prospect of delving into her research and uncovering more secrets. Once downstairs she had gotten out a specific book — the one about Faerûnian ecology which Astre had gotten a glimpse of yesterday evening — and sat on the rug near the climbing fire to flip through the pages.

"I didn't get the opportunity to thank you," she said, looking up at Farwalker once she recalled she had been gifted a charm yesterday. She plucked it out of her shawl, having taken the time to thread it hang it around her neck. "It must have taken long to craft. Oh!" she said, then turned to searching through her satchel once more. "I have these." She took out two corked vials containing a red, swirling liquid giving off a faint luminescent glow. Two health potions. She offered them to Farwalker. "If you're tackling some sea monster they're of far greater use to you than me. I don't know why I took them with me, really." Suddenly, she cringed. "I haven't insulted your culture, have I?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 11:45, Sun 07 Mar 2021.

Rhydd's lips compressed into a thin line of disapproval as he heard Naerth order Ethen about -- at least that was the way it sounded to the archer.

Nor did he like hearing what he interpreted as pressure from the Town Speaker to make a quick decision about whether to join in with the monster-seekers before Naerth gave away the spot to someone else.

"I don't give a rat's fart what you do, Naerth," he snarled. "If I want to join the group, I will. If I don't, I won't."

"And good luck trying to pass the spot along to anyone else in this sorry excuse for a town by asking people to step up and risk their lives by tracking down the monster -- or iceberg, or pirates, or whatever in the hells is causing the trouble."

Rhydd's expression softened as he glanced around at Farwalker and Mallory, who had just come down the stairs into the common room. "Good morning," he said, nodding to the two newcomers.

His expression became one of concern when Mallory all but collapsed, face-down, into a seat at table-side.  "Mistress Mallory -- are you ill?" he asked.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:27, Tue 09 Mar 2021.

A long, perhaps rather melodramatically deep and drawn-out sigh dragged itself out of Mallory.  "Grievously.  Though I do believe a few glasses of something red would aid my constitution greatly." she grumbled, still to have lifted her head up at all.  A table ale with breakfast was one thing, but it was a mite early to be tucking into wine... even as thin as the bottled fare was at the Luskan Arms.

"I'm afraid a restful night eluded me, is all.  Not a terrible surprise given the accommodations..." she managed to heave herself somewhat upright and slump her head against a propped up arm.  Half-lidded, weary eyes bounced over to where Naerth sat so she could offer him a lopsided smile.  "Though it's not as if I'm ungrateful, of course, for the Speaker's most gracious patronage.  I would never be so crass as to raise complaint of care so generously given.  It's merely this abysmal cold at fault.  Quite the trouble for someone who's grown up where sleeping bare in warm coastal evenings and midnight breezes are more the norm."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:53, Mon 08 Mar 2021.

"Oh, I am sure there are plenty of people who would do almost anything for the amount of gold I am paying. Few are fit for the job, though," Naerth said as he bit down on his roll of tobacco and leaned back in his chair, not very perturbed by Rhydd's barks. "But suit yourself."

Ethen had finished brewing the kaeth and came up with two mugs as Mallory scooted over to Naerth. The Town Speaker got out a waterskin, and as he undid the cork it was clear from the smell it was filled with a very strong and pure alcohol. He added a dash to his own mug, then shook it enticingly for Mallory. "Northern specialty. Aids against the cold, too."

Ethen fetched mugs of kaeth for the rest off the guests as well, then set out an assortment of nuts on the table before going back to the kitchen to finish preparing breakfast.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:20, Mon 08 Mar 2021.

There was a moment where Mallory looked genuinely at odds with herself.  A silent argument that was visible behind her eyes as she followed the tempting waggle of that waterskin.  At first it seemed she might've perhaps listened to her better judgment as she pulled a mug of kaeth up and drank deeply of the piping, bitter brew... but it was only to make more room as she held the mug over to Naerth for a top-up.

"Most gracious, indeed." she concluded.  Astre, meanwhile, just gave a decidedly judgmental glower where he sat on the tabletop's edge.

Naerth's comments had put Rhydd in a bad mood, and he was not inclined to sit around and watch Mallory make moon-calf eyes at the Town Speaker in return for a dollop or two of liquor.

He rose to his feet, pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, and stepped outside to look for Moyrah. He didn't think that the big Half-Orc would be just standing around waiting for him outside, but he figured that 'twas a least possible that with Naerth running things in town, she might assume that she was no longer be welcome in the inn.

~~Must be horrible to live your life feeling unwelcome most of the places that you go.~~

~Hurry Moyrah, hurry, the fishermen are leaving already...~ It is to be expected that the newcommers might not be aware of the heartbeat of Targos, they are new to the town after all. If the lot would like to speak to Boots, Stognur or Wirt, there wasn't much time left as the fishermen have already headed to the iced over docks, to try their luck at fishing for the day.

Thankfully, her thoughts were interrupted first by Flin, and than by Rhydd as she bumped into him outside of the Lusken Arms. Startled, she jumped back instantaneously, as she almost stepped onto one of the archer's feet "Rhydd, Rhydd it's nice to see you, good morning.... Where have you headed... I apologize if I am late, I had an unexpected run in with one of the toothless fishermen from the night before" Once the adrenaline rush and thrill which has rushed through her body upon seeing Rhydd has evaporated, Moyrah noticed by Rhydd's body language that something might be off "... Are you alright lad, What got you worked up this early? Where is the rest of the group?" It became suddenly obvious how late she was, some mess already went down.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:09, Tue 09 Mar 2021.

Farwalker had set down her pack as usual and pulled the chest she had off for a rather large pouch of what appeared to be oats and dried fruits. She was idly popping bits of it into her mouth as she worked on another piece of bone when Dannika called to her. After carefully setting everything down where she wouldn't accidentally stab herself, she turned to look at the woman as she finished speaking.

"No," She replied with an amused smile, "You did not. There are few cultures that find gifts insulting." She stood carefully and moved to take one of the proffered vials, tilting it slightly to get a better look at it. "These are always useful to have on hand. If these are the only two you have, then I will only take one. One never knows when they might be grievously injured." She tucked the vial, which looked absolutely tiny in her hands, into a small pouch on her belt. "But I am glad you appreciate my work. I often make such things for the people I have traveled with, and I have found that those with mixed blood often have the most striking and beautiful features." Sure, she liked staring at the night sky whenever she could, but that wasn't the best way to stay grounded.

In reply to Moyrah the Mutt (msg # 185):

"Good to see you too, Moyrah," Rhydd replied, smiling as the Half-Orc approached.

"I was just stepping outside to make sure that you were not waiting for us out here. And no, you are not late -- the others are inside, and we have not had breakfast yet, so your timing is good."

He grunted in irritation when Moyrah asked what had gotten him out of sorts so early in the morning. "Ah, it's nothing to worry about. It's that new Town Speaker, Naerth -- he rubs me the wrong way to begin with by the way that he treats Ethen, and to top it off, he just now tried to pressure me to make a snap decision to join the 'Great Monster Hunt' -- or whatever you want to call it. I'll probably decide to come along any way, but I can't abide being shoved into it by anyone."

Rhydd looked around to make sure that no one was within earshot, but he lowered his voice any way, out of caution. "While we are talking about Naerth, I have heard a rumor here in town that he may be in league with the Zhentarim. Do you have any thoughts on that?"

"And while you are thinking, I need to take a moment to read a note that I picked up earlier. I did not wish to do so in front of Naerth."

Rhydd reached into his belt-pouch and pulled out a sheet of paper, which he quickly skimmed over . . .

---

OOC: The paper is the one that Arkemos left behind, and Rhydd snatched up.

"Good, I am afraid though that we might not have much time to speak with the fishermen. They are already on their way towards the lake, I am afraid." Moyrah made sure to stress the urgency of the situation. "I doubt we will catch up with them, but if we stop by Heliar's, he might be able to vouch for them. I passed by his house on my way here, and to put your worries to sleep, he is alive and well, helping others to set up others with hooks and ropes." Feeling elated, for a change, Moyrah prefered this new alternative source of information. As it has been proven thusfar, fishermen weren't her kind.

Once the tone of the conversation became more clandestine and Naerth's name was mentioned, she knew which direction this back and forth was heading into "I have heard the same, I don't know much about the organisation unfortunately, but from what I have gathered, their activities are more of the under the table sort. What they are searching for here though, eludes me. Despite Naerth's warm disposition towards Moyrah, she didn't put much trust into him and his leadership over Targos, nothing changed but the sudden inflow of money, which admittedly helped keep the town afloat through the tough times. All of the laws which disgusted her were still in force, and that was not a thing Moyrah was ready to digest so easily.

The power of gold to inspire loyalty in people shouldn't be underestimated though, so Moyrah made sure to keep watch on the surroundings. Naerth was pretty popular around Targos, and he might have ears and eyes where one wouldn't even expect.

---

Today: Moyrah the Mutt rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  perception roll for spies.

Can Rhydd help with the perception roll, as we are both looking around?

I have reason to fear for my safety. Therefore, I must rescind my offer to aid in the investigation of Maer Dualdon and its troubles.

Your hospitality has been greatly appreciated. I will arrange for my dues to be paid at midnight at the Luskan Arm’s northside.




~Arkemos~

The Market Square was close, and since it was the heart of the city, it tended to gather the earliest risers. A few were strolling down the street, but most seemed too preoccupied with their own errands to pay much attention to Moyrah and Rhydd. One woman though — likely a wife to one of the fishermen — looked at them for what seemed an extended amount of time. But with voices kept low, every passerby remained out of earshot. If there were anyone close enough to be able to overhear their conversation it was Hlin, and she looked like she couldn't care less. Hugging a batch of logs, she grumpily shuffled her way past Moyrah and Rhydd and back into the inn.
This message was last updated by the GM at 17:39, Tue 09 Mar 2021.

Rhydd showed the note to Moyrah, and gave the Half-Orc an opportunity to read it. "It might have been helpful to know who was threatening his life -- only a few extra words would have sufficed."

While she was reading, he added "'Tis good to hear that Heilar is doing well this morning."

"When you finish reading that, I think that we can step inside. I don't know that we gain anything by standing around out here in the cold."

---

OOC: Were we planning on speaking to other fishermen and -women in addition to Heilar? Sorry, I am playing in a sufficient number of games here on RPoL to cause me to forget these little details. Either that, or I forgot to wear my aluminum foil hat to bed, and the aliens stole part of my brain whilst I was sleeping! :)

With a quick extension of the hand, Moyrah grabbed the letter from Rhydd, and made short work of reading its contents, as it was obviously written in a hurry and merely two sentences long. "Interesting, thinking back on Akremos... He seemed fairly secretive and of very few words, as if he was trying to draw as less attention to himself as possible. It could be something to look into." Moyrah was glad to see Akremos gone. Out of the people she met last night, he proved toughest to read, and also that disgusting bird of his, didn't do much to instil any feeling of security.



"I Agree, only thing we can gain outhere is a cold." Both of Moyrah's hands which were completely covered in red inked runes, folded the piece of parchment carefully, and placed it back in Rhydd's grasp. After the exchange, Moyrah followed Rhydd's lead into the Luskan Arms.

Was it the fact that Moyrah largely kept to herself most of her life, evading contact with the citizens of Targos, or an unfortunate train of circumstances, all out of a sudden, seemingly, sleepy fishing town of Targus became abuzz with activity like never before. She was glad to be reunited with the people she met last night, and waved to Mallory and Farwalker as soon as she noticed them at the entrance of the inn, after resting her weapon outside that is.

---

OOC: Yeah, we were talking about it the night before, but as Heliar is kind of a go to guy for hooks and ropes in the town, he could provide us with information we are looking  from the fishermen, as they visit him daily?

In reply to Moyrah the Mutt (msg # 191):

Rhydd accepted the paper back from Moyrah after the Half-Orc had read it, and followed Hlin into the inn. He planned to show it to Farwalker and Mallory when they were no longer in Naerth's company.

He pushed the hood of his cloak back once he was inside the inn, and smiled. "Look who I found outside," turning and gesturing towards Moyrah.

Not used to being the center of  attention, Moyrah began rubbing her palms together nervously as Rhydd ushered her into the establishment. Quickly she eyed panoramically scanned the room, and seeing that Mallory was preoccupied already, having a conversation with the town speaker, Moyrah had no other choice but to naturally gravitate towards Farwalker.

"Hello Farwalker, I hope you are enjoying the morning..." Once the carving knife and the half processed bone figurine, layed out on the table in front of Farwalker, caught Moyrah's eye, her piqued interest became impossible to hide. "I assume this might be your handiwork? Would it bother you if I showed you one carving of similar nature that is stashed back at my home?"

By the time the others returned into the main room of the Luskan Arms, Mallory seemed to be in a better state.  'Seemed' being the operative word.  Food was at hand for her to tuck into and, while she was sat primly upright with fine posture and ate with care, it frankly looked more like she was just showing good manners out of sheer force of habit than any genuine display of improvement from her rough night.  She still looked just as weary and frequently sipped from her spiked coffee between bites.

"Mnmm..." the noblewoman offered a half-hearted greeting at Moyrah's return to the fold.  A strange look crossed her expression after a moment and replaced that tired haze with furrowed concern, almost as if she'd just smelled something nasty.  The others had seen moments before when her dark eyes would glaze over with an unnatural gleam, though it was something a bit different as the noblewoman's pupils dilated out into broad discs... and kept going, until her eyes had turned a solid, inky black.

It lasted only a moment as Mallory stared blankly ahead, only to suddenly jerk and shake her head about.  A few rapid blinks had her eyes once more back to normal, though she was disquieted by the experience if her scowl was any evidence.  "Oh... oh dear.  I sense ill-fortune ahead." she muttered to herself in a distracted manner.

To clarify, that bit was just some in-setting fluff for Mallory's "Portents" class ability kicking in at the start of a new day.  I rolled really low numbers this time around, so somebody is going to have a bad time.

---

Astre, meanwhile, hopped down to investigate the towering Half-Orc with a curious sniff about her boots.  He'd been widely apart from the initial meeting with her in the bitterly cold evening prior, after all, and took the chance to get a better look at her with interest.  A snowy-furred cat with broad, owl-like wings folded down his back and a distinct gleam of intelligence in his gaze was surely an odd sight for Moyrah; Tressym weren't at all native to the region, though he at least seemed to behave like a normal cat otherwise... 'seemed', being the operative word.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:50, Thu 11 Mar 2021.

Earlier. . .

Astre was nothing but a pair of eyes against the darkness. The only thing that could have given him away would have been stray light getting caught in them, but since all the candles were snuffed he was invisible. From his vantage point atop the beams he had perfect view of the entire lower floor, and of Arkemos as he descended the stairs. The man's clumsiness had drawn a creak from the last step. It had been loud and long-winded, undoubtedly waking the two who slept on the floor of the common room.

But on second thought, perhaps Astre had judged the hooded man wrong. While he had halted, it had almost seemed deliberate — as if he had coerced the groan out.

He went on to silently tuck a folded letter underneath a candelabra, then exited the inn without making another sound.

---

Present time. . .

Hlin stacked the newly retrieved logs in the empty basket with as much meticulousness as such a task warranted, and then went back to her rocking-chair and rested her legs for a moment.

"Oh, yes, these would be the only ones I brought. . ." Dannika said, taking the vial of red liquid Farwalker had offered back to her. "I should have brought more, shouldn't I?" Upon Farwalker's compliment she seemed to deflate a bit in her chair. "Oh. . ." She brushed her hair back — which she'd tied in a loose bun for the morning — in an attempt to cover up the pointed tips. "I don't know if . . . sorry. Thank you. That is nice of you to say."


Naerth was leaning back, slowly sipping from his mug in-between drags of his cigar. He'd only looked at Mallory with bleak curiosity as her eyes mysteriously and ominously took on a blackness. "Is this a normal thing that happens? He exhaled smoke. "I do hope you're wrong. We've had enough misfortune in these parts. And speaking of — I trust you've considered my offer from yesterday?" Upon Moyrah's unexpected entrance and approach to Farwalker he perked up, tapping the spent end of his cigar onto a copper ashtray on the table. "Now, that's a fine coincidence — just the lady I had in mind! Or maybe this was not a coincidence in the slightest. It seems you have met already. Excellent. That makes things easier for me."

The large woman let out a soft chuckle, and moved to begin packing her belongings away. “Of course.” She replied to Moyrah with a slight nod to the woman before turning back to Dannika with a soft smile. “That you brought two speaks well enough of your foresight. Accidental though it may have been. And I am of the adage that it is often better to be prepared than not when taking a long journey.” She titled her head thoughtfully, eyes possibly looking at nothing, or staring at the half-elven woman. “I have often found people to be quick to judge due to someone’s heritage rather than their character. People often shun what is different, without seeing how those differences are beautiful themselves.”

She shrugged, peering thoughtfully at the beginnings of her latest carving, which had already started to look vaguely catlike. “It’s a pity, when someone loses the wonder of beauty. Take Moyrah, here.” Farwalker gestured at the woman and smiled, “Apologies for making you an example, but you did come up to me.” Her smile and tone were slightly teasing and cheerful, and her eyes seemingly literally glittered with amusement, “I imagine people notice a few key features, and that’s all they see.  Someone that’s not even a person. I know the feeling.” She chuckled a bit humourlessly at that.

“But look at her!” She swept her arm towards the half-orc, careful not to hit her. “She’s gorgeous.” Farwalker’s wide, cheerful grin was back, teeth almost as pearlescent as her eyes. “You are. Both of you are. And anyone that says otherwise is a blind fool.” There was a strange conviction to her words a heaviness where every word she spoke was nothing but Truth as spoken by one touched by the Goddess of Beauty.

Then she blinked and cleared her throat, a little embarrassed. “Ah. Apologies. I get a bit... emphatic sometimes.” She carefully tucked her I fished carving away as she said that.

"I must have been living in a town filled to the brim with the blind. The only features brought to my attention, growing up around here, were the  color of my skin, my hog nose, and the peeking tusks. I used to hope, when I was younger, that one day I would wake up biege hued, with a slender perky nose. It's Your kind words make the burden of being different slightly easier to bear. It's nice finally meeting someone who has, not only, compassion for my predicament but also words of encouragement. I appreciate your wisdom a lot, and if anything, I prefer your emphatic tone." The firm conviction behind the words of the stoic Goliath, made Moyrah feel unusually comfortable about her identity. Just being in the presence of Farwalker and Danikka, both women stunning in their own right, who don't fit the criteria of what an average citizen of Targos deemed acceptable, inspired Moyrah to be proud and more eager to embrace her heritage and all  the peculiarities contained within, just like they are able to do so. "I will go stop by Mallory to see how her morning is going, I will leave you to your conversation, which I hope, I hadn't interrupted, we will have plenty of opportunity to talk later in the day either way." Moyrah smiled back, and placed her hand firmly on Farwalker's shoulder as a gesture of appreciation, and then nodded politely in Dannika's direction. She then darted towards the table where Mallory and the town speaker were seated.

"Good morning miss Mallory, Town speaker, how are you enjoyi....." Astre's sniffing interuptted Moyrah mid-sentence, not even giving her a proper chance to finish the introduction "And who might this little fellow be, If you act nice you might get some fish guts for dinner tonight". Regardless of how foreign the Tressym looked, the creature's  fluffy wings and soft fur made it irresistible to play with, on top of that, it's stare made it seem like the creature understands it's enviroment much better than one might believe innitially. Immediately, Moyrah kneeled down, and started petting the odd critter. "I am sorry, but I just couldn't help myself" she replied to the pair, still lost in Astre's charm

Rhydd nodded amiably to Ethen when she began bringing out foodstuffs and placing them on the table. The bread and cheese looked good to the outlander, so he started with that to break his fast.

There were conversations going on all around him, but he was perfectly happy to be left alone so that he could eat. They would need to depart to see Heilar before too long, and Rhydd did not want to begin the day on an empty stomach.

The brief bit of vague concern Naerth showed was waved off with a dismissive flick of Mallory's fingers.  "Every day since I was just a girl.  Usually it happens while I'm still asleep, so I apologize if that was at all unpleasant to see." Being up so early hadn't done the noblewoman any favors to begin with, least of all in avoiding the more unsettling aspects of her abilities.  "One would think having insight into the future would be more useful, but it often comes without context.  Something bad may happen today... I just hope it isn't to us."

It was precisely those sort of vague remarks that had Diviners scoffed at and ignored over the years as little more than charlatans.  Anyone could say that sort of general, completely unspecific claim and be able to construe it as accurate no matter what happened after the fact.  Worse still, the truly powerful soothsayers who could more accurately define the future were often ignored entirely!

Cats had a far easier life by comparison.  Astre, in particular, seemed quite pleased with his measure as he arched to Moyrah's touch and let her lavish him with all the attention she chose to heap on.  Pleasant purrs and cute little flutters of his wings made him all the more adorable a subject to fixate on, though Mallory just rolled her dark eyes with the same look of disdain her pet had given when she'd started drinking first thing in the morning.  "Good morning to you too, Miss Moyrah.  But don't let Astre charm you; he's a scoundrel to the core."

"Mrrrooo~w." was the feline's indignant reply as he wound his way to and fro among Moyrah's petting hands.

"A likely story!  Who do you think you're speaking to, hmm?  We've known each other our entire lives." Mallory countered quickly.

"Rrrr~."

"Well now you're just being petty."

An enthusiastic grin was what Mallory recieved as a response to her well intended concern. "I am afraid that it may be late for warnings, I have already fallen under his spell" Moyrah replied, while scratching the feline's belly. "... And speaking of spells, thank you for warming me up yesterday, it made falling asleep a much less arduous task" She added, still completely distracted by the hedonist, enjoying the warmth of her grasp. "And you, Mr. Town speaker, how are you enjoying your morning, and the presence of the new arrivals. They are good folk, aren't they? If I may say so myself, Targos would be a much better place if we had at least three people of Mallory's talents around"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:47, Sat 13 Mar 2021.

"They certainly are," Naerth answered Moyrah. He'd smoldered his cigar at the arrival of the food and was now cutting a slice of cheese. "Good folks in need of a boat, and someone who knows the waters. I was wondering if you could help with that, Moyrah. You'll be properly compensated, of course. And we can arrange another boat if need be."

At first, Dannika had shrunken into her chair and stared at her book. However, once Farwalker launched into her impassioned musing, it became clear she was just pretending to read, and not before long Farwalker had garnered her rapt attention once more. "The beauty in between things. . ." Dannika whispered at the end. "Sorry. It just sounds like something my mother used to say." She smiled, contemplative. "I think that is the highest compliment I am able to give someone."

Hlin hadn't wasted any time once food was served, having slowly shuffled over to the arranged food to scoop what was accessible — some grapes, some slices of bread, a tomato, and whatever else that was easy to chew — onto a plate before retreating back to the fire.

---

We'll dwell here however long you wish, I don't have anything of further importance to add. Let me know either IC or OOC when you decide to head out.

"You know I am not one of the people who like to waste their time, chatting and boozing around Targos, but the rumors about the bite marks and the monster have managed to reach even me, and if that is not good enough of a reason that something is awry, I don't know what is..." Moyrah felt elated as Naerth mentioned the second boat "My boat and my expertise will be at the group's disposal, but we will most definitely need another one. I am afraid that one that I have isn't big enough for all of us." Awaiting the townspeaker's response about where the second boat will be waiting, Moyrah rested her palms on the table in front of her. After she receives the necessary instructions, she will head to grab a bite to eat from what is, compared to few spoonfulls of fish stew left at home, a luxurious buffet.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:35, Sun 14 Mar 2021.

"I'll look into getting another boat," Naerth said in between bites. "You can meet me in the center docks once you've spoken with Heilar, though I have some other business to attend to. I'll speak with some of the fishermen as well to aid you in towing the boats across the ice."

"Er. . . excuse me, Mister Town Speaker, maybe now is not the time, but you wouldn't happen to know if there's anyplace I could get my hands on any instruments?" Dannika hesitantly asked, having sat down beside Mallory and Moyrah to partake in the breakfast.

"You're in luck," Naerth answered, tearing off a piece of bread. "Triglio, who operates the general store near the center of town used to be a traveling minstrel. He's got what you need. Do try to haggle, or you'll be ripped off — trust me."

Though she nodded, the last part did seem to scare Dannika somewhat.

——

Though the darkness persisted, with only the slightest tint of gray lighting cast upon the overhead clouds, the townsfolk who had chosen to remain attempted their best to acclimate. Life went on, albeit differently. Every second person was carrying hooded lanterns in an attempt to banish the shadows. The snowfall — which had become steadily denser throughout the morning — did not serve to help their cause. And regardless if they were merchant, craftsman, or fisher, they were all wrapped in numerous layers of thick cloths and furs. Over the course of the curse, the streets of Targos had regained some of their vigor, but they were still a bleak and dreary sight compared to their former selves.

Heilar's laid on the outskirts of town, past Three Flags Sailing. It was a derilict and beaten old boathouse, one he'd partially repurposed into his own living quarters. Heilar himself was out on the ice-covered docks, attempting to overlay a rowboat with a canvas. He had no assistance, so it proved to be quite a difficult task for the one-handed man.

The increasingly denser snowfall didn't phase Moyrah much. She was used to this. It was another day at the job, and she has worked under much worse circumstances before. What she worried about were her new colleagues. "How is everyone doing, Just try to ignore the snowfall, it won't change much for the remainder of the day. But... since you have survived the blizzard already, you will weather this too." By the way Moyrah positioned herself towards the group, it was clear that she purposefully excluded the Goliath from the question. "Off to Heliar's I assume. I suggest that Mallory initiates the conversation, as I don't have no special relationship with him, but if he resists your charm, I will try my own kind of charm on him..." The last part sounded surprisingly menacing.

Mallory didn't look too much better than she had prior, but to be up and about seemed to do her some good.  She was still hunkered amid her cloak and layered furs with a bitter scowl hidden behind a scarf wrapped about the lower half of her face, while Astre laid slumped about her shoulders like a living, lazily purring shawl.  She had to count her blessings; it wasn't presently storming, she had breakfast in her belly, and so long as she didn't stand still for too long she could rely on activity to keep her at least somewhat warm.

"Honestly, if the Frostmaiden truly is behind all this, I'd like very much to have a few choice words with her." the noblewoman grumbled as they all went along.  Her warming magics helped a little, but it was only so much.  Was there spellcraft to resist the elements, she wondered?  Surely there had to be... though the likelihood of her discovering any mystical resources to investigate such in a place like Targos were surely slim to none.

Moyrah's suggestion of Mallory herself being the one to take the initiative in the conversation was met with a plaintive squeak of "Me?!".  At first she was uncertain of why but, between the Half-Orc's imposing tone and the rough look of the rest of her companions, the young noble began to figure she was surely the least threatening of the bunch by a great measure.  A shivering, foreign beauty pleading for aid was a far more convincing sight to encounter than the same request coming from looming, rugged types like Moyrah and Farwalker, or a gruff local like Rhydd.  She was the softest on the eyes and sensibilities, if nothing else... "I mean, I can certainly try, I suppose.  Does Heilar have some affinity for young women, then?"

---

When they finally reached Heilar's boathouse, however, any pondering Mallory might've carried on a subtle approach fizzled out of her thoughts when she saw him hard at work.  Her immediate knee-jerk response was to begin to stride forward to assist him, but she only got a few steps before she stopped herself short.  "Should we break the ice by helping him?  Some men can be terribly delicate and put-off at the idea of taking aid..." she asked in a hush to the others.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:47, Thu 18 Mar 2021.

After saying her farewell and making sure her pack was properly strapped together, Farwalker followed everyone out and through the town. The cold was refreshing and pleasant to her, an old friend she hadn't seen much through the past few years. Her mind wandered as she walked, as it usually did, part of her listening to the idle chatter of her companions, but not really bringing herself into the conversation.

With a sigh at Mallory's hushed words, Farwalker watched what the man was attempting to do for a moment before moving to assist him with his work. "Heliar, correct? We have some questions about the creature that is bothering the fishers." And from there it was a couple of clarifying question of what he needed where, with the dull stare one would give to a petulant child if he objected her assistance.

Since his companions seemed to have the talking-to-Heilar part well in hand -- admittedly, probably better than Rhydd himself would do (something that he would be the first to admit) -- he took on a different task for himself.

He was curious as to whether the tall man whom he had remembered as having worked for Torg's Trading Coster might be keeping an eye on Heilar's house, to see who came calling . . . and if he did, if he (Rhydd) could spot him.

Accordingly, the outdoorsman leaned his back against Heilar's cottage, crossed his arms across his chest, and kept his head on a swivel as the others dealt with Heilar . . .

---

OOC:  22:45, Today: Rhydd Maldhon rolled 9 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 5.  Perception Check: Anything of Interest at Heilar's?

Notes: Good idea, bad roll.

All Rhydd could see was snowfall and darkness. This particular corner of Targos was as quiet as it was run-down. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. If the mysterious man – the once bodyguard of Torg's – had done anything here, he had left no traces of his deeds. Heilar, too, seemed to be quite alright, his indospisition not withstanding.

The unfortunate fisherman was of small stature. Not necessarily because of his height, but because of his hunched figure and clearly diminutive demeanor. While he had always been reserved, as the locals knew, it had not been to this degree. The recovery from a lost hand was slow, arduous, and could break the best of men. The sleeve on his coat was folded and sewn shut over his stump. Farwalker's apperance had evidently taken him by surprise as he had been looking down, whispering to himself in his attempt to tie the roped end of the cover to a cleat. When he finally spotted the large, towering figure through the snowfall it looked as if he thought his end was imminent. "N-n-nine hells!" he yelled before he slipped on the ice, catching himself with his good hand and bad stump. Before the Goliath spoke he appeared to be scrambling to get away, but calmed when he realized she did not reach for his neck, but instead for the rope to assist him in his task.

"D-d-did Naerth send you?", he stammered as he got to his feet. With the help of the Goliath it was trivial to finish stretching the cover over the rowboat. His missing hand had been what was hampering him, not his skills in tying knots. "Aye, t-the s-s-sea monster." He did not meet Farwalker's eyes as they worked, and he seemed perfectly content to let her take charge in the conversation. ". . . T-th-thank you," he willed himself to say, however.

---

Rhydd's Perception check [9]: Rhydd could see nothing unusual.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:05, Fri 19 Mar 2021.

Mallory blanched as Farwalker strode on in bold as brass.  It certainly suited her manner thus far, but there was something to be said for not giving a poor old man a heart attack!  But the proverbial ice had been broken so it was best to capitalize on it.  The noble offered a hapless shrug up Moyrah's way and hurried up to join the conversation while Farwalker worked at getting the ship secured.

"Yes and no, sir.  Speaker Naerth has asked for our help with investigating the strange happenings plaguing the fishermen.  But we were told you might have some insight into the matter." she did her best not to slip around on a short jaunt up the dock.  A hand was offered out to shake in greeting, though she made especially certain to extend the correct hand to match Heilar's remaining grasp.  "Good morning, by the way.  I'm Mallory Bonheur.  Please don't be troubled by my companions; they're a brusque sort, but they mean well."

---

Astre, meanwhile, had rather immediately bounded from Mallory's shoulders when she started in to begin chatting.  A deft flap of his wings carried him up through the air to land atop Heilar's boathouse, dainty as could be with little kitty paw prints left in the snow.  He trotted down along the low slope of the roof near to where Rhydd lingered and poked his head over the eaves to peer upside-down at the man below.  A snow-flecked paw reached down to try and bat at his hair.

---

I rolled a Perception check for Astre, but got an even lower result than Rhydd.  ^^;
This message was last edited by the player at 00:43, Sat 20 Mar 2021.

Heilar nodded, tying the last corner alongside Farwalker. When Mallory extended her hand he shook it, albeit dubiously. "H-Heilar . . . I-I s-saw the monster. . . ." He glanced further up, beyond the ice. "When I helped to pull a b-boat. No-one b-believes me." The b's in particular seemed to affect his stutter, swelling in his cheeks before he could blurt them out.

"It looked like . . .  a . . . a swan lizard," he offered up after a pause. "You know, w-with a l-long neck and small head. And it had fins, maybe l-like a turtle's." Another pause, interspersed with some mumbling. ". . . it talked to me."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:56, Sat 20 Mar 2021.

Regardless of Heilar's mumbling and the unlikely nature of his tale, Mallory did not so much as bat an eye.  She listened to him intently; both her manner and expression made it clear she wasn't simply indulging the man, which was likely an unfamiliar notion for him if others were quick to dismiss his tales.

"Swan lizard?  You mean a lizard that's akin to a swan, or a swan that's akin to a lizard?" she asked as she raised a palm.  A flicker of arcane energies swirled up into the space above her spread fingers; just like with the illusion she cast prior to show the others what the suspicious men looked like, so too did a curious bit of art-in-progress shimmer into being.  It was vague, but some sort of creature; each extra detail Heilar offered helped her to refine the image a little more in the hope of getting a recognizable concept.

"It spoke to you?  How?  Did it talk with a voice in the Common tongue, or did you hear it in your mind as a telepathic projection?  What did it say to you?"  A flicker of hope appeared in Mallory's gut at that.  If the strange creature could truly speak, that meant it was intelligent and could be reasoned with!  Hopefully...

---

Detective Mallory uses "Minor Illusion" to try and fashion an image of the suspect with Heilar's help.  In addition, what sort of knowledge check would it be to try and figure out what kind of being this is based on the available information of its appearance and location?  Arcana?  Nature?  History?

Pondering Fauna
Mallory Bonheur rolled 19 using 1d20

If Arcana/History: 24
If Nature: 22

Heilar thought for a moment. ". . . b-both? It had gray skin and no feathers. Lots of teeth. And i-it was using its . . . voice. I-it said it wanted me to s-suffer . . . only that."

As Mallory shifted her handheld illusion, he began to nod as it got closer to what he had in mind. "Mhm . . . but b-bigger."

---

I choose Nature, though History would be in close contention.

Mallory's Nature Check [22]: Swan Lizard. Heilar is describing a plesiosaurus. Mallory would know that these creatures are very uncommon, and though they have a monstrous appearance, they're technically just animals and incapable of speech.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:40, Sat 20 Mar 2021.

In reply to Mallory Bonheur (msg # 209):

Rhydd jerked in surprise when something with more substance than the wind touched his hair, ruffling it. He immediately dropped into a crouch, his hand went to the grip of his rapier.

And then, gazing back over his shoulder, he saw Astre on the roof-top of Heilar's boat-house, looking quite smug. "Clever Tressie," the archer said with a grin as he straightened up to his full height, "you had me going for a moment, there."

Truth be told, the outlander got along better with animals than he did most Humans or Humanoids.

"Brusque implies impatience and rudeness." Farwalker said once she was done helping tie everything down. "Forthright is a more apt term for myself." She'd stepped back to eye the work critically, making sure nothing would come undone at a stiff breeze. Satisfied, she turned to where Mallory was once more illusioning up an image. "And I do apologise for startling you. I am unused to people not hearing me coming. I have forgotten how well the wind and the snow muffle footsteps, even those as heavy as mine." She gave the man a slight bow of apology before moving on.

"So, a giant swimming lizard that want people to suffer." She summed up, her voice turning dry. "That sounds decidedly unpleasant. I don't suppose any of us know how to breathe underwater?"

During the conversation, Moyrah leaned onto one of the walls of the Heliar's shack, with hands crossed, eyeing the progression of the exchange carefully. Seeing the frazzled reaction of, what is now a husk of a formidable fisherman, she had little reason to doubt his honesty, especially now that his sighting has been somewhat corroborated by the alleged bite marks on the boats of other fishermen. Once the moment presented itself, Moyrah interjected briefly. "It's a shame no one believed you for such a long time, but the tides are changing rapidly. You probably heard from others that Wirt, Boots and Stognur had recently discovered strange bite marks on their boats after a fishing trip?"

As more of the image was refined, Mallory eventually began to deviate from Heilar's own explanation into a direction of her as if she'd recognized what was being alluded to.  The illusion formed swiftly then to a graceful creature; long in body and neck, with clearly defined features in its angular face and many teeth.  A second smaller form accompanied it; a man that looked vaguely like Rhydd, set beside the beast to offer a sense of scale as it was about twice as large as he was.

"This creature, then?" Mallory concluded and, with Heilar's confirmation, seemed far more intrigued than afraid of such a monstrosity lurking about in the waters.  "A Plesiosaurus... to think that such a behemoth might've swam all the way from the Chultan Peninsula to come this far north is simply remarkable!  I haven't seen a dinosaur since the occasional Triceratops imported through Neverwinter as beasts of burden, or sometimes Velociraptors sold as novelties."

"That sounds decidedly unpleasant. I don't suppose any of us know how to breathe underwater?"

"In theory, but not in practice, I'm afraid.  I've never been one for transmutative magics.  They can be very messy."

Though Mallory didn't share Dannika's fascination with chingwas, she did feel some measure of simple excitement over the notion of not only seeing a thunder beast up close, but even being able to speak with it!  Such behemoths were always kept for their strength and ferocity, but never their intellect.  One capable of actual speech was a marvel!  Assuming it wasn't some sort of trick, of course.  "Mister Heilar, sir, please tell me more of what your encounter was like?  Where did it happen, what were you doing at the time?  Please, any details you can offer may be vital."

---

Rhydd's gentle scolding, such as it was, earned an innocent blink and rrrow~l out of Astre as the feline rolled over onto his back in a lazy drape off the side of the rooftop.  As innocent as could be; a likely story!  Though another reach for Rhydd was made as the cat stretched to step down onto his shoulders if allowed to do so, content to perch atop Rhydd the same way he so often did with others like his master.

Heilar accepted Farwalker's apology with a meek nod. He then turned as Moyrah spoke, meeting her eyes with a melancholic gaze and shaking his head. There was a certain kinship between them, one that had only formed recently, and though he would never speak it aloud, Heilar acknowledged it too. One was deemed an outsider among her own, and the other insane. ". . . N-no . . . I hadn't heard of the b-bite marks."

As the task of covering the boat to avoid having it be loaded with snow, the timid man ended up dallying, running his good hand along the canvas, occasionally glancing up to his boathouse. As if he was unsure of what to do with himself. ". . . you'd get cold water shock. Especially if you tried to swim right away," he quietly offered up as the topic came to breathing underwater. More to himself than to the others. "And you couldn't stay there for long. T-ten minutes, maybe fifteen . . ."

When Mallory prodded him for more information, he turned more sullen — if that was at all possible. "I-I just saw it at the b-b-broken edge of ice. Staring at me. I'm not sure what more there is to t-tell . . . maybe it wanted me to get closer. I r-ran instead."

Out in the distance, the two fishermen Heilar had provided with new rope earlier that morning disappeared into the snowfall, tediously tugging their boat behind them, it's plow scraping along the ice sheet.

The crestfallen turn in Heilar's attitude brought Mallory to a pause and, despite her desire to try and dig for even the tiniest mote of information that could be scrounged up, she instead relented.  She offered the old sailor a gentle smile and folded her hands down before herself as the illusion she'd conjured dispersed away in a flurry of blinking motes.

"A wise decision, I think." she conceded with a demure nod.  "Thank you very much, Mister Heilar. I'm very glad we got to speak with you; you've been of great help.  Is there anything we might do for you in return?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:12, Sun 21 Mar 2021.

Heilar thought for a moment, running a finger along a crevice on the cover's fabric. "M-m-maybe . . . if you see it, c-could you let me know? B-because if I d-did just i-imagine  it . . . I wo-wonder what is left of me . . ."

"I'm confident you can trust your senses in this.  The creature you described is a real but rather rare behemoth not native to these parts; a mere trick of the imagination couldn't have rendered so genuine a beast." the noblewoman reassured as best she could.  She sincerely doubted anyone in Ten-Towns had seen a dinosaur in the first place, which made the likelihood of accidentally describing one close to nothing at all.  "Take heart and have faith in yourself, yes?  I most certainly believe you."

"We will restore the honor to your name Heliar. By the end of this, everyone will know that you were telling the truth." Moyrah placed her hand onto Heliar's shoulder as a gesture of encouragement and commitment to his cause. No matter what her opinion of Targos is, Heliar was just another casualty of their lack of tolerance, trapped in the clutches of mistreatment, just like she was. She will make sure, that at least she could alleviate the man's suffering a tiny bit if possible, so he doesn't have to suffer the same fate she has put up with, for so long.

Knowing that all of the animals have distinct periods of activity, resting, hibernation, a bit of clarity regarding the creature's life patterns could help hunt it down "I have another question which might help us in this quest, if you don't mind answering. When did you encounter this beast, Midday, Noon? It might give us more information when we may except it's sighting"

---

I wanted to do also a Nature roll to see if I know any more of this information, now that we suspect which kind of creature the lake monster is.

Today: Moyrah the Mutt rolled 2 using 1d20+1.  Nature roll, about the lake monster.

Damn

"Plesiosaurus. . ." Heilar muttered under his breath in response to Mallory's affirmation, committing the name to memory. "I-it was in the morning. I had just helped Stognur and Jamsk with their boat. . . b-but they were too far out to warn."

---

Moyrah's Nature roll [2]: Dinosaur-fish go splash.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:26, Sun 21 Mar 2021.

Rhydd could tell that Astre would step down to his shoulder, if he would allow it. This pleased the outdoorsman, for he knew that felines could be very particular and cautious about whom they would accept. He moved a little closer to the eves of the shack and even rose up on his toes, to make the step-down a little more convenient for the Tressie.

As this was going on, he was listening in on the conversation with Heilar, and was surprised by how much was being learned. He was also surprised to hear that the lake beast was seemingly a large creature that was native to Chult -- it was obviously a long way from home.

"I can't imagine that it enjoys the frigid waters way up here," he said, speaking up for the first time since the conversation began. "Its native waters would be much, much warmer. Mayhap that is one reason that it seems to be in a bad mood. If that really is a problem, though, I'm not sure how we could remedy it."

"Well I am afraid we might miss it if we don't hurry up. Thank you Heliar for all of the information, I will leave you in the company of these good folk, I will start preparing my boat for the trek, as to not lose more time" Moyrah pointed at the direction of her home, and gave a description of it so the rest of the team can find her. She left the group with Heliar to ask for more clarification if they deem necessary.

Before untying the knots which held her fishing boat safely tied, Moyrah quickly checked if the papers and the coin pouch she left behind, were where she left them before leaving this morning. Immediately after, she grabbed the scrimshaw Ulu knife, used mostly by Moyrah for descaling and gutting fish, and placed it in her pouch, so she can show it to Farwalker once they reunite.

With Rhydd's acceptance, Astre did indeed stretch his way down to step across the man's shoulders in a delicate stride.  For a creature of his size, Astre was surprisingly light to carry; a biological quirk to facilitate his flight, perhaps, though it certainly explained why a waif like Mallory had no trouble with his clambering.  Unlike with his master, however, Astre didn't drape himself like a shawl over Rhydd's shoulders.  Instead he perched himself upright, leaned against the back of Rhydd's head with his paws and own chin set neatly atop the man's skull to ride with a higher vantage point.

"We may very well have the chance to ask it ourselves.  For such a creature to be so far from home, there surely must be a reason.  But, yes, we should make all due haste.  Thank you again, Mister Heilar." The real question was whether the behemoth had come to the north of its own accord, or if it had been forced there by some outside element.  Theories whirled about within Mallory's head and it was clear to any who looked at her that the wheels were busily spinning to appraise the potential of the situation.

The noble's thoughts were derailed, however, when she glanced Rhydd's way for a moment and immediately darted back with a double-take when she realized where Astre had sat himself.  A hand rose swiftly to her painted lips to just barely stifle a giggle that puffed her cheeks up at the sight.  "Oh... goodness, that's precious."

“Hmm.” Farwalker hummed thoughtfully, crossing her arms as she watched Moyrah head off. She seemed to almost be brooding before she turned back to the small group. “A creature far from home, terrorising fishermen during a time when food is scarce?” She hummed again and shook her head while uncrossing her arms, bringing one hand up to toy with a particularly long tooth hanging from a strip of leather in her hair. “Hard to know what such a creature is unless you’re extremely well read. Easily misunderstood as monster. And intelligent monsters rarely show up for no reason. Very curious.” She shrugged then, letting her hand drop. “Conjecture is pointless. Let us go ask a them why they’re here. And I advise caution on the water, we do not know how well it can hear us.”

With the task done and the interaction ended, Heilar nodded and sighed heartily before he went back to his boathouse. "I . . . I am g-glad I can be of help. I want to b-be of help."

Rhydd had raised his hand to pet Astre, but thought better of it and lowered his hand to his side. He and the feline were off to a good start, but he was unsure whether he had advanced to the "You are allowed to touch me" stage just yet. Time would tell.

"You done good, Heilar," he replied to the old waterman's statement that he had wanted to help.

"You did help us. We now have a pretty good idea of what sort of creature we are dealing with, which is a big help."

Glancing around at his companions, he said "Reckon I'll head over to the docks, where Naerth has supposedly got a second boat waiting for us."

As Moyrah entered her shack she could immediately tell something was off. It was something only one who was exceptionally familiar with her surroundings could glean. Some of her papers with the copies of her father's carvings had been moved. It was a very minute detail, and whoever had done it had taken care to replicate the arrangement, but they'd done a sloppy job. Upon further inspection she found one pieces of paper was missing from the stack — the one depicting the man and the girl in the storm.

That was not the only thing that had been disturbed. The cover of her bed had been wrinkled in a such a way that it couldn't have been Moyrah's doing, though this too had been carefully flattened to appear imperceptible. In the same vein, her mattress had moved ever so slightly. When she checked, the coin pouch was gone.

---

If Moyrah had locked her door she would have found it locked, so nothing out of the ordinary there.

You know what, go ahead and add 'Shack Key' to your inventory. It only makes sense.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:59, Mon 22 Mar 2021.

With a parting wave to Heilar, Mallory fell in stride alongside Rhydd as the lot of them set to depart.  She frankly felt a lot better about the situation overall; while a rampaging beast was still quite the danger to contend with, it was better than some nebulous mystery threat.  They had a target, which meant they could build from that.

"That poor man... losing his hand is bad enough, but questioning his own sanity atop it all just seems such a cruel fate." the noble sighed once they were well away from Heilar's boathouse.  "I understand how he must be feeling in all this.  When I first began to receive my visions as a child, it frightened me terribly; I couldn't understand what was happening.  As I got older I feared I'd lost my mind at some point and simply hadn't realized it yet."

"Rrrrmm..." Astre added in from atop his perch on Rhydd.

"I can do without the sarcasm, thank you." Mallory cast a glare the feline's way but otherwise let it slide.  "Still... let's do our best to see this through, yes?  For Mister Heilar's sake, as much as anyone else's.  I'd like to restore his peace of mind along with the town's food supply."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:00, Tue 23 Mar 2021.

"To the docks, then." Farwalker shifted and started making her way towards the docks before speaking up again, her voice not quite booming as she walked. "If we wish to speak with the creature, then it may be a decent idea to have one of us be the... spokesperson. With the right prayer, Sune will no doubt grant her assistance." She smiled at the thought, her fingers brushing against another piece of carved bone in her hair, this one looking rather like a rose.

"Curses... I should have taken the papers with me when I left the house this morning" As soon as she realized that one of the copies was missing, the remainder of them ended up pretty soon into the bag, strapped firmly to Moyrah's shoulder. Finding the group became the number one priority immediately, and Moyrah ran out towards Heliar's house, in hopes that the group hasn't headed to the harbor yet, locking the door behind her of course.

"Hey... I am so glad I caught you out here guys, I am afraid I might need some help with transferring the boat to the harbor..." Moyrah said to the group, still winded "...Last night's fight has drained a lot of my energy I guess". Once the group strolled away out of Heliar's earshot, Moyrah began talking about the real reason why she has pulled the group aside, as silently as possible, "Someone broke into my house this morning, while I was with you all, one of the documents and a coinpouch are nowhere to be found. The perpetrator unsuccessfully tried covering up their act... Could it be the faceless man, I have no idea... The weirdest thing was that I looked the door behind me this morning, and they were locked up once I came back..."

---

I assumed that we will be moving away from Heliar, please tell me if we are not going away so I can edit my post.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:08, Thu 25 Mar 2021.

"Are you volunteering yourself, then?" Mallory quirked a brow in Farwalker's direction at the suggestion.  Given the Goliath's apparent proclivity to simply stride forward in her own willful manner, such a comment struck Mallory as an effort to defer such a responsibility as gracefully as possible.  "I must say, I'm rather eager to converse with this creature myself.  It's the only thing that would make me keen to actually get on a boat in these horrid conditions..."

Moyrah's return brought a pause out of the noble and, soon enough, a scandalized gasp when she revealed what had occurred at her home.  "You were burgled?  That's horrid!" she offered a sympathetic squeeze to the Half-Orc's arm.  "Not to speak ill of strangers, but is a mystery man we've only just become aware of really the prime suspect any more than some random townie with little scruples?  I wouldn't put it past most folk in these parts to be petty crooks.  What was so important about the document taken from you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:24, Thu 25 Mar 2021.

"I know this might sound weird, but despite Targos being rather poverty stricken community and with palpable animosity between me and the rest of the townsfolk, I was never a victim of such a crime..." with fingers pressed into her temples, Moyrah's frustration with the situation became more than obvious "Someone broke into my locked home, somehow left it locked as well. If I hadn't known my own home so well, I might have been fooled that nothing has happened, how well they tried to cover up their deed... This doesn't seem like a work of a petty crook, someone with a close attention to detail and clear intention has done this. I am sure of it."

At first, Moyrah was slightly reluctant to get into the nature of the stolen document, but she quickly realized that if the relationship was to go the way she planned, this topic would eventually have to make it's way out of secrecy. "You see this..." She raised her sleeve up to her forearm, to expose her arm adorned with red ink tatoos, which stop abruptly above her elbow "These are one of the most valuable possessions I have inherited from my father upon his untimely death... Before he went under, he has spent nights and nights meticulously etching them onto the surface of one of the wooden walls of our home. I am not entirely sure of the meaning, but their importance has been drilled into my brain, for the most of my life... Since I have been planning on leaving this town soon enough, I have began copying the contents onto several parchments, so I could honor my father's request once I leave these wretched wreck of a town..." Moyrah quickly opened her bag so anyone who was interested in taking a glance, could see parchments which have been crammed inside in a hurry. "From what I have managed to inspect, only one parchment, portraying a father leading a small child by the hand through harsh winds, has been stolen. The rest were rearranged as to appear intact."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:33, Thu 25 Mar 2021.

Mallory's Arcana Check regarding Moyrah's tattoos [19]: Magical tattoos were almost always more shamanistic in nature as opposed to scholarly. But, as with all rules, this one came with exceptions. Sometimes, when pigments with magical properties were used for ink, it could grant powers or bestow arcane traits upon the wearer. The shape or visuals of the tattoo rarely mattered in these cases. The ink was doing the heavy lifting. Often, the tattoos would even be formless and shifting or shimmering on the skin. This was not the case with Moyrah's tattoos, which were a solid red and completely still. Neither was Moyrah's parchment overtly magical in any aspect. It contained a simple drawing, depicting two heavily stylized figures using simple lines similar to the runic patterns on her arm.

Depictions and symbolism mattered a lot more if the tattoos were shamanistic in nature. They were often used to call upon the spirits of the undead in some manner or fashion. Various tribes were known to use them, though their secrets were rarely written down and typically never saw the light of civilization.

OOC: You can see how we're venturing into Religion here . . . I'll withhold additional information for now, and give Farwalker the opportunity to roll if she wants to.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:41, Thu 25 Mar 2021.

"I'll be happy to help you move your boat when the time comes, Moyrah," Rhydd said.

"And regarding the missing parchment, although I don't pretend to understand the ins and outs of the matter, some barbarian tribes prize tattos. And I believe that I may have mentioned that the man whom I recognized last night -- the one who went running out of Three Flags -- has the coloring of a Reghedman."

"If I were a betting man, I'd put my money on him being your culprit. Not that that really gains us anything, because we have no idea how to find the scoundrel."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 15:52, Fri 26 Mar 2021.

Seeing the reactions filled with compassion, and what she felt was, genuine interest, Moyrah's lips loosened further. "It could be him, it makes sense...I almost forgot... I don't know if this helps or just confuses you further, but last night during the fistfight, tattoos on my arms started emitting continuous amber light, and at first, as I was overtaken by rage and passion, I hadn't even noticed the two apparitions which formed by my side, one orc and the other human. They haven't spoken to me, but I could sense that they were on my side..." As the furious wind lashed against her bare skin, Moyrah pulled the sleeve back to shield her arm.

"Oh.. And another thing, this is what I wanted your help with Farwalker" Out of the bag, strapped across her shoulder, Moyrah pulls out a scrimshaw Ulu knife. The blade ,stained slightly with dried fish blood, betrays that the tool has been used almost daily.

Farwalker's Check on the Ulu Knife (proficiency granted by Jeweler's Tools) [19]: This was the work of some Orc tribe, Farwalker could instantly tell. Many of them favored this style of carving — simple petroglyphs imbued with cultural or historical significance — to adorn their tools. A whale and a longboat. The tribe it originally belonged to likely preferred coasts or lakesides when they settled during their treks. An Ulu knife was a diverse tool — gutting fish was only one of its intended purposes, the other being cutting children's hair, food, or trimming blocks of snow for igloos. This particular knife spoke to excellent craftsmanship, and was made with durability in mind.

The whale was very likely Uksahkka, a being that dwelled in the Floating Land, or the Sea of Moving Ice as it was known to lowlanders. The enormous whale was extensively revered or worshiped by some of the Reghedmen and other humanoids who lived there. Goliaths mostly didn't venture this far north, for they were content with extreme altitudes, and mountains were lower and farther between this far north.

Mallory's Religion Check to expand on her knowledge of Moyrah's tattoos [20]: Orcs and Reghedmen alike often used runic patterns to call upon or communicate with their ancestors to various extents. This was likely the case with Moyrah's tattoos, half-finished as they may be. In some ways, it was not entirely unlike how Mallory called upon Astre's spirit. The powers weren't tied to a diety, but to the planes, and, in Moyrah's case, the lingering forces of the souls who remain to guide and protect the living. These tattoos were passed on through the generations, and bound the ancestors by celebrating their deeds and perpetuating their sagas. The general rule was one tattoo per ancestor, and together they formed a family tree to trace ones lineage. They were undoubtedly one of the most sacred parts of the tribes who used them, and transgressions could be met with extreme measures.

A relation between the tattoos' wearer and the spirits was necessary, but it did not have to be by blood. A kindred connection of any kind was enough. If the powers were invoked by one who had no right to them, the spirits would either manifest animus or not at all.

"That does seem terribly particular... it would appear you have someone who's been following you for that specific theft, then.  Can you think of anyone who might've coveted your father's work?" Mallory asked as she glanced over Moyrah's proffered arm to give the various tattoos a passing look.  She didn't appear too interested in them to begin with but stopped herself short with a sudden shift in her expression; a moment of confused consternation that drew her back for a closer look.  A much closer look, actually, as she took the Half-Orc by the wrist and elbow to scrutinize her markings with a far more critical eye.

"Surely that couldn't be...?" she muttered, her tone as confused as the rest surely were as to her change in manner.  Mallory gave a deft twirl of her fingers and a small jeweler's loupe apparated into her hand, which she immediately set to gaze through for a downright invasive examination of Moyrah's arm.  "Miss Moyrah, did you make these tattoos yourself based on your father's work, or did he etch them for you?  Where did the ink come from?"

---

Prestidigitation continues to be the best spell in the game.  Gotta love being able to just spawn minor trinkets and items at-will for the sake of flavor.  ^^
This message was last edited by the player at 17:45, Sat 27 Mar 2021.

As Mallory tugged on and rotated Moyrah's arm for closer inspection, sudden jolts of confusion and fear, for a brief moment, intermingled through her mind. "Um..um.. No one comes to mind miss. Most of the people who were aware of his talents were vagabonds and travelers who had been passing through Targos, or have intentionally arrived to our doorstep." Quickly though, these feelings vanished, as Mallory's exploratory intent became clearer.

"Ever since I was old enough, Orvar, my father, has tried to pass on to me this skill of his, as if he was grooming me to potentially take over once he is gone. Having a talent that you can earn some coin from, isn't the worst thing to have when the times are this rough..." To Moyrah, this was the closest she came to understanding her father's insistence "...This particular pattern, as I have said already, has been engraved into one of the wooden walls of my home by my father before he passed. Apart from the engraving, he has also left me with a flask filled with red ink, that I should use."

Farwalker, on the other hand, was quietly muttering to herself as she ran a large thumb across the handle of the knife. Grime and small fractures cleared up as she examined the tool thoughtfully, and when she was done the edge was as sharp as it had ever been in the past. Her left hand she let drop from where she’d been twirling a carving of a shapely woman that was hanging from her hair. “Simple carvings. Likely tribal orcs.” She rolled her shoulders in a shrug, liquid sloshing in her barrel with the movement. Whatever alcohol was in there was strong.

“A good tool, and will last a long time if well cared for. I am glad to see it being used, rather than hanging on a wall.” She held the knife out for Moyrah to take, the other hand engulfing Mallory’s shoulder. “And you can examine her more thoroughly later. Come, we have a beast to speak to.” She smiled pleasantly before moving forward again, calling back over her shoulder with what little else she managed to glean from the ulu.

"Do you have this flask on you?  May I see it?  What's the ink made from?  Do you know how to make more?" there was obvious excitement alight in Mallory's eyes.  It seemed she'd become so caught up in a moment of discovery as to not realize she'd likely made poor Moyrah uncomfortable with all her enthusiastic prodding.  On the other hand, Farwalker's gentle urging was enough to break the young noble out of her fascination with a pat to the shoulder that practically engulfed around to the other side.  "Ah... yes, of course, you're right Miss Farwalker.  We shouldn't allow ourselves to be distracted from the task at hand.  Let's walk and talk, shall we?"

She may have said so yet, when the group set along for their task once more, Mallory looped her arm around Moyrah's to the point that the two would have to walk like a couple.  All for the sake of further examining the intricate detail work etched into the Half-Orc's flesh.  It was perhaps bothersome to deal with, but at least having the young woman hanging off her arm like that was warm.

"I apologize if I'm being too forward, Miss Moyrah, but this tattoo of yours and its apparent effects are simply remarkable!  I'm hardly some sort of arcane engineer myself but there's no mistaking the unique totemic qualities at play here.  Did your father truly never explain what all this does when used together?"  By her tone, it sounded more like Mallory had some insight on the matter and was more surprised that Moyrah might've been deprived it, even unintentionally so, by the man who'd drummed it into her head to begin with.  Perhaps even her father hadn't fully grasped what he had?

---

Astre, meanwhile, just watched his partner's antics with a roll of his eyes.  The winged feline glanced down to Rhydd with a sympathetic look, shrugged, and then turned to leap away into the sky with a flare of his ashen wings.

---

While the party walks, Mallory will Ritual Cast "Identify" to see if she can get any more insight as to the nature of Moyrah's tattoos or the ink used.  Not quite sure if they count as "magic items or magically-imbued objects", but there's no harm in trying.

Once the party is moving again, Astre's going to take to the sky and just sort of patrol around in a broad circle.  Primarily he'll be looking out over the water for any sign of disturbances as well as checking to see if the party is being followed.  He'll remain within 100' of Mallory so as to always be within telepathic communication range, and will alert her if he notices anything amiss.

Astre Passive Perception: 15
This message was last edited by the player at 03:01, Mon 29 Mar 2021.

Astre Passive Perception [15]: In this weather, even Astre's nightvision was limited. Despite his eyes' capability to pierce the darkness, he could not escape the slow and soft snowfall which acted as a blanket to obfuscate everything farther than a stone throw away. From what he could tell, the party was not being followed by anyone. Heilar had retreated to his boathouse, and the two men who were pulling their boat were now far enough north to approach the wide opening in the town's walls that stretched out into the lake to encircle the docks. He had only spotted them by their torchlight, as the men themselves appeared as mere blots in the distance. Nothing unusual to report. Everything seemed quiet.

By the docks he saw another light source, this one coming from a lantern sat upon a pole. As he rounded back and finished a lap of his circle, he could see that it was Naerth, conversing with four other figures and accumulating snow. One was so tall it could only be The Barge, two were unfamiliar, and one was a child, or possibly a halfling or gnome.

---

OOC: I made an edit to my last post in the OOC thread, stating I likely won't have the opportunity to post tomorrow. Figured I could mention it here as well as I didn't bump the other thread.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:23, Mon 29 Mar 2021.

Once the Farwalker has finished her examination of the knife, and shared her insight with Moyrah, she turned to the Goliath, extending her hand to take back the tool "Thank you for the information Farwalker, I hope it will illuminate my way." A sound of the tool hitting the bottom of her bag, came as a perfect punctuation to her sentence.

"You can take a quick glance at the etchings and the flask, while me and the rest of the group untie the fishing boat at my home. Don't forget that Naerth has only promised us one boat, and the other one we will have to bring ourselves. Don't worry though, the boat shouldn't be heav for the three of us." Moyrah purposefully excluded Mallory from the boat carrying. "We can take also the rest of the fishing equipment which could definitely be of use in our task. I have some small harpoons back at home, which will help if our exchange with the monster turns sour." Moyrah's finger directed the group towards her house at the edge of the town. "This way please"

Mallory's forwardness didn't bother Moyrah much, the intentions of the young mage have proven to be just so far, and her interest in the history behind the tatoos seemed nonintrusive to Moyrah "I wish he did, it would have made the process of unraveling all of this much easier, without a doubt. I forgot to mention it before, but the nature ink is nothing more than ordinary, you can find it at any general store. If there are any magical properties to them, it must come from the symbolism."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:22, Wed 31 Mar 2021.

Moyrah's shack was fit for the descriptor; it was a small, weather-beaten home, who's exterior was not dissimilar to Heilar's. The rest of this poor district was mostly abandoned, so it stood alone, surrounding only by snow, rocky shore, and the town's wooden wall at the back.

There was no sign of anyone around, not the mysterious man, nor Gam, nor anyone else. Though the shoveled path to and fro the shack was riddled with footprints, only some were recent, and some were in the process of being whisked out by the new snow. The inside was more homely than it appeared from the exterior — if one ignored the odd carvings on the wall — and contained two of every items common to a household, such as with the beds and the chairs. Sat up against one wall were four harpoons*, along with additional fishing equipment such as hooks, nets, fishing rods, and two pairs of ice cleats, one pair belonging to Moyrah and the other to her late father. Those who had elected to remain in Targos and wanted to continue to fish from lake had been forced to acquire them, as getting traction on the ice was nigh impossible without when one had to drag something heavy behind oneself.

There were no signs of struggle, any upturned furniture, or any belongings scattered haphazardly on the floor. No signs of breaking and entering were immediately obvious. Whoever had been in and out had done so neatly.

---

*Moyrah; I am assuming we reflavor the javelins to harpoons, and going off your inventory, there would be four.

"Welcome! If you are interested in inspecting the engraving miss Mallory, you would be able to find them on this wall here" Moyrah took several steps towards the wall, and began caressing gently one of the edges. "This is the part that captured the thief's interest... Only gods know what they need it for... If you need me, I will be outside untying the boat" Once the topic of burglary was over, Moyrah turned suddenly and headed outside, not wanting to distract from the main task, any further. Before any packing could take place, untying the knots, holding the fishing boat stabilised against one of the walls, would be necessary. After, in order to boost the reusability of her harpoons, Moyrah would begin tying rope to the blunt end of her fishing harpoons.

---

Yeah that was my intention, a thinner, less threatening looking version of her main weapon. I wanted to ask if it would be ok, if we tied a certain length of rope to the blunt end of the javelins so we can retract them once we throw them, if not I will edit my post accordingly

Rhydd had offered no comment during the discussion of Moyrah's tattoos. He was the sort of man who stuck to his own business, and left others to theirs. And he did not see that another person's tattoos were any of his business.

When the time came to head back to Moyrah's hut to start moving her boat, Rhydd followed the Half-Orc. He waited outside the shack when the others went inside -- again, he figured that whatever was in there was none of his concern.

Once Moyrah started paying attention to her boat, Rhydd walked over and stood beside it. "I'm no waterman," he said, "so you are going to need to tell me what you want me to do. But I'll be happy to help out, as best I can."

Though she'd been eager and excited in her examination the whole walk to Moyrah's home, the actual arrival at the little shanty seemed to dim the brightness Mallory had taken on.  She eased into a passive quiet when given the grand tour of the place which, given its size, was hardly more than a few steps in any given direction.  And then, finally, with the others outside to handle the boat... she was alone.

The dull, almost oppressively small interior cluttered by so little was enough to bring a more sombre weight onto the noblewoman's mood.  Moyrah's home seemed little more than a shed that might not withstand too strong a bluster off the lake, nor did it really feel much warmer inside than it was outside.  Her dark eyes drifted to the paltry hearth and what little traces of the Half-Orc's fish stew lingered stuck to a battered pot with a growing sense of dismay.  But it was the beds that really caught a breath in her throat before she realized it.  While Moyrah hadn't precisely spoken of her father in a manner that bore deep affection per say, it was clear she honored his memory in her own way.  The sight of an extra, empty bed and the surrounding etchings that marked a man's work, all that remained of his presence in the world, drew Mallory's expression down to the creaky old floorboards in forlorn silence.

"...I should write home to father and mother." she sighed to nobody but herself.

---

Mallory will spend her time inside reviewing the etchings and such.  Basically just hanging around off-screen until the party is ready to hit the waters; once the boat is prepared or she's called upon, she'll rejoin the group.

"You can depend on it Rhydd, but the only thing that makes me restless is how we will fight if the beast turns on us. I feel safer with you and your bow next to me" Moyrah replied to the outlander as she packed the very last few things into the boat "Now hold the other part of the boat, will you?". Moyrah quickly raised the bow of the boat above her shoulder, to gain a better leverage.

The trek out to open waters was long and grueling, Moyrah knew. Spending an hour, give or take, to transport a heavy boat across the ice was often not a very pleasant start to one's day. Fortunately, three or four people were more than enough to ease the burden, even if two of them did not have proper foot gear. The ropes were quickly fastened, and leverage was gained. Moyrah's boat was not particularly large or heavy, but still built sturdily enough to last. Larger, more effective fishing boats that roomed an entire crew had entirely been phased out, mostly due to being frozen to harbor. At the start of the everlasting winter the townsfolk had attempted to hack them loose with pickaxes, and they had even found some success. But now, as the ice sheet had grown too thick to pave through, they stood in rows against the docks, abandoned and neglected.

Naerth stood waiting along the way at the edge of pier. He was accompanied by three others, their silhouettes lit by their lanterns and slowly clearing through the dull but thick snowfall.

One of the fishermen was unmistakably The Barge. He stood a few paces behind Naerth with his arms tucked into the pockets of his coat and chin buried into his scarf, sporting a black eye and bruised cheeks.

Although the two other men were unfamiliar to the rest, Moyrah recognized them as Stognur and Boots. They looked positively small when standing next to The Barge, as anyone would, but they were still broad of stature and men capable in their own right. Stognur, the one with the red, bulging neck beard was the older, while Boots, the slightly leaner one, was the younger. Stognur had a sack full of rattling metal gear slung over his shoulder, Their boat stood right next to the pier, fully prepared and affixed with ropes.

"Took you long enough," Naerth spoke as he looked down from his vantage point, the butt of his cigar flaring from one last drag. "And here we were discussing whether or not you'd gotten cold feet. I know mine are freezing. Let's get this on with, I have recently received other pressing news I must attend to." He flicked the spent cigar onto the snow and stomped it out. "I've also gotten word of your brawl yesterday. Congratulations," he nodded to Moyrah, but the tone of the complement betrayed no genuine amusement. "While my original intention was to include Thorben in the mission, I will entrust that decision with you. Now — did you learn much from good ol' Heilar?"

---

Sorry, I didn't find the time to post yesterday!

*The child Astre spotted earlier had run back into town.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:10, Sun 04 Apr 2021.

As soon as the figures of Stognur and Boots, started emerging through the blindingly white flurry of snow, Moyrah leaned towards the group "Those are the two sailors, who have had an incident with the Monster, the one with the bitemarks on their boats, remember?"

Unfortunately, among the welcoming comitee, if it wasn't obvious by the towering silhouette peeking through the snowfall miles away, was Thorben, as if Moyrah hasn't seen enough of him last night. An audible huff, followed by a mist of hot air, is the most that Naerth will get from Moyrah with his snarky remark regarding last night. The lack of genuine amusement was definitely shared by both. Thankfully, she won't be seeing much of him in the near future, if the things go optimally. Purposefully, Moyrah waited for the rest of the group to speak up first, trying to limit the words she shares with the fishers, as much as possible.

Once it was time to get underway Mallory was readily summoned from within Moyrah's home.  She seemed quite preoccupied as she was lost amid her own thoughts and absentminded mutterings; the scholarly types of any field were often wont to lose themselves in their own heads when something held their curiosity.  No doubt she'd have plenty to share with Moyrah at some point.

But, despite her own distraction and literally no expectation from the others of being the least bit helpful when it came to labor, Mallory proved she was no mere useless waif.  When the time came to hoist the boat up onto shoulders, the noblewoman immediately fell in line to offer her own muscle to the task without question or complaint.  Even better; she actually managed to pull her own weight!  What could be more surprising?  That a noble was unafraid of actual work and be genuinely useful, or that an arcanist who was more curves than muscle could haul without relying on magic?

Strength Check - Does Mallory Even Lift?
Mallory Bonheur rolled 15 using 1d20-1
She do! :)

---

When they finally arrived at the docks, Mallory was glad to let down the load despite having carried it without complaint.  Ugh... she was going to be feeling that strain in her back for a while.  She sorely rubbed at her frosted shoulder as she cast a look about at the group who awaited them.  Three men?  Her eyes momentarily trailed about this way and that across the snow that led back into town while, overhead, Astre echoed the motion as he pivoted around mid-air to scope out the surrounding snow-laden roads.

"While my original intention was to include Thorben in the mission, I will entrust that decision with you."

Despite having been at the tavern the night before, Mallory had missed seeing Thorben after he'd been battered and hoisted back inside to drink away his aches.  No doubt for the best; she would've been galled to see a man beaten bloody in the streets.  Though as The Barge stood passively on the side, there was no mistaking the slow up-and-down look Mallory offered with a shift of her dark eyes taking the sheer size of him in.  A common enough reaction to anyone unfamiliar with his stature... though the fact that she met his gaze, then offered a coy smile and a fond wiggle-wave of her fingers in greeting was probably a less common reaction for Thorben to get.  Then again, soft-bodied nobility finding appeal in rugged, muscle-bound workmen was a tale as old as time...

"Now — did you learn much from good ol' Heilar?"

"His story was rather outlandish, I must admit.  So outlandish, in fact, that he could only be telling the truth; anyone who hoped to deceive would have concocted a far more believable lie." she piped in once she'd managed to pull her gaze from Thorben's burly form.  "Of course we've still investigating to do, but so far we're on the assumption that we're dealing with a displaced creature from foreign waters.  It's honestly no surprise that any beast driven out of its native habitat would become aggressive and disruptive to the local population."  Mallory decidedly omitted any mention of the specifics, let alone that the waterborne behemoth might actually be intelligent and capable of speech.  "If it turns out that Mister Heilar's claims were of use in all this, he should be given proper credit for his contributions.  He deserves the recognition, rightfully."

---

Astre: Survival Check - trying to find the smaller stranger's tracks to see where they went
Mallory Bonheur rolled 16
Rolled with Advantage, as Mallory is Helping him with her own closer look down on ground-level.  Astre will leave the 100' telepathy range if necessary, but will return on his own later depending on his success or failure.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:20, Mon 05 Apr 2021.

In that moment, after the spurnarmor had wiggled her fingers at Thorben, something no-one had ever seen before happened. An impossibility, as many would perceive it — Thorben blushed.

Naerth took a moment to process what Mallory had said, his chin upturned and eyes focused. "Very well," he spoke. "I will see what I can do for Heilar. If it is indeed true. Stognur and Boots will take it from here." Naerth then pulled on his coat to shuffle of some snow and made to leave down the length of the pier.

The two men, already down on the ice by their boat, took a step forward, and Stognur — the brother who usually handled the speaking — cleared his throat. "Loaded, ready, and at your service. Since many of you are outsiders, we took the pleasure to gather up some ice cleats for all of us," the hefty man said in a thick, rolling voice. He lugged the burlap sack down from his shoulder, dropped it into the snow, and loosened the loop. Inside were half a dozen pairs of the essential foot gear. Both Stognur and Boots were already wearing their own. "Thorben had some extra lying around for you," he said as he sifted through rattling iron before getting out two particularly large ones that he extended to Farwalker. "We'll join you up to the water. From there you're on your own."

"We ain't dealing with no sea beast, no," the younger man chimed in, his voice less assertive and confident. "That's the deal we made with Naerth."

---

Astre's Survival Check [16]: The child had scampered off into the town square, their tracks leading from the docks fresh and easily discernible. They'd slowed their sprint down to a light jog as they weaved between the closely knit streets and tallhouses in the more centric Targos, and hopped toward a group of youngsters who had gathered oustide. A handful of cold, dry snow that was more powder than ball was lurched at their shoulder as they huddled into line.