Marcos stands. He gives a nod of his head towards Nestra Ruthiol. He looks at the River Baron. He has taken her measure. He guesses that she came to her position through her abilities rather than birthright or largess. Her meets her eyes with a level stare.
Normally laconic, he tries to summon up some type of speech to fit the occasion.
'It is an honor and pleasure to meet you all. My name is Marcos Varixx. I am a man of few words. I do not have a great deal of knowledge about trade nor about politics. But I have spent my youth on vessels on the sword coast and I know the water. And I know ships. And I know tactics and I know logistics. And I know battle. My skills are at your disposal, River Baron. Sorry I do not know your honorific. It may take me some time to learn the Yartari customs. I will do all that is possible to maintain the safety of the waterways and the area. Tempus thanks you.'
He has offered this mantra many times. Generally at the initiation or a completion of a mission. He does not expect the codified response.
He looks around the room and finally at the River Baron. He sits down.
Rastrin nods as Yen speaks. Safe to assume he's not a beggar then, he thinks bemusedly. Sensing that his family was somewhat of a sensitive topic, Rastrin shifts the conversation in a different direction as they wait for their meal.
"Yeah, family can be difficult," he starts. "Even if they don't quite see eye-to-eye with you, I'm sure they still love you. That's what family is for after all." He stops running his hand slowly across the table and instead begins absentmindedly fiddling with a lump of glass dangling around his neck from a thin chain. Thinking about Yen's comment about alcohol, Rastrin asks, "Speaking of spirits, what's your favorite kind of drink?" Rastrin himself didn't like alcohol. He had tried it once several years ago, and it didn't turn out too well. Alcohol and fire just don't mix very well. Well, they actually mixed very well, but it was a rather unpleasant experience for everyone involved.
Yenword replied with a bit of a shrug, taking a moment to look around the tavern. He recalled visiting the Lucky Trout once or twice before, at least when he was sober. Its walls and soft but lively music made him feel a bit more at ease.
”Who knows? If they do, they have a funny way of showing it,” Yenword remarks, his eyes slowly falling onto the glass lump that Rastrin toyed with. His concentration on it broke when the question of alcohol came up. He smiles a bit as he replies, “Wine, preferably. Younger wines. Can drink more of them and enjoy them more without feeling as much of the effects…though today I drank stuff that was a bit stronger than I expected it to be…”
Despite preparing herself all day for the council meeting, Shay was still not entirely ready for the River Baron’s entrance. At first glance Shay believes that Nestra Ruthiol has the appearance of someone who commands total respect and authority, and no sooner did the thought cross her mind than the River Baron speak and prove them right. After shooting to her feet alongside various other people in the council chamber that swiftly faded into the background, everyone returned to their seats as the minutes were read and the meeting officially began. Wasting no time, Nestra announced the new River Master as a man named Marcus Varixx who hailed from the temple of Tempus, a fact not at all lost on a temple Acolyte such as Malia who seemed to take more interest than just moments before.
Sparing a fast look at the human man, Shay took notice of how silently proud he sat even from her spot and had a feeling that this Marcus of the House of Heroes might just live up to his name in some shape or form. She reminds herself to pass what information she now has on to Kara when her sending stone reset the next day, admiring his clothing for a brief moment before her attention returns to the River Master herself. Speaking lightly and assuredly, Shay has no doubt in her mind that Nestra cared deeply for the citizens of Yartar; a deep sense of unashamed pride for her birthplace swells inside of her just from the devotion she sees in Nestra’s eyes alone. It was infectious! Shay turns eagerly back to the newly appointed River Master in anticipation for his response, distantly noticing another human beside Marcus with a wide smile softly speaking to him. The River Master opens his mouth to reply and it feels as though the room waits with baited breath for what he has to say.
Nestra Ruthiol continues to hold Marcus’ eyes, then seems to take note of the group’s response as those around the table applaud Marcus politely. It is difficult to read whether or not she is pleased with his statement.
The Exchequer, Jenö Dorottya, also welcomes Marcus, and now states an agenda and leads the assembled council through it. The tall, white-haired, cinnamon-complexioned man’s voice is strident and crisp, its cadence that of generations-long noble caste. Certain allocations of funding for projects in the city, and a number of issues following and relating to the floods are discussed, following which Exchequer Dorottya reads the final item as he searches the table, uncertain whom he is addressing.
“Shay Quill on behalf of the Emerald Enclave.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
And so the conversation goes between Yen and Rastrin, gaining momentum as the meal continues which -- solid food -- leads Yen further toward sobriety.
As the pair finish their meal, pushing back their chairs and thinking of what comes next, a stranger approaches their table. Dark-eyed under a brown, threadbare cap, an aged scarf thrown over her shoulder, her bony freckled hands are held in front of her, offering small, brightly painted wooden figurines. An infant boy whose eye speechlessly holds yours is strapped upon her back.
“Only one silver, one silver, one silver for a mother and baby who lost their home in the flood. One silver for hand-carved figures from the countryside, one silver…”
She’d been circling the dining hall for the last few minutes, but now stands before your table, back bowed, not from age, but from circumstance one might guess, for her hair and features are those of a woman in her prime, though it is hard to see for the caked mud. “Only one silver…”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Rastrin is rather pleased with how the whole dinner turned out. The food was great, and he enjoyed talking with Yenword. While he wasn’t lonely per se, his social life was a bit lacking. Sure, he was friendly and chatted with his coworkers when not hyper-focused on making glass, but he wasn’t close friends with any of them. He learned in his youth that those who were close to him often ended up burned both figuratively and literally, so it was best to keep people at arm’s length so to speak.
As the woman approached them and attempted to sell off her little toys, Rastrin instinctively puts a protective hand over his coin pouch. With all the natural disasters happening, there had been an influx of con artist seeking to leech away a few extra coins by pretending to be a victim of a flood. While the woman certainly looked like she had been through a flood, one could never be too careful.
He meets the eyes of the child, and he hesitates in his thoughts. Even if the woman was a con artist, that child was incredibly convincing. He looks over the pair again, and this time, he sees them not as a crafty duo trying to steal some coins, but sees them as what they claim: a mother and child without a home. Surely he could spare a few extra coins, couldn’t he? After all, Bahumat taught that compassion, even when it’s brought about by someone else’s cunning and greed, was always better than showing greed. His draconic side always pushed to be stingy and paranoid about his wealth, but such was the life of a dragonborn.
Rastrin pulls out 10 gold coins from his leather coin pouch and offers it to the woman. “Keep the toys,” he says with what he hoped was a kindly smile as he offers the coins. “If you have no place to stay tonight, while my home isn’t grand or anything, you and your child could spend the night there if you’d like.” Once again, his stingy draconic part of him bristled at the generous offer, but he forces the feelings aside.
Applause breaks out after the new River Master is done speaking and Shay joins in agreeably. The meeting carries on as several topics of discussion are talked about at length while Shay gets her first proper glimpse into the political world of Yartar. She’s pleased to hear that so much attention is placed on the floods. While she didn’t know anyone who was personally afflicted, her mentor Taisen immediately opened the spare reading rooms in the library for those without places to stay. It gave Shay a closer look at many of the survivors than most in the city would’ve probably liked to see themselves.
The spare rooms were peddled through relatively quickly as people came and went rather steadily, grateful for the help Taisen and her apprentices provided, but ultimately still moving on due to not wanting to be seen as burdensome. Taisen later explained to her that good intentions weren’t always seen through to the end, and sometimes small acts of kindness produced an inner turmoil in others that only they could quell. While this wasn’t the most satisfying thing to hear, Shay accepted it as one of life’s harder truths.
“Shay Quill on behalf of the Emerald Enclave.”
Exchequer Dorottya’s eyes scan around the room from his position, clear confusion etched into his previously composed features causing Shay to realize that it was very suddenly her turn to have all eyes be cast on her. Standing hesitantly to her feet, Shay raises a hand to get the Exchequer’s attention, and after receiving his acknowledgement, unfurls her parchment gently. She reminds herself to simply read what she had written down and above all else remain steady.
“Good evening everyone. I’m Shay Quill and I’ll be representing the Emerald Enclave on matters regarding the recent floods as well as the rampantly running elven illness.” Shay clears her throat while allowing everything to still inwardly before continuing.
“To begin with, the floods have put a lot of people into less than optimal living positions. Our plan moving forward is to find out if they and the recent high winds are naturally occurring events, or magically created catastrophes committed with purpose. If they are the latter, it’ll be in our best interest to pursue further action in resolving things. As Druids we can’t allow nature itself to become unbalanced by the heedless behaviors of some who might wish to throw off the very delicate work we strive to achieve.”
Feeling more in her stride now, Shay goes on to the next point with far less resistance. “And for the elven illness, the initial source is still widely unknown. Claims of humans bringing it about due to their natural immunity as a way to cause permanent harm to elves are unfounded and we at the Enclave kindly ask that they are no longer taken seriously. I personally believe the best way to find anything out for sure would be for someone in my faction to leave Yartar entirely in search of the source. It could be all the difference in changing the course of this illness or sitting in speculation. As of now we have no volunteers, but we will keep the council informed of any decisions going forward. Thank you very much for your time.”
Shay ends by politely inclining her head to the nobles present and nodding to the River Baron herself before once again taking her seat. Beside her, Malia flashes her a supportive smile that Shay tentatively returns. She definitely feels far more at ease now that the worst is over.
Harold listens closely as Shay describes the concerns of the Emerald Enclave. He is aware of the wind and the flooding, but is surprised at the mention of an illness that has been ravaging the elves. The flooding and excessive wind has been a boon to business recently as he provided supplies to those looking to rebuild and repair their homes. While Shay speaks, the merchant cannot help but wonder what "opportunity" he is supposed to take advantage of during this meeting. He can feel his hands become cold and beads of sweat forming across his brow. The thought of letting Father down is enough to send a chill down his spine and he beings to quietly glance around the room... looking for ANYTHING that may offer a clue to why he was there...
Marcos is concerned with the news from the Emerald Enclave delegate. A poorly understood disease affecting the elves?. That has the potential to destabilize Faerun. He makes a mental note. The Guantlet will want to hear about this as soon as possible.
The news of flooding seems more mundane. These things happen. The rivers will need to be cleared of debris. He must look at the docks in the morning to see if they are risk of damage….
The merchant next to him continues to figit. Marcos turns to him and notices a bead of sweat over his brow. What lies behind this man’s vulpine smile?
Yenword's eyebrow raises at the woman as she approached, but his concerns for who she was suddenly vanished as he saw Rastrin's response to her. 'Well, that's rather surprising. Then again, he is covering this meal, so...' he thought to himself, pulling a gold from his pocket and sliding it over to her. His eyes follows hers and the child as he does it, recalling something from the monks he watched in the past had said, 'The eyes are the windows to the soul...While one's words might direct another's feelings, you must remain vigilant that your mind is defended against such things...'
When Shay theorizes that the natural disasters could be “magically created catastrophes committed with purpose,” many in the room sputter or scoff, “What!”, “Purpose?,” or “Magic?,” but all listen intently; and when she speaks of the rumor that humans had caused the elven illness, several sets of eyes flicker, while one nobleman – Szigfrid Tivadar, who has holdings near the Westwood – feigns inattention, turning to his neighbor and whispering something in her ear; while the River Baron’s attention dwells completely on Shay, her sharp eyes probing in a way which would cause discomfort to many. When Shay finishes, the room is silent, and not without an edge of fear. Perhaps recent events foretell worse to come, some may think.
Exchequer Dorottya thanks Shay, then exchanges a look with the River Baron and takes his seat.
Ruthiol’s posture now shifts from straight to straight-as-a-lightning-rod in her wing chair as her eyes narrow and sparkle with anger, looking around the table as this moment of now uncomfortable silence endures. Finally, she speaks, and her tone, for some, is more unsettling than the ominous silence that preceded it.
“Some of you may already be aware of the Mirabar Delegation from Waterdeep, which was expected to pass through Yartar, and for whom boarding arrangements had been made, a calendar of meetings and entertainment and other protocols arranged. If you were aware, you will have likewise received a message from my chambers informing you of their delay.
"I am now correcting prior information. The delegation is not merely delayed. It is missing, and has been missing for two tendays. We are in mortal fear for our friends in the delegation, in fact.”
Voices are raised in surprise and concern. The River Baron, her expression never changing, allows a moment for this to run its course before turning to Jenö Dorottya while slightly raising one eyebrow in a tacit command to speak.
“For those who did not know," the Exchequer explains in a sour tone, "the Mirabar Delegation was sent from Waterdeep in order to extend a longstanding business alliance between the two cities. This exists as a market-based enterprise for the exports of exquisite forged and enchanted weapons, armor, and other metal goods produced by the unmatched dwarven forges under the city of Mirabar. Forges which toil tirelessly due to the fortuitous nearby abundance of ore and fine metals mined from the Spine of the World’s southern slopes. Waterdeep of course offers Mirabar its markets and shipping to distant ports at a low tariff, which allows enormous profits to both. The twenty-year compact between the cities will expire at midsummer’s day, and the delegation was sent to ensure its smooth continuation into the future.”
Ruthiol nods almost imperceptibly to the Exchequer, waits for him to sit, and then continues in her controlled tones, sharp-edged as an assassin’s blade.
“Among those missing are the renowned dwarven historian, Bruldenthar, who was transporting a collection of manuscripts to Mirabar. The Harpers – yes the Harpers – are particularly concerned regarding their contents, as they have gone to great ends to inform us. Additionally, no fewer than three diplomats from Alliance cities were among the delegates, and the leaders of those cities – Silverymoon, Mirabar, and Waterdeep – have likewise expressed deep concern for the welfare of their political sons and daughter.”
The River Baron’s gray eyes fall suddenly on Shay. “The moon elf Teresiel was among them as well, bearing a gift for Mirabar.” Shay knows that Teresiel is a representative of the Emerald Enclave, probably the friend Nash had spoken of at lunch. Shay also knows that Nash and Teresial had been lovers earlier in life, though Nash has never offered many details.
“The Zhentarim," Ruthiol continues, "those murderous, scheming thieves, I am told, are deeply interested in this disappearance as well.”
“It is a mystery. The entire delegation, including not only those I have named, but over two score persons and their retinues. Gone. Without a trace. Somewhere in the Dessarin Valley. Our home.”
She suddenly shouts before her voice drops to an even more murderous low.
“HOW?? We have had the flood to contend with, aye. But now there is NO EXCUSE. IWILL KNOW what transpired, and what has befallen the delegation.”
The sharp edge of her tone has caused several councilors around the table to jump, to fidget in their seats, to dare wild glances at their neighbors as their brows gleam with perspiration.
Nestra Ruthiol now turns to face Marcus, her eyes sharp and deadly, her tone measured, clear, almost coy.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Marcos stands up. ‘ I would propose that I lead a party to go on search of this missing caravan! It sounds of too great importance to delegate this task!’
’There are one or two from the crew of Waukeen’s Hand who would be helpful. I would need at least another five to ten able bodies warriors and scouts.’
‘After the party is formed we can begin from their last known whereabouts.’ He looks around the room, his gaze eventually lands on Ruthiol.
A thought occurs to him. Perhaps this is a ruse. Perhaps the River Baron doesn’t want him in the city? He discards the thought. He is happy to oblige and hopes to be on the road soon.
When the River Baron speaks, Harold focuses his all of his attention towards her. With eyes unblinking, he hangs on to every word while listening for any opportunity to serve The Hand. The merchant would rub his gloved hands together as he considered the information being given to him. He had no love for the Harpers... And so assisting The Hand get those documents was appealing. When she mentioned that the Zhentarim were interested in the disappearance, Harold knew he needed to get involved.
When Marcos stands up and proposes leading a search party, a thin smile spreads across his face. "Well, Allow me to be the first to volunteer." Harold says as he slowly stands up and places his hand on the armored shoulder of Marcos. "As a representative of the Guildsman, I... Harold Goldweaver... Offer my services to the newly appointed River Master." he then removes the hand and offers a respectful nod.
The woman’s eyes widen in response to Rastrin and Yen’s generosity and for a moment she dares not move — even so much as to close her fingers around the gold pieces. Frozen in uncertainty, she stands there while her baby shifts slightly on her back.
“Thank you, thank you,” she finally says, “Sirs are very kind, very kind!” She lays all of the carved figurines, each one the size of a small bookmark, upon the table.
“Sirs please take them, all of them,” and although she hasn’t responded to Rastrin’s offer of a roof over her head, she accepts the gold, not daring to meet the Dragonborn or monk’s gaze, and then backs slowly from the table, bowing and pressing her hands together in a show of grateful supplication.
The figurines, carved and painted flat lengths of wood, only a handslength long, depict a farmer with a scythe, a child with a pot on her head, a canoe, and the like, but one of them neither Rastrin nor Yen can identify.
This final figure is a human whose head is carved in the shape of what?—a campfire?— and it is painted brightly in yellow, red, and orange.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Rastrin looks over the figurines with a craftsman’s critical eye, judging their workmanship. The toys were surprisingly well made for a beggar woman. She must have had some talent for woodworking.
While he did think the figure with a fire for its head was somewhat odd, he didn’t think too much about it. Offering the toys to Yen, he says, “I do t have any children or siblings to give these to. Why don’t you take them. I’m sure you can find more use for them than I.” Besides, since they were made out of wood, he doubted they would last long in his possession.
The passion in which the River Baron speaks to everyone comes as a shock to Shay, her fiery expression causes many to sit stock still in their seats as she demands action from the new River Master. His quick decision to assemble a small party to look in the missing envoy’s last known location is one Shay was expecting. The man sitting beside him calling himself Harold Goldweaver, stands and offers his services as well without hesitation. As she gives Harold a proper once over, Shay wonders what lies behind his thoughtful smile.
As eyes are cast around the room in search of more volunteers, Shay feels the indescribable urge to speak up herself, which causes her to falter. Pushing the thought out of mind, she takes a moment to mull over what all she knows at present. The news of Teresiel being among the group of missing individuals gave her reason to become properly invested in what was otherwise a collection of unknown names. Being a devoted member of the Emerald Enclave, Teresiel’s recovery became all the more imminent.
Shay, against her better judgment, takes out her faction appointed sending stone in order to see where she should proceed, taking extra caution to keep her voice low. “Hello Norrin? The new River Master is assembling a group to look for the missing group out of the Waterdeep. Among the missing is one of our own, Teresiel the moon elf. How would you have me go about this?” As per typical, she gets a fast reply from the next highest Enclave leader.
‘It’s clear we need to send someone to go along on the factions’ behalf in order to see about our dear member.’ He pauses and Shay imagines he’s conversing with his co-leader Anya Xalee, the oldest of the leader trio, and easily one of their best if Shay’s opinion counted for anything. When she gets a response several moments later, it’s from Anya herself. ‘We’ve talked it over and have come to the agreement that it would be best if you joined the parting group Shay. Not only do you need experience representing us outside of Yartar, but being out of the city could offer a wider perspective on the potential origins of the elven illness as well that we might not be able to see from here. Right now Teresiel takes priority. We trust you’ll represent the Enclave in all matters if you accept this mission and above all else remain vigilant. What do you say, young one?’
Shay freezes in place, a sense of panic and excitement clashing within her at what she’d been asked to do and the uncertainty nearly makes Shay drop her stone to the floor. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and considers what she’d do if she passed up on this opportunity when so much was on the line regarding her faction. Nash’s face flashes through her mind from earlier and recalling his attempts at concealing his concern in front of her pushed Shay to agree. “I accept. I’ll come by to get any traveling supplies needed. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Getting to her feet, Shay faces the River Baron and gives a short nod of respect. “I’d also like to volunteer to join the River Master on behalf of the Emerald Enclave.” She sits quickly and waits in case anyone else decides to speak up.
”I doubt that these would do my sister any good. She is a bit too old for these now,” Yenword replies, looking over the other toys to admire the work on them before his eyes lingered on the one toy that stood out from them. Running his finger along the toy, Yenword felt almost drawn to it somehow. ‘Is it possible…?’ He thinks to himself, looking back in the direction that the woman wandered off in.
Yenword’s gaze then turned back to Rastrin. “Did the woman say where she was from?” he asks, his eyes appearing completely clear of any drink or other laziness that Rastrin might have seen before. In its place Rastrin would see a mind clearly working rapidly, as if trying to piece together some kind of puzzle.
As he listens to Yen speak, the spark of curiosity within became a flame. As a craftsman, he was always intrigued by seeing new designs. While he had originally dismissed the fire-headed figure, it certainly was a novel design.
“Excuse me ma’am,” Rastrin calls out to the retreating woman. Gesturing towards the strange toy, he asks curiously, “What is this figure suppose to represent? Is some kind of local legend where you’re from?”
The woman, her child quiet on her back, stops when Rastrin calls to her. She’d been almost out the door, and the Lucky Trout's doorman is now gesturing for her to leave.
“That’s enough panhandling here for one night,” he grumbles, frowning at Rastrin as the Dragonborn calls to the woman and approaches.
Following the doorman’s instruction and bowing to him deferentially, while also acknowledging Rastrin's call, the woman waits just outside in the chilly night air, the tavern's door lamp bathing her in an orange, flickering glow.
When the Dragonborn approaches and asks his question, she answers, slowly, simply, but also tensed, worried she has said the wrong thing, or could.
“You do not know? They come every day, and many of them, in the Valley, since summer. They look for young people, unhappy, to join them, The Pure." The baby shifts slightly, taking her attention for a moment. The woman bows again warily, backing away into the night and into a crowd of Yartarin outside watching two men juggling knives in the lamplight.
"They say a great fire is coming. A fire that will clean our souls. Forever.”
##
Chapter 2 - The Dessarin River
“Savage marauders bring destruction. Monsters prowl, prey on flocks, rampage through croplands, attack, kill. Discord and suspicion grow. Fire within fire, uncontained, unstoppable, consuming all, consuming all.
"The season of new life brings only death. Flooding, windstorms, wildfires, and tremors. Beware the Dessarin Valley, for all is lost. But all will soon change.”
– Khaspere Drylund, The Last Days of Ruthiol
8 Mirtul, 1491 DR, the Year of the Scarlet Witch
Orders are given, plans laid, for an expedition to depart immediately. But the city clerks’ hands have been full giving aid to unhoused families following the floods, and, daily, more reports come in of pillagers in the hills to the east. Preparations are delayed.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
MARCOS
Marcos stands. He gives a nod of his head towards Nestra Ruthiol. He looks at the River Baron. He has taken her measure. He guesses that she came to her position through her abilities rather than birthright or largess. Her meets her eyes with a level stare.
Normally laconic, he tries to summon up some type of speech to fit the occasion.
'It is an honor and pleasure to meet you all. My name is Marcos Varixx. I am a man of few words. I do not have a great deal of knowledge about trade nor about politics. But I have spent my youth on vessels on the sword coast and I know the water. And I know ships. And I know tactics and I know logistics. And I know battle. My skills are at your disposal, River Baron. Sorry I do not know your honorific. It may take me some time to learn the Yartari customs. I will do all that is possible to maintain the safety of the waterways and the area. Tempus thanks you.'
He has offered this mantra many times. Generally at the initiation or a completion of a mission. He does not expect the codified response.
He looks around the room and finally at the River Baron. He sits down.
Rastrin nods as Yen speaks. Safe to assume he's not a beggar then, he thinks bemusedly. Sensing that his family was somewhat of a sensitive topic, Rastrin shifts the conversation in a different direction as they wait for their meal.
"Yeah, family can be difficult," he starts. "Even if they don't quite see eye-to-eye with you, I'm sure they still love you. That's what family is for after all." He stops running his hand slowly across the table and instead begins absentmindedly fiddling with a lump of glass dangling around his neck from a thin chain. Thinking about Yen's comment about alcohol, Rastrin asks, "Speaking of spirits, what's your favorite kind of drink?" Rastrin himself didn't like alcohol. He had tried it once several years ago, and it didn't turn out too well. Alcohol and fire just don't mix very well. Well, they actually mixed very well, but it was a rather unpleasant experience for everyone involved.
Yenword replied with a bit of a shrug, taking a moment to look around the tavern. He recalled visiting the Lucky Trout once or twice before, at least when he was sober. Its walls and soft but lively music made him feel a bit more at ease.
”Who knows? If they do, they have a funny way of showing it,” Yenword remarks, his eyes slowly falling onto the glass lump that Rastrin toyed with. His concentration on it broke when the question of alcohol came up. He smiles a bit as he replies, “Wine, preferably. Younger wines. Can drink more of them and enjoy them more without feeling as much of the effects…though today I drank stuff that was a bit stronger than I expected it to be…”
SHAY
Despite preparing herself all day for the council meeting, Shay was still not entirely ready for the River Baron’s entrance. At first glance Shay believes that Nestra Ruthiol has the appearance of someone who commands total respect and authority, and no sooner did the thought cross her mind than the River Baron speak and prove them right. After shooting to her feet alongside various other people in the council chamber that swiftly faded into the background, everyone returned to their seats as the minutes were read and the meeting officially began. Wasting no time, Nestra announced the new River Master as a man named Marcus Varixx who hailed from the temple of Tempus, a fact not at all lost on a temple Acolyte such as Malia who seemed to take more interest than just moments before.
Sparing a fast look at the human man, Shay took notice of how silently proud he sat even from her spot and had a feeling that this Marcus of the House of Heroes might just live up to his name in some shape or form. She reminds herself to pass what information she now has on to Kara when her sending stone reset the next day, admiring his clothing for a brief moment before her attention returns to the River Master herself. Speaking lightly and assuredly, Shay has no doubt in her mind that Nestra cared deeply for the citizens of Yartar; a deep sense of unashamed pride for her birthplace swells inside of her just from the devotion she sees in Nestra’s eyes alone. It was infectious! Shay turns eagerly back to the newly appointed River Master in anticipation for his response, distantly noticing another human beside Marcus with a wide smile softly speaking to him. The River Master opens his mouth to reply and it feels as though the room waits with baited breath for what he has to say.
SHAY, HAROLD and MARCUS
Nestra Ruthiol continues to hold Marcus’ eyes, then seems to take note of the group’s response as those around the table applaud Marcus politely. It is difficult to read whether or not she is pleased with his statement.
The Exchequer, Jenö Dorottya, also welcomes Marcus, and now states an agenda and leads the assembled council through it. The tall, white-haired, cinnamon-complexioned man’s voice is strident and crisp, its cadence that of generations-long noble caste. Certain allocations of funding for projects in the city, and a number of issues following and relating to the floods are discussed, following which Exchequer Dorottya reads the final item as he searches the table, uncertain whom he is addressing.
“Shay Quill on behalf of the Emerald Enclave.”
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
YEN and RASTIN
And so the conversation goes between Yen and Rastrin, gaining momentum as the meal continues which -- solid food -- leads Yen further toward sobriety.
As the pair finish their meal, pushing back their chairs and thinking of what comes next, a stranger approaches their table. Dark-eyed under a brown, threadbare cap, an aged scarf thrown over her shoulder, her bony freckled hands are held in front of her, offering small, brightly painted wooden figurines. An infant boy whose eye speechlessly holds yours is strapped upon her back.
“Only one silver, one silver, one silver for a mother and baby who lost their home in the flood. One silver for hand-carved figures from the countryside, one silver…”
She’d been circling the dining hall for the last few minutes, but now stands before your table, back bowed, not from age, but from circumstance one might guess, for her hair and features are those of a woman in her prime, though it is hard to see for the caked mud. “Only one silver…”
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
RASTRIN
Rastrin is rather pleased with how the whole dinner turned out. The food was great, and he enjoyed talking with Yenword. While he wasn’t lonely per se, his social life was a bit lacking. Sure, he was friendly and chatted with his coworkers when not hyper-focused on making glass, but he wasn’t close friends with any of them. He learned in his youth that those who were close to him often ended up burned both figuratively and literally, so it was best to keep people at arm’s length so to speak.
As the woman approached them and attempted to sell off her little toys, Rastrin instinctively puts a protective hand over his coin pouch. With all the natural disasters happening, there had been an influx of con artist seeking to leech away a few extra coins by pretending to be a victim of a flood. While the woman certainly looked like she had been through a flood, one could never be too careful.
He meets the eyes of the child, and he hesitates in his thoughts. Even if the woman was a con artist, that child was incredibly convincing. He looks over the pair again, and this time, he sees them not as a crafty duo trying to steal some coins, but sees them as what they claim: a mother and child without a home. Surely he could spare a few extra coins, couldn’t he? After all, Bahumat taught that compassion, even when it’s brought about by someone else’s cunning and greed, was always better than showing greed. His draconic side always pushed to be stingy and paranoid about his wealth, but such was the life of a dragonborn.
Rastrin pulls out 10 gold coins from his leather coin pouch and offers it to the woman. “Keep the toys,” he says with what he hoped was a kindly smile as he offers the coins. “If you have no place to stay tonight, while my home isn’t grand or anything, you and your child could spend the night there if you’d like.” Once again, his stingy draconic part of him bristled at the generous offer, but he forces the feelings aside.
SHAY
Applause breaks out after the new River Master is done speaking and Shay joins in agreeably. The meeting carries on as several topics of discussion are talked about at length while Shay gets her first proper glimpse into the political world of Yartar. She’s pleased to hear that so much attention is placed on the floods. While she didn’t know anyone who was personally afflicted, her mentor Taisen immediately opened the spare reading rooms in the library for those without places to stay. It gave Shay a closer look at many of the survivors than most in the city would’ve probably liked to see themselves.
The spare rooms were peddled through relatively quickly as people came and went rather steadily, grateful for the help Taisen and her apprentices provided, but ultimately still moving on due to not wanting to be seen as burdensome. Taisen later explained to her that good intentions weren’t always seen through to the end, and sometimes small acts of kindness produced an inner turmoil in others that only they could quell. While this wasn’t the most satisfying thing to hear, Shay accepted it as one of life’s harder truths.
“Shay Quill on behalf of the Emerald Enclave.”
Exchequer Dorottya’s eyes scan around the room from his position, clear confusion etched into his previously composed features causing Shay to realize that it was very suddenly her turn to have all eyes be cast on her. Standing hesitantly to her feet, Shay raises a hand to get the Exchequer’s attention, and after receiving his acknowledgement, unfurls her parchment gently. She reminds herself to simply read what she had written down and above all else remain steady.
“Good evening everyone. I’m Shay Quill and I’ll be representing the Emerald Enclave on matters regarding the recent floods as well as the rampantly running elven illness.” Shay clears her throat while allowing everything to still inwardly before continuing.
“To begin with, the floods have put a lot of people into less than optimal living positions. Our plan moving forward is to find out if they and the recent high winds are naturally occurring events, or magically created catastrophes committed with purpose. If they are the latter, it’ll be in our best interest to pursue further action in resolving things. As Druids we can’t allow nature itself to become unbalanced by the heedless behaviors of some who might wish to throw off the very delicate work we strive to achieve.”
Feeling more in her stride now, Shay goes on to the next point with far less resistance. “And for the elven illness, the initial source is still widely unknown. Claims of humans bringing it about due to their natural immunity as a way to cause permanent harm to elves are unfounded and we at the Enclave kindly ask that they are no longer taken seriously. I personally believe the best way to find anything out for sure would be for someone in my faction to leave Yartar entirely in search of the source. It could be all the difference in changing the course of this illness or sitting in speculation. As of now we have no volunteers, but we will keep the council informed of any decisions going forward. Thank you very much for your time.”
Shay ends by politely inclining her head to the nobles present and nodding to the River Baron herself before once again taking her seat. Beside her, Malia flashes her a supportive smile that Shay tentatively returns. She definitely feels far more at ease now that the worst is over.
Harold
Harold listens closely as Shay describes the concerns of the Emerald Enclave. He is aware of the wind and the flooding, but is surprised at the mention of an illness that has been ravaging the elves. The flooding and excessive wind has been a boon to business recently as he provided supplies to those looking to rebuild and repair their homes. While Shay speaks, the merchant cannot help but wonder what "opportunity" he is supposed to take advantage of during this meeting. He can feel his hands become cold and beads of sweat forming across his brow. The thought of letting Father down is enough to send a chill down his spine and he beings to quietly glance around the room... looking for ANYTHING that may offer a clue to why he was there...
MARCOS
Marcos is concerned with the news from the Emerald Enclave delegate. A poorly understood disease affecting the elves?. That has the potential to destabilize Faerun. He makes a mental note. The Guantlet will want to hear about this as soon as possible.
The news of flooding seems more mundane. These things happen. The rivers will need to be cleared of debris. He must look at the docks in the morning to see if they are risk of damage….
The merchant next to him continues to figit. Marcos turns to him and notices a bead of sweat over his brow. What lies behind this man’s vulpine smile?
Yenword's eyebrow raises at the woman as she approached, but his concerns for who she was suddenly vanished as he saw Rastrin's response to her. 'Well, that's rather surprising. Then again, he is covering this meal, so...' he thought to himself, pulling a gold from his pocket and sliding it over to her. His eyes follows hers and the child as he does it, recalling something from the monks he watched in the past had said, 'The eyes are the windows to the soul...While one's words might direct another's feelings, you must remain vigilant that your mind is defended against such things...'
SHAY, HAROLD and MARCUS
When Shay theorizes that the natural disasters could be “magically created catastrophes committed with purpose,” many in the room sputter or scoff, “What!”, “Purpose?,” or “Magic?,” but all listen intently; and when she speaks of the rumor that humans had caused the elven illness, several sets of eyes flicker, while one nobleman – Szigfrid Tivadar, who has holdings near the Westwood – feigns inattention, turning to his neighbor and whispering something in her ear; while the River Baron’s attention dwells completely on Shay, her sharp eyes probing in a way which would cause discomfort to many. When Shay finishes, the room is silent, and not without an edge of fear. Perhaps recent events foretell worse to come, some may think.
Exchequer Dorottya thanks Shay, then exchanges a look with the River Baron and takes his seat.
Ruthiol’s posture now shifts from straight to straight-as-a-lightning-rod in her wing chair as her eyes narrow and sparkle with anger, looking around the table as this moment of now uncomfortable silence endures. Finally, she speaks, and her tone, for some, is more unsettling than the ominous silence that preceded it.
“Some of you may already be aware of the Mirabar Delegation from Waterdeep, which was expected to pass through Yartar, and for whom boarding arrangements had been made, a calendar of meetings and entertainment and other protocols arranged. If you were aware, you will have likewise received a message from my chambers informing you of their delay.
"I am now correcting prior information. The delegation is not merely delayed. It is missing, and has been missing for two tendays. We are in mortal fear for our friends in the delegation, in fact.”
Voices are raised in surprise and concern. The River Baron, her expression never changing, allows a moment for this to run its course before turning to Jenö Dorottya while slightly raising one eyebrow in a tacit command to speak.
“For those who did not know," the Exchequer explains in a sour tone, "the Mirabar Delegation was sent from Waterdeep in order to extend a longstanding business alliance between the two cities. This exists as a market-based enterprise for the exports of exquisite forged and enchanted weapons, armor, and other metal goods produced by the unmatched dwarven forges under the city of Mirabar. Forges which toil tirelessly due to the fortuitous nearby abundance of ore and fine metals mined from the Spine of the World’s southern slopes. Waterdeep of course offers Mirabar its markets and shipping to distant ports at a low tariff, which allows enormous profits to both. The twenty-year compact between the cities will expire at midsummer’s day, and the delegation was sent to ensure its smooth continuation into the future.”
Ruthiol nods almost imperceptibly to the Exchequer, waits for him to sit, and then continues in her controlled tones, sharp-edged as an assassin’s blade.
“Among those missing are the renowned dwarven historian, Bruldenthar, who was transporting a collection of manuscripts to Mirabar. The Harpers – yes the Harpers – are particularly concerned regarding their contents, as they have gone to great ends to inform us. Additionally, no fewer than three diplomats from Alliance cities were among the delegates, and the leaders of those cities – Silverymoon, Mirabar, and Waterdeep – have likewise expressed deep concern for the welfare of their political sons and daughter.”
The River Baron’s gray eyes fall suddenly on Shay. “The moon elf Teresiel was among them as well, bearing a gift for Mirabar.” Shay knows that Teresiel is a representative of the Emerald Enclave, probably the friend Nash had spoken of at lunch. Shay also knows that Nash and Teresial had been lovers earlier in life, though Nash has never offered many details.
“The Zhentarim," Ruthiol continues, "those murderous, scheming thieves, I am told, are deeply interested in this disappearance as well.”
“It is a mystery. The entire delegation, including not only those I have named, but over two score persons and their retinues. Gone. Without a trace. Somewhere in the Dessarin Valley. Our home.”
She suddenly shouts before her voice drops to an even more murderous low.
“HOW?? We have had the flood to contend with, aye. But now there is NO EXCUSE. I WILL KNOW what transpired, and what has befallen the delegation.”
The sharp edge of her tone has caused several councilors around the table to jump, to fidget in their seats, to dare wild glances at their neighbors as their brows gleam with perspiration.
Nestra Ruthiol now turns to face Marcus, her eyes sharp and deadly, her tone measured, clear, almost coy.
“River Master. What is to be done?”
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
MARCOS
Marcos stands up.
‘ I would propose that I lead a party to go on search of this missing caravan! It sounds of too great importance to delegate this task!’
’There are one or two from the crew of Waukeen’s Hand who would be helpful. I would need at least another five to ten able bodies warriors and scouts.’
‘After the party is formed we can begin from their last known whereabouts.’ He looks around the room, his gaze eventually lands on Ruthiol.
A thought occurs to him. Perhaps this is a ruse. Perhaps the River Baron doesn’t want him in the city? He discards the thought. He is happy to oblige and hopes to be on the road soon.
Harold
When the River Baron speaks, Harold focuses his all of his attention towards her. With eyes unblinking, he hangs on to every word while listening for any opportunity to serve The Hand. The merchant would rub his gloved hands together as he considered the information being given to him. He had no love for the Harpers... And so assisting The Hand get those documents was appealing. When she mentioned that the Zhentarim were interested in the disappearance, Harold knew he needed to get involved.
When Marcos stands up and proposes leading a search party, a thin smile spreads across his face. "Well, Allow me to be the first to volunteer." Harold says as he slowly stands up and places his hand on the armored shoulder of Marcos. "As a representative of the Guildsman, I... Harold Goldweaver... Offer my services to the newly appointed River Master." he then removes the hand and offers a respectful nod.
RASTRIN and YEN
The woman’s eyes widen in response to Rastrin and Yen’s generosity and for a moment she dares not move — even so much as to close her fingers around the gold pieces. Frozen in uncertainty, she stands there while her baby shifts slightly on her back.
“Thank you, thank you,” she finally says, “Sirs are very kind, very kind!” She lays all of the carved figurines, each one the size of a small bookmark, upon the table.
“Sirs please take them, all of them,” and although she hasn’t responded to Rastrin’s offer of a roof over her head, she accepts the gold, not daring to meet the Dragonborn or monk’s gaze, and then backs slowly from the table, bowing and pressing her hands together in a show of grateful supplication.
The figurines, carved and painted flat lengths of wood, only a handslength long, depict a farmer with a scythe, a child with a pot on her head, a canoe, and the like, but one of them neither Rastrin nor Yen can identify.
This final figure is a human whose head is carved in the shape of what?—a campfire?— and it is painted brightly in yellow, red, and orange.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
RASTRIN
Rastrin looks over the figurines with a craftsman’s critical eye, judging their workmanship. The toys were surprisingly well made for a beggar woman. She must have had some talent for woodworking.
While he did think the figure with a fire for its head was somewhat odd, he didn’t think too much about it. Offering the toys to Yen, he says, “I do t have any children or siblings to give these to. Why don’t you take them. I’m sure you can find more use for them than I.” Besides, since they were made out of wood, he doubted they would last long in his possession.
SHAY
The passion in which the River Baron speaks to everyone comes as a shock to Shay, her fiery expression causes many to sit stock still in their seats as she demands action from the new River Master. His quick decision to assemble a small party to look in the missing envoy’s last known location is one Shay was expecting. The man sitting beside him calling himself Harold Goldweaver, stands and offers his services as well without hesitation. As she gives Harold a proper once over, Shay wonders what lies behind his thoughtful smile.
As eyes are cast around the room in search of more volunteers, Shay feels the indescribable urge to speak up herself, which causes her to falter. Pushing the thought out of mind, she takes a moment to mull over what all she knows at present. The news of Teresiel being among the group of missing individuals gave her reason to become properly invested in what was otherwise a collection of unknown names. Being a devoted member of the Emerald Enclave, Teresiel’s recovery became all the more imminent.
Shay, against her better judgment, takes out her faction appointed sending stone in order to see where she should proceed, taking extra caution to keep her voice low. “Hello Norrin? The new River Master is assembling a group to look for the missing group out of the Waterdeep. Among the missing is one of our own, Teresiel the moon elf. How would you have me go about this?” As per typical, she gets a fast reply from the next highest Enclave leader.
‘It’s clear we need to send someone to go along on the factions’ behalf in order to see about our dear member.’ He pauses and Shay imagines he’s conversing with his co-leader Anya Xalee, the oldest of the leader trio, and easily one of their best if Shay’s opinion counted for anything. When she gets a response several moments later, it’s from Anya herself. ‘We’ve talked it over and have come to the agreement that it would be best if you joined the parting group Shay. Not only do you need experience representing us outside of Yartar, but being out of the city could offer a wider perspective on the potential origins of the elven illness as well that we might not be able to see from here. Right now Teresiel takes priority. We trust you’ll represent the Enclave in all matters if you accept this mission and above all else remain vigilant. What do you say, young one?’
Shay freezes in place, a sense of panic and excitement clashing within her at what she’d been asked to do and the uncertainty nearly makes Shay drop her stone to the floor. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and considers what she’d do if she passed up on this opportunity when so much was on the line regarding her faction. Nash’s face flashes through her mind from earlier and recalling his attempts at concealing his concern in front of her pushed Shay to agree. “I accept. I’ll come by to get any traveling supplies needed. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Getting to her feet, Shay faces the River Baron and gives a short nod of respect. “I’d also like to volunteer to join the River Master on behalf of the Emerald Enclave.” She sits quickly and waits in case anyone else decides to speak up.
Yenword
”I doubt that these would do my sister any good. She is a bit too old for these now,” Yenword replies, looking over the other toys to admire the work on them before his eyes lingered on the one toy that stood out from them. Running his finger along the toy, Yenword felt almost drawn to it somehow. ‘Is it possible…?’ He thinks to himself, looking back in the direction that the woman wandered off in.
Yenword’s gaze then turned back to Rastrin. “Did the woman say where she was from?” he asks, his eyes appearing completely clear of any drink or other laziness that Rastrin might have seen before. In its place Rastrin would see a mind clearly working rapidly, as if trying to piece together some kind of puzzle.
As he listens to Yen speak, the spark of curiosity within became a flame. As a craftsman, he was always intrigued by seeing new designs. While he had originally dismissed the fire-headed figure, it certainly was a novel design.
“Excuse me ma’am,” Rastrin calls out to the retreating woman. Gesturing towards the strange toy, he asks curiously, “What is this figure suppose to represent? Is some kind of local legend where you’re from?”
RASTRIN and YEN
The woman, her child quiet on her back, stops when Rastrin calls to her. She’d been almost out the door, and the Lucky Trout's doorman is now gesturing for her to leave.
“That’s enough panhandling here for one night,” he grumbles, frowning at Rastrin as the Dragonborn calls to the woman and approaches.
Following the doorman’s instruction and bowing to him deferentially, while also acknowledging Rastrin's call, the woman waits just outside in the chilly night air, the tavern's door lamp bathing her in an orange, flickering glow.
When the Dragonborn approaches and asks his question, she answers, slowly, simply, but also tensed, worried she has said the wrong thing, or could.
“You do not know? They come every day, and many of them, in the Valley, since summer. They look for young people, unhappy, to join them, The Pure." The baby shifts slightly, taking her attention for a moment. The woman bows again warily, backing away into the night and into a crowd of Yartarin outside watching two men juggling knives in the lamplight.
"They say a great fire is coming. A fire that will clean our souls. Forever.”
##
Chapter 2 - The Dessarin River
“Savage marauders bring destruction. Monsters prowl, prey on flocks, rampage through croplands, attack, kill. Discord and suspicion grow. Fire within fire, uncontained, unstoppable, consuming all, consuming all.
"The season of new life brings only death. Flooding, windstorms, wildfires, and tremors. Beware the Dessarin Valley, for all is lost. But all will soon change.”
– Khaspere Drylund, The Last Days of Ruthiol
8 Mirtul, 1491 DR, the Year of the Scarlet Witch
Orders are given, plans laid, for an expedition to depart immediately. But the city clerks’ hands have been full giving aid to unhoused families following the floods, and, daily, more reports come in of pillagers in the hills to the east. Preparations are delayed.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story