Ineptitude of southerners to withstand the conditions of the winter, didn't cease to entertain Moyrah. Their restlessness, squirminess and inability to adjust were humorous to say the least  One thing can't be taken away from them though. They were, still optimistic, living, breathing, with hungry minds and, unlike the most of the folk north of the spine, unravaged by the severe conditions of Auril's neverending winter. Who else would come in here and bother with solving locals' plights.

"Is this about the monster?" Moyrah leaned in towards the newcommers, remembering that she has promised Vegord not to cause any more chaos tonight "Personally, I think it's a crock of shit! I am out on that same lake everyday and how come nothing has hapenned to me? They are just a wretched lot who tends to make up excuses for their inability to catch fish!" Leaning of the head towards the drunk fishermen put an end to her whispering.

Leaning back, she took a sip and continued. "You know... Truth be told, the conditions that we are working in, have become worse and worse as more time goes by. As you have probably seen, most of the ice has taken over the lake, the docks are all frozen over, and sometimes the trip itself, towards the unfrozen part of it, is arduous by itself. And once you are out and fishing, you need to watch out for these pieces of  ice, floating on the lake's surface, which can easily pierce a hole in your boat. Working on the lake has never been this dangerous, but we depend on it. What can we do?" Another sip followed.

"Sadly, I think these icebergs might have caused most of the disappearances. Lake is as still as the ice which covers it. There are no currents to wash the bodies and wreckage ashore. Any evidence of death is unfortunately for you, probably laying down, frozen on the bottom of the lake. But if Naerth is willing to put the money behind the problem, there could be something more to it. If he is willing to contract you to look into this, in the times when food and money are so scarce, he might have a good enough reason to do so, Have you talked to Heilar? He swears by the name of all gods, dead and alive, to have seen this beast, but not many people, if any, trust him.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:30, Sat 13 Feb 2021.

Some of the fishermen went over to Thorben to help him steady himself. It required two of the most able-bodied among them to heft the Barge up by his shoulders, and even then they had trouble as he limped along to lick his wounds.

Vegord narrowed his eyes as Farwalker walked in. She was even taller than the Barge — by a good margin — and during this particular evening Vegord saw a potential disturbance in everything out of the ordinary. Although he said nothing and let her pass, his gaze clearly communicated that if there was any further commotion he'd lay swift destruction on everyone unfortunate enough to occupy his establishment at the present time. Auril might have laid claim to Icewind Dale, but here, in the Three Flags Sailing, Vegord still ruled — and his wrath would undoubtedly be even more tempestuous than that of the Frostmaiden's.

Though they did not speak up — Moyrah's feat had done a stellar job of snuffing out their ruffian, confident attitudes — many of the fishers stared on with curiosity at the newly entered Goliath. Some had also decided to cut the evening short and head home for the day, but the ones who had remained had scurried off to their own secluded area of the tavern, letting the victor and her fresh cohort plenty of room at the table. The toothless man — the one who had instigated the entire feud — was not among the ones who had gone home. Having retreated to his own corner, he sipped from his tankard and ground his teeth as he stared daggers at Moyrah. He had just surrendered his season's earnings — a not insignificant amount of gold that could spell his death if he did not manage to make up for it. Whether he would pay up or not remained to be seen.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:34, Sat 13 Feb 2021.

Farwalker once again had the issue of locating a chair worthy of containing her rather prodigious weight. Such was the life of being a muscular giant of a woman. The first chair she tried made an uncomfortable creaking sound when she tested it, so she moved onto another, which seemed a bit more sturdy. It looked newer at least. Probably hadn’t been used to hit anyone yet. “I am known as Farwalker.” She didn’t know them quite well enough to give them her clan name, though she liked Mallory well enough so far. Perhaps later.

“It sounds as if we must speak to this Heilar, then. Where might he be located?” Everything else was pretty much dealt with already. It was nice, having such talkative compatriots. It meant less work for her. “There may be some truth to his words. Strange things can come out in the night.”

Rhydd had not thought about icebergs as being a likely culprit behind the disappearances of the missing fisherfolk -- he spent little time out on the water, especially when compared with the men and women who made their living out on the lake. But what Moyrah said about icebergs reasonably being to blame for at least some of the disappearances made perfect sense.

But then she mentioned that someone had supposedly seen the lake-monster . . . someone named Heilar, it seemed. The Goliath -- who had just now given her name as "Farwalker" -- put Rhydd's thoughts into words by announcing that the group needed to speak with this Heilar.

The outdoorsman turned to Mistress Mallory. "Ready to traipse around out in the cold some more?" he asked.

"My hunch is that if you are feelin' the cold -- an' it sure as hells looked like it on the way over here -- the problem is most likely your base layer."

"Otherwise known as your underwear," he added with a straight face.

"I can help you pick out something more comfortable, if you like."

"Like me, Heliar lives in the south-eastern part of Targos, close to the wooden wall, where the fish drying racks are. If you haven't seen that part of the city on your way to Three flags sailing, you must have smelled the smokiness of drying fish, it's unmissable. Ten minutes are more than enough to make your way to that part of the town from here." Moyrah took another sip.

"I have to warn you though, he doesn't like company that much. Ever since he lost his hand in an an incident with a boat from the neighbouring town of Termalaine, his demeanour has shifted drastically. From that moment on he has been living a more secluded life, evading most of the townsfolk, dedicating what remains of his miserable life to looking over the drying racks. And, in all honesty, I don't blame him, I try to avoid contact with the rest of the town myself, unless it's a matter of an utmost importance. You may have arrived in time to witness one of the biggest farces this town has to offer."

Empty glass mug brought out an expression of disappointment out of Moyrah, which dispersed as soon as she continued her conversation with the newcomers. "The hangings, bloody hangings... I can't believe that we continue to be willing to sacrifice more workforce, in these conditions. For what? To satisfy imaginary whims of an insatiable hag. What happened today? I refuse to attend such ceremonies but I have heard from rest of the patrons, around the tavern, that Herve managed to escape his fate? Do you know more about it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:10, Sun 14 Feb 2021.

"That's one way to get into a woman's clothing." Farwalker didn't have a mug to gesture dramatically with, so she did it with her hand, making something of an untying motion. Probably. She wasn't the greatest mime. "As for Herve, I suppose we do know a bit more. Perhaps it can be a tale told on the way towards your handless, fishing compatriot. Maybe it'll distract Mallory from the cold." Farwalker grinned widely, teeth glinting in the light of the tavern. "And from Rhydd going undwear shopping with her. Though, I do think you could pull off something tight and leather." Her tone was light and teasing, and very obviously amused at the idea.

Mallroy had initially been worried that whomever they could ask for information would be difficult to get talking.  All that 'surly sailor bluster' and such; she was accustomed to from all the time she'd spent working alongside shipping freighters back in Neverwinter.  The sheer amount attitude and ego they could present themselves with was a feat in and of itself, let alone when it seemed to amplify exponentially in the presence of other sailors.  That the Moyrah was so quick to chat was a relief, albeit one that had the noblewoman hurriedly patting herself down for a logbook and a slip of charcoal to take notes with.

"Ready to traipse around out in the cold some more?"

A question Mallory dreaded.  She made no effort to hide her grimace at the prospect of immediately heading back out into the winter evening when she hadn't even fully re-warmed yet.  "Ah... well, perhaps we should ask around a bit more.  Due diligence and all that.  While I certainly have no doubt of Miss Moyrah's lead, we would be remiss to not gain further insight from the locals." While a perfectly valid point when it came to canvasing for an investigation, there was no missing the very obvious ulterior motive of staying the hell out of the wind for even a few moments longer.

Then came the underwear comments.  At first Mallory's dark eyes widened at the gall of it, though both Rhydd and Farwalker's follow-up remarks narrowed her gaze to a flat, unamused expression.  He'd overplayed his hand and made it too obvious he knew exactly what he was saying.  "Yes, yes, have your fun trying to make the silly city girl blush.  I've been dragged this far north amid mixed company for months and, wouldn't you know it, you're the very first country roughs who thought it'd be fun to have a go at my gossamer-delicate sensibilities!  You're each so clever.  Quick, fetch me a chaise so I may faint." Wholly unimpressed and absolutely dripping with sarcasm likely wasn't the reply they expected, but it was the one they got.

Moyrah, meanwhile, had emptied her mug and thankfully raised a more pressing topic.  Given how small Targos was, Mallory was honestly surprised word hadn't already spread about since most of the town seemed to have been present at the gallows in the first place.  "What happened today? I refuse to attend such ceremonies but I have heard from rest of the patrons, around the tavern, that Herve managed to escape his fate? Do you know more about it?"

"I would certainly say so.  Miss Farwalker and I intervened in that barbaric display to spare Mister Herve's neck.  It was what brought the Speaker's attention on us in the first place." the noblewoman explained curtly.  "That abominable experience is part of why we're helping out; if we can alleviate some of Targos' woes, there won't be any need for such heinous sacrifices to continue.  Not that there was ever a need in the first place."

---

Mallory perception check through Astre[20]: Astre remained watchful but could not spot anything immediately suspicious. These were ordinary fishermen smelling of fish, busy distracting themselves from their ordinary lives.

Everyone except for one. A shorter, bald man arose from the table, leaving behind an empty tankard. He pulled up his hood as he headed for the door and Astre could spot a brief puff of Arcane blue as the frigid outdoor air whisked against his breath. Before the door closed behind him he seemed to get just a teeny inch taller and more broad-shouldered, and a strand of black hair caught in the wind from underneath his hood.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:47, Mon 15 Feb 2021.

"Wow... well that is a first.. If you were only here a bit earlier." Moyrah's smile made how pleasantly impressed she was with the duo's feat more than obvious. "Ever since the previous speaker enforced that disgusting rule, people have been dying needlessly on every tenth day, no one has managed to put an end to it, even for one hanging. But don't think he is the only one to blame in this. Citizens of Targos voted for it, the man you saved was among them actually." Moyrah then leaned in once again, trying to keep her voice down "Even though I am fond of Thorben in general, as he is one of the several people who treat me with respect in this town, his reluctance to abolish the sacrifices doesn't allow me to support him fully. Which is why I was so surprised that you managed to halt Herve's hanging."



"Don't get your hopes up lass, the agreement between ten towns is what is holding the iced over remnants of ten towns together. Each city makes their own sacrifices, in various forms, to appease the Frostmaiden. Now that we have missed our tenday offering, who knows what the repercussions will be. Both from the frostmaiden and rest of the towns. It's truly a savage world we live in. Disappointment quickly replaced the feeling of elation in Moyrah's heart, as soon as the topic went in a different direction.



"I am not sure that would be a wise decision. Most of the fishermen are asleep by now, and they are angsty enough already, pissing them off would just alienate them further. It would be best to seek more information tomorrow, Heilar isn't going anywhere either way. You could even visit Herve and see if he may have something to say regarding the monster, he owes you a favor doesn't he?" After a brief pause she continued "If you ever decide on going out to a lake, you can accompany me on a fishing trip for a small reimbursement, but unfortunately my boat only has space for four, and there is five of us here if I am not mistaken... Not counting the pets"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:56, Mon 15 Feb 2021.

Mallory's expression darkened momentarily for no clear reason as her focus seemed to shift elsewhere, like she'd just heard something in the distance that nobody else did.  A light scowl passed her features, but it was only for the briefest of moments before her focus came back to the conversation at hand with barely a passing instance of distraction.

Astre, meanwhile, was on the hunt.  The suspicious traits of that strange man who'd just left the tavern caught his attention and he scampered across the rafters in silent pursuit.  A quick mental ping down to his master below was all the coordination he needed as he hopped up into the air and promptly vanished in a swirl of mist - poof! - out of existence.

A second later, just as the door closed behind the suspicious man, Astre reappeared up in the sky - poof! - back into reality.  A smooth flap of his broad, snowy wings was all it took to keep him aloft as he silently circled overhead to follow the figure out into the night.

---

With a bit of telepathic coordination, Mallory pops Astre back into his Pocket Dimension and then re-summons him outside so he can spy on the exiting figure.  Let me know if there's any necessary Stealth or Perception checks required, DM.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:40, Mon 15 Feb 2021.

Rhydd had hoped to get a little light-hearted banter going -- it seemed to him that Farwalker had reacted to his jibe in that frame of mind, but Mistress Mallory decidedly had not. ~~Too stuck-up to have a sense of humor -- or if she has one, 'tis buried so deep as to not amount to much. Ah, well -- so be it.~~

Not bothering with a reply to the female magicker's retort, Rhydd took a sip of his ale and turned to the Half-Orc.

"It sounds as if getting crippled has soured this Heilar's outlook on life. I can understand that -- losing a hand limits what a man can do to earn a living around here."

"It also sounds like your advice is to wait and talk to him in the morning rather than walking over and pounding on his door in the dead of night -- which makes good sense to me."

"I know the general area of town that you spoke of, but not this man's house. So -- can we meet you here tomorrow morning, and walk over there with you? Or, if you prefer, we can meet over at the Luskan Arms. I'll stand you to a good breakfast in return for your time."

"I'll be interested to hear how you think we should deal with Heilar in order to find out what he knows -- or thinks he knows -- about the mishaps out on the lake, instead of just getting the door slammed in our faces. Mayhap you can give that some thought and let us know what you think on our way over to his place tomorrow."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:06, Mon 15 Feb 2021.

Arkemos had entered the Three Flags with the others, huddled in his clothes for warmth. He had taken a seat as close to the fireplace as he could while also being able to listen in on the conversation but chose not to speak yet.

When Moyrah mentioned sacrifices being conducted in each of the ten-towns, Arkemos visibly scowled, realizing his travel options were now far more dangerous than even before.

As the talk went on he considered that Moyrah might have the right of it, and it was but the icebergs or any other weather related anamoly that led to the disappearances, but the idea of the beast was still tantalizing. Not to mention they needed to close all leads.

"I concur, we should speak to Heilar, and the morning would be best," he said, nodding at Moyrah and Rhydd, while giving Mallory a bit of an apologetic glance. "Still, there is nothing stopping us from asking about local events from the regulars here."

Before Mallory had the opportunity to portal Astre out of the tavern, Xhar had flown off from Arkemos's shoulder and joined the Tressym atop the beams a few paces away. He gave the Tressym a pretentious side glance, making a show of scouring the interior as well.

He failed to spot the mysterious man, but took off and glided towards the door upon Astre's disappearance. OPEN! he scream-pinged into Arkemos's mind as the door shut on his beak. Before his subject could react, however, he was fortunate enough that another patron exited soon after the hooded man, and the raven cawed as he impeded on the fisherman's exit, hopping in front of him and out into the cold.

---

Xhar's Perception check [4]

Finally, the hooded figure which entered the tavern with the rest of the newcomers adressed Moyrah, and she was elated to hear that he has a good head on his shoulders. What made Moyrah even more elated was that the dark feathered bird, which sat firmly on top of his shoulder flew out of the tavern, soon enough. She couldn't stand having them in her presence, not after the sight she was exposed to after her father's hanging, and she would prefer to keep it that way. "If you don't mind , could you keep that wretched bird away from me..." Moyrah's grimace made her sentiments incredibly obvious. "...and if you are searching for a reason why, that can be a conversation for another night and another mug of ale. You...You seem familiar, i believe I have seen you around Targos in past several days." If Xhar returns to Arkemos's shoulder, Moyrah will make sure to move on the side of the table furthest from the bird.

After she tried settling her concerns by a brief exchange with the mysterious, hooded man, Moyrah turned to Rhydd to continue their conversation. "Luskan arms sounds good, I am pretty sure my rowing boat won't be enough to fit all of us, Naerth could help by lending a boat, if he is that concerned about getting to what lies behind the disappearances. I think it would be easy to get Heilar to open up, not many people here think of him as a sound-minded lad, and he knows it. Offering him a pair of ears which will treat his opinion with respect, may be the way to do it." Being an outsider in her hometown herself, relating to Heliar's position didn't come hard. She knew how much she enjoyed meeting and talking to the newcomers and she was sure that their well intentions won't fall on deaf ears when it comes to Heilar.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:10, Wed 17 Feb 2021.

Despite the conversations happening around her that she was quite well involved in, given that folk were speaking directly to her, Mallory didn't seem to yield the least bit of attention.  She'd fallen entirely unresponsive, actually.  Indeed, one might have had to worry she really had fainted with our without the requested chaise lounge; the noblewoman's expression was distant and her eyes rested half-lidded.  A closer look beneath the stylish hooded shawl she wore would reveal that her dark eyes had gone glassy and shone with a strange, supernatural glow like quick-moving storm clouds lit by lightning.

Mentally, Mallory wasn't even in the room.  Astre's noisy-and-nonstop telepathic demands for her attention had her promptly cast her wits away; while her body remained where it was, her mind was once more outside in the cold bluster.  Not that she could make much sense of what her feline companion was being so antsy about as he got himself worked up in the anxiousness of trying to split his attention between getting her assistance and keeping an eye on what he was following.

---

Astre's 15 Passive Perception remains as is, while Mallory's so-called "help" supplants his Investigation roll with her own Nat 1.
Mallory Bonheur rolled 6 using 1d20+5

Astre's Stealth, meanwhile, is a Nat 20.  ^^;
Mallory Bonheur rolled 24 using 1d20+4

There were loads of different tracks in the snow outside. A myriad of footprints, and the mysterious figure which had brought Astre to call upon Mallory's attention was nowhere to be seen. His scent, too, was hard to catch as it was whisked away by the freezing breeze. The only smell he managed to pick up was the one from the unsteady fisherman who had just exited. He reeked of fish and alcohol, and Astre scrunched his snout.

Xhar did what Astre and Mallory had not collectively thought of — once outside he immediately took to the sky. Perhaps the Tressym would have risked being spotted with its snowy fur against the night sky, but Xhar had the benefit of a feather coating that was pitch black. He had seen who they were following, but did not know for what reason. All he knew was that they were of some import, or it would not have prompted the Tressym's attention. And since it had done so, Xhar was intent on getting to it first. The decision of what to do with them once he'd caught up would come later. Outside, fool. he mentally transmitted to Arkemos. Someone.

He saw the figure round a corner into an alleyway, slipping into the darkness amid snow-covered carts and stacks of logs protected only partly by an insufficient overhang. The man was heading northwest, towards the town square. Xhar dove down, swooping past Astre as he did to make sure the Tressym was left in his tailwind.

---

Xhar's Stealth check [17]
Xhar's Investigation check [16]

Xhar bails you out of this one, and the wild chase is off! I have provided a map in the Maps and Visuals thread to more easily understand the layout of the town.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but Arkemos and Xhar is capable of exactly the same thing Mallory and Astre is capable of — and more.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:16, Wed 17 Feb 2021.

Not one to be left behind so easily, Astre took a swift dive after Xhar to catch up.  A pair of fliers, perhaps, but with rather different anatomy overall; there were spots where the Tressym would careen down along snow-covered rootfops and, rather than have to pull up to avoid a crash as a bird would, simply landed in a full speed sprint across the eaves.  Nimble, silent dashes and leaps that shifted gracefully into flight once more as the dedicated Tressym maintained his pursuit of the mysterious man.

---

Any more necessary rolls to keep up the chase?  As it stands, Mallory can only maintain her connection to Astre while he's within 100' of her.  So he's probably on his own by this point/distance.

Assuming Arkemos is a "Pact of the Chain" Warlock, his Familiar should be equal to Astre in terms of abilities by default.  The difference comes in what sort of Eldritch Invocations he might have to boost up his Familiar's power beyond the norm, such as "Voice of the Chain Master" or "Investment of the Chain Master".  Astre, meanwhile, has his various specialties because he's a Tressym, such as heightened senses and a wider array of visions.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:20, Wed 17 Feb 2021.

It was only a few quick paces to the market square and the set of stone stairs, carved from the cliff side, that served as a shortcut to the upper parts of Targos. Though the mysterious man was quick and determined in gait, neither Astre nor Xhar had any trouble catching up to him as he exited the rows of buildings, his coat bobbing behind him with each brisk step.

While Astre stuck to the slanted rooftops, Xhar elected to soar higher in the air where he would be unimpeded by the town's architecture. The raven was fast, and had the benefit of a lighter and more streamlined form he could leverage to slip through the air, but he had to occasionally flap his wings to maintain altitude. Before he could make a dive for the mysterious man, an erratic gust caught his wingspan, briefly halting his speed and allowing Astre to overtake him.

So he cawed as loudly as he could muster. If he couldn't win, neither could Astre.

There was a chance the mysterious man would merely think it a natural sound of the night. After all, a raven was not unusual, and perhaps any commoner would simply continue on their way. But not this man. He turned around and spotted both Xhar hovering in the air against the moonlight and Astre arriving at the very last rooftop that overlooked the town square. He peered at them in turn, long wisps of black and grey hair brushing against a hardened, leathery face. Most peculiarly, his eyes shimmered a crystalline blue and his pupils let off a faint, ethereal mist that carried with the wind.

He then — in a quick flurry — spun around and disappeared, leaving behind only a glittering blend of magical blue specks and white snow swirling in his wake.

---

Mallory's and Astre's telepathic connection is severed, as they are now more than 100 feet apart. The same goes for Xhar and Arkemos.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:20, Wed 17 Feb 2021.

The sharp caw that alerted the man earned a surprised, though entirely annoyed, glower from Astre.  A perfectly good pursuit ruined by a spiteful hanger-on!  The Tressym gave a low, angry snarl in the back of his throat but otherwise returned his focus to the scene below as he fluttered down to the spot the man had vanished from and sniffed about cautiously.  Eyes aglow and senses piqued; he scoped out the surrounding area for any sign of his quarry.  If the man could've just teleported at any time then there was no reason he'd have bothered walking anywhere on foot... which meant it was more likely a short-range jump meant to evade and confuse pursuit.

Astre's checking around once more to try and see if the man is still in the area, in case he used a spell like "Misty Step" to just hop a short distance away.  If he doesn't find any trace of the man, he'll investigate the spot where he vanished from in order to memorize the scent, then return to Mallory.

Mallory Bonheur rolled 1 using 1d20
Mallory Bonheur rolled 12 using 1d20

If Perception: 17
If Investigation: 1
If Survival: 2

Xhar perched on the scaffolding where Herve had almost hanged. He squinted at Astre, displaying little sense of remorse. Neither did he wish to help in the search. After witnessing Astre scramble for a while in search of the man, he took off and flew back to the tavern.

Astre ultimately found no trace of the man. There were plenty of corners, nooks, and alleys he could have disappeared to, too many to search quickly. If he had teleported he had given himself ample time to slip away unseen, and he'd likely be more careful this time. The snow in these parts had mostly been well paved up against the buildings and cliffs, leaving behind only a powdery, dry layer on the pavement for the wind to scatter, so there were no knee-height footprints that could easily be discovered and tracked. Astre had to acknowledge the man was gone.

The circle of bare cobblestone he had left behind a had subtle smell of a fresh arcane energy, as some motes still clung to the dispersed snow. They would soon disappear, but everyone's magic had a distinct smell. This man's hinted of something akin to lavender. It would be no trouble for Astre to discern it if he'd get the opportunity. Astre also picked up the smell of oil and bark, presumably from the man's skin or coat, not at all like the smell of dried and salted cod the fishermen here in Targos carried around.

---

One decent Perception roll that I apply to picking up the mysterious man's scent. I could have used it for discovering him, but by DM fiat I am cutting this segment short as there's not much for the others to do while this is going on.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:16, Wed 17 Feb 2021.

Strange scents to be certain... not at all the sort Astre had known ever since he and Mallory traveled so far up north into the snowy regions.  The inquisitive Tressym put the smell to memory, cast one more furtive look about the area, and then snorted in dismay before he took to the sky.  A spoiled hunt always put him in a foul mood.

---

Back at the Three Flags Sailing, Mallory's lapse into a stupor came and went rather quickly, leaving her somewhat discombobulated as she looked about the room for unseen elements.  One might almost think whatever she'd drunk at the previous tavern was finally hitting her, though clarity and focus slowly returned to her otherwise distracted expression.  Unknown to the others, Astre had returned within mental reach and began filling her head with his own experiences... including a good deal of complaining about Xhar's interference.  Another soft - poof! - of silvery mist in the rafters overhead returned Astre to the crouching spot he'd been nestled in before he left; as good as if he'd never gone in the first place.

"That's... no, slow down.  That doesn't make any sense.  Why would he...?" the dazed noblewoman pressed a palm over her brow as she spoke seemingly to nobody at all.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:24, Wed 17 Feb 2021.

For a minute or so, Mallory seemed absent, distant and as if she didn't pay much attention to the conversation at hand. Moyrah shrugged it off as possible symptoms of tiredness from a long travel through the realm of icewind dale, but her sudden dazed return to conciousness, followed by nonsensical mumbling betrayed that something is off. " Is everything fine lass? Do you need a glass of water or something stronger? What makes no sense? "Moyrah started waving her hand in front of Mallory with a confused expression on her face.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:06, Wed 17 Feb 2021.

The concerned insistence from Moyrah went unnoticed for a moment before Mallory rather abruptly snapped back to lucidity with those expressive, dark eyes of hers blinking owlishly.  She jerked away from the hand in her face on reflex, but steadied herself just as quickly.

"Ah... yes, I think I could use a stiff drink, actually.  Wait, no.  Not while I'm working.  No.  Maybe just a small one." she shook her head to try and jostle her thoughts into order.  The trouble with Tressym, really - they were just as smart as any Human yet as demanding as any cat, so having one yelling information directly into one's mind made for a disconcerting experience.  "I apologize for the strangeness.  I'm a Diviner; sometimes the visions that come to me are a bit much to handle.  Sudden knowledge without context is... difficult."

With or without a drink to steady her nerves, Mallory raised a gloved hand in a passing wave beside her and caused a dull shimmer to tremble through the air, like a heat mirage in full defiance of the cold.  Swirling trails of light and color manifested as, within moments, there stood a pair of men side by side as presented in illusory recreation.  The stocky, bald man who'd left a full tankard where he'd sat prior and the taller, dark-haired Mystery Man he'd become when he left.  "Do you recognize these men at all?  This one was just here and left the tavern moments ago without touching his drink."  she asked, then turned to look about and speak to the broader crowd of fishermen who still lingered.  "Do any of you gentlemen recognize either of these men?  Seen about here or near the Town Square, smelling of wood, oil, and lavender?"

---

Minor Illusion, for everything else that Prestidigitation can't quite handle.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:43, Wed 17 Feb 2021.

"Then we wait until..." She snorted with amusement, "Morning." Not like time really passed here the way it did elsewhere. Eternal night messed with the internal clock just a bit. At least the stars were beautiful, when they weren't covered by the weather.

She would have continued her teasing of Mallory, but she seemed a bit distracted, so she just leaned back slightly so that she could take off her pack again. No use sitting on a stool with it on. "I haven't been back in more than a decade. If I recognised anyone, I would be quite surprised."

"What?" one of the remaining fishermen said as he turned to look at Mallory's conjurations. "Lavender?" He seemed mighty confused. They all did. "Wait, that's . . . what was his name," one more pipsqueaked sailor said as he squinted and pointed to the miniature recreation of the short and bald man. "Anyone remember?" The other fishermen all shrugged. Either they were clueless, or they had no intention of helping anyone associating themselves with Moyrah.

"That magic, it ain't about to burn my tavern down, I hope." a voice came from behind the barkeep. Vegord had spoken up from where he stood cleaning the dirty mugs as he prepared to close for the night. He pushed his spectacles further up his pear-shaped face with the butt of his palm, scowling sharply at Mallory. "Tall one I've never seen. I talked to the bald one. Told him I hadn't seen him around here before, and that it's strange with new arrivals in these times." Vegord intensified his stare, if that was at all possible, to leave something unspoken. 'That goes for you lot as well'. "Said he came from Bremen. Didn't give me his name, now that I think 'bout it. Strange fella'."