Ereth continues his discussion with Lotti.

"I don't recall ever hearing the voice before the carriage ride, and to be clear, it doesn't really 'dictate' what I do, much less what you or anyone else ought to do. It's more like a narrator most of the time. Only rarely will it make suggestions, which are more like subtle hints, e.g., that I should try the nasty food and drink at the Inn, or play cards, or explore other people's bedrooms."

Ereth adds, "I don't think it means any harm. And frankly it's been pretty quiet lately, so... there's probably nothing to worry about."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:39, Thu 19 May 2022.

If Ereth's explanation of the voices was meant to settle Lotti, it didn't appear to do so.  Perhaps it was his assertion that he thought the voice was probably nothing to worry about that allowed her to move on, or perhaps she had other things on her mind.  "Right whose ready for a fight?  We need to get Otis down here before we start anything, but I'm not going to allow those who aren't alive to wander around in this world in which we live in.  They're an abhorrence to everything I hold dear."

OOC:  My bad, I was a little lax with reading into the meaning of some of the initial posting that our Host provided to describe the scenario we're in.  I see we're staying in a hotel where something has been butchered, and the place is served by evil undead.  Lotti wouldn't really care about any picture bigger than that, as far as she is concerned this is wrong on every level.  I'm not sure what I'm missing that everyone else seems okay to treat this as a standard inn, but Lotti certainly couldn't.

In reply to Lotti:

OOC: Nevermind.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:23, Fri 20 May 2022.

As the party assembles in the dusty lobby of the Emperor of Curd Inn, Cass reviews the list of full services offered at the Inn printed on the back of Chester’s contact card.

Ah!  She sees something of interest.  She turns to the quirky Bell Hop.

“Chester! We are headed into town to see the Mayor.  My boots are a mess from our accident in the bog last night.  May I take advantage of your complementary shoeshine to get my boots cleaned before we meet the town Mayor?  I’d hate to make a bad first impression or track in mud onto his nice rugs.”

“Also.  Just curious.  How do we use these numbers 4-2-5-1 to contact or reach you, when you are not stationed at the front desk or if we need your assistance upstairs in one of our rooms?”

Cass muses and smiles to herself when she realizes that she didn’t have any mud tracking reservations when they entered Chester’s Inn last night...
This message was last edited by the player at 17:02, Fri 20 May 2022.

While Cass speaks with Chester, Ereth keeps a close eye on Lotti, ready to intervene if she makes any moves. With a barely audible chuckle, it occurs to him that she occupies a spot in the "no-go" zone on the crazy/hot matrix.

At Cass's mild exhortation that the terms of the contract be upheld in both spirit and letter, Chester smiles agreeably, "Yes, we are a full-service hotel including complementary bootshine. If you'll just leave your boots outside your room after you settle in, I will be by to tend to their shine."

There is a light crinkle to his smile as if to say, "You didn't expect me to drop down on my knees in front of everyone, did you?"

As to Cass's other inquiry, Chester's answer proves less than satisfying, "I don't know, to be sure. That service might not be ready yet. In time it might be of service to you."

"I am always here or down below, you know? Just ring my bell if it's the latter," he adds.

With Lotti hellbent on investigating the so-called "murder room," the rest of you hasten to depart the Emperor of Curd and follow Chester's directions down the gray stone roads to the House of Ternelmor, the mayor's residence, easily the least decrepit one that you pass. After two guards show you in, you meet the mayor in his office, seated at the head of a 12-seat oaken table. Gloriously corpulent, he considers pushing aside his trough of duck cassoulet only to reconsider and ladle a few more helpings down into his waiting gullet. With a gurgling swallow, he then turns to you, "You're here about Sarthoggus and his cultists, aren't you?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:37, Fri 20 May 2022.

Ereth takes a moment to look around the room to see if anyone else in the party wants to take the lead. Seeing no one step up, he offers a response, "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, your honor." He then adds, hesitantly, "May I?" as he proceeds to take a seat.

Barring any immediate objection from the mayor, he continues speaking, while sitting.

"I'm afraid we are unfamiliar with these things you speak of. We've arrived here somewhat by chance, but perhaps we could be of service to you. Would you mind explaining more about this 'Sarthoggus' ...and his 'cultists'?" while motioning for the others to sit as well.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:38, Sat 21 May 2022.

Ornwin takes a seat and says, "I do not know this Sarthoggus or his cultists, but if they are a problem that can be solved with an ax, mine is for hire."

Cass, too, takes a seat at the table, in a chair next to Ornwin.

“Your Honor.  Thank you kindly for granting us an audience.  My name is Cassandra, and I am a Priestess of Eir.  My companions and I were chosen to come to the aid of your Village.  Although details were scant, it is our understanding that your town is in dire need of assistance, of some sort, with the local Manor that is about an hour walk from here and visible from much of the town proper.  But, we are most certainly available to help you deal with any other problems facing your town that might be addressed by a group with our unique combination of talents.”

“We were supposed to arrive in town just prior to sunset last evening on the Tegel Village Coach.  Alas, our coach was waylaid by a pack of large, carnivorous amphibians, which forced our coach off the road and into the bog.  We managed barely to escape the confines of the sinking coach and then we fought off the acrobatic hoppers, but not before our coachman was eaten by one of the giant frogs.  And sadly, despite heroic efforts by my stout companions here, the bog would not release its mortal grip upon the coach or either of the draft horses.  The bog refused to give them up and sucked them down into the depths of the muck and mire.”

“We then made our way on foot into town last night, saddened, worn, and weary from the frog attack. Fortunately, we were offered lodging, as the fog rolled into town, at the only establishment that appeared to be open at that late hour - an inn that the staff calls ‘The Emperor of Curd.’  Strange little place. The helpful bellhop, Chester, was kind enough to provide directions from the Inn to your office.  So.  That is our story and here we are.  We got here as quickly as we could this morning.

“Please let us know how we can help you and your lovely town.”
This message was last edited by the player at 06:08, Sat 21 May 2022.

Cass's peroration provides the gourmand ample time to pour more ladles of the cassoulet down his bobbing throat, leaving his lips oleaginous with duck fat. With one sweep of his tongue, he licks the fat off, save for a globule that remains nestled between the leftmost juncture of lower and upper lip.

He nearly barks in reply, "Sarthoggus. Frog cultists. What do you need, a roadmap?"

Registering your quizzical looks, he explains, "It's about big frog men! In tabards! Both physically and mentally!"

He looks at you all again.

"You're staying at the Curd? That dump?"

Without offering an alternative, "Scotch Sarthoggus. Rub out the Rumps. That's your contract."

That's the last his eyes see of you, focused as they are on guiding his fingers in plucking up the white beans that had jumped overboard onto the table.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:31, Sun 22 May 2022.

Having seen and heard enough, Ereth leans toward Cass and whispers, "His Honor is obviously a very busy and important man. Perhaps he could delegate these trivial matters to a member of his staff? (And that way maybe we could get answers to our questions, not to mention a look at this 'contract' he's offering?)"

Ornwin murmurs "Indeed we could use more details, especially about what the frog cult worships. Big frogs don't bother me, but a frog god might be a greater challenge."

Whooshing past with a trough to replace the despoiled one, Ternelmor's valet, for whom no word goes unheard, answers, "Sarthoggus, High Priest of Tsathoggus, a demonic frog god. Don't."

With the grease-splattered trough in hand, he adds on his way out, "No official contract per se. Bring heads or trophies and be rewarded. The master likes heads."

It is the way of the master's man to make his master's wishes known to all who would serve him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:03, Sun 22 May 2022.

Cass rises from her seat, the meeting with the peculiar Mayor of Tegel Village obviously concluded.

Still somewhat confused and discombobulated, Cass nods to both Ereth and Ornwin acknowledging the points they had both made.  The valet’s additional information fills in some of the gaps.

Cass bows her head to the Mayor and says: “We will do our best to handle this mission, as you have requested.  Thank you again for your time.”

She makes her way out of the Mayor’s office and back out onto the street, assuming the rest of the party will follow in due course.

Once the party assembles outside, Cass states to the group: “Looks like we have a couple of other establishments in town that might be able to fill in some gaps in information about the Manor, not including any of the specialty trainers that we each will need to visit at some point.  We have:

- Halef Fec, proprietor of general supplies, presumably;
- the Residence of Sir Runic the Rump, who presumably is related to the Rump Family of Tegel Manor;
- Marash Ar, fine horses, who may be helpful in the future for providing riding or pack animal, when we have coin to spend; and
- Bark and Byte, the local drinking den, where we might find better lodging, or at least some local gossip.”

“Where do y’all want to go first?  I’m thinking Sir Runic, then the Bark and Byte, and then the general store last, if anyone needs supplies before we head out of town.  But I don’t feel strongly about the order if anyone thinks we should go in a different order or meet with some of the local fighters, clerics, or the Village mage.  And, I’m sure the local thieves’ guild will have information, but I doubt anyone else will be able to visit them.”

Trevion had been silently contemplating the meeting with the mayor as the travelers exited the residence. If the account was accurate, doing away with those who gave their allegiance to a demonic deity was a worthwhile undertaking, if nothing else to ensure the safety of the people who made the area their home.

”It may seem an odd suggestion, coming from me,” Trevion said, ”but the Bark and Byte might be worth visiting next. Besides seeking safer lodging, it is possible that some of the local residents that patronize the place know more about this cult of Tsathoggus and its activities.”

Cass turns to Trevion and says, “The Bark and Byte sounds fine to me - as long as the establishment is patronized during the day and not just at dinner time or later.  Even if empty, the bar keep or some of the servers might know something of value.”

“But, our unwritten contract with the Mayor is to go to Rump Manor. Both the Mayor and his valet said NOT to go after the frog god or the frog cultists for the time being.”

“Given that we are low on coin, getting some bounty out of Rump Manor would seem to be the first order of business.”

“But, hopefully, we can learn more about both issues at the tavern.”

“Otis, Ornwin: any strong feelings from you on where we go first?”
This message was last edited by the player at 19:36, Sun 22 May 2022.

Brant looks around the group as if seeing them for the first time.
"I've held my tongue long enough. Next time I set foot in that manor will be to burn the place down. The tavern sounds like a good start, if only to get  a decent drink. Maybe we'll learn something about Rump."

“Sounds like a plan!” Cassandra states.

“Wow!  The fighter finally speaks.  Well met, Brant!  You’ve been silent since our encounter with the giant frogs down in the bog.  I was concerned that you might not ever recover from the shock of that attack.  We’ve all been a bit dazed since last night.  But glad to finally hear your voice.  And good timing, too!”

“You probably overheard me talking with the others last night, but I am Cassandra.  I’m a healer; a priestess of Eir, the Norse Goddess of Healing.  The others can formally introduce themselves along the way or once we get to the Bark and Byte tavern.  Let’s see what information we can gather about the Tegel Manor and even about the Frog God and his cultists while we eat.  I think all of us could stand to have a good meal and drink after the curdled slop we were offered at the Emperor of Curd Inn.”

Although not hearing a definitive Yea or Nay on the next destination from everyone else in the group, there seemed to be a general consensus that the party could use some good food and drink; thus, the Bark and Byte as the next stop seemed to outweigh all the other immediate options for gathering intel in the Village and the party was drawn willingly in the direction of the tavern.  The other potential sources of information in the Village would likely still be available after lunch. The party fell into a loose formation and headed along the cobblestone walkway toward the tavern - the group collectively hopeful and optimistic that the tavern and its occupants would provide a little more normalcy and information than the first two establishments they had visited thus far.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:03, Mon 23 May 2022.

"The sun (if ever there was a sun above this region) had been lost for I knew not how long in a sky of leaden vapors; the day was drear and sullen at best."

--From a Diary of an Unknown Penitent

When you emerge from the manse of Ternelmor, unfed and unwatered, you look to the sky for some semblance of the time and find none. No matter. You've earned it. A drink. Just a nip. It doesn't matter what time it is. You'll just pop into the bar. Pop in and out. Won't take but a bit.

Adhering to Chester's directions, which seem to work from any point of departure, you follow the gray stone until you reach the Bark and Byte, a dive crammed between shuttered and barred stone houses, one pressed up against the other as far as the path goes. It's open as all such places must be at all times to slake the thirsts of those who awaken with them.

Within you find no cozy, crackling fire to keep out the cold or big-bellied barkeep to jovially tap off your tankards. Instead a slatternly dwarf pauses their desultory mopping of some spill or other and turns their attention to you. With an unsavory grin, they greet you, "Feeling a little twitchy, are we? Don't you worry. I got a little something for each and every one of you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:52, Tue 24 May 2022.

Brant gives the the dwarf a dead-eye stare.
"Is there nowhere in this piss-poor excuse of a village for a person to find a happy, pot-bellied tavern-keeper with a steady tap and plates full of spiced potatoes? I suppose the best you have to offer are the drippings from a rust-covered bed pan?"
Brant sighs heavily, finished
This message was last edited by the player at 21:27, Tue 24 May 2022.

In reply to Cassandra (msg # 107):

Ornwin bows respectfully to the mayor in the dwarven manner, so deeply his beard nearly touches the floor while he waves his hood before his face, and then follows Cass out.

Ornwin eyes the dwarven barkeeper a little dubiously,n but does his best to sound hearty "Well met, Fellow Son of Stone! I trust the ancient dwarven custom of hospitality is worthily upheld here! By our dwarven kinship I dare claim your aid for my comrades and me."

Ereth takes a moment to assess the situation, then sidles up next to Ornwin at the bar. "The natural affinity among dwarvenkind is renowned! It is truly a wondrous thing." After pausing, he adds, "Please forgive our young companion here (nodding toward Brant). He is indeed a bit "twitchy." Perhaps you might have something to help sort him out?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:29, Tue 24 May 2022.

Orwin's high diction momentarily perplexes the slatternly barkeep before they offer a lascivious wink, "Ah, I know what you want. You want the first one on the house."


Already on their way back to behind the counter, they turn in response to Ereth's request, their threadbare shift slipping off their shoulder as they do so, the primary work of which would seem to be revealing rather than concealing.

"Just him, you say? I can sort all of you out, I can. That's what I'm here for."

They reach under the bar counter and produce six nipperkins of various flavors, raspberry fizz, low-down watermelon, the assimilated apricot, hurdy gurdy clementine, nip-flavored, and bourbon, line them up, and look at you expectantly.

"First is on the house," they repeat, with an expansive sweep of their right arm, which causes their night shift to shift even further down the arm, exposing a contoured expanse of chest. Pecs? Breast? Both? None can say without personally assaying the matter.

Unable to avail himself of strong drink, Trevion kept a few paces back from the bar, but listened intently to his companions’ conversation with the barkeep.