"That's far enough," a taunting voices advises to the brigands. Grishkar's robed figure steps out from behind a tree and fires a pair of icy-blue skeletal claws at the beak-nosed and spear-wielding highwaymen (Chill Touch, doubled by Reaper Feature). The first is ducked by the near target (atk roll 11), but the second buries itself high on the spear-wielder's shoulder, spectral fingers passing through solid armor to bury into mortal flesh (atk 14, dmg 6).
The pair seem taken aback by the surprised addition, but regain their composure and shift toward Grishkar, "You don't listen," the cleric notes. With practiced fluidity, he traces each thumb over their respective finger counter parts to summon another pair of ghostly claws. This time, the second target dodges the spell, but the second is caught square in the neck (atk 21 & 7 respectively, 7 necrotic dmg for hit).
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Perhaps two breaths after Grishkar summoned a pair of ghostly claws at the deserters, a black crossbow bolt sang through the air from a distant tree (I4ish), piercing his armor and sinking into his chest with a blossom of red. He took a ragged breath and them collapsed to the ground in front of him (Sneak attack, 22 to-hit, 13 piercing damage). The rest of the group only caught the flash of a dark figure, obscured in the foliage, as it darted back behind the tree and out of sight.
The visible deserters charged onward, picking up momentum and confidence as they saw their sorcerous foe fall. Clashing with Rivvil and Veldyn, they split their focus as the gaunt-faced deserter feigned a jab before slashing across Rivvil's chest with his longsword (20 to-hit, 9 slashing damage). The other two deserters, one wielding a spear and the other a longsword, flanked Veldyn at odd angles. While Veldyn was able to block the longsword with his shield (7 to-hit, miss), the other seized the opportunity, driving his spear deep into Veldyn's exposed flank, breaking a rib as he punctured through his lung (natural 20 to-hit, 13 piercing damage).
Llewyrr moves through the trees and once again blows a deep breath around his sprig of mistletoe after muttering under his breath. A cloud of yellow green mist envelopes the pockmarked deserter. He coughs and sputters, grasping at his throat before he falls limply to the ground.
// Failed constitution save, 5 poison damage
Llewyrr watches with wide eyes as the man drops, no longer breathing.
Rivvil grunts at the pain that the sword inflected. He simply smiles. Joy evident on his face. Rivvil turns his head to see if Veldyn is enjoying this as much as Rivvil is. However, the noble is down.
“It’s a shame that some people can’t handle their pain.” Rivvil says to the gaunt deserter that targeted him. Meanwhile Rivvil’s blooded hand glided along his whip and he whispers “Oury” the whip ignited into that familiar flame. //Bonus Action: Blood Rite Of the Flames//
With a smile Rivvil slashes, with his whip, right across the gaunt ones neck. There is no sound as the blood pools out of his neck for a split second before being cauterized by the flames. He collapses dead.
//Attack: Natural 20 for 8 Fire Damage and 6 Slashing Damage for a total of 14 Damage//
“Your face looks like a butt!” Rosie taunted, to no avail. Seeing her initial attack fall on deaf ears, the little gnome ran behind a tree to hide.
Hearing Veldyn fall, she decided to continue to offer words of ‘encouragement.’ “Oh brave sir knight, get your ass off the ground and take part in this fight!” She called out, healing magic lacing her words. Satisfied that the paladin would be up soon, she set her sights on the squashed nose deserter. “Oi, I hope all of your teeth fall out, except for one that gives you a perpetual toothache!” Rose mocked.
(2 points of damage from Vicious Mockery, 4 points of healing from a Healing Word to Veldyn.)
As the spear struck into Veldyn's side, everything started to go dark. He'd barely had time to raise his shield before his defenses were breached. In his mind, the gnome's voice reached him. It was odd and comforting as her words reached him. They had a tinge of magic in them that quickly started healing the worst of his wound. He opened his eyes, still on one knee, and shoved the spear away.
"Not today," Veldyn says, lifting his longsword and standing. Each word is accompanied by the blood dribbling from his mouth. Quickly, he thrusts forward with his longsword, stabbing into the neck of one of his assailants. (22 to hit, 8 damage)
Natah curses under her breath. Two of her newfound companions had already fallen with the first seconds of combat. Rushing forward, she pulls out her shortbow and knocks an arrow, looking for the assailant with a crossbow. Spotting a dark form behind some bushes under a tree, she takes aim and fires, letting the arrow sail through the air... and completely miss her target, embedding the arrow into the tree's trunk (moved to D6, 11 to-hit, miss).
"Keep that one alive," she hisses. "I have planssss for him."
Meanwhile, Grishkar's unconscious body continues to lay on the ground, the blood from his injury seeping through his armor and cloth as the grass and dirt soak up the blood (failed death saving throw).
The spear-wielding deserter, hearing Natah's words, drops his spear, his eyes wide with fear. "Y... yes!" he shouts, "I'll tell you anything! Just please don't kill me."
The hidden deserter seems to have heard the exchange too. A second black crossbow bolt sails through the air towards the group... and embeds itself into the coward's back, shattering his spine (22 to-hit, 4 piercing damage, kills Deserter 2). His eyes eyes go wide in surprise before his body slumps to the ground. Movement can be heard coming from the lone deserter's position as the figure moves off into the forest and out of sight.
Hearing the last deserter flee Rivvil quickly springs forward saying "Someone take care of the elf. I'll try and locate the last one." Moving to where the bolts were coming from (I4) Rivvil begins to look around for the individual. (Perception 16). Unfortunately, he does not see him but, Rivvil does here the sound of leaves crunching southeast of him. "He's moving Southeast," Rivvil says aloud to the others.
With the skirmish dying down, the woman sees that it's safe enough to go to the man and rushes over with tears in her eyes. She tries to stop the bleeding, but the man is bleeding from too many spots for her skills to work. "Please..." she sobs, "save my husband."
Seeing that there is no way Rivvil could catch up with the last deserter and that Llewyrr is just staring at the dead man. Rivvil decides its time to give that kid some direction. Rivvil puts his whip away ending the flames and walks over to Llewyrr putting his hand on the young Druid’s shoulder. “You can’t change the past but you can help save a future.” Rivvil says and points over to the dying husband. Llewyrr jumps at Rivvil's touch, almost falling as he twists away in surprise. He blinks at the blood hunter and then looks over at the wagon. The young man looks back at Rivvil, nods silently, then hurries over to the pinned man, stowing his shield. He looks the man over, taking in his condition. Removing the spikes, Llewyrr was able to stem the flow of blood, and stabilize him. Veldyn clutches his wound, letting Hoar's healing energy wash through him. Satisfied, and able to breath without coughing up blood, he approaches the unconscious man and looks him over.
“Veldyn. Whats the burial custom for individuals such as these? Where I’m from we’d just feed them to the spiders.” Rivvil asks the noble, the coin from them still in Rivvil’s hand.
"We can add them to the cages that," Veldyn coughs out some leftover blood and phloem, "Fell."
"Are they worth our time and effort?" Natah said, bored with the whole situation.
“All warriors deserve at least a proper send off once dead. I’m just unfamiliar with what a proper send off is here. Also, why don’t they have any identification?” Rivvil says and then once he hears Grishkar awoke he mentions “That’s right. You’re some priest for the dead. I’m sure you can give them a proper farewell.”
Grishkar began to work on a spell. "What I have in mind is 'proper' for some, I suppose. As I said, I pray that they still hold some life so I can truly enjoy my work..."
"They were deserters. They gave up their claim as soldiers." Natah went to check the woman. "Are you okay?"
Grishkar draws his dagger and approaches the first corpse, prodding the arms and ribs to test for a reaction. He then stabs deep into each wrist, drawing the blade with a hand held to its side. While the blade protrudes on the opposite side red with blood, it comes out coated with a black, tar-like sludge. Grishkar smears this residue in the palms and speaks prayers to Cyric, Lord of Strife, Prince of Lies, and true God of Death and Murder. When the prayer completes, the hands jerk and twist in unnatural ways and angles before separating completely from the wrists. Grishkar holds his arms out and the claws crawl up and perch on his shoulders like a pair of macabre pets. He continues the process with the second corpse, the claws grasping the chest of his robes, appearing as unholy accouterments to his vestments. "Now, madam, how would you like the corpses of your violators treated? You stand before agents of Zhentarim, and among those, servants of Vengeance and Strife," he turns and takes a few steps closer to the wagon, his dead eye fully enveloped by a white skull against black sunburst, "Speak and have your will be done." Rivvil stands there awkwardly waiting for the woman’s reply. He hasn’t been on the surface long but he knows that necromancy is frowned upon and in many cases punishable by death.
With reddened eyes from weeping tears, she watches Grishkar perform his macabre ritual; first with fear, then with horror, and finally with... satisfaction. Her eyes stare transfixed as Grishkar's knife buries deep into their dead flesh, his necromantic power bringing a twisted semblance of life back into their hands as muscles twitch, contort, and then crawl towards their new master. It takes her a moment to recover from the ritual, but she nods in response to Natah's question, her left eye almost completely swollen shut and bleeding from being struck so many times. "Those pigs..." she pauses as she looks at their faces frozen in fear and shock, "they don't deserve Ilmater's mercy..." The nailed man comes around, his wrists heavily bandaged in blood-soaked cloth. She rushes to his side, dropping to her knees and cradles his head in her arms. "It's going to be okay," she whispers, hiding his sight from the last of Grishkar's ritual. "The Zhentarim have saved our lives."
Natah nodded with satisfaction. Then she turned to Veldyn. "They don't deserve to be buried."
As her husband slowly regains consciousness, she hesitates, then answers Grishkar's question, "Do with them as you will, and may Lord Kelemvor judge their souls for their worth." Her eyes tell a different story as they burn with rage. While she says one thing, anyone could easily guess her heart yearns for something darker.
"Let me make an example of these, like the ones from the cages before." He turns sidelong back to the woman, "My dear, they are in someone's land of the dead, but let's not bring the Usurper into this." Grishkar waits for an acknowledgement from the others before going about his work. Natah nods at Girshkar, smiling behind her mask.
Rivvil lets out a sigh before saying “Do what you need to do.” He then turns to the couple and hands over the money he found. “Payment for something I’m going to ask you to do. Wherever you’re going let them know that the Zhentarim are back and offering help. Just leave out the hands parts. That might scare some people away.”
By this point, the man has awoken and is coherent. Not quick enough to catch the coin purses, they plop onto his lap, he looks up, confused, then looks around. With a wheezing chuckle, he exclaims, "Looks like Tymora's luck outshone Beshaba's misery today." He caresses his wife's face while they both stand unsteadily. She nods at Rivvil's request. "That we will. We were headed to Hannock before they demanded coin for safe passage. We had little but now..." she looks down at the coins, "this will see us safely through the winter. Thank ye."
The hands turn toward their Master, perking a finger up like the attentive head of a pet before Grishkar waves them forward. (Sparing the messy details) with practiced hands and extra help, the three corpses become grisly displays along the roadside. Flayed limbs, splayed chest cavities, and bare skulls greet passer-bys. Above each, in blood, reads Rewards of Banditry
Rivvil smiles at their mention of going to Hannock. “Well I guess today is your day. We’re also on our way to Hannock.”
Natah watches the display with amusement. "You're a very sick individual," she said to Grishkar with a chuckle.
The woman's husband turns, aghast at the display, but she whispers in his ear. He grimaces and glances to Grishkar with a look of fear, but says nothing more as they begin gathering their tossed items and getting the wagon turned properly. "You're welcome to join our caravan," the man offers warily. "Hannock has been a little closed off to strangers, what with these deserters. We can at least get you through the gate."
Grishkar smiles to the masked rogue, "Madness and Evil are subjective terms. I live by the goals of a higher power and my own means to achieve them."
“That’ll be great. Let’s get you back on the road with our carriage.” Rivvil says and is motioning that he is ready to get back on the road.
Grishkar enjoys the time in the carriage trying to nurse his patched wound and manipulate his claws into various tasks such as fetching objects and tormenting members of the party with poor-taste pranks and Rivvil makes sure that Chewie gets his bone. Chewie chews on the bone happily, but seems wary of the undead hands. At the same time Llewyrr is thoroughly freaked out by the hands, hoping he finds a chance to squeeze in with the driver and Godiva up above.
Throughout the trip, hands tap and scratch around Llewyrr, sometimes even poking his shoulder. At one point, he turns to find a pair holding open a book while a third sits on its wrist, fingers curled into a fist as though under a contemplative chin. Llewyrr attempts to grab any hand that touches him and throw it as far away as he can but the claw he attempts to grab ducks to the side and skitters away like some undead crab, holding a single finger in the air as it retreats.
“Thanks Rosie for healing me,” the gnome muttered to Chewie in her native tongue. “I appreciate you using your precious magic to save my life.”
Veldyn gives Rosiniana a sidelong glance. "I have not forgotten your kindness. You have my thanks, and I'll be sure to repay your kindness in full," he says.
“You speak gnommish?” Rose asked, surprised. A hand goes to visit Rosie. Once it has her attention, it twirls on its wrist, as though part of a ghostly, flourishing bow.
Veldyn shakes his head at the gnome, "No I don't. I just wanted to make sure you understand that I don't take your kindness lightly. I heard your voice when all was dark and I felt my pulse weakening. It gave me strength when I was likely to fall."
“Oh,” Rose sounds almost disappointed. “Well, you’re welcome. I appreciate being appreciated.”
As the ride continues, Veldyn makes it a point to periodically check on the trailing wagon behind them. If they can get the group through the gates without hassle, it'll be well worth their recent combat.
Elaine and Darron—the group later learns their names to be as some assist with getting their wagon back in order—trail closely behind the group's cart. They learn that the Heilsons are a family of merchants, recently on a return trip from Noltergarde with a new supply of iron ingots from Noltergarde's mine. Hannock lacks the proper tools to rebuild some of their warn down homes and parts of the wall: something they've desperately needed since the recent bandit attacks.
The caravan winds through the cold afternoon, the sky a haze of smoke of clouds, blotting out direct sunlight, casting the forest in an eerie lighting. Trees seem to reach out to the road, grabbing and clawing at the carts as overgrown branches creep in from the sides of the road. Several parts of the road are washed out, but not enough to seriously impede the group's movement. Within a few hours, the trees begin to thin out, replaced by the stumps of rural civilization.
Old, worn-down farms claim every clearing of land they can find as the caravan rolls by, their crops zealously rooted into the ground, fighting off nature at every twist and turn as the forest looms over them. Old men and young boys tirelessly tend to the crops, picking bushels of corn, potato, and other vegetables. The occasional calls of sheep, cow, and pig call out from the forest, hidden from the road's sight.
And off in the distance, the small village of Hannock looms atop a small hill. Wooden palisades packed against great mounts of dirt, some parts worn down or entirely missing, surround the village from the group's point-of-view. Wooden rooftops poke out from the sharpened palisade walls, and a large bell perched atop a great stone tower begins to ring, heralding the caravan's presence. Two guards, dressed in worn-down dark leather, their faces hidden behind iron pot-helmets, stand vigilant beside each side of the main gate, their spears in hand. As they see the caravan approach, they move forward to flank your caravan until they see Elaine and Darron. "What's this?" one of the guards calls out, eyeing the driver and Godiva warily. "You brought us visitors or somethin'?"
Darron exits his cart, walking over to the pair of guards. "Relax, Casle. They saved our lives back on the road a few miles again. Those damn deserters..." He shows his bandaged wrists as evidence. "And besides, they said they were already on their way to Hannock when they happened on us."
"Oh?" Casle exclaims, albeit a little surprised. He looks at the driver and Godiva with a weathered face and asks, "And what business do you have visiting Hannock this time of year, in the dead of fall?" The other guard circles the caravan, prodding the bloodied sacks still tied to the cart with the tip of his spear with an expression of disgust.
Grishkar ducks low in the carriage, "Come along, need to keep you all save." Holding out his sleeves, the claws scurry up into the folds of his robes, hanging onto the pockets within. Grishkar moves his hand across his dead eye, creating the appearance of a normal eye amidst the ruined half of his face. He then leans out of the carriage window, "My good man, we are envoys in the company of Lord Steelspire. We received news that this area had been experiencing troubles and we have come to assist. Could you direct us to whomever we should speak to regarding said aid?"
Veldyn exits the cart, most of the blood dried on his once glistening chainmail. "As my alchemist said, we're here to provide aid to Hannock. We happened upon an ogre on the way, dispatched it, and found these two in need of our aide." As Veldyn says this, he stretches out his kinks. "Can you point us to whomever we should speak to as well as the finest establishment you have here? 'Tis my first visit to this town."
Meanwhile, Natah, making sure her mask is in place, Llewyrr, Rosie, and Rivvil just sit there quietly as to not draw attention to themselves.
"Steelspire?" the man questions. "Ain't never heard of a Steelspire. The only lord around these parts is Eldurdine, bless his small cock." He spits on the ground, rubbing the saliva into the dark dirt. "But if you're hear to solve problems and not cause them, then I guess we'll welcome ye." He nods to the second guard, who waves his hand to a third guard on the gate. The third guard disappears behind the palisade, and a minute later, the impressive oak gates. With a curt nod, he states, "Ye can come in, but you won't be finding much hospitality. We've got a tavern that doubles as an inn upstairs, but that's all you'll find in terms of places to rest. Ye'll want to talk to Karine. Or her father, Sir Toldin. They're the leaders of this small village." He waves the caravan through once the gates open fully and the group makes their way inside.
Veldyn follows on the side of the carriage, and once they're inside he approaches the two that they saved earlier. "I know our methods seem harsh," he says to them. "But one thing we've learned is that a threatening display of force often times works well enough to never having to display it again. We'll clear the route for you and all other travelers wishing to go from Neverwinter to Hannock and back, rest assured."
Once inside the town, Rivvil exits the carriage and says to the others “Should we go to the inn. Get some rooms. Find out what troubles the town and where Karine and Toldin can be found.”
The two carts come to a stop once within the gate. Farron nods, but Elaine smiles at Veldyn's gesture. She pulls in closer and Veldyn can see the grey roots beneath her dark brown hair. "If you do that, you'll have done more than Toldin or Karine ever could," she hints with a whisper. Her and Farron continue on their way, heading into the main part of the village. Just as Rivvil suggests finding the inn, a young woman, with black hair and weathered skin, strides up to the group atop a black horse, flanked by older men with spears. "I'm Karine," she boldly states before calling out to Elaine and Farron. They halt their cart and come over to her while she dismounts her horse. After a whispered conversation, she nods and sends them on their way. "Is it true then?" she asks. "You saved their lives and cut into these brigand's forces?"
Veldyn nods at the woman, "We left them with a message, but we will crush them when they rear their heads again." Veldyn extends his arm and introduces himself and the others, "Lord Veldyn Steelspire, of Neverwinter, Fang of the Zhentarim. We're here to offer aid and clear the trade lanes between Hannock and Neverwinter. This is Llewyrr, Natah, Rivvil, and Grishkar... all fangs at your service. Rosiniana, I believe," he gestures to the gnome, "is a local. She's been a boon to us as we've traveled here."
“I fear you might have more problems on the road than some brigand. There was also an ogre we took care of.” Rivvil mentions. Veldyn nods to Rivvil, indicating the head.
Rivvil sighs “My companions wouldn’t know if word was enough for the ogre so if you want to check.” He pauses a second before pointing at the bloodied sack “Its head is in the bag.”
She smiles and bows, though her eyes don't seem to share the same joy at Veldyn's introduction. Her eyes meet each of yours, though the group can't help but notice her gaze shifting to Grishkar's long, pointed ears. From that point on, her smile fades. "Yes... well... your help was most appreciated," she thanks, following the words with a small bow. Her curiosity seems to peak once the head of an ogre is mentioned as she looks to the group more in awe. She opens her mouth, as if about to say something, but closes it again and continues to glance at the bloodied sack. Just then, an older man at the head of a score of hollow-eyed villagers, winds around the same corner Karine came from. The group easily marks him as her father just by looking at their similarities in appearance. "What's this I hear of strangers saving Elaine and Farron?" the older man questions. "Yes, father... this group of travelers saved them and slaughtered a few of the Neverwintan deserters who waylaid them," she claims in a vague description. He stands there, thinking as he looks the group over.
"We've traveled long,"Veldyn says. "We have much to discuss, but not all of it should be done in this town's streets. Please meet us at the tavern tonight." He looks around to everyone that has begun to assemble. "Everyone!" He calls, "We have come to help. With your leaders' blessings, we will be delivering more food and supplies to Hannock than this town has seen in awhile! The Zhentarim are here to put an end to your troubles. Together, we can help Hannock become the town it was meant to be! We've already cleared an Ogre from the trading route with Neverwinter," He walks to the cart, and with a pull of the string releases the head upon the ground. "We've dispatched deserters, and are here to aid in all other dangers that plague the roads. Come! Join us in the tavern as we toast to the end of your problems!"
Grishkar smiles at the show, Good, gather the sheep. Sometimes we must be the wolf, and sometimes the sheepdog.
Rivvil looks around at the slowly gathering crowd as Veldyn announces their goodwill. He counts approximately sixty or so people. Most of them are children, followed by women and lastly by elderly men in numbers. There are no younger men to be seen in the crowd. Many of the children and women nod their heads in approval, though once the name Zhentarim is released, several of the older men, including Toldin, scowl in disgust. The children's eyes go wide as the ogre's head drops, landing in a muddy puddle with a splash. Whispers begin amongst the crowd as some look to you all in awe. Sir Toldin though, seems unconvinced. With as calm and collected of a voice he can manage, he proclaims, "We are grateful for what you have done for us is returning Elaine and Farron and saving their lives. We will offer you what little food and drink we have and let you rest for the night, but tomorrow you must be on your way." Karine looks to her father in surprise. "But father..." she pleads before she is cut off. "When have strange armed men ever done the world any good?" Toldin counters. "My son... your brother, will be back tomorrow with our militia, having finished clearing the roads of deserters between here and Noltergarde." He turns away from her and the group, heading back up the path with a handful of villagers. Karine looks downward, shaking her head.
While some more return to their daily business and homes, many linger, eyeing each of you and the ogre's head with mixed feelings of fear, respect, and awe. Karine approaches the group. "Excuse my father," she apologizes. "He has a... history with the Zhentarim. They razed his family's home in Daggerford when he was but a child. The truth is," she continues. "Regardless of your allegiances, Hannock is suffering. My brother was supposed to return nearly two weeks ago, but we've seen or heard nothing, and we can't afford to take the last of our men to go searching."
Veldyn nods to Karine, "And we are here now to make amends. The Zhentarim of old died long ago. Now we only wish to strengthen the bonds that tie villages, cities, and families together." He nods to her, "We will head out and find out what happened to your brother... Sir Toldin's son. And we will help your town prosper. Talk to us in the tavern, if you please. Everyone!" He calls to those still around, "All drinks are on the Zhentarim this night. We will work to mend any ills, and we will toast to new long-lasting alliances!"
"Perhaps in time you'll persuade father as well," she suggests. "I'll speak with him and see what I can do."
Veldyn's proclamation is met with cheers from the hollow-eyed and weary villagers who still gather. With evening quickly approaching, Veldyn sends the driver and their cart in tow, walking with the rest of the group and villagers as they make their way to the Lodge.
Turning towards the village, the group sees it for what it is: a cluster of sod-roofed huts built on a rocky hill. Dark stones, stacked atop each other, are cobbled together with muddy plaster, "crowned" with logs from the surrounding forest. The dirt road winds up a slanted road as the group and villagers head for the town square.
“Hey Rivvil,” Rose pulls the half-drow to the side. “Can I ask a teensy favor of you?”
“Ummm....sure?” Rivvil asks a little concerned about what the gnome is going to ask of him.
“Would you mind watching Chewie for me?” Rose asked. “Just for a little bit. I have an errand I need to run.”
“Yeah. Maybe we can begin training on spider hunting,” Rivvil says reaching down to pick up the little puppy.
“If you hurt Chewie, I will murder you and anything you have ever cared about,” Rose threatened.
“If that’s suppose to be a threat then I think we need to work on that.” Rivvil says before walking away with the puppy.
"I'm a very scary person when you get on my bad side!" Rose called over her shoulder before disappearing off into the town.
Reaching the top of the hill, they find themselves in a large, muddy square, with a variety of mud-shackled and log buildings surrounding them. Two buildings stand out amongst the rest: a large, stone structure, adorned with a belltower, and a great log house, with several patrons already standing outside. Receiving confirmation from the villagers following that the great log house is Hannock's tavern and inn, the group heads into the Lodge.
Grishkar stays close to Veldyn after his rousing speech, "A marvelous introduction, young lord. However, I would advise some foresight to the future. You can pay for their drinks tonight, but it won't refill the cellars. As we saw, travel takes time between here and Neverwinter. These people are hungry and afraid, so they are ripe for influence. Do you have anyone back home you can send word to? Someone you can rely on to make some small business on your behalf? Or maybe you know someone with friends looking to make a bit of coin? If we can secure a supply caravan, even just a wagon of food and ale, it would solidify our claims here."
Veldyn nods to Grishkar and responds, "We'll talk details when there's more privacy. After tonight's festivities."
Once inside, the group is met to a grim, poor presence. Small groups huddle around greasy fires, while others play dice on long, rough tables. Benches are scattered around the various fires within the long, spacious room. At the far end, a grisly barkeeper stands behind a wooden counter, his back flanked by great barrels of ale. In the corner, a half-elf—the only non-human they've seen in Hannock, in fact—plays a meager song on his dulcimer as his eyes flit about the tavern's patrons. The villagers being pouring in from behind the group, filling the tavern with noise and chatter. The barkeep looks at the scene with wide eyes and anticipation.
Grishkar stays close to Veldyn after his rousing speech, "A marvelous introduction, young lord. However, I would advise some foresight to the future. You can pay for their drinks tonight, but it won't refill the cellars. As we saw, travel takes time between here and Neverwinter. These people are hungry and afraid, so they are ripe for influence. Do you have anyone back home you can send word to? Someone you can rely on to make some small businews on your behalf? Or maybe you know someone with friends looking to make a bit of coin? If we can secure a supply caravan, even just a wagon of food and ale, it would solidify our claims here."
Veldyn nods to Grishkar and responds, "We'll talk details when there's more privacy. After tonight's festivities."
Upon entering the tavern, Veldyn gestures to the barkeep and calls out, "Nary an empty tankard in the tavern. Keep the drink flowing until Selune's nipples are well and perked!" He approaches as he says this, and when he's closer to the barkeep he adds, "We'll also take what rooms you have available, and any food you can muster on short notice. We're going to fill your coffers and the town's bellies this night!"
"Pay up front and you can have whatever you want," the grisly barkeep says in a gruff voice. "But I ain't dishing out one drink on just the word of a stranger's payment."
Veldyn gestures over to Rivvil and accept's the coffer. He gently places it on the countertop, turns it to the barkeep, and opens the lid. With a smirk, he pulls out the platinum and sets it on the hard wood. "As the night wears on, I imagine the contents of this coffer will diminish." Veldyn puts a finger up, "Not a single empty tankard."
The man's eyes go wide in greed as them seem to glisten from all of the coin. "Y.." he starts but them stops, forcing himself to swallow. "Yes... m'lord. Whatever you say!" His hands fumble on the ring of keys around his belt and he hands the whole ring over. "Pick whichever rooms you like," he offers, pointing to a set of stairs that lead to an inside balcony. "You'll find our rooms up there." The throngs of villagers soon swarm the bar and its keep. He moves the chest behind the counter and frantically starts serving the thirsty patrons.
Natah, hearing the bartenders words, will take her belongings to one of the nearest rooms. As she passes Veldyn, she says, "I'd prefer my own, private room. Hope nobody minds." Without waiting for reply, she puts her belongings in a room and heads back out to continue to mingle and talk nice to the locals.
Rosie arrives at the bar about a half hour after she left, retrieving Chewie from Rivvil, and proceeds to lead the bar in song, always holding a nearly full tankard of ale.
Throughout the evening, Veldyn drinks a moderate amount. He spreads the news that the Zhentarim is looking to help those townships in need of support, that there are wagons full of food and supplies waiting for Sir Toldin's approval to arrive, and that the mercenary guild will protect the trade route with Neverwinter so that the town can have a prosperous future. While war wages up North, Hannock will be able to become a vital partner in Neverwinter's trade economy. There's no time better than the present to finally start spreading the town's influence. As a Lord of Neverwinter, Veldyn assures those that are listening that the guild has Lord Neverember's ear, and that the Zhentarim chose this town because they see a future. If Toldin doesn't see that future, this town may never be able to pull itself out of it's current economic slump. He brags that as a show of good faith, they will find out what happened to Toldin's son and, Gods willing, bring him back home safely.
As the group socializes with the drunken patrons, their tongues becomes loose as they quickly accept them as a beneficiary and much-wanted aid. Many of them tell tales of woe and hardship, about how crop rot seems to spread from farm to farm, with only a small handful of what was left still untouched. Even then, bandits burn and pillage the other farms, placing increasing pressure on Hannock as they strain their resources. As the "War of the Coast"--the name given to this conflict between Neverwinter and Luskan--rages on, more and more of their men have been drafted into Neverwinter's efforts to stave off their long-time enemy in the North. Bandits have all but stopped trade in between the villages, hamlets, and small towns in the region, putting the economy on a freeze. Most recognize the Neverwintan tabards as militia, a disheartening fact. While their sons are off fighting the war, others from those same forces are fleeing the cause and returning only to pillage from and strong-arm the poor villagers. This has left a heavy distaste for Neverwinter as any patriotism has been burned away with their farms and good crops. They do know that the bandits are stationed in an abandoned fortress nestled along the Neverwinter Wood border.
As the night draws on, Natah moves from group to group, ensuring everyone drank, and that their tongues were loose. In discreetly asking about the other Zhentarim agent who's gone missing, she discovers that she's been renting one of the rooms here, in this inn. The patron points to the corner room along the north wall, and points out that no one's seen her in a few weeks. Someone claims that she was headed to Noltengarde for "business", whatever that could mean. After gathering this bit of information, she found Veldyn. "I need the key ring you currently hold. There's a room I wish to check out." Veldyn nods to Natah, passing the keyring off discretely as he continues his rounds.
The keys clank in Natah's hands as she searches for the right key. It takes a moment, but the lock turns, allowing her entry. The room itself seems identical to her own: a small bed sits in the corner, with a nightstand topped with a lantern on the opposite side. A small desk sits in the center with a set of chairs. The room seems empty to her, and as she searches it, she doesn't find anything. There must be something more, she thought to herself. Maybe a more thorough search is needed. She left the room, gathering her belongings from the room she had previously claimed, and moved them all into the room Aliss Fafstern had stayed in. Exiting the room once again, she went to give the keys to the next of her companions who needed a room.
During the revelries in the tavern, Veldyn finds time to make his way over to Rose. "You really do have an amazing voice," he says. "Even through the revelry and constant banter, all I hear is your song. It's as if it breaks through any distracting barrier and finds its ways to my ears." He gives her a smile and adds, "Do you have plans now that you're back home?"
“I thought I told you, this isn’t home to me,” Rose laughs. “Hell, this is my first time setting foot in Hannock," Rose responded.
Veldyn gives her a confused look, "I thought your... wares, were meant for this place." A few seconds pass before he adds, "And your departure as we were headed to the tavern... maybe I just assumed."
“That assumption wasn’t far off, but you don’t have to know a place to know of it,” Rose amended. “Make sense?”
"Of course," Veldyn replies with a sly grin. "You have a mystery about you," he says trying to point to her with a tankard full of ale. A bit sloshes off and he glances down at it as if sad that it fell. "I want you to join us... if you're not doing anything too important. We're likely headed off to Noltgourd... or some-such in the morning. Also... you saved my life. I want you there, with us. With me." He takes a drink and nods in her direction. "I want you." A moment passes before he stammers, "With us... I want you with us for this."
“You saved me a great deal of trouble too,” Rose giggled. “I’ve got nowhere specific to be. Besides, Chewie seems to have taken to that ashy half-elf. I’d be happy to accompany y’all.”
"Great! Great!" Veldyn replies. "We have rooms," he says, gesturing upstairs. "Any room you like." He gives her another smile before handing her the string of keys that have been passed around his companions. "Mine is second on the left," he points, trying not to be too obvious to his innuendo. "We'll all be meeting here in the morning before we depart."
“Vel, thank you,” Rose reached over and gave the paladin’s hand a little squeeze. “Really, for everything.”
Veldyn accepts the small gesture before returning to the crowd. Whether she chose to take him up on his offer or not, he was happy that she would be joining them in the morning.
About a half hour after Rosie comes back for Chewie Rivvil approaches the barkeep and asks. "So...I was wondering, do any of the guards who work the gate come into this tavern? I wanted to give them all a round."
The barkeep, visibly exhausted from keeping people's drinks full, responds, "Aye... they usually do." He glances around the tavern, his eyes floating from person to person before he exclaims, "Ah!" and points to three guards... the three who questioned and then opened the gates for the group. "Those three there are the day-shift. I'm sure they'll be happy to take the drink!"
"Perfect. Give me four shots of your strongest stuff." Rivvil says.
"The strongest?" he questions. "It's.... a gold piece per shot. You sure that's what you want?"
"Yeah. I'll even pay for it myself, here." Rivvil says pulling out four gold and sliding it to the barkeep.
His eyes glisten with greed as he hastily picks up the coins and stores them below somewhere unseen. "Just one moment," he says with a huff as he bends low to retrieve something. A rosewood box lays in his hands, closed with a gilded clasp. He opens it up to reveal an elegant crystalline decanter partially filled with a crimson-red drink. Gold flecks float around inside the drink, slowly pouring out as he fills four of the six shot glasses that come in the wooden box. "Elssywenduul's Pleasure," he exclaims, more than likely butchering the title. "The moon elves at Dripping Leaves craft this exquisite brew." He hands the four shot glasses on a wooden platter to you. "Knock 'em dead," he suggests with a wink.
"Thanks," Rivvil says as he takes the four shots over to the guards. "Gentlemen. I'm glad you could join us. Here I got you guys a little something extra special for your hard work." He says giving each of the guards one of the shot glasses.
The guards shout in joy as Rivvil brings them the elvish drinks, hastily grabbing the shot glasses and eyeing its contents. "I had this once... it made me feel like I was being pleasured by a priestess of Sune herself." "You don't say!" one of the other guards exclaims, quickly downing his in anticipation.
"I'm glad you'd enjoy it," Rivvil says holding his up before slamming it as well (Nat 20 to resist the alcohol's effect). "Now would you care to join me in a game of cards this evening?" Rivvil asks.
The men nod their heads with flittering eyes as their faces shift in expressions of pleasure and joy. Rivvil too can feel a fiery sensation as the drink goes down his throat, settling in his stomach before spreading down to his loins. Waves of ecstasy pulsate through his body, but he's able to focus his thoughts and attention to his surroundings.
The game of cards progresses, something Rivvil easily triumphs in. Each of the guards can hardly focus on the cards as much as they can on themselves. Occasionally they'll brush their hand against their arms, releasing a shudder of pleasure.
But such emotion only further loosens their tongue as they speak freely of their thoughts on the war and rumors going about the town. Most folk in Hannock don't like the war: it's taken too many of their men and too many of their resources for some foreign city that hardly seems to pay any attention to them. Recently, the people have begun blaming their misfortunes on Neverwinter as deserters have started raiding merchants and pillaging crops.
They also tell of how many of the older generations have soured relationships with the Zhentarim, especially Sir Toldin. They don't know just what, but they know that he despises the faction. To them, and to many of the people, if food is put on their plates and good work is given, they're happy with whoever is leading them.
Rumors come and go for the people in Hannock. For some, rumors and gossip is all they have to keep them entertained. Tales about of a secret love between the Chauntean priestess Merissa and Karine. Karine often goes to pray late and night, and some say she doesn't finish until the morning, which points to either a very pious lifestyle or something more sensual and hedonistic. There's also some fellow who comes out of the woods late at night, bringing food to those starving and in want. No one knows who he is, but one kid claims he looks like a tree itself, with vines and flowers and such growing out of his hair and clothes.
Rivvil keeps track of all this information to tell Veldyn tomorrow morning. Rivvil is, unfortunately, not successful in his second endeavor of getting one of the guards into his bedchambers tonight. (Persuasion: 9).
As Natah, Veldyn, Rivvil, Chewie and the foul Grishkar head toward the tavern with the townsfolk, and Rosiniana chooses her own path in town, Llewyrr hangs back and then slips off unnoticed as usual. He heads west, soon reaching the palisade wall. Walking north, he finds a place where the wall has fallen into disrepair and he can easily slip through into the wilds surrounding Hannock. He walks into the trees, shaking his arms and running his fingers through his unkempt hair almost as if he's washing himself of all he's had to endure the past month: Neverwinter and all of its buildings and streets and close quarters, the cramped carriage, these "comrades" he's been yolked with. He walks with his head down, now hugging himself — not against the cold, but against the mental image of the dead deserter lying at his feet. Eyes wide. Pallid and slightly green skin. A bit of froth in one corner of his mouth. A shiver runs down Llewyrr's back.
After about an hour of walking a slow arc around the hamlet, Llewyrr notices tracks in the dirt and leaves. He bends down to inspect his find: bear tracks. He follows the tracks for about another hour, heading northeast away from Hannock. When his ears pick up the snuffling and low moans of a bear, he slows to a snails pace. Peering around the trees, he can see a healthy brown bear playing in a shallow pool. Llewyrr quickly climbs a nearby tree, staying as quiet as possible. About 15 feet off the ground, Llewyrr perches on a branch plenty strong enough for his light weight and watches the bear enjoy its moonlit bath. Llewyrr stifles a laugh, watching the creature roll and splash. Its fur is sticking up in crazy spikes as it shakes a shower of tiny droplets. It sticks its nose down into the water and blows bubbles. The wild boy's face is alight with the first wide smile he's had in a long time. He sighs, feeling the prickly, yet comforting feel of the bark beneath him. A slight chilly breeze is tickling his face and exposed arms. He closes his eyes and lifts his chin. He feels one with nature again. And then there's a crack, and he's falling.
When Llewyrr lands, he doesn't cry out; he moans out. He rolls down the slight hill beneath the tree, his eyes catching glimpses of brown fur as he rolls in and out of moonlight curtains. He finally stops and looks with wide eyes at the limbs before him: thick, brown fur-covered arms ending in paws and sharp claws. He lifts one of the paws, wiggles its "fingers," and then touches his face. As much as a bear can look ecstatic, this bear suddenly looks ecstatic. Llewyrr had finally done it. After years of trying, he had finally done it.
For the next hour, Llewyrr ambled about the forest in bear form, delighting in all the new sensations. When his form shifted back into that of human Llewyrr, he curled up in a small nook created by tree roots, covered himself with his bedroll, and slept until just before sunup, at which time he headed back to Hannock feeling better.
Once Natah is settled and things have quieted down below, she immediately gets to work, taking her time and slowly going slowly going through the room, dissecting it piece by piece. She overturns the mattress, search under the tables and chairs, looking for some secret compartment. But still nothing.
She happens across a loose floorboard by happenstance, really. Underneath the bed, as she's searching, she feels it shift under her weight. Moving the bed aside, she fingers around the edges of the board, prying it until it comes loose. There, underneath the floor in a secreted compartment, lies a worn and dirty leather-bound journal. Moving to the table, Natah sits down, her curiosity getting the better of her, and opens up the worn leather journal. Surprisingly, it's not written in Common. Instead, the alphabet is identical to what she's used back home: Draconic. While some of the words are different, she recognizes it as true Draconic, and not the sort which the Yuan-ti use back in Najara.
She pours through the few pages, realizing it's Aliss's notebook. It would seem Aliss was sent her after the Zhentarim discovered an ancient mage's collection of books and notes detailing his studies on planar portals. Apparently, the mage had built a compound in this region of the Coast, and in it lied a portal to another plane. Aliss had a suspicion that the portal lied beneath the fortress where the deserters had recently set up camp, and had left for Noltengarde to see what more she could learn of the fortress.
As she shifts through the notebook, a piece of paper falls out. Picking it up, Natah finds a strange set of symbols, with draconic attached to some of them. Aliss knows that these symbols somehow activate the portal, though she doesn't how exactly they work.
After making notes of the contents of the notebook, including the strange symbols, Natah decides she needs to share this information with the group. Forgetting the time, she realized most of them had disappeared to their own rooms. Veldyn seems to have a knack for leadership, she thought. Perhaps I should show him first. Stepping up to his door, she knocked, not caring if she was disturbing him. She waited a few moments, not hearing any movement from inside the room. Perhaps he's not here? she thought, knocking a bit harder, and more urgently.
The sound of feet touching the floorboards is heard from within. There's a slight pause before the footfalls are heard going towards the door. Veldyn opens the door, rubbing his eye with his other hand. "Issit?" He asks, looking Natah up and down. Veldyn sleeps in the nude and doesn't seem to care that he's in full view of his companion. The fresh scar on his side is pink and puffy, but healing nicely.
Natah looked him up and down, before looking him directly in the eyes. "Yesss... well then. Might I come in? I need to ssshow you sssomething."
Veldyn opens the door wider and gestures inside. Before closing the door he looks outside in the common room and down the halls. He sees that the people down below have long left the establishment: any of those passed out were promptly kicked out by the barkeep. Only the dying embers of the fires serve to illuminate the area below. Seeing no signs of morning, Veldyn turns to Natah and asks, "What's going on? This a night call?" He sits on his bed and massages his forehead.
"Yesss, it isss night," Natah said, entering the room. "And I am calling." She leaned against a wall, keeping her eyes averted. "I found sssomething in my room. I found out that Alissss Fafssstern had been staying at this inn, and which room wasss hersss." Producing the journal, she continued. "Thisss was hidden under the floorboardsss below the bed."
Veldyn puts his hand out to accept the journal. "What's it say?" He asks.
Natah stepped forward and handed him the journal. "Are you able to read Draconic?"
"No," Veldyn responds. "Never had much need to talk to dragons." He flips through the pages and nods, seeing why she asked. "So what's it say?" He asks again, handing the journal back to her.
"It'sss a different form of Draconic than I grew up with. This is true Draconic." She takes the journal back, also flipping through it, and begins to pace the room. "It'sss Alissss' notebook. It ssseemsss the Zhentarim dissscovered a mage'sss hidden ssstasssh of booksss that detailed hisss ressearch into planar portalsss. Alisss wasss sssent here afterward. It ssseemsss ssshe may have dissscovered the location of thisss portal and went to find it." She pulled out the paper with the runes. "Then there'sss thisss. "Each rune isss attached to a letter of the Draconic alphabet. I'm unable to determine what it means, but Alissss knowsss."
"Interesting," Veldyn leans back on the bed a bit more, both hands behind him. "Does Aliss note where the portal is?"
Natah quickly turned her back to the noble. "Yesss, actually. Ssshe thought it might lie below a fortresss on the edge of the Neverwinter foressst. Ssshe went to Noltengarde, in sssearch of sssomeone who knew where the fortresss is. It alssso mentions the fortresss might be full of dessserters."
"It sounds like our task will be two-fold then. Attempt to find Sir Toldin's son to curry favor, and kill the deserters to investigate this portal," Veldyn sits back up, noting Natah's discomfort. "Apologies," he says. "Often times I don't deal with bashful... colleagues." He pulls the covers around the lower section of his body to block out the manly bits. "From what I remember of Amn, they were typically a very open people," he adds.
Damn, Natah cursed herself. "I'm not bassshful," she said, quickly turning around. "I'm jussst not accussstomed to..." She paused, flustered, and upset with herself for forgetting her cover. "Never mind. Not important." She held up a finger, saying "Garner favor with Toldin." A second finger rose up to join the first. "Destroy desssertersss." Then a third. "Hopefully find Alissss, asss that isss our actual missssion, then invessstigate the portal."
"Very well," Veldyn says. "If Aliss is still alive, we should attempt to find her. But we could easily assume her head is on a pike and these deserters have desecrated her corpse beyond recognition. You saw what they did to that old man. You have to have an iron gut and a lack of morals to go that far. And for what," he adds. "A few silver worth of wares?"
"Ssshe'd be lucky if that wasss all they did to her," Natah added.
After a short silence fills the room, Veldyn remarks, "You done well with this Natah. Was there anything else?" He eyes her appraisingly.
Natah nodded, satisfied. "We'll bring thisss to the othersss in the morning. My apologiesss for bothering you ssso late." She watched him eyeing her, unsure of what it meant. "I'll leave you to ressst."
Veldyn stands to walk her out, the blanket falling from him as he does. "Any time," he says, opening the door.
Natah readjusted her mask as she stepped to the door. "You're ssstrange for a hu..." she stopped suddenly, catching herself. "Noble."
"Bound by no oaths," he remarks to her, watching as she exits the room. He lingers for a few moments before closing the door.
Natah had been trained in human civilization, but her training hadn't prepared her for so much nakedness. She shook her head, then returned to her room to get some sleep.
As the evening's festivities progressed, Grishkar retires early to his room. Within, he traces an arcane pattern across the floor and takes out his leather, iron-bound tome. He checks a few notes and begins a ritual. Minutes go by and smoke swirls within the circle, eventually dying down with only a small spider remaining. Grishkar settles onto the bed and lets himself sink into the spider's consciousness. Through the many minute eyes, he guides the spider throughout the halls and into the common room. The room is a distorted garble of conversations, but the closest can be made out well enough. He scales the ceiling, listening to scraps of everyone's chatter before heading to the cellar to look for hidden secrets below.
Through the spider's form, Grishkar's consciousness slips through the crack beneath the wooden door leading down below into the cellar. The air is wet and cold, though he feels none of it. Instead, his senses pick up a dark room. Shelves adorn three of the four walls, while the fourth wall has stacked chairs and extra tables. The shelves themselves carry a wide variety of drink and food. Thorough in his investigating and perceiving, he finds no signs to indicate hidden rooms or illegal contraband. Dissatisfied, he shifts his consciousness back into his own and the spider poofs back to its native plane. Settling into a trance, he goes through his memories, reliving them and remembering his past.
The festivities go long into the night, but the barkeep eventually kicks everyone out, with word or—due to their drunken stupor having passed out—with action. Once the premise is cleared, he counts through the coins, subtracting his share and returning the much lighter chest to Veldyn. Veldyn looks down at it all and sorts through what is left: fifty-four gold pieces worth of coin. He grimaces, but nods in satisfaction. They'd laid a solid groundwork for the Zhentarim to aid the city when the time came, and he knew the people would support his cause if it got violent.
The night's later events come and go, with no more disturbances until the awake in the morning. Going through their morning rituals and preparing themselves for the day, they step out one-by-one, heading downstairs where the barkeep waits. Llewyrr and Rose are already down below, with Chewie gnawing on a good-sized deer leg. The barkeep smiles, handing them each large cups of water to help cut through whatever hangover they might be having, and then begins. "A messenger from Sir Toldin arrived this morning. He and Karine have summoned you to the House of Chauntea for some meeting. Then the boy ran off," he adds with a shrug and begins straightening the tavern for the new day's patrons.
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"That's far enough," a taunting voices advises to the brigands. Grishkar's robed figure steps out from behind a tree and fires a pair of icy-blue skeletal claws at the beak-nosed and spear-wielding highwaymen (Chill Touch, doubled by Reaper Feature). The first is ducked by the near target (atk roll 11), but the second buries itself high on the spear-wielder's shoulder, spectral fingers passing through solid armor to bury into mortal flesh (atk 14, dmg 6).
The pair seem taken aback by the surprised addition, but regain their composure and shift toward Grishkar, "You don't listen," the cleric notes. With practiced fluidity, he traces each thumb over their respective finger counter parts to summon another pair of ghostly claws. This time, the second target dodges the spell, but the second is caught square in the neck (atk 21 & 7 respectively, 7 necrotic dmg for hit).
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Perhaps two breaths after Grishkar summoned a pair of ghostly claws at the deserters, a black crossbow bolt sang through the air from a distant tree (I4ish), piercing his armor and sinking into his chest with a blossom of red. He took a ragged breath and them collapsed to the ground in front of him (Sneak attack, 22 to-hit, 13 piercing damage). The rest of the group only caught the flash of a dark figure, obscured in the foliage, as it darted back behind the tree and out of sight.
The visible deserters charged onward, picking up momentum and confidence as they saw their sorcerous foe fall. Clashing with Rivvil and Veldyn, they split their focus as the gaunt-faced deserter feigned a jab before slashing across Rivvil's chest with his longsword (20 to-hit, 9 slashing damage). The other two deserters, one wielding a spear and the other a longsword, flanked Veldyn at odd angles. While Veldyn was able to block the longsword with his shield (7 to-hit, miss), the other seized the opportunity, driving his spear deep into Veldyn's exposed flank, breaking a rib as he punctured through his lung (natural 20 to-hit, 13 piercing damage).
Llewyrr moves through the trees and once again blows a deep breath around his sprig of mistletoe after muttering under his breath. A cloud of yellow green mist envelopes the pockmarked deserter. He coughs and sputters, grasping at his throat before he falls limply to the ground.
// Failed constitution save, 5 poison damage
Llewyrr watches with wide eyes as the man drops, no longer breathing.
Rivvil grunts at the pain that the sword inflected. He simply smiles. Joy evident on his face. Rivvil turns his head to see if Veldyn is enjoying this as much as Rivvil is. However, the noble is down.
“It’s a shame that some people can’t handle their pain.” Rivvil says to the gaunt deserter that targeted him. Meanwhile Rivvil’s blooded hand glided along his whip and he whispers “Oury” the whip ignited into that familiar flame. //Bonus Action: Blood Rite Of the Flames//
With a smile Rivvil slashes, with his whip, right across the gaunt ones neck. There is no sound as the blood pools out of his neck for a split second before being cauterized by the flames. He collapses dead.
//Attack: Natural 20 for 8 Fire Damage and 6 Slashing Damage for a total of 14 Damage//
“Your face looks like a butt!” Rosie taunted, to no avail. Seeing her initial attack fall on deaf ears, the little gnome ran behind a tree to hide.
Hearing Veldyn fall, she decided to continue to offer words of ‘encouragement.’ “Oh brave sir knight, get your ass off the ground and take part in this fight!” She called out, healing magic lacing her words. Satisfied that the paladin would be up soon, she set her sights on the squashed nose deserter. “Oi, I hope all of your teeth fall out, except for one that gives you a perpetual toothache!” Rose mocked.
(2 points of damage from Vicious Mockery, 4 points of healing from a Healing Word to Veldyn.)
PBP: DM of Titans of Tomorrow
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PBP: Evaine Brae in Innistrad: Dark Ascension
PBP: Cor'avin in Tomb of Annihilation
As the spear struck into Veldyn's side, everything started to go dark. He'd barely had time to raise his shield before his defenses were breached. In his mind, the gnome's voice reached him. It was odd and comforting as her words reached him. They had a tinge of magic in them that quickly started healing the worst of his wound. He opened his eyes, still on one knee, and shoved the spear away.
"Not today," Veldyn says, lifting his longsword and standing. Each word is accompanied by the blood dribbling from his mouth. Quickly, he thrusts forward with his longsword, stabbing into the neck of one of his assailants. (22 to hit, 8 damage)
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Natah curses under her breath. Two of her newfound companions had already fallen with the first seconds of combat. Rushing forward, she pulls out her shortbow and knocks an arrow, looking for the assailant with a crossbow. Spotting a dark form behind some bushes under a tree, she takes aim and fires, letting the arrow sail through the air... and completely miss her target, embedding the arrow into the tree's trunk (moved to D6, 11 to-hit, miss).
"Keep that one alive," she hisses. "I have planssss for him."
Meanwhile, Grishkar's unconscious body continues to lay on the ground, the blood from his injury seeping through his armor and cloth as the grass and dirt soak up the blood (failed death saving throw).
The spear-wielding deserter, hearing Natah's words, drops his spear, his eyes wide with fear. "Y... yes!" he shouts, "I'll tell you anything! Just please don't kill me."
The hidden deserter seems to have heard the exchange too. A second black crossbow bolt sails through the air towards the group... and embeds itself into the coward's back, shattering his spine (22 to-hit, 4 piercing damage, kills Deserter 2). His eyes eyes go wide in surprise before his body slumps to the ground. Movement can be heard coming from the lone deserter's position as the figure moves off into the forest and out of sight.
Hearing the last deserter flee Rivvil quickly springs forward saying "Someone take care of the elf. I'll try and locate the last one." Moving to where the bolts were coming from (I4) Rivvil begins to look around for the individual. (Perception 16). Unfortunately, he does not see him but, Rivvil does here the sound of leaves crunching southeast of him. "He's moving Southeast," Rivvil says aloud to the others.
“Rose heal this person, Rose heal that person,” the gnome grumbled, still healing the creepy Grishkar with another burst of magic.
PBP: DM of Titans of Tomorrow
PBP: Lera Zahuv in Whispers of Dissent
PBP: Evaine Brae in Innistrad: Dark Ascension
PBP: Cor'avin in Tomb of Annihilation
With the skirmish dying down, the woman sees that it's safe enough to go to the man and rushes over with tears in her eyes. She tries to stop the bleeding, but the man is bleeding from too many spots for her skills to work. "Please..." she sobs, "save my husband."
Seeing that there is no way Rivvil could catch up with the last deserter and that Llewyrr is just staring at the dead man. Rivvil decides its time to give that kid some direction. Rivvil puts his whip away ending the flames and walks over to Llewyrr putting his hand on the young Druid’s shoulder. “You can’t change the past but you can help save a future.” Rivvil says and points over to the dying husband. Llewyrr jumps at Rivvil's touch, almost falling as he twists away in surprise. He blinks at the blood hunter and then looks over at the wagon. The young man looks back at Rivvil, nods silently, then hurries over to the pinned man, stowing his shield. He looks the man over, taking in his condition. Removing the spikes, Llewyrr was able to stem the flow of blood, and stabilize him. Veldyn clutches his wound, letting Hoar's healing energy wash through him. Satisfied, and able to breath without coughing up blood, he approaches the unconscious man and looks him over.
“Veldyn. Whats the burial custom for individuals such as these? Where I’m from we’d just feed them to the spiders.” Rivvil asks the noble, the coin from them still in Rivvil’s hand.
"We can add them to the cages that," Veldyn coughs out some leftover blood and phloem, "Fell."
"Are they worth our time and effort?" Natah said, bored with the whole situation.
“All warriors deserve at least a proper send off once dead. I’m just unfamiliar with what a proper send off is here. Also, why don’t they have any identification?” Rivvil says and then once he hears Grishkar awoke he mentions “That’s right. You’re some priest for the dead. I’m sure you can give them a proper farewell.”
Grishkar began to work on a spell. "What I have in mind is 'proper' for some, I suppose. As I said, I pray that they still hold some life so I can truly enjoy my work..."
"They were deserters. They gave up their claim as soldiers." Natah went to check the woman. "Are you okay?"
Grishkar draws his dagger and approaches the first corpse, prodding the arms and ribs to test for a reaction. He then stabs deep into each wrist, drawing the blade with a hand held to its side. While the blade protrudes on the opposite side red with blood, it comes out coated with a black, tar-like sludge. Grishkar smears this residue in the palms and speaks prayers to Cyric, Lord of Strife, Prince of Lies, and true God of Death and Murder. When the prayer completes, the hands jerk and twist in unnatural ways and angles before separating completely from the wrists. Grishkar holds his arms out and the claws crawl up and perch on his shoulders like a pair of macabre pets. He continues the process with the second corpse, the claws grasping the chest of his robes, appearing as unholy accouterments to his vestments. "Now, madam, how would you like the corpses of your violators treated? You stand before agents of Zhentarim, and among those, servants of Vengeance and Strife," he turns and takes a few steps closer to the wagon, his dead eye fully enveloped by a white skull against black sunburst, "Speak and have your will be done." Rivvil stands there awkwardly waiting for the woman’s reply. He hasn’t been on the surface long but he knows that necromancy is frowned upon and in many cases punishable by death.
With reddened eyes from weeping tears, she watches Grishkar perform his macabre ritual; first with fear, then with horror, and finally with... satisfaction. Her eyes stare transfixed as Grishkar's knife buries deep into their dead flesh, his necromantic power bringing a twisted semblance of life back into their hands as muscles twitch, contort, and then crawl towards their new master. It takes her a moment to recover from the ritual, but she nods in response to Natah's question, her left eye almost completely swollen shut and bleeding from being struck so many times. "Those pigs..." she pauses as she looks at their faces frozen in fear and shock, "they don't deserve Ilmater's mercy..." The nailed man comes around, his wrists heavily bandaged in blood-soaked cloth. She rushes to his side, dropping to her knees and cradles his head in her arms. "It's going to be okay," she whispers, hiding his sight from the last of Grishkar's ritual. "The Zhentarim have saved our lives."
Natah nodded with satisfaction. Then she turned to Veldyn. "They don't deserve to be buried."
As her husband slowly regains consciousness, she hesitates, then answers Grishkar's question, "Do with them as you will, and may Lord Kelemvor judge their souls for their worth." Her eyes tell a different story as they burn with rage. While she says one thing, anyone could easily guess her heart yearns for something darker.
"Let me make an example of these, like the ones from the cages before." He turns sidelong back to the woman, "My dear, they are in someone's land of the dead, but let's not bring the Usurper into this." Grishkar waits for an acknowledgement from the others before going about his work. Natah nods at Girshkar, smiling behind her mask.
Rivvil lets out a sigh before saying “Do what you need to do.” He then turns to the couple and hands over the money he found. “Payment for something I’m going to ask you to do. Wherever you’re going let them know that the Zhentarim are back and offering help. Just leave out the hands parts. That might scare some people away.”
By this point, the man has awoken and is coherent. Not quick enough to catch the coin purses, they plop onto his lap, he looks up, confused, then looks around. With a wheezing chuckle, he exclaims, "Looks like Tymora's luck outshone Beshaba's misery today." He caresses his wife's face while they both stand unsteadily.
She nods at Rivvil's request. "That we will. We were headed to Hannock before they demanded coin for safe passage. We had little but now..." she looks down at the coins, "this will see us safely through the winter. Thank ye."
The hands turn toward their Master, perking a finger up like the attentive head of a pet before Grishkar waves them forward. (Sparing the messy details) with practiced hands and extra help, the three corpses become grisly displays along the roadside. Flayed limbs, splayed chest cavities, and bare skulls greet passer-bys. Above each, in blood, reads Rewards of Banditry
Rivvil smiles at their mention of going to Hannock. “Well I guess today is your day. We’re also on our way to Hannock.”
Natah watches the display with amusement. "You're a very sick individual," she said to Grishkar with a chuckle.
The woman's husband turns, aghast at the display, but she whispers in his ear. He grimaces and glances to Grishkar with a look of fear, but says nothing more as they begin gathering their tossed items and getting the wagon turned properly. "You're welcome to join our caravan," the man offers warily. "Hannock has been a little closed off to strangers, what with these deserters. We can at least get you through the gate."
Grishkar smiles to the masked rogue, "Madness and Evil are subjective terms. I live by the goals of a higher power and my own means to achieve them."
“That’ll be great. Let’s get you back on the road with our carriage.” Rivvil says and is motioning that he is ready to get back on the road.
A dwarf with a canoe on his back? What could go wrong?
Grishkar enjoys the time in the carriage trying to nurse his patched wound and manipulate his claws into various tasks such as fetching objects and tormenting members of the party with poor-taste pranks and Rivvil makes sure that Chewie gets his bone. Chewie chews on the bone happily, but seems wary of the undead hands. At the same time Llewyrr is thoroughly freaked out by the hands, hoping he finds a chance to squeeze in with the driver and Godiva up above.
Throughout the trip, hands tap and scratch around Llewyrr, sometimes even poking his shoulder. At one point, he turns to find a pair holding open a book while a third sits on its wrist, fingers curled into a fist as though under a contemplative chin. Llewyrr attempts to grab any hand that touches him and throw it as far away as he can but the claw he attempts to grab ducks to the side and skitters away like some undead crab, holding a single finger in the air as it retreats.
“Thanks Rosie for healing me,” the gnome muttered to Chewie in her native tongue. “I appreciate you using your precious magic to save my life.”
Veldyn gives Rosiniana a sidelong glance. "I have not forgotten your kindness. You have my thanks, and I'll be sure to repay your kindness in full," he says.
“You speak gnommish?” Rose asked, surprised. A hand goes to visit Rosie. Once it has her attention, it twirls on its wrist, as though part of a ghostly, flourishing bow.
Veldyn shakes his head at the gnome, "No I don't. I just wanted to make sure you understand that I don't take your kindness lightly. I heard your voice when all was dark and I felt my pulse weakening. It gave me strength when I was likely to fall."
“Oh,” Rose sounds almost disappointed. “Well, you’re welcome. I appreciate being appreciated.”
As the ride continues, Veldyn makes it a point to periodically check on the trailing wagon behind them. If they can get the group through the gates without hassle, it'll be well worth their recent combat.
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Elaine and Darron—the group later learns their names to be as some assist with getting their wagon back in order—trail closely behind the group's cart. They learn that the Heilsons are a family of merchants, recently on a return trip from Noltergarde with a new supply of iron ingots from Noltergarde's mine. Hannock lacks the proper tools to rebuild some of their warn down homes and parts of the wall: something they've desperately needed since the recent bandit attacks.
The caravan winds through the cold afternoon, the sky a haze of smoke of clouds, blotting out direct sunlight, casting the forest in an eerie lighting. Trees seem to reach out to the road, grabbing and clawing at the carts as overgrown branches creep in from the sides of the road. Several parts of the road are washed out, but not enough to seriously impede the group's movement. Within a few hours, the trees begin to thin out, replaced by the stumps of rural civilization.
Old, worn-down farms claim every clearing of land they can find as the caravan rolls by, their crops zealously rooted into the ground, fighting off nature at every twist and turn as the forest looms over them. Old men and young boys tirelessly tend to the crops, picking bushels of corn, potato, and other vegetables. The occasional calls of sheep, cow, and pig call out from the forest, hidden from the road's sight.
And off in the distance, the small village of Hannock looms atop a small hill. Wooden palisades packed against great mounts of dirt, some parts worn down or entirely missing, surround the village from the group's point-of-view. Wooden rooftops poke out from the sharpened palisade walls, and a large bell perched atop a great stone tower begins to ring, heralding the caravan's presence. Two guards, dressed in worn-down dark leather, their faces hidden behind iron pot-helmets, stand vigilant beside each side of the main gate, their spears in hand. As they see the caravan approach, they move forward to flank your caravan until they see Elaine and Darron. "What's this?" one of the guards calls out, eyeing the driver and Godiva warily. "You brought us visitors or somethin'?"
Darron exits his cart, walking over to the pair of guards. "Relax, Casle. They saved our lives back on the road a few miles again. Those damn deserters..." He shows his bandaged wrists as evidence. "And besides, they said they were already on their way to Hannock when they happened on us."
"Oh?" Casle exclaims, albeit a little surprised. He looks at the driver and Godiva with a weathered face and asks, "And what business do you have visiting Hannock this time of year, in the dead of fall?" The other guard circles the caravan, prodding the bloodied sacks still tied to the cart with the tip of his spear with an expression of disgust.
Grishkar ducks low in the carriage, "Come along, need to keep you all save." Holding out his sleeves, the claws scurry up into the folds of his robes, hanging onto the pockets within. Grishkar moves his hand across his dead eye, creating the appearance of a normal eye amidst the ruined half of his face. He then leans out of the carriage window, "My good man, we are envoys in the company of Lord Steelspire. We received news that this area had been experiencing troubles and we have come to assist. Could you direct us to whomever we should speak to regarding said aid?"
Veldyn exits the cart, most of the blood dried on his once glistening chainmail. "As my alchemist said, we're here to provide aid to Hannock. We happened upon an ogre on the way, dispatched it, and found these two in need of our aide." As Veldyn says this, he stretches out his kinks. "Can you point us to whomever we should speak to as well as the finest establishment you have here? 'Tis my first visit to this town."
Meanwhile, Natah, making sure her mask is in place, Llewyrr, Rosie, and Rivvil just sit there quietly as to not draw attention to themselves.
"Steelspire?" the man questions. "Ain't never heard of a Steelspire. The only lord around these parts is Eldurdine, bless his small cock." He spits on the ground, rubbing the saliva into the dark dirt. "But if you're hear to solve problems and not cause them, then I guess we'll welcome ye." He nods to the second guard, who waves his hand to a third guard on the gate. The third guard disappears behind the palisade, and a minute later, the impressive oak gates. With a curt nod, he states, "Ye can come in, but you won't be finding much hospitality. We've got a tavern that doubles as an inn upstairs, but that's all you'll find in terms of places to rest. Ye'll want to talk to Karine. Or her father, Sir Toldin. They're the leaders of this small village." He waves the caravan through once the gates open fully and the group makes their way inside.
Veldyn follows on the side of the carriage, and once they're inside he approaches the two that they saved earlier. "I know our methods seem harsh," he says to them. "But one thing we've learned is that a threatening display of force often times works well enough to never having to display it again. We'll clear the route for you and all other travelers wishing to go from Neverwinter to Hannock and back, rest assured."
Once inside the town, Rivvil exits the carriage and says to the others “Should we go to the inn. Get some rooms. Find out what troubles the town and where Karine and Toldin can be found.”
The two carts come to a stop once within the gate. Farron nods, but Elaine smiles at Veldyn's gesture. She pulls in closer and Veldyn can see the grey roots beneath her dark brown hair. "If you do that, you'll have done more than Toldin or Karine ever could," she hints with a whisper. Her and Farron continue on their way, heading into the main part of the village. Just as Rivvil suggests finding the inn, a young woman, with black hair and weathered skin, strides up to the group atop a black horse, flanked by older men with spears. "I'm Karine," she boldly states before calling out to Elaine and Farron. They halt their cart and come over to her while she dismounts her horse. After a whispered conversation, she nods and sends them on their way. "Is it true then?" she asks. "You saved their lives and cut into these brigand's forces?"
Veldyn nods at the woman, "We left them with a message, but we will crush them when they rear their heads again." Veldyn extends his arm and introduces himself and the others, "Lord Veldyn Steelspire, of Neverwinter, Fang of the Zhentarim. We're here to offer aid and clear the trade lanes between Hannock and Neverwinter. This is Llewyrr, Natah, Rivvil, and Grishkar... all fangs at your service. Rosiniana, I believe," he gestures to the gnome, "is a local. She's been a boon to us as we've traveled here."
“I fear you might have more problems on the road than some brigand. There was also an ogre we took care of.” Rivvil mentions. Veldyn nods to Rivvil, indicating the head.
Rivvil sighs “My companions wouldn’t know if word was enough for the ogre so if you want to check.” He pauses a second before pointing at the bloodied sack “Its head is in the bag.”
She smiles and bows, though her eyes don't seem to share the same joy at Veldyn's introduction. Her eyes meet each of yours, though the group can't help but notice her gaze shifting to Grishkar's long, pointed ears. From that point on, her smile fades. "Yes... well... your help was most appreciated," she thanks, following the words with a small bow. Her curiosity seems to peak once the head of an ogre is mentioned as she looks to the group more in awe. She opens her mouth, as if about to say something, but closes it again and continues to glance at the bloodied sack. Just then, an older man at the head of a score of hollow-eyed villagers, winds around the same corner Karine came from. The group easily marks him as her father just by looking at their similarities in appearance. "What's this I hear of strangers saving Elaine and Farron?" the older man questions. "Yes, father... this group of travelers saved them and slaughtered a few of the Neverwintan deserters who waylaid them," she claims in a vague description. He stands there, thinking as he looks the group over.
"We've traveled long,"Veldyn says. "We have much to discuss, but not all of it should be done in this town's streets. Please meet us at the tavern tonight." He looks around to everyone that has begun to assemble. "Everyone!" He calls, "We have come to help. With your leaders' blessings, we will be delivering more food and supplies to Hannock than this town has seen in awhile! The Zhentarim are here to put an end to your troubles. Together, we can help Hannock become the town it was meant to be! We've already cleared an Ogre from the trading route with Neverwinter," He walks to the cart, and with a pull of the string releases the head upon the ground. "We've dispatched deserters, and are here to aid in all other dangers that plague the roads. Come! Join us in the tavern as we toast to the end of your problems!"
Grishkar smiles at the show, Good, gather the sheep. Sometimes we must be the wolf, and sometimes the sheepdog.
Rivvil looks around at the slowly gathering crowd as Veldyn announces their goodwill. He counts approximately sixty or so people. Most of them are children, followed by women and lastly by elderly men in numbers. There are no younger men to be seen in the crowd. Many of the children and women nod their heads in approval, though once the name Zhentarim is released, several of the older men, including Toldin, scowl in disgust. The children's eyes go wide as the ogre's head drops, landing in a muddy puddle with a splash. Whispers begin amongst the crowd as some look to you all in awe. Sir Toldin though, seems unconvinced. With as calm and collected of a voice he can manage, he proclaims, "We are grateful for what you have done for us is returning Elaine and Farron and saving their lives. We will offer you what little food and drink we have and let you rest for the night, but tomorrow you must be on your way." Karine looks to her father in surprise. "But father..." she pleads before she is cut off. "When have strange armed men ever done the world any good?" Toldin counters. "My son... your brother, will be back tomorrow with our militia, having finished clearing the roads of deserters between here and Noltergarde." He turns away from her and the group, heading back up the path with a handful of villagers. Karine looks downward, shaking her head.
While some more return to their daily business and homes, many linger, eyeing each of you and the ogre's head with mixed feelings of fear, respect, and awe. Karine approaches the group. "Excuse my father," she apologizes. "He has a... history with the Zhentarim. They razed his family's home in Daggerford when he was but a child. The truth is," she continues. "Regardless of your allegiances, Hannock is suffering. My brother was supposed to return nearly two weeks ago, but we've seen or heard nothing, and we can't afford to take the last of our men to go searching."
Veldyn nods to Karine, "And we are here now to make amends. The Zhentarim of old died long ago. Now we only wish to strengthen the bonds that tie villages, cities, and families together." He nods to her, "We will head out and find out what happened to your brother... Sir Toldin's son. And we will help your town prosper. Talk to us in the tavern, if you please. Everyone!" He calls to those still around, "All drinks are on the Zhentarim this night. We will work to mend any ills, and we will toast to new long-lasting alliances!"
"Perhaps in time you'll persuade father as well," she suggests. "I'll speak with him and see what I can do."
Veldyn's proclamation is met with cheers from the hollow-eyed and weary villagers who still gather. With evening quickly approaching, Veldyn sends the driver and their cart in tow, walking with the rest of the group and villagers as they make their way to the Lodge.
Turning towards the village, the group sees it for what it is: a cluster of sod-roofed huts built on a rocky hill. Dark stones, stacked atop each other, are cobbled together with muddy plaster, "crowned" with logs from the surrounding forest. The dirt road winds up a slanted road as the group and villagers head for the town square.
“Hey Rivvil,” Rose pulls the half-drow to the side. “Can I ask a teensy favor of you?”
“Ummm....sure?” Rivvil asks a little concerned about what the gnome is going to ask of him.
“Would you mind watching Chewie for me?” Rose asked. “Just for a little bit. I have an errand I need to run.”
“Yeah. Maybe we can begin training on spider hunting,” Rivvil says reaching down to pick up the little puppy.
“If you hurt Chewie, I will murder you and anything you have ever cared about,” Rose threatened.
“If that’s suppose to be a threat then I think we need to work on that.” Rivvil says before walking away with the puppy.
"I'm a very scary person when you get on my bad side!" Rose called over her shoulder before disappearing off into the town.
Reaching the top of the hill, they find themselves in a large, muddy square, with a variety of mud-shackled and log buildings surrounding them. Two buildings stand out amongst the rest: a large, stone structure, adorned with a belltower, and a great log house, with several patrons already standing outside. Receiving confirmation from the villagers following that the great log house is Hannock's tavern and inn, the group heads into the Lodge.
Grishkar stays close to Veldyn after his rousing speech, "A marvelous introduction, young lord. However, I would advise some foresight to the future. You can pay for their drinks tonight, but it won't refill the cellars. As we saw, travel takes time between here and Neverwinter. These people are hungry and afraid, so they are ripe for influence. Do you have anyone back home you can send word to? Someone you can rely on to make some small business on your behalf? Or maybe you know someone with friends looking to make a bit of coin? If we can secure a supply caravan, even just a wagon of food and ale, it would solidify our claims here."
Veldyn nods to Grishkar and responds, "We'll talk details when there's more privacy. After tonight's festivities."
Once inside, the group is met to a grim, poor presence. Small groups huddle around greasy fires, while others play dice on long, rough tables. Benches are scattered around the various fires within the long, spacious room. At the far end, a grisly barkeeper stands behind a wooden counter, his back flanked by great barrels of ale. In the corner, a half-elf—the only non-human they've seen in Hannock, in fact—plays a meager song on his dulcimer as his eyes flit about the tavern's patrons. The villagers being pouring in from behind the group, filling the tavern with noise and chatter. The barkeep looks at the scene with wide eyes and anticipation.
Grishkar stays close to Veldyn after his rousing speech, "A marvelous introduction, young lord. However, I would advise some foresight to the future. You can pay for their drinks tonight, but it won't refill the cellars. As we saw, travel takes time between here and Neverwinter. These people are hungry and afraid, so they are ripe for influence. Do you have anyone back home you can send word to? Someone you can rely on to make some small businews on your behalf? Or maybe you know someone with friends looking to make a bit of coin? If we can secure a supply caravan, even just a wagon of food and ale, it would solidify our claims here."
Veldyn nods to Grishkar and responds, "We'll talk details when there's more privacy. After tonight's festivities."
Upon entering the tavern, Veldyn gestures to the barkeep and calls out, "Nary an empty tankard in the tavern. Keep the drink flowing until Selune's nipples are well and perked!" He approaches as he says this, and when he's closer to the barkeep he adds, "We'll also take what rooms you have available, and any food you can muster on short notice. We're going to fill your coffers and the town's bellies this night!"
"Pay up front and you can have whatever you want," the grisly barkeep says in a gruff voice. "But I ain't dishing out one drink on just the word of a stranger's payment."
Veldyn gestures over to Rivvil and accept's the coffer. He gently places it on the countertop, turns it to the barkeep, and opens the lid. With a smirk, he pulls out the platinum and sets it on the hard wood. "As the night wears on, I imagine the contents of this coffer will diminish." Veldyn puts a finger up, "Not a single empty tankard."
The man's eyes go wide in greed as them seem to glisten from all of the coin. "Y.." he starts but them stops, forcing himself to swallow. "Yes... m'lord. Whatever you say!" His hands fumble on the ring of keys around his belt and he hands the whole ring over. "Pick whichever rooms you like," he offers, pointing to a set of stairs that lead to an inside balcony. "You'll find our rooms up there." The throngs of villagers soon swarm the bar and its keep. He moves the chest behind the counter and frantically starts serving the thirsty patrons.
Natah, hearing the bartenders words, will take her belongings to one of the nearest rooms. As she passes Veldyn, she says, "I'd prefer my own, private room. Hope nobody minds." Without waiting for reply, she puts her belongings in a room and heads back out to continue to mingle and talk nice to the locals.
Rosie arrives at the bar about a half hour after she left, retrieving Chewie from Rivvil, and proceeds to lead the bar in song, always holding a nearly full tankard of ale.
Throughout the evening, Veldyn drinks a moderate amount. He spreads the news that the Zhentarim is looking to help those townships in need of support, that there are wagons full of food and supplies waiting for Sir Toldin's approval to arrive, and that the mercenary guild will protect the trade route with Neverwinter so that the town can have a prosperous future. While war wages up North, Hannock will be able to become a vital partner in Neverwinter's trade economy. There's no time better than the present to finally start spreading the town's influence. As a Lord of Neverwinter, Veldyn assures those that are listening that the guild has Lord Neverember's ear, and that the Zhentarim chose this town because they see a future. If Toldin doesn't see that future, this town may never be able to pull itself out of it's current economic slump. He brags that as a show of good faith, they will find out what happened to Toldin's son and, Gods willing, bring him back home safely.
As the group socializes with the drunken patrons, their tongues becomes loose as they quickly accept them as a beneficiary and much-wanted aid. Many of them tell tales of woe and hardship, about how crop rot seems to spread from farm to farm, with only a small handful of what was left still untouched. Even then, bandits burn and pillage the other farms, placing increasing pressure on Hannock as they strain their resources. As the "War of the Coast"--the name given to this conflict between Neverwinter and Luskan--rages on, more and more of their men have been drafted into Neverwinter's efforts to stave off their long-time enemy in the North. Bandits have all but stopped trade in between the villages, hamlets, and small towns in the region, putting the economy on a freeze. Most recognize the Neverwintan tabards as militia, a disheartening fact. While their sons are off fighting the war, others from those same forces are fleeing the cause and returning only to pillage from and strong-arm the poor villagers. This has left a heavy distaste for Neverwinter as any patriotism has been burned away with their farms and good crops. They do know that the bandits are stationed in an abandoned fortress nestled along the Neverwinter Wood border.
As the night draws on, Natah moves from group to group, ensuring everyone drank, and that their tongues were loose. In discreetly asking about the other Zhentarim agent who's gone missing, she discovers that she's been renting one of the rooms here, in this inn. The patron points to the corner room along the north wall, and points out that no one's seen her in a few weeks. Someone claims that she was headed to Noltengarde for "business", whatever that could mean. After gathering this bit of information, she found Veldyn. "I need the key ring you currently hold. There's a room I wish to check out." Veldyn nods to Natah, passing the keyring off discretely as he continues his rounds.
The keys clank in Natah's hands as she searches for the right key. It takes a moment, but the lock turns, allowing her entry. The room itself seems identical to her own: a small bed sits in the corner, with a nightstand topped with a lantern on the opposite side. A small desk sits in the center with a set of chairs. The room seems empty to her, and as she searches it, she doesn't find anything. There must be something more, she thought to herself. Maybe a more thorough search is needed. She left the room, gathering her belongings from the room she had previously claimed, and moved them all into the room Aliss Fafstern had stayed in. Exiting the room once again, she went to give the keys to the next of her companions who needed a room.
A dwarf with a canoe on his back? What could go wrong?
During the revelries in the tavern, Veldyn finds time to make his way over to Rose. "You really do have an amazing voice," he says. "Even through the revelry and constant banter, all I hear is your song. It's as if it breaks through any distracting barrier and finds its ways to my ears." He gives her a smile and adds, "Do you have plans now that you're back home?"
“I thought I told you, this isn’t home to me,” Rose laughs. “Hell, this is my first time setting foot in Hannock," Rose responded.
Veldyn gives her a confused look, "I thought your... wares, were meant for this place." A few seconds pass before he adds, "And your departure as we were headed to the tavern... maybe I just assumed."
“That assumption wasn’t far off, but you don’t have to know a place to know of it,” Rose amended. “Make sense?”
"Of course," Veldyn replies with a sly grin. "You have a mystery about you," he says trying to point to her with a tankard full of ale. A bit sloshes off and he glances down at it as if sad that it fell. "I want you to join us... if you're not doing anything too important. We're likely headed off to Noltgourd... or some-such in the morning. Also... you saved my life. I want you there, with us. With me." He takes a drink and nods in her direction. "I want you." A moment passes before he stammers, "With us... I want you with us for this."
“You saved me a great deal of trouble too,” Rose giggled. “I’ve got nowhere specific to be. Besides, Chewie seems to have taken to that ashy half-elf. I’d be happy to accompany y’all.”
"Great! Great!" Veldyn replies. "We have rooms," he says, gesturing upstairs. "Any room you like." He gives her another smile before handing her the string of keys that have been passed around his companions. "Mine is second on the left," he points, trying not to be too obvious to his innuendo. "We'll all be meeting here in the morning before we depart."
“Vel, thank you,” Rose reached over and gave the paladin’s hand a little squeeze. “Really, for everything.”
Veldyn accepts the small gesture before returning to the crowd. Whether she chose to take him up on his offer or not, he was happy that she would be joining them in the morning.
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About a half hour after Rosie comes back for Chewie Rivvil approaches the barkeep and asks. "So...I was wondering, do any of the guards who work the gate come into this tavern? I wanted to give them all a round."
The barkeep, visibly exhausted from keeping people's drinks full, responds, "Aye... they usually do." He glances around the tavern, his eyes floating from person to person before he exclaims, "Ah!" and points to three guards... the three who questioned and then opened the gates for the group. "Those three there are the day-shift. I'm sure they'll be happy to take the drink!"
"Perfect. Give me four shots of your strongest stuff." Rivvil says.
"The strongest?" he questions. "It's.... a gold piece per shot. You sure that's what you want?"
"Yeah. I'll even pay for it myself, here." Rivvil says pulling out four gold and sliding it to the barkeep.
His eyes glisten with greed as he hastily picks up the coins and stores them below somewhere unseen. "Just one moment," he says with a huff as he bends low to retrieve something. A rosewood box lays in his hands, closed with a gilded clasp. He opens it up to reveal an elegant crystalline decanter partially filled with a crimson-red drink. Gold flecks float around inside the drink, slowly pouring out as he fills four of the six shot glasses that come in the wooden box. "Elssywenduul's Pleasure," he exclaims, more than likely butchering the title. "The moon elves at Dripping Leaves craft this exquisite brew." He hands the four shot glasses on a wooden platter to you. "Knock 'em dead," he suggests with a wink.
"Thanks," Rivvil says as he takes the four shots over to the guards. "Gentlemen. I'm glad you could join us. Here I got you guys a little something extra special for your hard work." He says giving each of the guards one of the shot glasses.
The guards shout in joy as Rivvil brings them the elvish drinks, hastily grabbing the shot glasses and eyeing its contents. "I had this once... it made me feel like I was being pleasured by a priestess of Sune herself." "You don't say!" one of the other guards exclaims, quickly downing his in anticipation.
"I'm glad you'd enjoy it," Rivvil says holding his up before slamming it as well (Nat 20 to resist the alcohol's effect). "Now would you care to join me in a game of cards this evening?" Rivvil asks.
The men nod their heads with flittering eyes as their faces shift in expressions of pleasure and joy. Rivvil too can feel a fiery sensation as the drink goes down his throat, settling in his stomach before spreading down to his loins. Waves of ecstasy pulsate through his body, but he's able to focus his thoughts and attention to his surroundings.
The game of cards progresses, something Rivvil easily triumphs in. Each of the guards can hardly focus on the cards as much as they can on themselves. Occasionally they'll brush their hand against their arms, releasing a shudder of pleasure.
But such emotion only further loosens their tongue as they speak freely of their thoughts on the war and rumors going about the town. Most folk in Hannock don't like the war: it's taken too many of their men and too many of their resources for some foreign city that hardly seems to pay any attention to them. Recently, the people have begun blaming their misfortunes on Neverwinter as deserters have started raiding merchants and pillaging crops.
They also tell of how many of the older generations have soured relationships with the Zhentarim, especially Sir Toldin. They don't know just what, but they know that he despises the faction. To them, and to many of the people, if food is put on their plates and good work is given, they're happy with whoever is leading them.
Rumors come and go for the people in Hannock. For some, rumors and gossip is all they have to keep them entertained. Tales about of a secret love between the Chauntean priestess Merissa and Karine. Karine often goes to pray late and night, and some say she doesn't finish until the morning, which points to either a very pious lifestyle or something more sensual and hedonistic. There's also some fellow who comes out of the woods late at night, bringing food to those starving and in want. No one knows who he is, but one kid claims he looks like a tree itself, with vines and flowers and such growing out of his hair and clothes.
Rivvil keeps track of all this information to tell Veldyn tomorrow morning. Rivvil is, unfortunately, not successful in his second endeavor of getting one of the guards into his bedchambers tonight. (Persuasion: 9).
As Natah, Veldyn, Rivvil, Chewie and the foul Grishkar head toward the tavern with the townsfolk, and Rosiniana chooses her own path in town, Llewyrr hangs back and then slips off unnoticed as usual. He heads west, soon reaching the palisade wall. Walking north, he finds a place where the wall has fallen into disrepair and he can easily slip through into the wilds surrounding Hannock. He walks into the trees, shaking his arms and running his fingers through his unkempt hair almost as if he's washing himself of all he's had to endure the past month: Neverwinter and all of its buildings and streets and close quarters, the cramped carriage, these "comrades" he's been yolked with. He walks with his head down, now hugging himself — not against the cold, but against the mental image of the dead deserter lying at his feet. Eyes wide. Pallid and slightly green skin. A bit of froth in one corner of his mouth. A shiver runs down Llewyrr's back.
After about an hour of walking a slow arc around the hamlet, Llewyrr notices tracks in the dirt and leaves. He bends down to inspect his find: bear tracks. He follows the tracks for about another hour, heading northeast away from Hannock. When his ears pick up the snuffling and low moans of a bear, he slows to a snails pace. Peering around the trees, he can see a healthy brown bear playing in a shallow pool. Llewyrr quickly climbs a nearby tree, staying as quiet as possible. About 15 feet off the ground, Llewyrr perches on a branch plenty strong enough for his light weight and watches the bear enjoy its moonlit bath. Llewyrr stifles a laugh, watching the creature roll and splash. Its fur is sticking up in crazy spikes as it shakes a shower of tiny droplets. It sticks its nose down into the water and blows bubbles. The wild boy's face is alight with the first wide smile he's had in a long time. He sighs, feeling the prickly, yet comforting feel of the bark beneath him. A slight chilly breeze is tickling his face and exposed arms. He closes his eyes and lifts his chin. He feels one with nature again. And then there's a crack, and he's falling.
When Llewyrr lands, he doesn't cry out; he moans out. He rolls down the slight hill beneath the tree, his eyes catching glimpses of brown fur as he rolls in and out of moonlight curtains. He finally stops and looks with wide eyes at the limbs before him: thick, brown fur-covered arms ending in paws and sharp claws. He lifts one of the paws, wiggles its "fingers," and then touches his face. As much as a bear can look ecstatic, this bear suddenly looks ecstatic. Llewyrr had finally done it. After years of trying, he had finally done it.
For the next hour, Llewyrr ambled about the forest in bear form, delighting in all the new sensations. When his form shifted back into that of human Llewyrr, he curled up in a small nook created by tree roots, covered himself with his bedroll, and slept until just before sunup, at which time he headed back to Hannock feeling better.
Once Natah is settled and things have quieted down below, she immediately gets to work, taking her time and slowly going slowly going through the room, dissecting it piece by piece. She overturns the mattress, search under the tables and chairs, looking for some secret compartment. But still nothing.
She happens across a loose floorboard by happenstance, really. Underneath the bed, as she's searching, she feels it shift under her weight. Moving the bed aside, she fingers around the edges of the board, prying it until it comes loose. There, underneath the floor in a secreted compartment, lies a worn and dirty leather-bound journal.
Moving to the table, Natah sits down, her curiosity getting the better of her, and opens up the worn leather journal. Surprisingly, it's not written in Common. Instead, the alphabet is identical to what she's used back home: Draconic. While some of the words are different, she recognizes it as true Draconic, and not the sort which the Yuan-ti use back in Najara.
She pours through the few pages, realizing it's Aliss's notebook. It would seem Aliss was sent her after the Zhentarim discovered an ancient mage's collection of books and notes detailing his studies on planar portals. Apparently, the mage had built a compound in this region of the Coast, and in it lied a portal to another plane. Aliss had a suspicion that the portal lied beneath the fortress where the deserters had recently set up camp, and had left for Noltengarde to see what more she could learn of the fortress.
As she shifts through the notebook, a piece of paper falls out. Picking it up, Natah finds a strange set of symbols, with draconic attached to some of them. Aliss knows that these symbols somehow activate the portal, though she doesn't how exactly they work.
After making notes of the contents of the notebook, including the strange symbols, Natah decides she needs to share this information with the group. Forgetting the time, she realized most of them had disappeared to their own rooms. Veldyn seems to have a knack for leadership, she thought. Perhaps I should show him first. Stepping up to his door, she knocked, not caring if she was disturbing him. She waited a few moments, not hearing any movement from inside the room. Perhaps he's not here? she thought, knocking a bit harder, and more urgently.
The sound of feet touching the floorboards is heard from within. There's a slight pause before the footfalls are heard going towards the door. Veldyn opens the door, rubbing his eye with his other hand. "Issit?" He asks, looking Natah up and down. Veldyn sleeps in the nude and doesn't seem to care that he's in full view of his companion. The fresh scar on his side is pink and puffy, but healing nicely.
Natah looked him up and down, before looking him directly in the eyes. "Yesss... well then. Might I come in? I need to ssshow you sssomething."
Veldyn opens the door wider and gestures inside. Before closing the door he looks outside in the common room and down the halls. He sees that the people down below have long left the establishment: any of those passed out were promptly kicked out by the barkeep. Only the dying embers of the fires serve to illuminate the area below. Seeing no signs of morning, Veldyn turns to Natah and asks, "What's going on? This a night call?" He sits on his bed and massages his forehead.
"Yesss, it isss night," Natah said, entering the room. "And I am calling." She leaned against a wall, keeping her eyes averted. "I found sssomething in my room. I found out that Alissss Fafssstern had been staying at this inn, and which room wasss hersss." Producing the journal, she continued. "Thisss was hidden under the floorboardsss below the bed."
Veldyn puts his hand out to accept the journal. "What's it say?" He asks.
Natah stepped forward and handed him the journal. "Are you able to read Draconic?"
"No," Veldyn responds. "Never had much need to talk to dragons." He flips through the pages and nods, seeing why she asked. "So what's it say?" He asks again, handing the journal back to her.
"It'sss a different form of Draconic than I grew up with. This is true Draconic." She takes the journal back, also flipping through it, and begins to pace the room. "It'sss Alissss' notebook. It ssseemsss the Zhentarim dissscovered a mage'sss hidden ssstasssh of booksss that detailed hisss ressearch into planar portalsss. Alisss wasss sssent here afterward. It ssseemsss ssshe may have dissscovered the location of thisss portal and went to find it." She pulled out the paper with the runes. "Then there'sss thisss. "Each rune isss attached to a letter of the Draconic alphabet. I'm unable to determine what it means, but Alissss knowsss."
"Interesting," Veldyn leans back on the bed a bit more, both hands behind him. "Does Aliss note where the portal is?"
Natah quickly turned her back to the noble. "Yesss, actually. Ssshe thought it might lie below a fortresss on the edge of the Neverwinter foressst. Ssshe went to Noltengarde, in sssearch of sssomeone who knew where the fortresss is. It alssso mentions the fortresss might be full of dessserters."
"It sounds like our task will be two-fold then. Attempt to find Sir Toldin's son to curry favor, and kill the deserters to investigate this portal," Veldyn sits back up, noting Natah's discomfort. "Apologies," he says. "Often times I don't deal with bashful... colleagues." He pulls the covers around the lower section of his body to block out the manly bits. "From what I remember of Amn, they were typically a very open people," he adds.
Damn, Natah cursed herself. "I'm not bassshful," she said, quickly turning around. "I'm jussst not accussstomed to..." She paused, flustered, and upset with herself for forgetting her cover. "Never mind. Not important." She held up a finger, saying "Garner favor with Toldin." A second finger rose up to join the first. "Destroy desssertersss." Then a third. "Hopefully find Alissss, asss that isss our actual missssion, then invessstigate the portal."
"Very well," Veldyn says. "If Aliss is still alive, we should attempt to find her. But we could easily assume her head is on a pike and these deserters have desecrated her corpse beyond recognition. You saw what they did to that old man. You have to have an iron gut and a lack of morals to go that far. And for what," he adds. "A few silver worth of wares?"
"Ssshe'd be lucky if that wasss all they did to her," Natah added.
After a short silence fills the room, Veldyn remarks, "You done well with this Natah. Was there anything else?" He eyes her appraisingly.
Natah nodded, satisfied. "We'll bring thisss to the othersss in the morning. My apologiesss for bothering you ssso late." She watched him eyeing her, unsure of what it meant. "I'll leave you to ressst."
Veldyn stands to walk her out, the blanket falling from him as he does. "Any time," he says, opening the door.
Natah readjusted her mask as she stepped to the door. "You're ssstrange for a hu..." she stopped suddenly, catching herself. "Noble."
"Bound by no oaths," he remarks to her, watching as she exits the room. He lingers for a few moments before closing the door.
Natah had been trained in human civilization, but her training hadn't prepared her for so much nakedness. She shook her head, then returned to her room to get some sleep.
A dwarf with a canoe on his back? What could go wrong?
As the evening's festivities progressed, Grishkar retires early to his room. Within, he traces an arcane pattern across the floor and takes out his leather, iron-bound tome. He checks a few notes and begins a ritual. Minutes go by and smoke swirls within the circle, eventually dying down with only a small spider remaining. Grishkar settles onto the bed and lets himself sink into the spider's consciousness. Through the many minute eyes, he guides the spider throughout the halls and into the common room. The room is a distorted garble of conversations, but the closest can be made out well enough. He scales the ceiling, listening to scraps of everyone's chatter before heading to the cellar to look for hidden secrets below.
Through the spider's form, Grishkar's consciousness slips through the crack beneath the wooden door leading down below into the cellar. The air is wet and cold, though he feels none of it. Instead, his senses pick up a dark room. Shelves adorn three of the four walls, while the fourth wall has stacked chairs and extra tables. The shelves themselves carry a wide variety of drink and food. Thorough in his investigating and perceiving, he finds no signs to indicate hidden rooms or illegal contraband. Dissatisfied, he shifts his consciousness back into his own and the spider poofs back to its native plane. Settling into a trance, he goes through his memories, reliving them and remembering his past.
The festivities go long into the night, but the barkeep eventually kicks everyone out, with word or—due to their drunken stupor having passed out—with action. Once the premise is cleared, he counts through the coins, subtracting his share and returning the much lighter chest to Veldyn. Veldyn looks down at it all and sorts through what is left: fifty-four gold pieces worth of coin. He grimaces, but nods in satisfaction. They'd laid a solid groundwork for the Zhentarim to aid the city when the time came, and he knew the people would support his cause if it got violent.
The night's later events come and go, with no more disturbances until the awake in the morning. Going through their morning rituals and preparing themselves for the day, they step out one-by-one, heading downstairs where the barkeep waits. Llewyrr and Rose are already down below, with Chewie gnawing on a good-sized deer leg. The barkeep smiles, handing them each large cups of water to help cut through whatever hangover they might be having, and then begins. "A messenger from Sir Toldin arrived this morning. He and Karine have summoned you to the House of Chauntea for some meeting. Then the boy ran off," he adds with a shrug and begins straightening the tavern for the new day's patrons.