You are able to find several books of interest, no prices listed unfortunately, and many of them look older than you'd expect. Just by touching the pages you get the sense they should be crumbling away at your fingertips, but here they are perfectly preserved. You pick up The Frozen Wastes of Magic, Forbidden Verse, and a small journal. The first book is a rather thick tome that delves so far into magic and manipulating it towards the element of frost that it leaves your head spinning. The second has language you don't quite understand--words and turns of phrases that makes no sense--and the details within it would require some time to fully decipher. The last, the small journal, seems rather plain and boring at first glance, but inside those first words strike a cord with you.
Blood is the foundation of all magic.
Moore watches you move throughout the shop with a keen eye, still a bit nervous and eyeing you cautiously, but stronger willed than before. As you speak a small bit of his confidence and smugness comes back.
"It'll take you half-a-day to reach the Spire. Arina'lok ain't some small little place," Moore drawls. "Older than the elves, this place is. I don't deal none of the Colleges, nor the mages and shiny blighters within that think their gods are some sort of all powerful masters of the universe." Moore snorts disdainfully, leans forward, and cups his chin into his hand. "Ain't the best place for information neither. Best one of the taverns. Plenty of 'em dotted around the place, any one would do. If you want more 'bout the incident, well, best be findin' one closer to Angos'lale shouldn't you? Heard The Rusty Anchor went up in smoke, and that's over at the port. Polale Port specifically. Ol' Rheim took care of them bastards. She might know more."
Angelus stacks the preserved tomes upon one another and returns to the counter, gently placing them there. The Frozen Wastes of Magic is on the bottom followed by Forbidden Verse and last with the diary on top. "What is your pricing for each of these? I'm interested in procuring them. Should I lack the funds now, is there a way you can hold them for me? I'll find a way to make money and return. I have a suspicion I'll need these. Especially the diary..." Angelus trails off, as though lost in thought, before turning his sparkling cerulean eyes toward the Halfling.
"The Spire is not of consequence then? I wonder why the guard captain in those barracks suggested I head that way then... Regardless, can you tell me the best way to find Polale Port? I'm also still interested in visiting these Colleges and their mages...I'm eager to study more and grow even more powerful, hence the acquisition of these books. By the way, thank you for actually being helpful and pointing me in a productive direction. Do you sell anything besides books here? Spell components, potions, magic items perhaps?" Angelus smiles warmly. He felt a little bad for losing his temper earlier.
Aquariel enters the tavern and looks around, seeking both the owner, Rhem, whom Brella mentioned might have a job or task she could do, and for a place to sit.
Finding a place, she ordersan inexpensive drink while she listens to those around her and sizes up Rheim from a distance.
When her drink arrived, she asks the server, "I am new to the city and this place I have heard the patrons here mention someone thrown out for breaking the rules can you tell me what the rules are, so I don't risk breaking them unknowingly?"
OOC: Once Aq has listened for a bit, she will approach to ask about job possibilities and if she has seen any of her kind. If it helps with the timeline for you to narrate that, feel free to do so.
The gnomish girl who brought you, your drink blinks and laughs merrily. "Oh aren't you a sweet thang?" she drawls. "Hun don't you worry your pretty little head 'bout that. You don't look like the brawlin' type. If you're not gettin' in the ring ain't so likely you'll do something ol' Rheim don't approve of."
She pats your knee and says in a whisper, "Though if you're really all worried 'bout that 'tis simple. Respect the staff, respect the patrons, respect the entertainment. You need do no more than that an' you'll be fine. Now if'n you need anythin' just give a hollar, y'hear?"
With that the gnomish girl flounces off to serve other patrons their drinks, weaving between human and elven barmaids and the various people who milled about. As you listen you are able to pick up conversations about the mess over at Angos'lale and how a band of Tieflings attacked the city claiming to be under a banner of Vyn'tasat. You hear that they got as far as the Rusty Anchor and that most of the patrons from there have since come to the Immoral Wench as a replacement until the rebuilding is complete. Listening for information about Rheim you notice she's a popular topic among the patrons here.
You learn that she has a husband, Vior, a dwarf who does all the cooking and brewing. She's close friends to several people who seem rather shady and odd and are always in the tavern itself. Some perpetually drunk elf and a gnome whom always has her nose in a book and flowers in her hair. You learn that there's a half-elf that comes by named Vaen that Rhiem is fond of, even if she tosses him out more often than not. You also learn that Rhiem is a former high ranking member of the military. No one knows why she left.
Brash turns to the woman and in a voice just load enough for her to hear "no honor in fighting for coin or betting. I just wanted to size up the fighters in this city." " The name is Brash of the Hillmen clan" he says tipping his head in greeting. "Can I be of service to you? I am new to this city and am somewhat confused as to where to go from here so that I may honor my clan and my family."
"No honor indeed," Rheim agreed, voice soft. "This lot, though. They're not much of fighters. More brawlers interested in getting their pound of flesh." She looks you over. "Hillmen clan...I'm not familiar with it." Her attention turns back toward the ring after that as she listens to you're questions.
"Hm, what you could do for me?" Rheim pauses to let out a shout of warning to the fighters, who, remembering earlier, quickly correct themselves from what she perceived to be wrong. "I have no need at this time. Vior handles any sort of requests that may be offered, and those two over there--" she nods toward the cloaked figure and the gnome, "--sometimes they have a job or two on offer as well. I'd talk to Ember if you wish to talk to them. Zenyth is...cantankerous."
Angelus stacks the preserved tomes upon one another and returns to the counter, gently placing them there. The Frozen Wastes of Magic is on the bottom followed by Forbidden Verse and last with the diary on top. "What is your pricing for each of these? I'm interested in procuring them. Should I lack the funds now, is there a way you can hold them for me? I'll find a way to make money and return. I have a suspicion I'll need these. Especially the diary..." Angelus trails off, as though lost in thought, before turning his sparkling cerulean eyes toward the Halfling.
"The Spire is not of consequence then? I wonder why the guard captain in those barracks suggested I head that way then... Regardless, can you tell me the best way to find Polale Port? I'm also still interested in visiting these Colleges and their mages...I'm eager to study more and grow even more powerful, hence the acquisition of these books. By the way, thank you for actually being helpful and pointing me in a productive direction. Do you sell anything besides books here? Spell components, potions, magic items perhaps?" Angelus smiles warmly. He felt a little bad for losing his temper earlier.
The minute you set the books down Boneback shifts up. He grasps the journal first with withered and gnarled fingers. Carefully he sets the book aside next to Moore, who looks down at it as Boneback groans and grumbles under his breath.
"The journal..." Moore trailed off and looked to Boneback who stroked a finger down the journal's front. "...well that's a special case. You can't afford it. Not now." Moore eyes you up and down. "Maybe if we...get to know you. Down the road."
Boneback hums and grumbles and reaches out of the two other books. He carefully picks Forbidden Verse up and runs his fingers along it. You can see the nails are yellowed and cracked. He grumbles and grunts and then sets the book down and lifts the second. He moves this book around, makes a few more hums and half-nonsense sort of mumbles and then sets that down atop Forbidden Verse.
Rheim laughs, and it's not quite a pleasant laugh. Her voice is rough as she does it, almost like she's quite forgotten how to laugh properly. Vior bustles over and provides the two of you with a drink, then bustles back to the young girl whom Kumvior held down.
"Kumvior had it coming," Rheim says. "Bastard knows I don't take that shit. Third time this week." She shakes her head. "Now what is it you wanted to know? Something about the mess that went down a fortnight ago, was it?" She takes a long sip of her drink, face slipping back into that blank look as she thinks. Eventually she shakes her head. "Doesn't involve you. Best leave it to be, kid." She looks at you, tilts her head and thinks. "Yeah. It's no business you want to get messed up in." She frowns. "And don't listen to any of those rumors, either. Vyn'tasat, hmph. What a lark."
Aelar listens as Rheim talks, nodding while she tries to convince him not to get involved while keeping every intention of getting to the bottom of this. "Wait, so you're saying it wasn't the Tieflings? Who was it, then?Why are they trying to frame the Tieflings?" The situation suddenly seemed much bigger than he first thought. If this was some sort of political movement to destroy the public view of Tieflings, how could anyone just stand by and let it happen?
"Well this seems to be the tavern that the captain was talking about. Oh I wish I could stay and enjoy a meal! I am just worried that this disguise will end and I will be caught in bad place. I need to make my way to see the cleric, I hope to see you again Ulrich, not many people would want anything to do with me." Bishop holds out his arm to give Ulrich a handshake, and then turns to go find the cleric.
Aelar listens as Rheim talks, nodding while she tries to convince him not to get involved while keeping every intention of getting to the bottom of this. "Wait, so you're saying it wasn't the Tieflings? Who was it, then?Why are they trying to frame the Tieflings?" The situation suddenly seemed much bigger than he first thought. If this was some sort of political movement to destroy the public view of Tieflings, how could anyone just stand by and let it happen?
Rheim shook her head and swallowed another mouthful of whatever Vior gave her.
"Now," she said pointedly, and gives you a look. "I never said it wasn't Tieflings. I merely said don't listen to any of those rumors." She turns back toward her drink. "Fact is there were plenty of Tieflings in that mess. Plenty mages, too, from all types." Her lips pressed thin. "No, no the Tieflings had a big hand in this. That's true enough. The rest of it? Pay it no mind. It's not for you to handle."
Rheim sighed and took another big swallow of her drink.
"Now," she said, face smoothing out to a bit more on this side of polite rather than stern, "you wanted some rooms for you and your crew, yes? Said your ma was coming down here?"
"Well this seems to be the tavern that the captain was talking about. Oh I wish I could stay and enjoy a meal! I am just worried that this disguise will end and I will be caught in bad place. I need to make my way to see the cleric, I hope to see you again Ulrich, not many people would want anything to do with me." Bishop holds out his arm to give Ulrich a handshake, and then turns to go find the cleric.
The Captain had mentioned taking the road next to the tavern, and that that would lead toward the Spire and as such the heart of Arina'lok, the multitude of colleges. You find yourself walking along this road for at least several more hours. People brush by you in their way to and for stores, homes, and various markets that you can catch sight of. The road winds around a bit and passes through obvious shared housing spaces pressed up close to one another. You begin to see more magic shops--scrolls, potions, books, enchanted items and more.
Above the Spire looms like a beacon. It is larger than you could ever imagine, and it causes the hair on your arms to raise. There is a feel here, not oppressive but not entirely welcoming either. It merely is. The further you walk, the further in the sky the sun rises--until it begins to drop once more. Late afternoon has come upon you finally when you find yourself standing before the entrance to the Spire.
The structure is a crystalline monolith that pulses with some sort of power. It's not visible, but more instinctual. It beats like your heart, or perhaps in time with your heart, or perhaps your heart in time with it. It shines with a light and reflects light at the same time. It must be clear, and yet you can't see anything inside but your own reflection refracted back at you a thousand times. It is dizzying and awe inspiring. The doors themselves appear to be gilded stone, inlaid with golds and silvers and precious gems. There is an extravagance to it, opulence that you wouldn't expect, but somehow seems right at home despite what you know.
Ulrich at first eyes Bishop, wary for any hidden intent behind the offered handshake, but hesitantly accepts. He nods, and simply says, "Well, I wish you luck." He waits a few moments to ensure a distance between himself and Bishop, to allow himself to think in silence on his own for a time. Once he is ready, he continues on his way, still following the directions given for fear of becoming lost if he were to take a differing route.
Rheim shook her head and swallowed another mouthful of whatever Vior gave her.
"Now," she said pointedly, and gives you a look. "I never said it wasn't Tieflings. I merely said don't listen to any of those rumors." She turns back toward her drink. "Fact is there were plenty of Tieflings in that mess. Plenty mages, too, from all types." Her lips pressed thin. "No, no the Tieflings had a big hand in this. That's true enough. The rest of it? Pay it no mind. It's not for you to handle."
Rheim sighed and took another big swallow of her drink.
"Now," she said, face smoothing out to a bit more on this side of polite rather than stern, "you wanted some rooms for you and your crew, yes? Said your ma was coming down here?"
Frustrated that she wouldn't give him more information when it seemed like she had it, Aelar tried to swing the subject back around.
"I only have a small bit of money on me at the moment. You'll have to get with the captain when he gets over here about rooms for the crew. But come on Rheim, I'm not trying to dive into this attack situation. You know me, I'm just nosy and want to know what happened. If you won't tell me, I'm just going to figure out what's going on some other, possibly more dangerous, way. Help me out a little?"
Ulrich at first eyes Bishop, wary for any hidden intent behind the offered handshake, but hesitantly accepts. He nods, and simply says, "Well, I wish you luck." He waits a few moments to ensure a distance between himself and Bishop, to allow himself to think in silence on his own for a time. Once he is ready, he continues on his way, still following the directions given for fear of becoming lost if he were to take a differing route.
If you are still heading in the same direction as Bishop, the descriptor still stands.
You find yourself walking along this road for at least several more hours. People brush by you in their way to and for stores, homes, and various markets that you can catch sight of. The road winds around a bit and passes through obvious shared housing spaces pressed up close to one another. You begin to see more magic shops--scrolls, potions, books, enchanted items and more.
Above the Spire looms like a beacon. It is larger than you could ever imagine, and it causes the hair on your arms to raise. There is a feel here, not oppressive but not entirely welcoming either. It merely is. The further you walk, the further in the sky the sun rises--until it begins to drop once more. Late afternoon has come upon you finally when you find yourself standing before the entrance to the Spire.
The structure is a crystalline monolith that pulses with some sort of power. It's not visible, but more instinctual. It beats like your heart, or perhaps in time with your heart, or perhaps your heart in time with it. It shines with a light and reflects light at the same time. It must be clear, and yet you can't see anything inside but your own reflection refracted back at you a thousand times. It is dizzying and awe inspiring. The doors themselves appear to be gilded stone, inlaid with golds and silvers and precious gems. There is an extravagance to it, opulence that you wouldn't expect, but somehow seems right at home despite what you know.
Wilkas moves out of the way almost before the halfling opens his mouth, remembering the common courtesy of the travel gates.
"I'm mostly just passing through. I wouldn't mind quickly browsing your wares first though."
The halfling nods quickly and and happily leads you from the room. The door is a simple wooden structure and you step out into Halford's Half-Priced Library. There are shelves upon shelves of books that line the walls, all the way up toward the the walkway that makes up the second floor. The bookshelves move beyond that, going up toward the ceiling next. There are several ladders placed in front of shelves to help those in Halford's to find the book they are looking for, and the only real sounds you can hear are footsteps and the turning of pages.
The first floor is dotted with tables and chairs and mages of all types scrolling through thick tomes. A few are taking notes on sheaf's of parchment, scribbling furiously in their research. These are College initiates, new members to their craft learning their ways through book and instruction. The upper floor is more magical than the lower, with books flying across the landing to settle onto tables, the summoned mages sometimes following, other times racing around to the tables that settle on a floor that somehow lacks support and yet doesn't collapse.
At the far end of the first floor, by the entrance to the street, sits a desk manned by another halfling with spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He too is diligently going through a book, but instead of researching something he marks on a page with a quill and continues on. One researcher stops at the desk and drops a few gold coins down. You can't hear the words, but you do see the halfling look up and motion towards the book. The researcher hands it over to be inspected, and after a minute the halfling hands it back and waves the researcher on.
You know this halfling at the front to be Halford, a strict, no-nonsense old halfling.
As you peruse through the books that line the shelves nothing really catches your interest. There are many in languages you can't understand, old words that people no longer speak or can read, and many more than have that faint hum of magic to them as you touch their spine. Quite a few look like they'd be a fair good bit of reading, but it isn't until you reach one of the ladders that something catches your eye. There, placed between a thick tome dictating the history of the Colleges, and an equally thick treatise on Arina'lok's relationship with the neighboring kingdoms, is a small leather bound journal. As you pull it out it becomes obvious that it's much thicker than it first appears. The leather is soft from what must be frequent handling, and yet the layer of dust that settles upon the pages you can see indicates that it's not been touched in a long, long time.
The cover of the journal is a deep, rich sort of blood red. You can find no title embossed on the front, or the side, or even on the inside of the cover. There is no indication of what this journal honestly. The thick, heavy pages within the journal clearly date it's age--these days parchment is much thinner, much easier to manage when you shove multiple pages into a book. As you flip through the pages the word's don't quite make much sense. It reads as completely gibberish.
Dancing threats. How giggle me to be can that dog knowledge become. Taken therefore dragged light into forest. Rivers marry blood in. Stance soul stationary held. Calling me upon calamity dancing threats. Complete can't language war that sex.
Despite the incomprehensibility of the journal something about it draws your attention.
Frustrated that she wouldn't give him more information when it seemed like she had it, Aelar tried to swing the subject back around.
"I only have a small bit of money on me at the moment. You'll have to get with the captain when he gets over here about rooms for the crew. But come on Rheim, I'm not trying to dive into this attack situation. You know me, I'm just nosy and want to know what happened. If you won't tell me, I'm just going to figure out what's going on some other, possibly more dangerous, way. Help me out a little?"
Persuasion: 9
Rheim snorts. She finishes off her drink and stands.
"Leave it be, Aelar," she says stiffly. "It is not for you to handle."
Rheim walks off, conversation closed. You watch as she opens back up the fighting pit, takes her stance above it, and begins to collect bets and payment with calm efficiency.
Wilkas flicks through the book again, trying to see if any of its pages hold words that make coherent sentences. Regardless of the outcome of his brief search, he carries the book to Halford, taking note of where he found it in case he cannot afford it.
"Sorry to bother you, but how much is this old book Halford? And does it have a name?"
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"We are a small clan in the northern region" says proudly. "Thank you for your help ma'am" as he tips his head again. "If you could just point out this Ember person, I will be on my way."
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Elon Andrael- High Elf sorcerer- Waterdeep Dragon Heist
Tomac- goliath barbarian- Yet Another Storm Kings Thunder
Rheim snorts. She finishes off her drink and stands.
"Leave it be, Aelar," she says stiffly. "It is not for you to handle."
Rheim walks off, conversation closed. You watch as she opens back up the fighting pit, takes her stance above it, and begins to collect bets and payment with calm efficiency.
Aelar smirks. "I should've known I'd get nothing from that woman." Unsure of what to do next to find information, he attempts a little bit of eavesdropping to listen for rumors. If he overhears something, he'll ask questions.
Wilkas flicks through the book again, trying to see if any of its pages hold words that make coherent sentences. Regardless of the outcome of his brief search, he carries the book to Halford, taking note of where he found it in case he cannot afford it.
"Sorry to bother you, but how much is this old book Halford? And does it have a name?"
Halford looks up and reaches out a hand for the book.
"Hrm," he grumbles. "This? Let me see..."
Carefully Halford adjust's his spectacles and peers at the book. He turns it around and flips through the pages carefully, and then settles it under the light on his desk.
"Old," Halford mumbled. "Very old." He mumbles and grumbles to himself for a minute longer before he looks back up to you. "Where did you find this old thing, hm?" After a minute he shakes his head and sets it back down. "Five gold to borrow. Purchase, hrfm, ten gold."
The minute you set the books down Boneback shifts up. He grasps the journal first with withered and gnarled fingers. Carefully he sets the book aside next to Moore, who looks down at it as Boneback groans and grumbles under his breath.
"The journal..." Moore trailed off and looked to Boneback who stroked a finger down the journal's front. "...well that's a special case. You can't afford it. Not now." Moore eyes you up and down. "Maybe if we...get to know you. Down the road."
Boneback hums and grumbles and reaches out of the two other books. He carefully picks Forbidden Verse up and runs his fingers along it. You can see the nails are yellowed and cracked. He grumbles and grunts and then sets the book down and lifts the second. He moves this book around, makes a few more hums and half-nonsense sort of mumbles and then sets that down atop Forbidden Verse.
"For those two...15 gold," Moore said. "Each."
Angelus nods and place 15 gold coins on the counter, leaving him with only 5 remaining. He smiles at the Halfling, "I shall be back for the other two, but for now I shall take Forbidden Verse if you don't mind."
He scratches his chin and eyes the journal, his curiosity piqued at their behavior upon seeing it. "Regardless," he replies, "I will make enough to purchase the rest of these in time. I thank you for your service. As you were previously saying..it would do me no good to go to the Crystal Spire? Nothing of note there? No information I could gather? Either way I'll need directions to this... other place you mentioned. Rhyme? Did you say something about someone rhyming? Matter of fact do you sell any maps? I figure I'll annoy less people if I have a map and can find my own way."
Lenzo nods, trying to look as empathetic as he can, and says: "Tieflings...I can't remember them being especially difficult in the past. What attack are you talking about? Who did it, and how are tieflings involved? And most importantly my friend, how can the Darkmasts be of service?"
"Ten gold. Unfortunately I don't have that much on me. If I borrow it, how long do I have it for, and is the purchase cost reduced during that time? It was by one of the ladders."
Wilkas would prefer to purchase the book than borrow it, but if borrowing it can ensure his ability to purchase it, he's willing to go that route.
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Bishop enters the spire in awe. He is wide-eyed and trying to take in everything around him. "This is the best place I have ever seen!" A huge smile is across his face, as he finds someone to talk to. "Excuse me sir, I am Bishop, Cleric in training. Could you point me in the direction of the head cleric? I have some urgent paperwork that must be signed."
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Current:
Secrets of the Greenwold - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Historic:
Dawning - A Homebrew Campaign - DMTomb of Annihilation - DM
Dragon Heist of Waterdeep - DM
Hoard of the Dragon Queen - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
"Well this seems to be the tavern that the captain was talking about. Oh I wish I could stay and enjoy a meal! I am just worried that this disguise will end and I will be caught in bad place. I need to make my way to see the cleric, I hope to see you again Ulrich, not many people would want anything to do with me." Bishop holds out his arm to give Ulrich a handshake, and then turns to go find the cleric.
Current:
Secrets of the Greenwold - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Historic:
Dawning - A Homebrew Campaign - DMTomb of Annihilation - DM
Dragon Heist of Waterdeep - DM
Hoard of the Dragon Queen - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Current:
Secrets of the Greenwold - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Historic:
Dawning - A Homebrew Campaign - DMTomb of Annihilation - DM
Dragon Heist of Waterdeep - DM
Hoard of the Dragon Queen - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Ulrich at first eyes Bishop, wary for any hidden intent behind the offered handshake, but hesitantly accepts. He nods, and simply says, "Well, I wish you luck." He waits a few moments to ensure a distance between himself and Bishop, to allow himself to think in silence on his own for a time. Once he is ready, he continues on his way, still following the directions given for fear of becoming lost if he were to take a differing route.
Persuasion: 18
Wilkas moves out of the way almost before the halfling opens his mouth, remembering the common courtesy of the travel gates.
"I'm mostly just passing through. I wouldn't mind quickly browsing your wares first though."
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Current:
Secrets of the Greenwold - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Historic:
Dawning - A Homebrew Campaign - DMTomb of Annihilation - DM
Dragon Heist of Waterdeep - DM
Hoard of the Dragon Queen - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Current:
Secrets of the Greenwold - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Historic:
Dawning - A Homebrew Campaign - DMTomb of Annihilation - DM
Dragon Heist of Waterdeep - DM
Hoard of the Dragon Queen - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Current:
Secrets of the Greenwold - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Historic:
Dawning - A Homebrew Campaign - DMTomb of Annihilation - DM
Dragon Heist of Waterdeep - DM
Hoard of the Dragon Queen - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Wilkas flicks through the book again, trying to see if any of its pages hold words that make coherent sentences. Regardless of the outcome of his brief search, he carries the book to Halford, taking note of where he found it in case he cannot afford it.
"Sorry to bother you, but how much is this old book Halford? And does it have a name?"
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"We are a small clan in the northern region" says proudly. "Thank you for your help ma'am" as he tips his head again. "If you could just point out this Ember person, I will be on my way."
Elon Andrael- High Elf sorcerer- Waterdeep Dragon Heist
Tomac- goliath barbarian- Yet Another Storm Kings Thunder
Perception: 20
Investigation: 2
Current:
Secrets of the Greenwold - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Historic:
Dawning - A Homebrew Campaign - DMTomb of Annihilation - DM
Dragon Heist of Waterdeep - DM
Hoard of the Dragon Queen - DM | Recruiting Thread | Campaign Thread
Lenzo nods, trying to look as empathetic as he can, and says: "Tieflings...I can't remember them being especially difficult in the past. What attack are you talking about? Who did it, and how are tieflings involved? And most importantly my friend, how can the Darkmasts be of service?"
"Ten gold. Unfortunately I don't have that much on me. If I borrow it, how long do I have it for, and is the purchase cost reduced during that time? It was by one of the ladders."
Wilkas would prefer to purchase the book than borrow it, but if borrowing it can ensure his ability to purchase it, he's willing to go that route.
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Bishop enters the spire in awe. He is wide-eyed and trying to take in everything around him. "This is the best place I have ever seen!" A huge smile is across his face, as he finds someone to talk to. "Excuse me sir, I am Bishop, Cleric in training. Could you point me in the direction of the head cleric? I have some urgent paperwork that must be signed."