Horros and Taya, with combined effort, manage to stabilize the wounded caravan guard. The guard, wincing with pain, leans heavily on Taya and Horros as they assist him in the painstaking walk back to the caravan.
Upon their arrival, Harben, the caravan master, stands in wait, an unmistakable air of irritation surrounding him. His arms are firmly crossed, his brow furrowed in disapproval. The caravan itself is a scene of recent chaos: guards nursing injuries, evidence of a fierce skirmish. Nearby, a somber activity unfolds as several guards are engaged in the grim task of burying two goblins, a fallen mercenary, and one of their own.
Harben's voice breaks the tense silence as he addresses Taya with barely concealed scorn. "Ah, our brave hero returns," he mocks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Decided to grace us with your presence after your little detour? You were hired to protect THIS caravan, not play the savior of towns. While you were off playing hero, we paid the price here. Remember that the next time you decide where your loyalties lie."
Taya breathes heavily under the load of the injured man. She takes in Harben's position as she, together with Horros, finds a place to sit down the guard that was in their care. With a distorted expression, she replies to her employer, "We fought the same enemies as you did. Had this force rallied against us after they finished off the few town guards that were left, this caravan would have been easy pickings for them. We had to act swiftly, decisively and efficiently decimate them while we had the element of surprise and while the town guard was still functioning. You should thank us for saving your caravan and your potential business." Taya shakes her head, "No, you should thank us doubly actually, because of us there is a town now that needs your wares more than ever, instead of a pile of burned out rubble that might have been the grave of all of us."
She casts her eyes down feeling that she spoke out too much, perhaps. But how could they have left the town burn to ashes and then what? Simply walk around on to the next town? Would that have been a possibility even? And then he's not entirely wrong, she was supposed to stay with the caravan and protect it. Her face twitches and she says, "Well, you might want to reconsider your point of view when the town leaders come and ask who was orchestrating this last minute rescue. You can be the one who send HIS guards to safe the town or the one who objected. Decide where your interests lie."
Horros coughs slightly out of awkwardness as he wasn’t expecting the confrontation. “She speaks the truth, difficult decisions had to be made, can’t change it now. I’ll perform funeral rites of any fallen and can happily tend to wounded or repair equipment as needed.” He takes off his armor and sets down his shield showing a holy symbol around his neck and simple priestly garbs, more practical than typical vestments and would get to work doing what he can.
As he does so he half jokingly calls Taya “commander” as both a tease and sign of respect.
Cal searches the rubble a little while, not sure what he is looking for. But he isn't certain why they attacked this building in particular and it makes him feel like he's missing something. Was someone specific here? Does this place hold some significance? Or was is a distraction? He ponders the possibilities as he shifts through rubble, uncertain what if anything he will find.
He thinks to Zyxix "This is such a tragedy..."and then whispers a message to Bell a good distance across the rubble "Did you see where our fellow caravan guard all went? Are we reconvening yet?"
"Agreed," Zyzix mentally agrees. "Fire is a dreadful thing, but I may be a bit hereditarily prejudiced against." He watches the smoldering rubble with a disdainful look on his draconic face. He watches Cal begin sifting through the rubble, absentmindedly flicking of ash and soot that coated (and probably ruined) his costume as he ponders about their situation. Why attack this little town and use a large, organized force to do so? Who's behind all of this, and what is their motivation? He felt a surge of excitement as he thought about the intrigue that firmly gripped this little town in its grasp. Perhaps it was time to do a little bit of sleuthing...
He clears his voice and then says to Bell and Cal, "You two seem much more better equipped to handle this mess than I. I'm going to head into town and see if I can lend any service over there." With that, he begins sauntering towards the town.
As soon as he's out of sight of anyone, he finds a concealed alley he can duck into to hide himself in as he puts on a disguise. Taking a deep breath, Zyzix closes his eyes and focusses on an image of a young human man in his mind, mentally creating a schematic for his physical body to shift into. His body always yearned to change, to transform into something new, but the Veil's training and his willpower kept his body stuck in one form. It had been difficult to learn how to control his form in his early years. He spent many long hours trying to master his body, but now, changing on command was almost as easy as breathing. Opening his eyes, he allows his body to change.
The whole process only took a few seconds to complete, but he was aware of every detail of his body as he adopted a new form. He began to shrink, dropping nearly a foot and a half in height to be about five feet tall, his bones creaking and popping to accommodate his new form. His gleaming white scales, now covered in soot and ash, shifted into the soft and pink flesh of a human, but he was still covered in soot and ash. Horns, spikes, and bony ridges disappeared as a mop of unruly blond hair sprouted upon his scalp. His imposing draconic frame melted away to reveal a scrawny boy no more than 14 years of age. He had a thin, wiry frame. He gave himself bags under his now brown eyes to make himself seem tired and almost a bit sickly. Unfortunately, his clothing now hung loosely on his frame. Sighing, he utters an arcane phrase under his breath as spins an illusion about him. His fine clothing seemingly fades away to reveal a peasant's outfit, tattered and scorched by flame. ((Casting Disguise self))
He peeks out of the alley, straining his senses to locate where people seem to be gathering. Another spike of excitement shoots through him as a plan formulates in his mind. There was something about infiltration and subterfuge that just made him feel so alive. Trying to keep the grin off of his face, he tentatively steps out of the alley, adopting a fearful and timid expression as he makes his way towards the rest of the townsfolk.
((He's going to try to locate one of the townsfolk and try to get some info about the attack if possible))
Having only just left Cal’s company, Bell does not continue to whisper back, but rather simply emerges from the lingering smoke nearby. He addresses Cal directly:
“I suppose we should check back with the caravan, if we have any hopes of receiving the second installment of our pay.”
He casts a wistful look toward the tower, barely visible to the north, through the drifting smoke; then gestures, indicating the direction of the caravan: “Shall we, then!”
Cal searches the rubble a little while, not sure what he is looking for. But he isn't certain why they attacked this building in particular and it makes him feel like he's missing something. Was someone specific here? Does this place hold some significance? Or was is a distraction? He ponders the possibilities as he shifts through rubble, uncertain what if anything he will find.
He thinks to Zyxix "This is such a tragedy..."and then whispers a message to Bell a good distance across the rubble "Did you see where our fellow caravan guard all went? Are we reconvening yet?"
"Agreed," Zyzix mentally agrees. "Fire is a dreadful thing, but I may be a bit hereditarily prejudiced against." He watches the smoldering rubble with a disdainful look on his draconic face. He watches Cal begin sifting through the rubble, absentmindedly flicking of ash and soot that coated (and probably ruined) his costume as he ponders about their situation. Why attack this little town and use a large, organized force to do so? Who's behind all of this, and what is their motivation? He felt a surge of excitement as he thought about the intrigue that firmly gripped this little town in its grasp. Perhaps it was time to do a little bit of sleuthing...
He clears his voice and then says to Bell and Cal, "You two seem much more better equipped to handle this mess than I. I'm going to head into town and see if I can lend any service over there." With that, he begins sauntering towards the town.
As soon as he's out of sight of anyone, he finds a concealed alley he can duck into to hide himself in as he puts on a disguise. Taking a deep breath, Zyzix closes his eyes and focusses on an image of a young human man in his mind, mentally creating a schematic for his physical body to shift into. His body always yearned to change, to transform into something new, but the Veil's training and his willpower kept his body stuck in one form. It had been difficult to learn how to control his form in his early years. He spent many long hours trying to master his body, but now, changing on command was almost as easy as breathing. Opening his eyes, he allows his body to change.
The whole process only took a few seconds to complete, but he was aware of every detail of his body as he adopted a new form. He began to shrink, dropping nearly a foot and a half in height to be about five feet tall, his bones creaking and popping to accommodate his new form. His gleaming white scales, now covered in soot and ash, shifted into the soft and pink flesh of a human, but he was still covered in soot and ash. Horns, spikes, and bony ridges disappeared as a mop of unruly blond hair sprouted upon his scalp. His imposing draconic frame melted away to reveal a scrawny boy no more than 14 years of age. He had a thin, wiry frame. He gave himself bags under his now brown eyes to make himself seem tired and almost a bit sickly. Unfortunately, his clothing now hung loosely on his frame. Sighing, he utters an arcane phrase under his breath as spins an illusion about him. His fine clothing seemingly fades away to reveal a peasant's outfit, tattered and scorched by flame. ((Casting Disguise self))
He peeks out of the alley, straining his senses to locate where people seem to be gathering. Another spike of excitement shoots through him as a plan formulates in his mind. There was something about infiltration and subterfuge that just made him feel so alive. Trying to keep the grin off of his face, he tentatively steps out of the alley, adopting a fearful and timid expression as he makes his way towards the rest of the townsfolk.
((He's going to try to locate one of the townsfolk and try to get some info about the attack if possible))
((Disguising as anyone in particular or just a generic kid?))
Harben listens to Taya's impassioned explanation, his anger simmering beneath a surface of reluctant understanding. He glances at the injured guard, then back at Taya, his expression hardening.
"You make a fair point, Taya. I won't deny that your actions may have saved us from a worse fate," Harben concedes grudgingly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you abandoned your post. You were hired to protect this caravan, not to make strategic decisions on the battlefield."
He pauses, weighing his words carefully. "I respect your bravery and your tactical mind, but I can't have someone who's unpredictable guarding my caravan. It's a risk I can't afford. You're right about one thing - the town will need our wares now more than ever. But I need guards I can rely on to stick to their duty."
He turns slightly, indicating the ongoing efforts to tend to the injured and restore order. "As for the town's leaders... let them come. I'll deal with that when the time comes. For now, my priority is the safety and well-being of my caravan and crew."
He looks at Taya with a finality that brooks no argument. "You're a good fighter, Taya, and maybe a decent commander in your own right, but your place isn't here. I have to let you go. Consider yourself relieved of your duties effective immediately. However, you’re free to keep the equipment I gave you travel with us as a passenger if you choose. Consider it a severance payment."
His gaze shifts to Horros, acknowledging his offer. "Horros, your help with the wounded and the fallen would be appreciated. We could use a man of your skills right now."
Despite the tension, a hint of respect lingers in Harben's tone, a grudging acknowledgment of the difficult choices made in the heat of battle.
Galdric stiffens. He hates the thought of having to interact with nobility. All the fake courtesy and deference. But here he is, so he puts in his best polite face.
“Forgive me my lord, I had not sought to intrude. I simply wished to speak with those two once you were finished. My name is Galdric Vaxpurr. I was one of several guards of a merchant caravan that arrived as the attack began. I and my fellows bled trying to repel this invasion. I say this not seeking praise or reward, but seeking to learn what happened here and why. I have an unshakable sense that our arrival at this trying time was not solely coincidental. I only wish to understand my role and that of my companions…”
Lord Varden listens intently, maintaining a composed facade. After Galdric finishes, he responds with a courteous but guarded air.
“Master Vaxpurr, your bravery is commendable,” Lord Varden acknowledges. “To address your query, we had anticipated possible threats and summoned adventurers to pre-emptively strike against any potential attackers. That is the primary reason you find the Arcane Brotherhood’s acolytes here. They are assisting in understanding any magical aspects of these threats.”
Galdric ponders this explanation. The presence of the acolytes and the claim of anticipated threats seem incongruent with the town's apparent lack of preparedness and defense during the attack.
Sensing Galdric's skepticism, Lord Varden quickly adds, “In fact, Master Vaxpurr, we could use someone of your capabilities. I’d like to formally offer you and your companions a task: to track down these attackers. This mission is crucial for the safety of Shadowdale.”
The job, while seemingly straightforward, feels like a diversion. The acolytes shift uncomfortably in their seats.
Transformed into a young human boy, Zyzix carefully steps out from the alley, blending into the chaotic aftermath of the attack on Shadowdale. He approaches a group of townsfolk gathered near the remnants of the market square, his face skillfully expressing shock and worry.
"Excuse me," he asks in a trembling voice, attracting the attention of the villagers. "I hid during the attack. Did anyone see the attackers? Why would they target our town?"
A woman, her face smeared with soot, responds with a look of concern. "Oh, dear, it was mercenaries. Some had Sembian accents. They seemed like they were searching for someone."
An elderly man chimes in, "Yes, Sembian accents, very odd for these parts. They were asking about a man named Gort. It was as if they were hired to find him."
A bartender, his apron dusted with debris, adds to the conversation. "That Gort fellow, he was in the tavern not long ago. Looked like he'd been through the desert and said he was headed to Sembia."
Zyzix finds this puzzling. Why would Sembia send mercenaries to search for someone in Shadowdale, especially if that person was supposedly heading to Sembia? This inconsistency gnaws at his curiosity, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.
Having only just left Cal’s company, Bell does not continue to whisper back, but rather simply emerges from the lingering smoke nearby. He addresses Cal directly:
“I suppose we should check back with the caravan, if we have any hopes of receiving the second installment of our pay.”
He casts a wistful look toward the tower, barely visible to the north, through the drifting smoke; then gestures, indicating the direction of the caravan: “Shall we, then!”
Walking up the hill to to caravan, you see Taya and Horros engaged in heated discussion.
((you arrive in time to hear the last post from Harben and can join this if you’d like))
Horros coughs slightly out of awkwardness as he wasn’t expecting the confrontation. “She speaks the truth, difficult decisions had to be made, can’t change it now. I’ll perform funeral rites of any fallen and can happily tend to wounded or repair equipment as needed.” He takes off his armor and sets down his shield showing a holy symbol around his neck and simple priestly garbs, more practical than typical vestments and would get to work doing what he can.
As he does so he half jokingly calls Taya “commander” as both a tease and sign of respect.
Taya assists Horros with his work where she can and when he lets her give a hand. “Stop that,” she says with a sheepish smile, “I’m no commander. Not even a guard,”she adds sullenly. “I do wonder if I could have protected them better if I had stayed… But so many innocents… How could he have wanted us to stay back and watch? … And listen to the screams?”
Harben listens to Taya's impassioned explanation, his anger simmering beneath a surface of reluctant understanding. He glances at the injured guard, then back at Taya, his expression hardening.
"You make a fair point, Taya. I won't deny that your actions may have saved us from a worse fate," Harben concedes grudgingly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you abandoned your post. You were hired to protect this caravan, not to make strategic decisions on the battlefield."
He pauses, weighing his words carefully. "I respect your bravery and your tactical mind, but I can't have someone who's unpredictable guarding my caravan. It's a risk I can't afford. You're right about one thing - the town will need our wares now more than ever. But I need guards I can rely on to stick to their duty."
He turns slightly, indicating the ongoing efforts to tend to the injured and restore order. "As for the town's leaders... let them come. I'll deal with that when the time comes. For now, my priority is the safety and well-being of my caravan and crew."
He looks at Taya with a finality that brooks no argument. "You're a good fighter, Taya, and maybe a decent commander in your own right, but your place isn't here. I have to let you go. Consider yourself relieved of your duties effective immediately. However, you’re free to keep the equipment I gave you travel with us as a passenger if you choose. Consider it a severance payment."
“So be it,” Taya surrenders to Harben’s decision. For a moment it seemed that she wanted to add something but then she turned away, continuing to help Horros. ‘Perhaps, the town guard needs people,’ she thinks to herself.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Sorry, I'm beginning to enter a vacation period and while I will try to check-in at least daily, I cannot promise that I will always be able to do so. From September 1, I should be back to normal.
Haj sits a little while, recovering his strength and watching the aftermath of the attack as locals emerge from hiding and start checking for enemy stragglers. He turns to Galdric "We have done a good thing today, and I believe it has strengthened me in some small way" "Maybe next time my healing may actually work, although I'd prefer not to have to test it."
"I guess we should head back to the caravan and see how the others have fared"
He stands and tests how his leg is holding up. "But first, I have to see a man about a shirt".
The guard who offered the shirt, overhearing this, approaches Haj. "If you need assistance, I can escort you to the castle," he offers. "Captain Relnor should know about your efforts here. He'd want to thank you personally."
Grateful, Haj accepts her offer, and together they make their way to the castle. As they enter, the sight of a shirtless Haj alongside the guard turns a few heads. They find Captain Relnor in the midst of coordinating the town's recovery efforts.
The guard clears her throat to catch the captain's attention. "Captain Relnor, sir," she begins, "I bring Haj, one of the defenders from the town square. He played a crucial role in repelling the attackers."
Captain Relnor, a stern man with a gaze that's seen many battles, looks up and raises an eyebrow at the sight of Haj's shirtless state. "Well, this is certainly not how I expected to meet one of our town's saviors," he remarks with a hint of amusement. "But your bravery is the talk of Shadowdale. We owe you a debt of gratitude. And, it seems, a shirt."
Relnor walks over to a nearby supply closet and withdraws a finely woven cotton shirt bearing the sigil of shadowdale. He hands it to Haj.
"Thank you, a fine shirt indeed" he quickly pulls the shirt on "hopefully now I won't be remembered as Haj-the shirtless".
"I need to head off to see how my comrades have faired, but before I do, can you tell me anything about what happened here? We've been told they are the Black Serpents, and their leader is called Riggs, and they were looking for a man called Gort, but I feel like we're missing something. Surely a few enquiries and a quick kidnapping would have been the more practical choice."
Galdric stiffens. He hates the thought of having to interact with nobility. All the fake courtesy and deference. But here he is, so he puts in his best polite face.
“Forgive me my lord, I had not sought to intrude. I simply wished to speak with those two once you were finished. My name is Galdric Vaxpurr. I was one of several guards of a merchant caravan that arrived as the attack began. I and my fellows bled trying to repel this invasion. I say this not seeking praise or reward, but seeking to learn what happened here and why. I have an unshakable sense that our arrival at this trying time was not solely coincidental. I only wish to understand my role and that of my companions…”
Lord Varden listens intently, maintaining a composed facade. After Galdric finishes, he responds with a courteous but guarded air.
“Master Vaxpurr, your bravery is commendable,” Lord Varden acknowledges. “To address your query, we had anticipated possible threats and summoned adventurers to pre-emptively strike against any potential attackers. That is the primary reason you find the Arcane Brotherhood’s acolytes here. They are assisting in understanding any magical aspects of these threats.”
Galdric ponders this explanation. The presence of the acolytes and the claim of anticipated threats seem incongruent with the town's apparent lack of preparedness and defense during the attack.
Sensing Galdric's skepticism, Lord Varden quickly adds, “In fact, Master Vaxpurr, we could use someone of your capabilities. I’d like to formally offer you and your companions a task: to track down these attackers. This mission is crucial for the safety of Shadowdale.”
The job, while seemingly straightforward, feels like a diversion. The acolytes shift uncomfortably in their seats.
"I am grateful for the offer my Lord, and I will seriously consider it. However I cannot speak for my companions as we have all met only recently. And there is the matter of our current employment with Harben to consider. I'm not one to break an agreement made in good faith without strong justification. I will bring your offer to the group. We will have an answer for you quickly. In the mean time, if you have any further need of us, you know where to find us."
As he says the last sentence, he tries to subtly make eye contact with the acolytes, hoping they catch the hint.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Kaelan Thornfell - Wildhunt Shifter Beast Barbarian - Horde of the Dragon Queen
Gustuck "Grumpy Gus" Clayshaper - Deep Gnome Astral Self Monk - Malady of Minarrh
Shelmo Sherrinford - Fairy Inquisitive Rogue - Vae Victus
Haj sits a little while, recovering his strength and watching the aftermath of the attack as locals emerge from hiding and start checking for enemy stragglers. He turns to Galdric "We have done a good thing today, and I believe it has strengthened me in some small way" "Maybe next time my healing may actually work, although I'd prefer not to have to test it."
"I guess we should head back to the caravan and see how the others have fared"
He stands and tests how his leg is holding up. "But first, I have to see a man about a shirt".
The guard who offered the shirt, overhearing this, approaches Haj. "If you need assistance, I can escort you to the castle," he offers. "Captain Relnor should know about your efforts here. He'd want to thank you personally."
Grateful, Haj accepts her offer, and together they make their way to the castle. As they enter, the sight of a shirtless Haj alongside the guard turns a few heads. They find Captain Relnor in the midst of coordinating the town's recovery efforts.
The guard clears her throat to catch the captain's attention. "Captain Relnor, sir," she begins, "I bring Haj, one of the defenders from the town square. He played a crucial role in repelling the attackers."
Captain Relnor, a stern man with a gaze that's seen many battles, looks up and raises an eyebrow at the sight of Haj's shirtless state. "Well, this is certainly not how I expected to meet one of our town's saviors," he remarks with a hint of amusement. "But your bravery is the talk of Shadowdale. We owe you a debt of gratitude. And, it seems, a shirt."
Relnor walks over to a nearby supply closet and withdraws a finely woven cotton shirt bearing the sigil of shadowdale. He hands it to Haj.
"Thank you, a fine shirt indeed" he quickly pulls the shirt on "hopefully now I won't be remembered as Haj-the shirtless".
"I need to head off to see how my comrades have faired, but before I do, can you tell me anything about what happened here? We've been told they are the Black Serpents, and their leader is called Riggs, and they were looking for a man called Gort, but I feel like we're missing something. Surely a few enquiries and a quick kidnapping would have been the more practical choice."
The guard, his anger barely contained, speaks with fervent conviction. "This was no random raid, it was Sembia's doing! We heard their accents among the attackers, saw their weapons – distinctively Sembian. We should be rallying for war to show them we won't be trampled on!"
Captain Relnor listens to the guard's heated words and then speaks with a measured tone. “The presence of Sembian weapons and accents is troubling, but we must consider the broader context. The sheer brutality and the timing of this attack, during our festival, suggest a deeper strategy. This could be a deliberate ploy to incite war. We need to approach this with a clear head and gather more information before taking any action.”
He then turns to Haj. "You've shown courage in the face of this turmoil. Shadowdale needs someone of your mettle to help uncover the truth. There's an abandoned watchtower to the east that might hold clues. It overlooks the town and could have been used to orchestrate this attack. If you can investigate it, we might find the evidence we need to understand who's really behind this, and why."
Horros coughs slightly out of awkwardness as he wasn’t expecting the confrontation. “She speaks the truth, difficult decisions had to be made, can’t change it now. I’ll perform funeral rites of any fallen and can happily tend to wounded or repair equipment as needed.” He takes off his armor and sets down his shield showing a holy symbol around his neck and simple priestly garbs, more practical than typical vestments and would get to work doing what he can.
As he does so he half jokingly calls Taya “commander” as both a tease and sign of respect.
Taya assists Horros with his work where she can and when he lets her give a hand. “Stop that,” she says with a sheepish smile, “I’m no commander. Not even a guard,”she adds sullenly. “I do wonder if I could have protected them better if I had stayed… But so many innocents… How could he have wanted us to stay back and watch? … And listen to the screams?”
Harben listens to Taya's impassioned explanation, his anger simmering beneath a surface of reluctant understanding. He glances at the injured guard, then back at Taya, his expression hardening.
"You make a fair point, Taya. I won't deny that your actions may have saved us from a worse fate," Harben concedes grudgingly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you abandoned your post. You were hired to protect this caravan, not to make strategic decisions on the battlefield."
He pauses, weighing his words carefully. "I respect your bravery and your tactical mind, but I can't have someone who's unpredictable guarding my caravan. It's a risk I can't afford. You're right about one thing - the town will need our wares now more than ever. But I need guards I can rely on to stick to their duty."
He turns slightly, indicating the ongoing efforts to tend to the injured and restore order. "As for the town's leaders... let them come. I'll deal with that when the time comes. For now, my priority is the safety and well-being of my caravan and crew."
He looks at Taya with a finality that brooks no argument. "You're a good fighter, Taya, and maybe a decent commander in your own right, but your place isn't here. I have to let you go. Consider yourself relieved of your duties effective immediately. However, you’re free to keep the equipment I gave you travel with us as a passenger if you choose. Consider it a severance payment."
“So be it,” Taya surrenders to Harben’s decision. For a moment it seemed that she wanted to add something but then she turned away, continuing to help Horros. ‘Perhaps, the town guard needs people,’ she thinks to herself.
Horros ponders the result of the conversation and responds to Taya, “look, I’m not here to go back and forth and tell you what’s right or wrong or consider ‘what if’ scenarios that could have made it better. You made a choice, it saved lives and not only accepted consequences but defended your decision. That’s a leader if I’ve ever seen one, but what does a simple forge goblin know.” He shrugs unbothered as he goes about his business, “could use some help though if you want.”
As Horros begins to tend to the people of the caravan. He brings out his smithing tools to make repairs as needed. He says his prayers to those who have fallen, including the goblins and mercenaries and so on. As he does these tasks he casts guidance on himself to assist in any checks.
"I'll take a look and see if there is anything that helps to understand this. I'd be grateful if you could spare one of your people as a guide, and as backup if needed."
"I'd also be grateful for the loan of a bow, mine needs some repair before it's used again. I'll send it back with the guide once we're finished."
Haj and the guard make their way to the abandoned watchtower, a structure that now seems more ominous with each step they take. As they survey the area, signs of recent use are unmistakably evident.
Around the base of the tower, they find a small, crudely extinguished campfire. Its ashes, though no longer warm, speak of recent activity. Nearby, a makeshift shelter made of branches and tarpaulin suggests someone had been staying here, albeit in a rudimentary fashion.
Inside the tower, the air is thick with the smell of stale wood and disuse. Scattered across the floor are remnants of occupancy: a discarded, rusted dagger and a worn leather cloak billowing in the breeze through a broken window.
Looking around, Haj notices an out of place stone. Tapping it reveals a hidden compartment within the tower's crumbling walls, and within it Haj discovers a letter. The paper is slightly yellowed, the ink not fresh but still legible. Dated three days ago, it is addressed to Riggs and signed with a single initial, "Z". The contents of the letter are stern and explicit:
"Riggs,
Ensure your actions in Shadowdale are not just effective, but terrifying. Spread cruelty and chaos; this is vital for our purpose. Your main task is to find Gort and gain access to the wizard tower. Its secrets are of utmost importance.
After completing your mission, head to Snowmantle near the Border Forest. It should be two week's journey. There, three weeks from this letter's date, you will receive your payment. Any failure will have consequences.
Z"
Haj and the guard look at each other, the weight of the information sinking in. Haj sends the guard back to Captain Relnor and returns to the caravan to share his findings.
Horros coughs slightly out of awkwardness as he wasn’t expecting the confrontation. “She speaks the truth, difficult decisions had to be made, can’t change it now. I’ll perform funeral rites of any fallen and can happily tend to wounded or repair equipment as needed.” He takes off his armor and sets down his shield showing a holy symbol around his neck and simple priestly garbs, more practical than typical vestments and would get to work doing what he can.
As he does so he half jokingly calls Taya “commander” as both a tease and sign of respect.
Taya assists Horros with his work where she can and when he lets her give a hand. “Stop that,” she says with a sheepish smile, “I’m no commander. Not even a guard,”she adds sullenly. “I do wonder if I could have protected them better if I had stayed… But so many innocents… How could he have wanted us to stay back and watch? … And listen to the screams?”
Harben listens to Taya's impassioned explanation, his anger simmering beneath a surface of reluctant understanding. He glances at the injured guard, then back at Taya, his expression hardening.
"You make a fair point, Taya. I won't deny that your actions may have saved us from a worse fate," Harben concedes grudgingly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you abandoned your post. You were hired to protect this caravan, not to make strategic decisions on the battlefield."
He pauses, weighing his words carefully. "I respect your bravery and your tactical mind, but I can't have someone who's unpredictable guarding my caravan. It's a risk I can't afford. You're right about one thing - the town will need our wares now more than ever. But I need guards I can rely on to stick to their duty."
He turns slightly, indicating the ongoing efforts to tend to the injured and restore order. "As for the town's leaders... let them come. I'll deal with that when the time comes. For now, my priority is the safety and well-being of my caravan and crew."
He looks at Taya with a finality that brooks no argument. "You're a good fighter, Taya, and maybe a decent commander in your own right, but your place isn't here. I have to let you go. Consider yourself relieved of your duties effective immediately. However, you’re free to keep the equipment I gave you travel with us as a passenger if you choose. Consider it a severance payment."
“So be it,” Taya surrenders to Harben’s decision. For a moment it seemed that she wanted to add something but then she turned away, continuing to help Horros. ‘Perhaps, the town guard needs people,’ she thinks to herself.
Horros ponders the result of the conversation and responds to Taya, “look, I’m not here to go back and forth and tell you what’s right or wrong or consider ‘what if’ scenarios that could have made it better. You made a choice, it saved lives and not only accepted consequences but defended your decision. That’s a leader if I’ve ever seen one, but what does a simple forge goblin know.” He shrugs unbothered as he goes about his business, “could use some help though if you want.”
As Horros begins to tend to the people of the caravan. He brings out his smithing tools to make repairs as needed. He says his prayers to those who have fallen, including the goblins and mercenaries and so on. As he does these tasks he casts guidance on himself to assist in any checks.
medicine if needed +guidance: 10
As Horros diligently attends to the injured and damaged equipment, the air around him becomes charged with rising tension as villagers trickle in for healing, hearing rumors of Horros services. One by one, they approach, each seeking aid and solace, their faces etched with the trauma of recent events.
A young woman, cradling her injured arm, approaches Horros first. "The raiders, they spoke with Sembian accents, you know," she says, her voice a mix of fear and anger. "They wielded their swords as if they owned our town."
An older man, his forehead bandaged, steps forward, his voice rising. "Sembian weapons! They tore through our homes as if we were nothing but straw dummies!" His outrage is palpable, echoed by nods and murmurs of agreement from the surrounding crowd.
A mother, holding a silent, wide-eyed child, adds her voice to the growing chorus. "They showed no mercy, those Sembians. Our town was peaceful; we did nothing to provoke such cruelty!" Her words, heavy with sorrow, seem to resonate deeply with the others.
As he tends to their wounds, Horros listens intently to each story, his hands never faltering in their healing work.
The mention of Lord Varden's actions becomes a recurring theme, fueling the growing resentment.
A burly farmer, his hand bandaged, steps forward, his voice heavy with accusation. "And where was Lord Varden when we needed him? All our seasoned fighters, the veterans of Shadowdale, locked up in his castle for that blasted Harvest Moon feast!"
A young woman, her eyes brimming with tears, adds bitterly, "Yes, while we were left to fend for ourselves against those Sembian raiders, our best protectors were feasting and toasting inside the castle walls. What kind of leader abandons his people in their hour of need?"
An elderly villager, leaning on a walking stick, chimes in with a shaky voice, "It's as if we were sacrificed, left out here like lambs for the slaughter. Lord Varden's feast might as well have been a feast for those raiders."
Taya continue to help Horros with the growing influx of patients. While she has next to no experience in medical care she will do her best to follow his instructions and lend an ear to the townsfolk’s pains. If possible she will steer conversations to Gort and inquire about who he is, what he might have done in town, when he was last seen and his possible whereabouts. Anything noteworthy really. He was a stranger here (presumingly) and he might have drawn some attention. He was of some interest to Harvey, recalls Taya from their conversation the evening before.(please roll the appropriate skills)
Sorry, I'm beginning to enter a vacation period and while I will try to check-in at least daily, I cannot promise that I will always be able to do so. From September 1, I should be back to normal.
Horros coughs slightly out of awkwardness as he wasn’t expecting the confrontation. “She speaks the truth, difficult decisions had to be made, can’t change it now. I’ll perform funeral rites of any fallen and can happily tend to wounded or repair equipment as needed.” He takes off his armor and sets down his shield showing a holy symbol around his neck and simple priestly garbs, more practical than typical vestments and would get to work doing what he can.
As he does so he half jokingly calls Taya “commander” as both a tease and sign of respect.
"Agreed," Zyzix mentally agrees. "Fire is a dreadful thing, but I may be a bit hereditarily prejudiced against." He watches the smoldering rubble with a disdainful look on his draconic face. He watches Cal begin sifting through the rubble, absentmindedly flicking of ash and soot that coated (and probably ruined) his costume as he ponders about their situation. Why attack this little town and use a large, organized force to do so? Who's behind all of this, and what is their motivation? He felt a surge of excitement as he thought about the intrigue that firmly gripped this little town in its grasp. Perhaps it was time to do a little bit of sleuthing...
He clears his voice and then says to Bell and Cal, "You two seem much more better equipped to handle this mess than I. I'm going to head into town and see if I can lend any service over there." With that, he begins sauntering towards the town.
As soon as he's out of sight of anyone, he finds a concealed alley he can duck into to hide himself in as he puts on a disguise. Taking a deep breath, Zyzix closes his eyes and focusses on an image of a young human man in his mind, mentally creating a schematic for his physical body to shift into. His body always yearned to change, to transform into something new, but the Veil's training and his willpower kept his body stuck in one form. It had been difficult to learn how to control his form in his early years. He spent many long hours trying to master his body, but now, changing on command was almost as easy as breathing. Opening his eyes, he allows his body to change.
The whole process only took a few seconds to complete, but he was aware of every detail of his body as he adopted a new form. He began to shrink, dropping nearly a foot and a half in height to be about five feet tall, his bones creaking and popping to accommodate his new form. His gleaming white scales, now covered in soot and ash, shifted into the soft and pink flesh of a human, but he was still covered in soot and ash. Horns, spikes, and bony ridges disappeared as a mop of unruly blond hair sprouted upon his scalp. His imposing draconic frame melted away to reveal a scrawny boy no more than 14 years of age. He had a thin, wiry frame. He gave himself bags under his now brown eyes to make himself seem tired and almost a bit sickly. Unfortunately, his clothing now hung loosely on his frame. Sighing, he utters an arcane phrase under his breath as spins an illusion about him. His fine clothing seemingly fades away to reveal a peasant's outfit, tattered and scorched by flame. ((Casting Disguise self))
He peeks out of the alley, straining his senses to locate where people seem to be gathering. Another spike of excitement shoots through him as a plan formulates in his mind. There was something about infiltration and subterfuge that just made him feel so alive. Trying to keep the grin off of his face, he tentatively steps out of the alley, adopting a fearful and timid expression as he makes his way towards the rest of the townsfolk.
((He's going to try to locate one of the townsfolk and try to get some info about the attack if possible))
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
”I’m right here, you know.”
Having only just left Cal’s company, Bell does not continue to whisper back, but rather simply emerges from the lingering smoke nearby. He addresses Cal directly:
“I suppose we should check back with the caravan, if we have any hopes of receiving the second installment of our pay.”
He casts a wistful look toward the tower, barely visible to the north, through the drifting smoke; then gestures, indicating the direction of the caravan: “Shall we, then!”
((Disguising as anyone in particular or just a generic kid?))
Harben listens to Taya's impassioned explanation, his anger simmering beneath a surface of reluctant understanding. He glances at the injured guard, then back at Taya, his expression hardening.
"You make a fair point, Taya. I won't deny that your actions may have saved us from a worse fate," Harben concedes grudgingly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you abandoned your post. You were hired to protect this caravan, not to make strategic decisions on the battlefield."
He pauses, weighing his words carefully. "I respect your bravery and your tactical mind, but I can't have someone who's unpredictable guarding my caravan. It's a risk I can't afford. You're right about one thing - the town will need our wares now more than ever. But I need guards I can rely on to stick to their duty."
He turns slightly, indicating the ongoing efforts to tend to the injured and restore order. "As for the town's leaders... let them come. I'll deal with that when the time comes. For now, my priority is the safety and well-being of my caravan and crew."
He looks at Taya with a finality that brooks no argument. "You're a good fighter, Taya, and maybe a decent commander in your own right, but your place isn't here. I have to let you go. Consider yourself relieved of your duties effective immediately. However, you’re free to keep the equipment I gave you travel with us as a passenger if you choose. Consider it a severance payment."
His gaze shifts to Horros, acknowledging his offer. "Horros, your help with the wounded and the fallen would be appreciated. We could use a man of your skills right now."
Despite the tension, a hint of respect lingers in Harben's tone, a grudging acknowledgment of the difficult choices made in the heat of battle.
Lord Varden listens intently, maintaining a composed facade. After Galdric finishes, he responds with a courteous but guarded air.
“Master Vaxpurr, your bravery is commendable,” Lord Varden acknowledges. “To address your query, we had anticipated possible threats and summoned adventurers to pre-emptively strike against any potential attackers. That is the primary reason you find the Arcane Brotherhood’s acolytes here. They are assisting in understanding any magical aspects of these threats.”
Galdric ponders this explanation. The presence of the acolytes and the claim of anticipated threats seem incongruent with the town's apparent lack of preparedness and defense during the attack.
Sensing Galdric's skepticism, Lord Varden quickly adds, “In fact, Master Vaxpurr, we could use someone of your capabilities. I’d like to formally offer you and your companions a task: to track down these attackers. This mission is crucial for the safety of Shadowdale.”
The job, while seemingly straightforward, feels like a diversion. The acolytes shift uncomfortably in their seats.
Transformed into a young human boy, Zyzix carefully steps out from the alley, blending into the chaotic aftermath of the attack on Shadowdale. He approaches a group of townsfolk gathered near the remnants of the market square, his face skillfully expressing shock and worry.
"Excuse me," he asks in a trembling voice, attracting the attention of the villagers. "I hid during the attack. Did anyone see the attackers? Why would they target our town?"
A woman, her face smeared with soot, responds with a look of concern. "Oh, dear, it was mercenaries. Some had Sembian accents. They seemed like they were searching for someone."
An elderly man chimes in, "Yes, Sembian accents, very odd for these parts. They were asking about a man named Gort. It was as if they were hired to find him."
A bartender, his apron dusted with debris, adds to the conversation. "That Gort fellow, he was in the tavern not long ago. Looked like he'd been through the desert and said he was headed to Sembia."
Zyzix finds this puzzling. Why would Sembia send mercenaries to search for someone in Shadowdale, especially if that person was supposedly heading to Sembia? This inconsistency gnaws at his curiosity, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.
Walking up the hill to to caravan, you see Taya and Horros engaged in heated discussion.
((you arrive in time to hear the last post from Harben and can join this if you’d like))
Taya assists Horros with his work where she can and when he lets her give a hand. “Stop that,” she says with a sheepish smile, “I’m no commander. Not even a guard,” she adds sullenly. “I do wonder if I could have protected them better if I had stayed… But so many innocents… How could he have wanted us to stay back and watch? … And listen to the screams?”
“So be it,” Taya surrenders to Harben’s decision. For a moment it seemed that she wanted to add something but then she turned away, continuing to help Horros. ‘Perhaps, the town guard needs people,’ she thinks to herself.
Sorry, I'm beginning to enter a vacation period and while I will try to check-in at least daily, I cannot promise that I will always be able to do so. From September 1, I should be back to normal.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus ||
"Thank you, a fine shirt indeed" he quickly pulls the shirt on "hopefully now I won't be remembered as Haj-the shirtless".
"I need to head off to see how my comrades have faired, but before I do, can you tell me anything about what happened here? We've been told they are the Black Serpents, and their leader is called Riggs, and they were looking for a man called Gort, but I feel like we're missing something. Surely a few enquiries and a quick kidnapping would have been the more practical choice."
Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Arcane Trickster
Portia Thornleaf - Halfling Rogue
"I am grateful for the offer my Lord, and I will seriously consider it. However I cannot speak for my companions as we have all met only recently. And there is the matter of our current employment with Harben to consider. I'm not one to break an agreement made in good faith without strong justification. I will bring your offer to the group. We will have an answer for you quickly. In the mean time, if you have any further need of us, you know where to find us."
As he says the last sentence, he tries to subtly make eye contact with the acolytes, hoping they catch the hint.
Kaelan Thornfell - Wildhunt Shifter Beast Barbarian - Horde of the Dragon Queen
Gustuck "Grumpy Gus" Clayshaper - Deep Gnome Astral Self Monk - Malady of Minarrh
Shelmo Sherrinford - Fairy Inquisitive Rogue - Vae Victus
Solstice Nightchill - Winter Eladrin Hunter Ranger - The Yawning Portal
Captain Duskstar - Human Hex "Gun" Warlock - Airships and Whiskey
The guard, his anger barely contained, speaks with fervent conviction. "This was no random raid, it was Sembia's doing! We heard their accents among the attackers, saw their weapons – distinctively Sembian. We should be rallying for war to show them we won't be trampled on!"
Captain Relnor listens to the guard's heated words and then speaks with a measured tone. “The presence of Sembian weapons and accents is troubling, but we must consider the broader context. The sheer brutality and the timing of this attack, during our festival, suggest a deeper strategy. This could be a deliberate ploy to incite war. We need to approach this with a clear head and gather more information before taking any action.”
He then turns to Haj. "You've shown courage in the face of this turmoil. Shadowdale needs someone of your mettle to help uncover the truth. There's an abandoned watchtower to the east that might hold clues. It overlooks the town and could have been used to orchestrate this attack. If you can investigate it, we might find the evidence we need to understand who's really behind this, and why."
Horros ponders the result of the conversation and responds to Taya, “look, I’m not here to go back and forth and tell you what’s right or wrong or consider ‘what if’ scenarios that could have made it better. You made a choice, it saved lives and not only accepted consequences but defended your decision. That’s a leader if I’ve ever seen one, but what does a simple forge goblin know.” He shrugs unbothered as he goes about his business, “could use some help though if you want.”
As Horros begins to tend to the people of the caravan. He brings out his smithing tools to make repairs as needed. He says his prayers to those who have fallen, including the goblins and mercenaries and so on. As he does these tasks he casts guidance on himself to assist in any checks.
medicine if needed +guidance: 24
"I'll take a look and see if there is anything that helps to understand this. I'd be grateful if you could spare one of your people as a guide, and as backup if needed."
"I'd also be grateful for the loan of a bow, mine needs some repair before it's used again. I'll send it back with the guide once we're finished."
Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Arcane Trickster
Portia Thornleaf - Halfling Rogue
Relnor nods and hands Haj a new longbow from the weapons rack.
((Are you going back to the caravan?))
Yes, I've put that in OOC, probably while you were typing this 🤣
Nyli Bemblade - Gnome Arcane Trickster
Portia Thornleaf - Halfling Rogue
Haj and the guard make their way to the abandoned watchtower, a structure that now seems more ominous with each step they take. As they survey the area, signs of recent use are unmistakably evident.
Around the base of the tower, they find a small, crudely extinguished campfire. Its ashes, though no longer warm, speak of recent activity. Nearby, a makeshift shelter made of branches and tarpaulin suggests someone had been staying here, albeit in a rudimentary fashion.
Inside the tower, the air is thick with the smell of stale wood and disuse. Scattered across the floor are remnants of occupancy: a discarded, rusted dagger and a worn leather cloak billowing in the breeze through a broken window.
Looking around, Haj notices an out of place stone. Tapping it reveals a hidden compartment within the tower's crumbling walls, and within it Haj discovers a letter. The paper is slightly yellowed, the ink not fresh but still legible. Dated three days ago, it is addressed to Riggs and signed with a single initial, "Z". The contents of the letter are stern and explicit:
"Riggs,
Ensure your actions in Shadowdale are not just effective, but terrifying. Spread cruelty and chaos; this is vital for our purpose. Your main task is to find Gort and gain access to the wizard tower. Its secrets are of utmost importance.
After completing your mission, head to Snowmantle near the Border Forest. It should be two week's journey. There, three weeks from this letter's date, you will receive your payment. Any failure will have consequences.
Haj and the guard look at each other, the weight of the information sinking in. Haj sends the guard back to Captain Relnor and returns to the caravan to share his findings.
As Horros diligently attends to the injured and damaged equipment, the air around him becomes charged with rising tension as villagers trickle in for healing, hearing rumors of Horros services. One by one, they approach, each seeking aid and solace, their faces etched with the trauma of recent events.
A young woman, cradling her injured arm, approaches Horros first. "The raiders, they spoke with Sembian accents, you know," she says, her voice a mix of fear and anger. "They wielded their swords as if they owned our town."
An older man, his forehead bandaged, steps forward, his voice rising. "Sembian weapons! They tore through our homes as if we were nothing but straw dummies!" His outrage is palpable, echoed by nods and murmurs of agreement from the surrounding crowd.
A mother, holding a silent, wide-eyed child, adds her voice to the growing chorus. "They showed no mercy, those Sembians. Our town was peaceful; we did nothing to provoke such cruelty!" Her words, heavy with sorrow, seem to resonate deeply with the others.
As he tends to their wounds, Horros listens intently to each story, his hands never faltering in their healing work.
The mention of Lord Varden's actions becomes a recurring theme, fueling the growing resentment.
A burly farmer, his hand bandaged, steps forward, his voice heavy with accusation. "And where was Lord Varden when we needed him? All our seasoned fighters, the veterans of Shadowdale, locked up in his castle for that blasted Harvest Moon feast!"
A young woman, her eyes brimming with tears, adds bitterly, "Yes, while we were left to fend for ourselves against those Sembian raiders, our best protectors were feasting and toasting inside the castle walls. What kind of leader abandons his people in their hour of need?"
An elderly villager, leaning on a walking stick, chimes in with a shaky voice, "It's as if we were sacrificed, left out here like lambs for the slaughter. Lord Varden's feast might as well have been a feast for those raiders."
Taya continue to help Horros with the growing influx of patients. While she has next to no experience in medical care she will do her best to follow his instructions and lend an ear to the townsfolk’s pains. If possible she will steer conversations to Gort and inquire about who he is, what he might have done in town, when he was last seen and his possible whereabouts. Anything noteworthy really. He was a stranger here (presumingly) and he might have drawn some attention. He was of some interest to Harvey, recalls Taya from their conversation the evening before.(please roll the appropriate skills)
Sorry, I'm beginning to enter a vacation period and while I will try to check-in at least daily, I cannot promise that I will always be able to do so. From September 1, I should be back to normal.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus ||