The Battlehammer have sold weapons and ore to the Ten Towns for decades. They have been staunch allies of the settlements and helped them grow. It can almost be said that they were the first inhabitants of this Northern Realm but with everyone trying to survive the harsh unending winter they have had a hard time finding sympathetic ears.
But now, with one of their caravan missing they turn to the Ten Towns for help, calling in favors and they won't take no for an answer.
The meeting place has been set in Termalaine, in the small inn called Eastside, for the rumors coming from the larger town of Brynn Shander are not good. The town seems to have turned on foreigners and the dwarves do not want to test those rumors.
The inn is busy this night and with the arrival of the two dwarves and their famous "Hard Stomp", a strong ale, many have decided to come and enjoy themselves. Like the rest of the town, no fire is allowed here but the press of bodies and the flowing beverages have made the atmosphere almost hot, a feeling few even remember. For that alone, people have come, the rumor spreading fast in the otherwise dreary town.
Kalvin and Drean are known to all here for they are the ones trading with Ten Towns for the clan’s benefit, and their raucous laughter has been missed.
A table has been set in the far back for their meeting but for now business seems far from their minds.
Marta though knows why they are here and mentions anyone heeding their call to the table. The first drink is on the house she announces when she shows you to the table. A hard stare and a level gaze shuts any who would try to ask for one more. This is after all a business.
To all.
You can come in in groups if you wish. Describe yourself as you weave your way to the appointed table.
“Excuse me.” The elf said to the innkeeper. Took her but the briefest of moments to direct her attention to him. “I’m here to see Kalvin and Drean.”
Fast and efficient the woman guided Thael in the direction of a more distant table. No doubt the dwarves wanted privacy. Or as least as much as they could get in a packed tavern. As he took his seat she offered him a drink on the house. An offer he accepted asking for a Hard Stomp, hoping the strong ale could help with the cold.
Rinn enters in a rush not a minute later, exhaling with no visible breath for the first time in a while. Taking the first dozen steps around a crowded table, she glances over her shoulder, expecting Brother Thaddeus and Iarroris, before stepping on tiptoe and jutting her chin forward for a scan of Eastside. Noticing the two seated dwarves and the retreating figure being escorted in their direction by the innkeeper, she mumbles to herself. “Those’ll be the Clan, then,” as she shakes down her fur-lined hood and runs a hand through her unwashed hair, before taking a deep breath and plunging forward with excitement.
Drawing level with the approaching figures, she glimpses Thael’s visage and stops abruptly, half-choking in her silent gasp, before sidling over to the opposite side of the set table and anxiously waiting for Iarroris and Thaddeus to join.
It can’t be that bad, nobody here seems bothered… Drizzt was one of them. And Iarroris, I mean, he… This is part of it, right?She exhales. Adventure.
Rinn clears her throat. “’Hard Stomp,’ was it? I’d love to try it, please.”
Before Marta could leave the reserved table and bring his drink a new voice made itself known. Covered in furs, much like himself, an elven woman stood before Thael and the dwarves. Her hair seemed short, her eyes looked clear and her skin was copperish. Or-tel-quessir, he said with the voice of his mind, in the language that their ancestors shared.
He expected some kind of hostility from her. Fear, even. For most elves a Drow couldn’t inspire different reactions. A treatment mostly deserved, the Warlock had to admit. Instead, she inquired about Hard Stomp, and unwisely for someone that seemed so unfamiliar with drinking, asked for some. A toast to the decent Do'Urden, he thought to himself. In that part of the word the reputation of the Ranger was often the reason for others giving him a chance despite his heritage.
“It is a strong ale, my lady.”Thael said looking at the newcomer. Probably his new sister at arms. “Dwarven like a forge and a courtesy of these fine gentlemen.”He said pointing to Kalvin and Drean. “Maybe it can help with the cold.”
At least he wished it could.
Or-tel-quessir is the term for Wood-Elves in Elvish.
Amaryllis walks down the stairs, approaching Marta. "What's with all this noise? It's impossible to read like this." Marta knows Amayrillis has been hoping for a chance to set on an adventure, and points her towards the table, not offering much explanation. Amaryllis doesn't exactly understand what she's expected, but it doesn't matter much either - she won't be able to concentrate in a tavern that makes this much noise. It was very unexpected, considering how seldomly people left their houses due to the cold. What got everyone out all of a sudden?
The Gnome approaches the appointed table, waving as she sees the familiar Drow. She didn't know him very well just yet, but just enough to know that he isn't like those that are told about in books. Also, seeing another Elf with him makes her happy. Elves are often good allies, she knows. The two at the table might notice the short lady approaching. Not much more than three feet tall, her natural-red, straight hair falls on her shoulders, reaching to the middle of her back. Her body seems frail, as she's quite thin. On the other hand, as she walks, she almost seems to be jumping - as if gravity doesn't affect her fully. Of course, that's not the case, but rather her jolly walk is comprised mostly of small leaps that almost look like a normal step, yet not exactly. She reaches the table, then pulls a chair and sits on it, the top of her head barely reaching above the table itself. Her hazel eyes look upon the two of you curiously, and her mouth is smiling. "Hey, how are you?" She asks Thael first, and then turns to the other Elf, before having received an answer from the Drow. "I don't think we met before. What's your name?" She's direct but overall friendly. She changes position to sit on her knees so she can lean forward and try to reach with her hand for a handshake, though even when she's practically leaning on the table she can barely reach the centre of it.
Annique, a relatively short young human woman, walks into the Eastside and scans the crowd. She wears a heavy, fur-lined cloak, pushing the hood back as she enters. Her short-cut, dark hair is slightly tousled from removing it and she quickly reaches up to fix it.
She catches a glimpse of Marta, who appears rather busy, and weaves her way through the crowd to her. "Marta! Have you seen Hadi or Amaryllis around? I expected they would be here."
Not waiting for an answer, she continues to look about through the crowd. Marta gives her a shrug but motions towards the back. Annique quickly spots Thael at the table and heads over.
As she approaches, you can see she wears tooled leather armor beneath her cloak. And two hand-axes are at her belt. She gives Rinn a quick glance and smile as she approaches, then turns to the drow. "Greetings Thael. A good evening to you. Is this a friend of yours?" she makes a slight motion to indicate Rinn.
Startled for a moment by the multi-sourced attention, Rinn undoes the buttons on her thick parka and shrugs it off behind her onto the back of the chair, before smiling warmly.
“Rinn. I’m answering the call of Clan Battlehammer, here.” She shrugs in the direction of the pair of dwarves. “S’pose you’re here for the same? Well met.” She glances at each member present in turn, but her gaze flickers back to the drow on more than one occasion, before returning, lastly, at full. “And alas, aye. A strong ale will light a fire inside, I hope. Seeing as there are none other to be found, it seems…”
Replying to Rinn, Annique says, "I am Annique Lajani. And yes, I am also here in response to Clan Battlehammer."
She remains standing near the table, looking over all those gathered here thus far. Now and then her attention turns back to the crowd. "I presume we are still waiting for others?"
Apparently a bit late, Hadi enters the Inn and takes a breath of the warm air, glad to be around people, and to have an excuse to put his studies on hold for a bit. Hadi is somewhat tall for an Elf, coming from a long family line that can be traced back a couple millennia. The furs he wears are clearly expensive and well made, but like his short, spiky blue-white hair, is clearly not as well kept as it once was, the coat especially showing some wear, even with a patch towards the bottom. Looking around the Inn, his eyes shine as light elfin blue as he sees a couple familiar faces and heads over towards the table, whistling to himself a bit, almost as if experimenting with the whistle, and not quite getting the note he wants.
Approaching the table taking a glass of the brew and giving it a sniff, Hadi is taken aback by the strong alcohol smell, and as he sits down a small spark appears in his hand as the liquid changes flavor, retaining only a small hint of what it originally was, as well as warming, now showing a faint bit of steam coming from the glass. Smiling as he takes a sip he nods a greeting to Annique, and looks to Amaryllis asking, "So what're you reading these days? I recently found an interesting tome in my uncle's cabin. Finally something interesting! I almost didn't want to break away from it tonight."
@DM - why are fires not allowed in or around town? - Ah, nm, I see on the map. Sacrifice to Auril
Iarroris wanders into the tavern after several moments of waiting outside, trying to look inconspicuous and avoid the crowd, hopeless given the circumstances. He is covered head to toe in a too-large cloak, over a strange design of armor, jagged and covered in whorls that seem to reflect different colors depending on the light. His face is covered under the faceplate of a helmet, a mask of smooth metal with fur or dreadlocks sewn into the back, draping down the back. His hands reach up to the bar as drinks start coming down the way, revealing pale yellowed skin, like old paper on too-long fingers.
He holds the drink but doesn’t drink it. When he speaks, it’s a hollow echo from within the helmet. “When will Clan Battlehammer make their offer?” asking no one in particular
"The pleasure is all mine," Amaryllis replies to both Annique and Rinn at the same time, or to neither in particular, depending on how you interpret the fact she doesn't look at either one of you at the moment of saying that. "Oh, Hadi!" Amaryllis calls as she notices the Elf. She leans back and puts her hand on the table, as if covering something with her little palm. "It has been some time since I saw you leave that dusty place of yours. Well, who am I to say. Anyway, I'm reading an interesting take on the simpler kinds of magic. Those usually taught to apprentices. You know, the kinds you use to mend a tear in your shirt, warm up your food," she obviously refers to his recent stunt with the ale, even indicating towards it slightly, "or other similar tricks."She raises her hand from the table, revealinga few gold coins. "The book offers new ideas and uses to them, not usually considered. For example, I could make this pile of coins larger than I am. Imagine what a distraction it could cause if created in the middle of a market. Well... if there were any such crowds here in the north."
Of course, if anyone tries to take the coins she left on the table, their hand passes through the illusion, which will then become translucent.
He waited for the or-tel-quessir, to answer, but before she had any opportunity new guests started to arrive. First there was Amaryllis, a gnome with both the agility and furtivity of a cat. Thael remembered the surprise and confusion he felt when they first met. She was, after all, quite different of the gnomes he knew in his former home, the gray skinned svirfneblin. They had gray eyes and gray hair, that is the women had gray hair while the men were bald. By comparison Amaryllis had a far lighter skin and her hair seemed like fire. Thael enjoyed her lightness and answered her greeting with a modest smile. She was someone to vouch for him, should the need arise.
Then came Annique, a short human that only a fool would think fragile. Specially considering the two hand-axes she carried.
“Good evening to you too, Annique, and I hope she’ll be despite this being the first time we met.” He says briefly looking at the or-tel-quessir, Rinn. “After all, whatever Battlehammer may want I have the feeling it will involve risking our lifes, having to trust our backs to one another. It's better if we are on good terms.”
If it where otherwise, why would they call upon a spellblade Warlock, a stealthy Rogue and a proven Fighter? Rinn did seem a capable sword hand in her own right. A thought brought to a halt with two new arrivals. An eladrin and a strangely armored man of pale-yellow skin.
“You already heard, but I’m Thael of Rymantiin.” Thael says turning his eyes to Rinn, hoping to see any reaction to the name of the Hidden City of Hope. “And I second your question.”He concludes looking at the armored figure.
Watching Amaryllis‘ illusion on the table, Hadi smiles and says, “That’s actually one I don’t know, though I’ve seen others do it. I might ask you to show me how later on. I will admit, that the arcane does have some fun things possible with it. Though so much of the study is just. so. damn. boring…” Taking a drink of the warm, and now tasty drink, he sighs and leans forward in his seat, grins, and slightly quieter, though not quite a whisper, in a rather excited tone, says, “But I think I’ve finally found something a bit more… flashy. Still working out the details though… “
Then leaning back, he looks to the others at the table who he doesn’t know, and says, "So what’s this all about anyway? People going missing in the cold dark out there isn’t exactly uncommon. Though rarely do they pull all their strings at once to find em.”
“You already heard, but I’m Thael of Rymantiin.”Thael says turning his eyes to Rinn, hoping to see any reaction to the name of the Hidden City of Hope.
Question for the DM: Does the name Rymanthiin ring a bell for Rinn?
“You already heard, but I’m Thael of Rymantiin.”Thael says turning his eyes to Rinn, hoping to see any reaction to the name of the Hidden City of Hope.
Question for the DM: Does the name Rymanthiin ring a bell for Rinn?
That would be up to you. If you think your character might that is OK. And a nice way to connect with Thael.
Given that tales of Rhymanthiin are told only rarely, and that visitors to Evermeet are even more rare, it seems unlikely, honestly.
Rinn notices the crimson eyes of the dark elf searching for something during his introduction, but she knows not for what. She speaks without waiting for Iarroris's reply to the drow’s posed question.
“I’ve not heard of this place, though it surprises me not. My presence here is no common tale, no small gift to the denizens of this land. That fate has brought you and I both to this table…” She trails off, half-frowning as if pondering some great puzzle. Moments later, Marta returning with the strong dwarven brew, Rinn drinks deeply, lighting an internal fire with the bitter concoction.
After standing a while, watching others arrive and idly listening to Hadi and Amaryllis, Annique takes a seat next to Hadi. "I am sure we will learn what this is all about in due time."
Upon Marta's return she takes a glass of the 'Hard Stomp' being offered, taking just a small sip of it as she holds it. She leans in slightly toward Hadi, lowering her voice a bit though she can still be heard. "Hadi, you really ought to take better care of these fine furs you have. There are very good tailors here in Termalaine that could mend them." She briefly gives him a stern look before breaking into a more jovial smile.
Hadi's smile fades only slightly at the mention of his furs, as if remembering something, but quickly returns and says, "I'll certainly have to give them a visit before returning home."Chuckling he adds, "My family wouldn't even let me in this house like this."
Marta moves to the dwarves and taps them. On the shoulder.
"Seems like most of the people you need answered your call." her voice is stern not booking any arguments." I think King Sorak would be displeased if he saw the lot of you drinking before business. If someone were to tell him."
The two dwarves straightened. And one was about to say something but a lifted finger stopped him.
"I can still send word. The king would even pay me for that information and your families would have to work for it." Marta said. "Now" she added pointing to the table in the far back where most of the party waits.
Scowling but holding their tongues the two grumbling dwarves moved to the table.
"Sorry for the wait." one said. "We got carried away. The name is Kavin and this younger one is Drean."
Make a knowledge roll DC 14 for those who have been in the area for more than a month. If succeeded read Spoiler.
Drean is the son of king Sorak and the future king. He is a rather young dwarf and is known for his religious ways. He follows Moradin.
"The clan needs the help of a few people to find a lost caravan. It was supposed to come three weeks ago. It was going through Bryn Shander so you'll have to go look there first." Kalvin says
"Then, if you find no news you"ll need to track it down the way to the Spine."
"The king will pay you 5 gold each for the information and more if you find out what happened or can retrieve it."
The Battlehammer have sold weapons and ore to the Ten Towns for decades. They have been staunch allies of the settlements and helped them grow. It can almost be said that they were the first inhabitants of this Northern Realm but with everyone trying to survive the harsh unending winter they have had a hard time finding sympathetic ears.
But now, with one of their caravan missing they turn to the Ten Towns for help, calling in favors and they won't take no for an answer.
The meeting place has been set in Termalaine, in the small inn called Eastside, for the rumors coming from the larger town of Brynn Shander are not good. The town seems to have turned on foreigners and the dwarves do not want to test those rumors.
The inn is busy this night and with the arrival of the two dwarves and their famous "Hard Stomp", a strong ale, many have decided to come and enjoy themselves. Like the rest of the town, no fire is allowed here but the press of bodies and the flowing beverages have made the atmosphere almost hot, a feeling few even remember. For that alone, people have come, the rumor spreading fast in the otherwise dreary town.
Kalvin and Drean are known to all here for they are the ones trading with Ten Towns for the clan’s benefit, and their raucous laughter has been missed.
A table has been set in the far back for their meeting but for now business seems far from their minds.
Marta though knows why they are here and mentions anyone heeding their call to the table. The first drink is on the house she announces when she shows you to the table. A hard stare and a level gaze shuts any who would try to ask for one more. This is after all a business.
To all.
You can come in in groups if you wish. Describe yourself as you weave your way to the appointed table.
Silent as a shadow, Thael entered the Eastside. A drow of grey skin, long white hair and deep crimson eyes hidden under an ashen hood. Tall for his race and with the typical chiseled features of kind. He was no strange to the place, but that was certainly the first time the inn felt so cold. Just like in the rest of Termalaine there was no fire in the room. At least there is laughter either, he was fast to think as he walked his way to the bar counter.
“Excuse me.” The elf said to the innkeeper. Took her but the briefest of moments to direct her attention to him. “I’m here to see Kalvin and Drean.”
Fast and efficient the woman guided Thael in the direction of a more distant table. No doubt the dwarves wanted privacy. Or as least as much as they could get in a packed tavern. As he took his seat she offered him a drink on the house. An offer he accepted asking for a Hard Stomp, hoping the strong ale could help with the cold.
Rinn enters in a rush not a minute later, exhaling with no visible breath for the first time in a while. Taking the first dozen steps around a crowded table, she glances over her shoulder, expecting Brother Thaddeus and Iarroris, before stepping on tiptoe and jutting her chin forward for a scan of Eastside. Noticing the two seated dwarves and the retreating figure being escorted in their direction by the innkeeper, she mumbles to herself. “Those’ll be the Clan, then,” as she shakes down her fur-lined hood and runs a hand through her unwashed hair, before taking a deep breath and plunging forward with excitement.
Drawing level with the approaching figures, she glimpses Thael’s visage and stops abruptly, half-choking in her silent gasp, before sidling over to the opposite side of the set table and anxiously waiting for Iarroris and Thaddeus to join.
It can’t be that bad, nobody here seems bothered… Drizzt was one of them. And Iarroris, I mean, he… This is part of it, right? She exhales. Adventure.
Rinn clears her throat. “’Hard Stomp,’ was it? I’d love to try it, please.”
Before Marta could leave the reserved table and bring his drink a new voice made itself known. Covered in furs, much like himself, an elven woman stood before Thael and the dwarves. Her hair seemed short, her eyes looked clear and her skin was copperish. Or-tel-quessir, he said with the voice of his mind, in the language that their ancestors shared.
He expected some kind of hostility from her. Fear, even. For most elves a Drow couldn’t inspire different reactions. A treatment mostly deserved, the Warlock had to admit. Instead, she inquired about Hard Stomp, and unwisely for someone that seemed so unfamiliar with drinking, asked for some. A toast to the decent Do'Urden, he thought to himself. In that part of the word the reputation of the Ranger was often the reason for others giving him a chance despite his heritage.
“It is a strong ale, my lady.” Thael said looking at the newcomer. Probably his new sister at arms. “Dwarven like a forge and a courtesy of these fine gentlemen.” He said pointing to Kalvin and Drean. “Maybe it can help with the cold.”
At least he wished it could.
Or-tel-quessir is the term for Wood-Elves in Elvish.
Amaryllis walks down the stairs, approaching Marta. "What's with all this noise? It's impossible to read like this." Marta knows Amayrillis has been hoping for a chance to set on an adventure, and points her towards the table, not offering much explanation. Amaryllis doesn't exactly understand what she's expected, but it doesn't matter much either - she won't be able to concentrate in a tavern that makes this much noise. It was very unexpected, considering how seldomly people left their houses due to the cold. What got everyone out all of a sudden?
The Gnome approaches the appointed table, waving as she sees the familiar Drow. She didn't know him very well just yet, but just enough to know that he isn't like those that are told about in books. Also, seeing another Elf with him makes her happy. Elves are often good allies, she knows.
The two at the table might notice the short lady approaching. Not much more than three feet tall, her natural-red, straight hair falls on her shoulders, reaching to the middle of her back. Her body seems frail, as she's quite thin. On the other hand, as she walks, she almost seems to be jumping - as if gravity doesn't affect her fully. Of course, that's not the case, but rather her jolly walk is comprised mostly of small leaps that almost look like a normal step, yet not exactly. She reaches the table, then pulls a chair and sits on it, the top of her head barely reaching above the table itself. Her hazel eyes look upon the two of you curiously, and her mouth is smiling.
"Hey, how are you?" She asks Thael first, and then turns to the other Elf, before having received an answer from the Drow. "I don't think we met before. What's your name?" She's direct but overall friendly. She changes position to sit on her knees so she can lean forward and try to reach with her hand for a handshake, though even when she's practically leaning on the table she can barely reach the centre of it.
Varielky | Emma
Annique, a relatively short young human woman, walks into the Eastside and scans the crowd. She wears a heavy, fur-lined cloak, pushing the hood back as she enters. Her short-cut, dark hair is slightly tousled from removing it and she quickly reaches up to fix it.
She catches a glimpse of Marta, who appears rather busy, and weaves her way through the crowd to her. "Marta! Have you seen Hadi or Amaryllis around? I expected they would be here."
Not waiting for an answer, she continues to look about through the crowd. Marta gives her a shrug but motions towards the back. Annique quickly spots Thael at the table and heads over.
As she approaches, you can see she wears tooled leather armor beneath her cloak. And two hand-axes are at her belt. She gives Rinn a quick glance and smile as she approaches, then turns to the drow. "Greetings Thael. A good evening to you. Is this a friend of yours?" she makes a slight motion to indicate Rinn.
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Rylia Lionrage | Roxana Raincrest | Janek Whitmor | Lokilia Vaelphin
Annique adds, "Here you are as well Amaryllis. Good to see you."
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Rylia Lionrage | Roxana Raincrest | Janek Whitmor | Lokilia Vaelphin
Startled for a moment by the multi-sourced attention, Rinn undoes the buttons on her thick parka and shrugs it off behind her onto the back of the chair, before smiling warmly.
“Rinn. I’m answering the call of Clan Battlehammer, here.” She shrugs in the direction of the pair of dwarves. “S’pose you’re here for the same? Well met.” She glances at each member present in turn, but her gaze flickers back to the drow on more than one occasion, before returning, lastly, at full. “And alas, aye. A strong ale will light a fire inside, I hope. Seeing as there are none other to be found, it seems…”
Replying to Rinn, Annique says, "I am Annique Lajani. And yes, I am also here in response to Clan Battlehammer."
She remains standing near the table, looking over all those gathered here thus far. Now and then her attention turns back to the crowd. "I presume we are still waiting for others?"
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Rylia Lionrage | Roxana Raincrest | Janek Whitmor | Lokilia Vaelphin
Apparently a bit late, Hadi enters the Inn and takes a breath of the warm air, glad to be around people, and to have an excuse to put his studies on hold for a bit. Hadi is somewhat tall for an Elf, coming from a long family line that can be traced back a couple millennia. The furs he wears are clearly expensive and well made, but like his short, spiky blue-white hair, is clearly not as well kept as it once was, the coat especially showing some wear, even with a patch towards the bottom. Looking around the Inn, his eyes shine as light elfin blue as he sees a couple familiar faces and heads over towards the table, whistling to himself a bit, almost as if experimenting with the whistle, and not quite getting the note he wants.
Approaching the table taking a glass of the brew and giving it a sniff, Hadi is taken aback by the strong alcohol smell, and as he sits down a small spark appears in his hand as the liquid changes flavor, retaining only a small hint of what it originally was, as well as warming, now showing a faint bit of steam coming from the glass. Smiling as he takes a sip he nods a greeting to Annique, and looks to Amaryllis asking, "So what're you reading these days? I recently found an interesting tome in my uncle's cabin. Finally something interesting! I almost didn't want to break away from it tonight."
@DM - why are fires not allowed in or around town?- Ah, nm, I see on the map. Sacrifice to AurilPbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Iarroris wanders into the tavern after several moments of waiting outside, trying to look inconspicuous and avoid the crowd, hopeless given the circumstances. He is covered head to toe in a too-large cloak, over a strange design of armor, jagged and covered in whorls that seem to reflect different colors depending on the light. His face is covered under the faceplate of a helmet, a mask of smooth metal with fur or dreadlocks sewn into the back, draping down the back. His hands reach up to the bar as drinks start coming down the way, revealing pale yellowed skin, like old paper on too-long fingers.
He holds the drink but doesn’t drink it. When he speaks, it’s a hollow echo from within the helmet. “When will Clan Battlehammer make their offer?” asking no one in particular
Paladin - warforged - orange
"The pleasure is all mine," Amaryllis replies to both Annique and Rinn at the same time, or to neither in particular, depending on how you interpret the fact she doesn't look at either one of you at the moment of saying that. "Oh, Hadi!" Amaryllis calls as she notices the Elf. She leans back and puts her hand on the table, as if covering something with her little palm. "It has been some time since I saw you leave that dusty place of yours. Well, who am I to say. Anyway, I'm reading an interesting take on the simpler kinds of magic. Those usually taught to apprentices. You know, the kinds you use to mend a tear in your shirt, warm up your food," she obviously refers to his recent stunt with the ale, even indicating towards it slightly, "or other similar tricks." She raises her hand from the table, revealing a few gold coins. "The book offers new ideas and uses to them, not usually considered. For example, I could make this pile of coins larger than I am. Imagine what a distraction it could cause if created in the middle of a market. Well... if there were any such crowds here in the north."
Of course, if anyone tries to take the coins she left on the table, their hand passes through the illusion, which will then become translucent.
Varielky | Emma
He waited for the or-tel-quessir, to answer, but before she had any opportunity new guests started to arrive. First there was Amaryllis, a gnome with both the agility and furtivity of a cat. Thael remembered the surprise and confusion he felt when they first met. She was, after all, quite different of the gnomes he knew in his former home, the gray skinned svirfneblin. They had gray eyes and gray hair, that is the women had gray hair while the men were bald. By comparison Amaryllis had a far lighter skin and her hair seemed like fire. Thael enjoyed her lightness and answered her greeting with a modest smile. She was someone to vouch for him, should the need arise.
Then came Annique, a short human that only a fool would think fragile. Specially considering the two hand-axes she carried.
“Good evening to you too, Annique, and I hope she’ll be despite this being the first time we met.” He says briefly looking at the or-tel-quessir, Rinn. “After all, whatever Battlehammer may want I have the feeling it will involve risking our lifes, having to trust our backs to one another. It's better if we are on good terms.”
If it where otherwise, why would they call upon a spellblade Warlock, a stealthy Rogue and a proven Fighter? Rinn did seem a capable sword hand in her own right. A thought brought to a halt with two new arrivals. An eladrin and a strangely armored man of pale-yellow skin.
“You already heard, but I’m Thael of Rymantiin.” Thael says turning his eyes to Rinn, hoping to see any reaction to the name of the Hidden City of Hope. “And I second your question.” He concludes looking at the armored figure.
Watching Amaryllis‘ illusion on the table, Hadi smiles and says, “That’s actually one I don’t know, though I’ve seen others do it. I might ask you to show me how later on. I will admit, that the arcane does have some fun things possible with it. Though so much of the study is just. so. damn. boring…” Taking a drink of the warm, and now tasty drink, he sighs and leans forward in his seat, grins, and slightly quieter, though not quite a whisper, in a rather excited tone, says, “But I think I’ve finally found something a bit more… flashy. Still working out the details though… “
Then leaning back, he looks to the others at the table who he doesn’t know, and says, "So what’s this all about anyway? People going missing in the cold dark out there isn’t exactly uncommon. Though rarely do they pull all their strings at once to find em.”
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
That would be up to you. If you think your character might that is OK. And a nice way to connect with Thael.
Given that tales of Rhymanthiin are told only rarely, and that visitors to Evermeet are even more rare, it seems unlikely, honestly.
Rinn notices the crimson eyes of the dark elf searching for something during his introduction, but she knows not for what. She speaks without waiting for Iarroris's reply to the drow’s posed question.
“I’ve not heard of this place, though it surprises me not. My presence here is no common tale, no small gift to the denizens of this land. That fate has brought you and I both to this table…” She trails off, half-frowning as if pondering some great puzzle. Moments later, Marta returning with the strong dwarven brew, Rinn drinks deeply, lighting an internal fire with the bitter concoction.
After standing a while, watching others arrive and idly listening to Hadi and Amaryllis, Annique takes a seat next to Hadi. "I am sure we will learn what this is all about in due time."
Upon Marta's return she takes a glass of the 'Hard Stomp' being offered, taking just a small sip of it as she holds it. She leans in slightly toward Hadi, lowering her voice a bit though she can still be heard. "Hadi, you really ought to take better care of these fine furs you have. There are very good tailors here in Termalaine that could mend them." She briefly gives him a stern look before breaking into a more jovial smile.
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Rylia Lionrage | Roxana Raincrest | Janek Whitmor | Lokilia Vaelphin
Hadi's smile fades only slightly at the mention of his furs, as if remembering something, but quickly returns and says, "I'll certainly have to give them a visit before returning home." Chuckling he adds, "My family wouldn't even let me in this house like this."
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Marta moves to the dwarves and taps them. On the shoulder.
"Seems like most of the people you need answered your call." her voice is stern not booking any arguments." I think King Sorak would be displeased if he saw the lot of you drinking before business. If someone were to tell him."
The two dwarves straightened. And one was about to say something but a lifted finger stopped him.
"I can still send word. The king would even pay me for that information and your families would have to work for it." Marta said. "Now" she added pointing to the table in the far back where most of the party waits.
Scowling but holding their tongues the two grumbling dwarves moved to the table.
"Sorry for the wait." one said. "We got carried away. The name is Kavin and this younger one is Drean."
Make a knowledge roll DC 14 for those who have been in the area for more than a month. If succeeded read Spoiler.
Drean is the son of king Sorak and the future king. He is a rather young dwarf and is known for his religious ways. He follows Moradin.
"The clan needs the help of a few people to find a lost caravan. It was supposed to come three weeks ago. It was going through Bryn Shander so you'll have to go look there first." Kalvin says
"Then, if you find no news you"ll need to track it down the way to the Spine."
"The king will pay you 5 gold each for the information and more if you find out what happened or can retrieve it."