"The aurora streaking across the skies is one of the most beautiful sights in Icewind Dale. Every sane person in Tentowns abhors it. It is a constant reminder of the eternal night, the eternal cold. A grandiose testament to the power of Icedawn."
- Danneth Waylen, Speaker of Easthaven
7th day of Nightal, 1489 DR, sometime after noon
Bryn Shander, the largest of the towns here in Icewind Dale. Home to around twenty score people (1200), it is doing a remarkable job at letting people forget about the two years that have passed without sun. The markets are still open, the taverns boast more than one barrel of ale, and some traders still arrive, having made the murderous treck from Luskan over Hundelstone and through the Spine of the World.
This town marks the beginning of your journey.
You've arrived in The Northlook, a well-frequented and rowdy establishment. The best place for mercenaries to look for employment and to listen to rumours about the current happenings.
Plenty of stools and benches are unoccupied. Newcomers are greeted with a measuring eye by the burly proprietor, Scramsax.
The rumors about the murderer's identity have brought you here. You have a name: Yurgunn Trollbane. Whoever that is, they know more about the killer and they're here somewhere.
People you see around the tavern:
The tavern keeper, a burly human man around 50 with an impressive moustache, known by the name of Scramsax. He nods to you as you enter. He raises an eyebrow at Perrin and Zenos.
A human group of five, loudly playing a card game. Lack of equipment marks them as locals.
Three miserable looking dwarves in cold weather clothing huddled around a small table. Snowshoes are carelessly dropped next to them and ice picks fastened to their belts.
An old dwarven woman smoking a pipe at a corner table.
The tavern has a unique stuffed fish on display, hung above the hearth. Its plaque reads: Ol' Bitey.
Ol' Bitey
Character Specific:
Perrin:
Nature: That stuffed fish on the wall is a knucklehead trout, the big-boned hardy type of fish that one can still catch in the half frozen lakes. Survival: The equipment of the dwarves looks well worn, sodden, and ripped apart in places. These people have been through hell, and recently at that.
Aubreen, Zenos, Morthol & Perrin:
Perception: That old dwarven woman at the corner table has had her eye on you the moment you entered.
Sirius:
History: This is clearly one of the oldest buildings in this town. The construction is high and lofty in comparison to most of the more practical squat buildings, and the cold wind presses hard against the wood, whistling through tiny cracks and making the tavern colder than it should be.
Aubreen:
Insight: The look Scramsax gives Zenos and Perrin seems to be one of genuine surprise. Clearly their appearance is being found somehow unusual, even here at the frozen end of the world.
DM Comments:
As you introduce your characters, please also describe their defining physical traits, general demeanor and what brought them here for the benefit of the others.
Don't forget the extra starting item, a set of clothing, cold weather. If you're caught out in the cold without this, you're gonna be in for a bad time (Morthol somewhat exempted).
This campaign is not strictly linear in structure, so feel free to explore, follow rumors, try out things.
Zenos is a middle aged male Satyr standing about 5' 7" tall with a medium to slender build. He has brown hair starting to show some grey and green eyes. Looking over him you would see an old rapier and dagger tucked away in his belt. He is wearing fancier than average clothing under his cold weather gear and has a bit of flair to outfit. He would seem relaxed but shifty and taking glimpses around observing everyone in sight. Zenos is a simple traveling story teller and merchant looking for new adventures to inspire this tall tales and unique items that he can make a few coins from.
As Perrin stumbles into the inn from the freezing outdoors, he pauses for a moment to take in the scene. As he looks around, he determines that none of the patrons look anything like he'd imagine a "Yurgunn Trollbane" to look like. He eyes the innkeeper as the man stares back at him, and then hoping that this Yurgunn would show themselves eventually, Perrin settles down at one of the unoccupied tables.
To those looking at Perrin, they see that is what you would call a kenku, a race of bird folk that resemble a cross between humans and ravens. Though he has no wings, jet black feathers cover his body, and they have almost an oily sheen to them, just like ravens and crows do. He wears simple clothing meant for weathering the elements, and they're encrusted with frost and snow, signaling that Perrin had recently walked quite the distance out in the frozen tundra. As he sits and waits, he absentmindedly begins running his fingers over his large, black beak. He hadn't gotten used to having that yet. Well, he hadn't gotten used to anything about him yet if he was going to be honest.
"This Trollbane fellow better show up," he thinks to himself as he eyes the dwarven woman in the corner. "The longer he takes to get here, the more opportunities that murderer has to make someone into a corpse." Anger boils up within at the thought. He had a particular vendetta against those that thought little of the value of life. In fact, if you knew anything about him, you would say he had a particularly good excuse to despise those that that were careless about other's lives. Well, it was time to put a stop to that.
Sirius enters The Northlook and looks around taking in everything that's happening around him. Sirius acknowledges the tavern keeper by politely nodding with a smile and starts confidently stomping over to the table with locals loudly playing a card game.
Sirius is a 6ft tall, handsome and young human man with piercing blue eyes and silvery hair. He has a heavy fur coat on that he starts to take off as he's walking toward the table revealing shining chain mail partly covered by a navy blue vest with a golden emblem of a noble house. It's clear from the pristine condition of his armor and clothes that Sirius hasn't experienced much real combat though it's clear he knows how to use his spear from the way he carries it. Sirius gives a warm smile to everyone around the tavern, it's clear that he hasn't been in this town for long. As he feels the coolness of the tavern, he simply leaves his coat open rather than taking it fully off.
As Sirius reaches the table, he drags a stool from an empty table and addresses the locals. "The way the lights dance in the sky truly is mesmerizing isn't it. Have you room for just one more in your game?" As Sirius settles onto the stool, he continues bombarding the locals with questions: "Does anyone of you happen to know someone called Yurgunn Trollbane? Oh, and forgive my ignorance, but is there a library in town?"
As you settle down among the locals, you get a good look at their faces. They seem fairly young, although not as young as you. There are three men and two women, all in rugged fur clothes. If at first they looked annoyed at your sudden arrival into their company, their expressions suddenly become carefully indifferent. They've seen your armor and distinguished looks and they have pegged you as someone of higher stature.
The group exchanges glances. They've become a lot quieter.
"The aurora's a sight to behold, but ne'er was there a curse more wicked.", the blonde man with a jagged scar on his brow says. "Sir", he adds almost as an afterthought. "Yer welcome to the game, but it's a simple affair with no stakes."
"Yurgunn's the lady in the corner there, smoking a pipe". One of the men says quietly and without looking in that direction. "And if yer looking for books, the House of the Triad has some, that's the temple here. Only place with a real library is Easthaven though."
(OOC-Not sure of the etiquette here or how I should post OOC comments. (Are we assuming that we are a group? Met upon the road, all headed to Ten-towns?) (Are there any further details about these rumors that allude to the deaths being linked? Who was killed, when, where? How did the name of Yurgrun become a possession to seek after?/ Do we have a motivation to seek answers here?)
Aubreen stamps in out of the cold, knocking snow from his boots and cloak. As the hood falls open revealing a thick mane of red hair, tied into a braid. His gently pointed ears briefly appear, the only display of his elven heritage. Steel grey eyes scan the tavern, catching the look of the bartender and signaling for an ale. A look of disgust at the fish hanging on the wall. Aubreen's body reacting in revulsion at the memory of too many rotten Knuckleheads eaten as an orphan on these streets.
Pointedly ignoring, or so it would seem, his companions Aubreen stomps into the corner, pulling out an empty chair and deposits himself at the table of the Lady Dwarf. Gazing at the crowd, using only peripheral to watch the Dwarf, he pulls forth fragrant pipe herbs and a long handled pipe from within the breast of well seasoned chain. Still ignoring, yet watching beneath mine own bushy brows, a show is made. Herbs are shredded their fragrance quickly emanating outward. The pipe is packed, with care, fussing about the right mix. A flame is retrieved from the fire and soon smoke rings rise to the ceiling.
Aubreen settles into his chair, a quick almost imperceptible smile at the lady dwarf, before going back to gazing at the crowd as if he was home.
OOC: I think this way of doing OOC is perfectly fine.
The base assumption is that you're meeting for the first time, your common goal being that you want to do something about the murders that have been happening / generally try to do something against the awful conditions here. Yurgunn Trollbane was the name that has been told to you to seek out to facilitate that goal. How you came by that name is up to your characters. It could have been mentioned in a whispered conversation at a tavern, or somebody scribbled it on a piece of paper on the note board in a town. One thing is clear: she knows more about the grisly deaths and there may also have been the mention of coin.
Additional info you would all know about the murders, if you have spent some time in Tentowns:
There have been three deaths so far, within a months time: a halfling trapper in Easthaven, a human shipbuilder in Targos, and, three days ago, a dwarf glassblower here in Bryn Shander. Each victim was found with a dagger of ice through their heart.
Aubreen
The old dwarven womans eyes don't leave Aubreens face as he makes himself comfortable at the table. Her own pipe smoldering faintly, she takes his measure. Her face is leathery, worn with age, yet not without an iron determination and the promise of danger lurking beneath.
Scramsax makes the rounds, depositing an ale in front of Aubreen, exchanging a quick glance with the old woman, before continuing on.
The dwarfs nostrils flare. "Now tell me one thing, flamehair. Where did you get that leaf from? Been a while before I've been able to get my hands on anything more than dried out pipeweed."
Aubreen does not react, gently puffing on his pipe. As the silence begins to fatten with anticipation he looks into his bowl regrettably, tamps out the ash and places it back beneath the breast of his armor.
Pushing the tiny leather pouch across the table, still surveying the crowd. "Weed! It is better to smoke nothing than anything as inferior as a weed. A remnant of my time in the Gate, a small family of halflings, hucklberry's, ran a shop selling the finest dried herbs. Please enjoy"
(Perception 14) If I overhear the Gambler name the lady Dwarf, I catch the eye of the Dapper gentleman, an invitation. I think to my self "Another interested party asking the same questions as I. To catch a killer may require a team" Keeping comfortable and casual I continue.
IF I do not, I simply continue. "A real joy it is to find a warm friendly spot, and a pint to listen to the busy bodies, goings on and other assorted sundry of daily life. Speaking of eve's does the damned sun not come up in these parts no more?" The old northern accent coming back to Aubreen almost alarmingly.
Morthol enters last, a swift use of prestidigitation clearing off any lingering ice from his 7 foot frame. The black marks upon the grey skin of Morthol's face marks him as a goliath to those in the know, though it is difficult to tell his age. Obsidian coloured eyes scan the bar, making eye contact with a dwarf currently speaking with a red haired elf.
Morthol takes a seat at that same table, listening in to indulge his curiosity. Soon enough he would continue to search for Yurgunn Trollbane. While he cared little for the murder victims, the ritualistic nature of their deaths was something that often boded ill for the future.
The spell cast by Morthol (recognized as a simple cantrip by Perrin and Zenos) is being noticed by those present, eyes darting to the newly arrived figure. It is plain to see that the locals care little for arcane words and gestures, their expressions becoming distrusting and even fearful.
Aubreen - You do overhear the name spoken at Sirius' table. Even a whisper is audible in the lull of conversation as Morthol enters.
Even if the spell didn't invoke silence, the tavern acts like it had. Conversations only start sparking up again after the goliath has taken a seat at Aubreens table.
The dwarf, busy inspecting a pinch of the weed that was offered to her by the half-elf, nods at the goliath as if she had expected him. "Ye better think twice before incating something the folk here don't understand, lest they get a mind to use you as cheap kindling." she says casually, tapping out the remainder of her own pipe and then packing in the fresh herb with a deft finger.
The dwarf lady confirms your suspicions shortly afterwards. "They call me Yurgunn Trollbane. This frozen *grorov* is my home. I would want to speak to you about a job. Let's get a few more bodies at this table."
Sirius - The dwarf has uttered the word as a curse, loud enough to overhear. You translate grorov to hell.
Sirius, Perrin, Zenos - The dwarf sitting at the table with the magical goliath and the red-haired half-elf in chainmail waves you over.
Sirius thanks the locals for the information and quickly excuses himself from the table. "I would love to play a round or two but it seems I'm wanted by Yurgunn" as he notices the invitation of the Dwarf and the red-haired half-elf. Sirius' expression shifts, becoming solemn as he senses the coolness of the people and their clear disdain for their hometown. Taking a seat at the table, Sirius introduces himself "I am Sirius of the house of Barwin" warmly addressing the group. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Noticing the old dwarves woman’s beckoning gesture, Perrin slides off of his chair and makes his way over to the rest of the group. Is that Yurgunn? he wonders.
As he steps up to the group, he points at the woman and says in perfectly mimicked young woman’s voice, “Yurgunn Trollbane.” He cocks his head to indicate a question, though the tone of his voice sounds more like a statement than an inquiry. Only being able to repeat what others say was incredibly frustrating.
Zenos seeing the wave would give a polite nod before getting up and walking over to the table with a quizzical look on his face. Sitting at an empty chair at the table "Greetings fair travelers I am Zenos and it is a pleasure for you to meet me". Giving a smile to the table.
The old woman looks into the round, fishing out of her pocket for a strange looking object. She flicks it with a practiced motion, producing a small flame and using it to light her pipe.
Perrin: "That I am.", she responds, giving you a quizzical look.
She nods at the new arrivals and at the introductions.
The old woman unfurls an old map of Tentowns. "Torgs has left Bryn Shander two days ago in the direction of Targos. It's up to you to find its current whereabouts."
"Aubreen" says the half elf as if that answers all potential questions.
"There are rumors upon the street, whispers and talk in hushed tones of a murderer. Somehow your name was given as one with answers" Aubreen raises an eyebrow quizzically, still scanning the crowd.
"Is there no law in these towns? Who watches the streets and how pray tell lady dwarf, are you connected to something so nefarious?"
Having said his piece Aubreen retreats into his thoughts, awaiting a reply. 3 murders with no apparent connection but the means of death. The years of walking a beat in The Gate may come in handy here.
After the woman confirms she is indeed Yurgunn Trollbane, Perrin hops up onto one of the chairs and listens with rapt attention. His face tightens in anger at the mention of Auryl and sacrifices, but he continues to listen. If this Sephek Kaltro was indeed sworn to the Frostmaiden, that was all the more reason to hunt him down. Though he's not excited to return to Targos so soon, if capturing this Sephek would put a stop to innocent people dying, then so be it.
He turns his attention back to Yurgunn, eyeing her curiously. Now that he's thought about it, he's curious about the woman's motives. Perhaps she lost someone she loved to the murders? Cocking his head again to indicate a question, he starts in a gruff, accusatory voice he heard on the way here, "Why would you care-" and then finishes by transitioning back to the woman's voice he used earlier, "about the murders."
Yurgunn spits into the hearth. "Guess I'm one of the few people still giving a shit. And I've been around long enough to remember what the Dale was like back when you ran out of fingers to count the ships in Targos. Disembarking bright-eyed pioneers and heroes in the making, smelling the glacier winds for the first time."
Sirius, Perrin, Aubreen (Insight): You get the distinct impression that the old woman had been one of the people disembarking, long ago.
The dwarf grumbles on, responding to Aubreens inquiry. "Each town posts its own militia and enforces its own law. There are inter-town agreements in effect by the council of speakers, although in these times, it's mostly everyone for themselfes. Everyone's locked into heir own home, trying not to lose another finger to frostbite. Sister of mine in Caer Dineval hasn't sent word for a year, the old trout."
Aubreen: A murderer always has a motive. Although neither in the Gate nor here does anyone have much enthusiasm in finding out what it was. They mostly just want the criminal gone and their deeds punished. The Gate had a book of laws about that. If there is a comparable book here, it's probably a lot thinner.
Zenos looking at Yurgunn "Is there anything else you can tell us about this Sephek Kaltro other than leaving town heading towards Targos and not being affected by the cold? This does sound like an interesting series of events."
Yurgunn nods to the satyr: "It seems Sephek appeared out of nowhere in Bremen before Torrga hired him, doing odd jobs around the town. Creeped the hell out of the folks there. They still remember the man with the eyes of ice. They also tell me he's a human man of olive complexion and dark of hair. Thirty winters of age. The money he earned he spent on some exotic clothes unfit for the Dale. Another curious thing: he carries no weapons."
Hmm, Perrin thought. This is definitely an interesting scenario. It sounded like this Sephek fellow was from down south, or at least his heritage was. If so, what on Toril would drive him to make a pact with the Frostmaiden of all people? Weren't the southern climes known for their heat?
Shaking his head, Perrin turns his attention to the others around the table who were also seeking out this murderer from the south. It looked like the human and half-elf, Sirius and Aubreen he thinks their names are, had some sort of martial capability. They'd probably be pretty useful in sticky situation. As for the goliath, Perrin had seen a few of his kind roving up in the mountains the few times he had been. If he remembered right, they were a tribal people, so it was curious to see one of them down here in the valley. The last member of the group was the most interesting, at least in Perrin's opinion. He had only heard of satyrs in the storybooks his parents used to read to him when he was a child. The books had been full of tales about satyrs and their mysterious fey ways. If the stories had any truth in them, maybe this satyr fellow had some kind of magic? Only time would tell.
That left him as the last member of the murderer-hunting group. He wasn't sure how much he'd be able to help out. He didn't know any magic, he didn't know how to fight, nor did he have any useful investigation skills. Perhaps if the group wanted to learn more about the songbirds native to the valley, then he'd be able to be of use. The thought reminded him of his sketchbook filled with pictures and observed behaviors about the animals of Icewind Dale he left back in his room in Targos. He longed to go back and retrieve it, but he had a feeling his parents wouldn't take kindly to a kenku storming in and demanding their dead son's sketchbook.
Turning his attention back to the conversation, he just continues to listen, his feet swinging lazily from the chair. He didn't have much to add or inquire about, and even if he did, he wouldn't be able to. Being able to only repeat the things he heard and not being able to speak himself was quite annoying.
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Icedawn
A Rime of the Frostmaiden Campaign
7th day of Nightal, 1489 DR, sometime after noon
Bryn Shander, the largest of the towns here in Icewind Dale. Home to around twenty score people (1200), it is doing a remarkable job at letting people forget about the two years that have passed without sun. The markets are still open, the taverns boast more than one barrel of ale, and some traders still arrive, having made the murderous treck from Luskan over Hundelstone and through the Spine of the World.
This town marks the beginning of your journey.
You've arrived in The Northlook, a well-frequented and rowdy establishment. The best place for mercenaries to look for employment and to listen to rumours about the current happenings.
Plenty of stools and benches are unoccupied. Newcomers are greeted with a measuring eye by the burly proprietor, Scramsax.
The rumors about the murderer's identity have brought you here. You have a name: Yurgunn Trollbane. Whoever that is, they know more about the killer and they're here somewhere.
People you see around the tavern:
The tavern has a unique stuffed fish on display, hung above the hearth. Its plaque reads: Ol' Bitey.
Ol' Bitey
Character Specific:
Perrin:
Nature: That stuffed fish on the wall is a knucklehead trout, the big-boned hardy type of fish that one can still catch in the half frozen lakes.
Survival: The equipment of the dwarves looks well worn, sodden, and ripped apart in places. These people have been through hell, and recently at that.
Aubreen, Zenos, Morthol & Perrin:
Perception: That old dwarven woman at the corner table has had her eye on you the moment you entered.
Sirius:
History: This is clearly one of the oldest buildings in this town. The construction is high and lofty in comparison to most of the more practical squat buildings, and the cold wind presses hard against the wood, whistling through tiny cracks and making the tavern colder than it should be.
Aubreen:
Insight: The look Scramsax gives Zenos and Perrin seems to be one of genuine surprise. Clearly their appearance is being found somehow unusual, even here at the frozen end of the world.
DM Comments:
Zenos is a middle aged male Satyr standing about 5' 7" tall with a medium to slender build. He has brown hair starting to show some grey and green eyes. Looking over him you would see an old rapier and dagger tucked away in his belt. He is wearing fancier than average clothing under his cold weather gear and has a bit of flair to outfit. He would seem relaxed but shifty and taking glimpses around observing everyone in sight. Zenos is a simple traveling story teller and merchant looking for new adventures to inspire this tall tales and unique items that he can make a few coins from.
As Perrin stumbles into the inn from the freezing outdoors, he pauses for a moment to take in the scene. As he looks around, he determines that none of the patrons look anything like he'd imagine a "Yurgunn Trollbane" to look like. He eyes the innkeeper as the man stares back at him, and then hoping that this Yurgunn would show themselves eventually, Perrin settles down at one of the unoccupied tables.
To those looking at Perrin, they see that is what you would call a kenku, a race of bird folk that resemble a cross between humans and ravens. Though he has no wings, jet black feathers cover his body, and they have almost an oily sheen to them, just like ravens and crows do. He wears simple clothing meant for weathering the elements, and they're encrusted with frost and snow, signaling that Perrin had recently walked quite the distance out in the frozen tundra. As he sits and waits, he absentmindedly begins running his fingers over his large, black beak. He hadn't gotten used to having that yet. Well, he hadn't gotten used to anything about him yet if he was going to be honest.
"This Trollbane fellow better show up," he thinks to himself as he eyes the dwarven woman in the corner. "The longer he takes to get here, the more opportunities that murderer has to make someone into a corpse." Anger boils up within at the thought. He had a particular vendetta against those that thought little of the value of life. In fact, if you knew anything about him, you would say he had a particularly good excuse to despise those that that were careless about other's lives. Well, it was time to put a stop to that.
Sirius enters The Northlook and looks around taking in everything that's happening around him. Sirius acknowledges the tavern keeper by politely nodding with a smile and starts confidently stomping over to the table with locals loudly playing a card game.
Sirius is a 6ft tall, handsome and young human man with piercing blue eyes and silvery hair. He has a heavy fur coat on that he starts to take off as he's walking toward the table revealing shining chain mail partly covered by a navy blue vest with a golden emblem of a noble house. It's clear from the pristine condition of his armor and clothes that Sirius hasn't experienced much real combat though it's clear he knows how to use his spear from the way he carries it. Sirius gives a warm smile to everyone around the tavern, it's clear that he hasn't been in this town for long. As he feels the coolness of the tavern, he simply leaves his coat open rather than taking it fully off.
As Sirius reaches the table, he drags a stool from an empty table and addresses the locals. "The way the lights dance in the sky truly is mesmerizing isn't it. Have you room for just one more in your game?" As Sirius settles onto the stool, he continues bombarding the locals with questions: "Does anyone of you happen to know someone called Yurgunn Trollbane? Oh, and forgive my ignorance, but is there a library in town?"
Sirius
As you settle down among the locals, you get a good look at their faces. They seem fairly young, although not as young as you. There are three men and two women, all in rugged fur clothes. If at first they looked annoyed at your sudden arrival into their company, their expressions suddenly become carefully indifferent. They've seen your armor and distinguished looks and they have pegged you as someone of higher stature.
The group exchanges glances. They've become a lot quieter.
"The aurora's a sight to behold, but ne'er was there a curse more wicked.", the blonde man with a jagged scar on his brow says. "Sir", he adds almost as an afterthought. "Yer welcome to the game, but it's a simple affair with no stakes."
"Yurgunn's the lady in the corner there, smoking a pipe". One of the men says quietly and without looking in that direction. "And if yer looking for books, the House of the Triad has some, that's the temple here. Only place with a real library is Easthaven though."
(OOC-Not sure of the etiquette here or how I should post OOC comments. (Are we assuming that we are a group? Met upon the road, all headed to Ten-towns?) (Are there any further details about these rumors that allude to the deaths being linked? Who was killed, when, where? How did the name of Yurgrun become a possession to seek after?/ Do we have a motivation to seek answers here?)
Aubreen stamps in out of the cold, knocking snow from his boots and cloak. As the hood falls open revealing a thick mane of red hair, tied into a braid. His gently pointed ears briefly appear, the only display of his elven heritage. Steel grey eyes scan the tavern, catching the look of the bartender and signaling for an ale. A look of disgust at the fish hanging on the wall. Aubreen's body reacting in revulsion at the memory of too many rotten Knuckleheads eaten as an orphan on these streets.
Pointedly ignoring, or so it would seem, his companions Aubreen stomps into the corner, pulling out an empty chair and deposits himself at the table of the Lady Dwarf. Gazing at the crowd, using only peripheral to watch the Dwarf, he pulls forth fragrant pipe herbs and a long handled pipe from within the breast of well seasoned chain. Still ignoring, yet watching beneath mine own bushy brows, a show is made. Herbs are shredded their fragrance quickly emanating outward. The pipe is packed, with care, fussing about the right mix. A flame is retrieved from the fire and soon smoke rings rise to the ceiling.
Aubreen settles into his chair, a quick almost imperceptible smile at the lady dwarf, before going back to gazing at the crowd as if he was home.
OOC: I think this way of doing OOC is perfectly fine.
The base assumption is that you're meeting for the first time, your common goal being that you want to do something about the murders that have been happening / generally try to do something against the awful conditions here. Yurgunn Trollbane was the name that has been told to you to seek out to facilitate that goal. How you came by that name is up to your characters. It could have been mentioned in a whispered conversation at a tavern, or somebody scribbled it on a piece of paper on the note board in a town. One thing is clear: she knows more about the grisly deaths and there may also have been the mention of coin.
Additional info you would all know about the murders, if you have spent some time in Tentowns:
There have been three deaths so far, within a months time: a halfling trapper in Easthaven, a human shipbuilder in Targos, and, three days ago, a dwarf glassblower here in Bryn Shander. Each victim was found with a dagger of ice through their heart.
Aubreen
The old dwarven womans eyes don't leave Aubreens face as he makes himself comfortable at the table. Her own pipe smoldering faintly, she takes his measure. Her face is leathery, worn with age, yet not without an iron determination and the promise of danger lurking beneath.
Scramsax makes the rounds, depositing an ale in front of Aubreen, exchanging a quick glance with the old woman, before continuing on.
The dwarfs nostrils flare. "Now tell me one thing, flamehair. Where did you get that leaf from? Been a while before I've been able to get my hands on anything more than dried out pipeweed."
Aubreen does not react, gently puffing on his pipe. As the silence begins to fatten with anticipation he looks into his bowl regrettably, tamps out the ash and places it back beneath the breast of his armor.
Pushing the tiny leather pouch across the table, still surveying the crowd. "Weed! It is better to smoke nothing than anything as inferior as a weed. A remnant of my time in the Gate, a small family of halflings, hucklberry's, ran a shop selling the finest dried herbs. Please enjoy"
(Perception 14) If I overhear the Gambler name the lady Dwarf, I catch the eye of the Dapper gentleman, an invitation. I think to my self "Another interested party asking the same questions as I. To catch a killer may require a team" Keeping comfortable and casual I continue.
IF I do not, I simply continue. "A real joy it is to find a warm friendly spot, and a pint to listen to the busy bodies, goings on and other assorted sundry of daily life. Speaking of eve's does the damned sun not come up in these parts no more?" The old northern accent coming back to Aubreen almost alarmingly.
Morthol enters last, a swift use of prestidigitation clearing off any lingering ice from his 7 foot frame. The black marks upon the grey skin of Morthol's face marks him as a goliath to those in the know, though it is difficult to tell his age. Obsidian coloured eyes scan the bar, making eye contact with a dwarf currently speaking with a red haired elf.
Morthol takes a seat at that same table, listening in to indulge his curiosity. Soon enough he would continue to search for Yurgunn Trollbane. While he cared little for the murder victims, the ritualistic nature of their deaths was something that often boded ill for the future.
The spell cast by Morthol (recognized as a simple cantrip by Perrin and Zenos) is being noticed by those present, eyes darting to the newly arrived figure. It is plain to see that the locals care little for arcane words and gestures, their expressions becoming distrusting and even fearful.
Aubreen - You do overhear the name spoken at Sirius' table. Even a whisper is audible in the lull of conversation as Morthol enters.
Even if the spell didn't invoke silence, the tavern acts like it had. Conversations only start sparking up again after the goliath has taken a seat at Aubreens table.
The dwarf, busy inspecting a pinch of the weed that was offered to her by the half-elf, nods at the goliath as if she had expected him.
"Ye better think twice before incating something the folk here don't understand, lest they get a mind to use you as cheap kindling." she says casually, tapping out the remainder of her own pipe and then packing in the fresh herb with a deft finger.
The dwarf lady confirms your suspicions shortly afterwards.
"They call me Yurgunn Trollbane. This frozen *grorov* is my home. I would want to speak to you about a job. Let's get a few more bodies at this table."
Sirius - The dwarf has uttered the word as a curse, loud enough to overhear. You translate grorov to hell.
Sirius, Perrin, Zenos - The dwarf sitting at the table with the magical goliath and the red-haired half-elf in chainmail waves you over.
Yurgunn Trollbane
Sirius thanks the locals for the information and quickly excuses himself from the table. "I would love to play a round or two but it seems I'm wanted by Yurgunn" as he notices the invitation of the Dwarf and the red-haired half-elf. Sirius' expression shifts, becoming solemn as he senses the coolness of the people and their clear disdain for their hometown. Taking a seat at the table, Sirius introduces himself "I am Sirius of the house of Barwin" warmly addressing the group. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Noticing the old dwarves woman’s beckoning gesture, Perrin slides off of his chair and makes his way over to the rest of the group. Is that Yurgunn? he wonders.
As he steps up to the group, he points at the woman and says in perfectly mimicked young woman’s voice, “Yurgunn Trollbane.” He cocks his head to indicate a question, though the tone of his voice sounds more like a statement than an inquiry. Only being able to repeat what others say was incredibly frustrating.
Zenos seeing the wave would give a polite nod before getting up and walking over to the table with a quizzical look on his face. Sitting at an empty chair at the table "Greetings fair travelers I am Zenos and it is a pleasure for you to meet me". Giving a smile to the table.
The old woman looks into the round, fishing out of her pocket for a strange looking object. She flicks it with a practiced motion, producing a small flame and using it to light her pipe.
Perrin: "That I am.", she responds, giving you a quizzical look.
She nods at the new arrivals and at the introductions.
The old woman unfurls an old map of Tentowns.
"Torgs has left Bryn Shander two days ago in the direction of Targos. It's up to you to find its current whereabouts."
"Aubreen" says the half elf as if that answers all potential questions.
"There are rumors upon the street, whispers and talk in hushed tones of a murderer. Somehow your name was given as one with answers" Aubreen raises an eyebrow quizzically, still scanning the crowd.
"Is there no law in these towns? Who watches the streets and how pray tell lady dwarf, are you connected to something so nefarious?"
Having said his piece Aubreen retreats into his thoughts, awaiting a reply. 3 murders with no apparent connection but the means of death. The years of walking a beat in The Gate may come in handy here.
After the woman confirms she is indeed Yurgunn Trollbane, Perrin hops up onto one of the chairs and listens with rapt attention. His face tightens in anger at the mention of Auryl and sacrifices, but he continues to listen. If this Sephek Kaltro was indeed sworn to the Frostmaiden, that was all the more reason to hunt him down. Though he's not excited to return to Targos so soon, if capturing this Sephek would put a stop to innocent people dying, then so be it.
He turns his attention back to Yurgunn, eyeing her curiously. Now that he's thought about it, he's curious about the woman's motives. Perhaps she lost someone she loved to the murders? Cocking his head again to indicate a question, he starts in a gruff, accusatory voice he heard on the way here, "Why would you care-" and then finishes by transitioning back to the woman's voice he used earlier, "about the murders."
Yurgunn spits into the hearth. "Guess I'm one of the few people still giving a shit. And I've been around long enough to remember what the Dale was like back when you ran out of fingers to count the ships in Targos. Disembarking bright-eyed pioneers and heroes in the making, smelling the glacier winds for the first time."
Sirius, Perrin, Aubreen (Insight): You get the distinct impression that the old woman had been one of the people disembarking, long ago.
The dwarf grumbles on, responding to Aubreens inquiry. "Each town posts its own militia and enforces its own law. There are inter-town agreements in effect by the council of speakers, although in these times, it's mostly everyone for themselfes. Everyone's locked into heir own home, trying not to lose another finger to frostbite. Sister of mine in Caer Dineval hasn't sent word for a year, the old trout."
Aubreen: A murderer always has a motive. Although neither in the Gate nor here does anyone have much enthusiasm in finding out what it was. They mostly just want the criminal gone and their deeds punished. The Gate had a book of laws about that. If there is a comparable book here, it's probably a lot thinner.
Zenos looking at Yurgunn "Is there anything else you can tell us about this Sephek Kaltro other than leaving town heading towards Targos and not being affected by the cold? This does sound like an interesting series of events."
Yurgunn nods to the satyr: "It seems Sephek appeared out of nowhere in Bremen before Torrga hired him, doing odd jobs around the town. Creeped the hell out of the folks there. They still remember the man with the eyes of ice. They also tell me he's a human man of olive complexion and dark of hair. Thirty winters of age. The money he earned he spent on some exotic clothes unfit for the Dale. Another curious thing: he carries no weapons."
Hmm, Perrin thought. This is definitely an interesting scenario. It sounded like this Sephek fellow was from down south, or at least his heritage was. If so, what on Toril would drive him to make a pact with the Frostmaiden of all people? Weren't the southern climes known for their heat?
Shaking his head, Perrin turns his attention to the others around the table who were also seeking out this murderer from the south. It looked like the human and half-elf, Sirius and Aubreen he thinks their names are, had some sort of martial capability. They'd probably be pretty useful in sticky situation. As for the goliath, Perrin had seen a few of his kind roving up in the mountains the few times he had been. If he remembered right, they were a tribal people, so it was curious to see one of them down here in the valley. The last member of the group was the most interesting, at least in Perrin's opinion. He had only heard of satyrs in the storybooks his parents used to read to him when he was a child. The books had been full of tales about satyrs and their mysterious fey ways. If the stories had any truth in them, maybe this satyr fellow had some kind of magic? Only time would tell.
That left him as the last member of the murderer-hunting group. He wasn't sure how much he'd be able to help out. He didn't know any magic, he didn't know how to fight, nor did he have any useful investigation skills. Perhaps if the group wanted to learn more about the songbirds native to the valley, then he'd be able to be of use. The thought reminded him of his sketchbook filled with pictures and observed behaviors about the animals of Icewind Dale he left back in his room in Targos. He longed to go back and retrieve it, but he had a feeling his parents wouldn't take kindly to a kenku storming in and demanding their dead son's sketchbook.
Turning his attention back to the conversation, he just continues to listen, his feet swinging lazily from the chair. He didn't have much to add or inquire about, and even if he did, he wouldn't be able to. Being able to only repeat the things he heard and not being able to speak himself was quite annoying.