The Ol' Boar Inn- The Inn is quiet in the early evening. A human male stands on a short ladder refilling the pour kegs behind the bar, while a pair of halflings dash about lighting oil lamps and tending the stew pot simmering near the fireplace against the wall. There are several tables and a set of stairs rise against the far wall.
Bhuraelea- (OOC: I gave you the original roll on your survival check, moving slowly and carefully would actually be helpful when tracking in nature.) You head out of town to the northeast. Scanning the ground you notice several rut cut into the packed dirt road, some decades old, but the signs of recently disturbed earth leads you to believe that a wagon passed through here as recent as a month ago. You follow those tracks to its source. A wagon sits, horseless and empty, next to a stone column. Several words are carved into the pillar; You recognize the letters as Dwarvish, but its lacks the precision in cut. Heading towards the next broken pillar, you begin to notice signs of many campsites. The most recent was about a month passed and it looks as though someone has tried to obscure it from casual observation. It is then you see that one of the pillars has a newer looking rope securely tied around its base. The rope then descends into the darkness of a chasm whose bottom is lost even to your elvish eyes. You notice crudely cut hand holds along the precipice wall.
(OOC: No worries on the absence, I will have Bho head back and regale the group and you can pick up wherever we are when you return)
A troubled looking Obsben hasn't said anything, but quietly followed along after Scar. The news of Bhuraelea troubles the halfling all the more. And yet, aside from a soft sigh, the little halfling just held his tongue. He promptly sits between the largest members of the group once at the Inn, and actively avoids meeting any halfing's gaze.
In fact, he mussied up his hair and flipped up his hood to make it all the harder to see his face. "So by the sounds of it, we're gonna be dealing with goblins, and something possibly something or someone powerful enough to make cure-all fruits... Any of you guys get the feeling that a druid might be involved here? Or some other sort manipulating it?"
"The one thing I know is that the goblins at the very least are singular in their desires... whether they're being used or not a good goblin is few and far between. So, at least we don't have any moral barriers here. To find who is using them we take them out from the bottom to the top."
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I play in far too many games.
Arkhan Voldez - Lvl3 Dragonborn Fighter/Sorcerer - Sword Coast Ramblings Gash "Gregory" - Lvl6 Goblin Wizard - The Long Road of the Mage King Griffdar Goodwar - Lvl2 Dragonborn Paladin - Waterdeep Campaign (Dragon Heist) Koga - Lvl1 Elf Blood Hunter - LMoP
Even through the dinner rush the Inn doesn't get very busy. The halfling servers hesitate at Obsben's behavior but otherwise shrug it off and keep about their work. After a couple of hours, the human that has been tending the bar approaches your table. He introduces himself as Garon, owner of the Inn.
"Yer rooms been taken care of on account of Corkie. Heard yer headed up to the old Citadel, nasty bit of business that. But you all look like a right dangerous bunch."
"Yes we are very dangerous or at the very least I hope my companions are as powerful as my magic allows me to be." Adalbricht says to Caron. "Now about this citadel could you perhaps tells us more about it?"
Obsben chuckles. "I think that's the first time I've heard anyone say one of 'the folk' looks dangerous. At least outside of old Uncle Ruckus. Though he does bring it on himself most of the time."His expression -- or what little of it that can be seen turns from amused but borderline tired to serious. He stands up in his seat if needed, and leans in over the table in a show of great interest. "And of these goblins too, if you can. Have they always occupied at least the general area around it, or...?"
" 'the folk' as ya called 'em dont go advertisin, " Garon chuckles, "but I knowed enough of your kind to say that yer more dangerous than you let on." He shrugs and continues.
"There always seems to be someone in the ruins up there, whether goblin or bandits. Its not far from the road, ya see. Makes it a good blind to hunt from. Not many head up there anymore. There was that group you be ferreting. Before that..." His eyes lose focus for a second as though hes trying to remember something.
"There was this fella named Bartok or Belak or some such. Almost a dozen years now. Came through here with a big, ugly pet toad, asking about the ruins. Wonder what ever happened to him. He never bothered coming back to Oakhurst, bind and tar me."
"I heard its good luck to have an Elf apologize to ya," laughs Garon. He turns to one of the Halflings and hollers, "Copperkettle, I've got a victim for you" and then turns conspiratorially to you and whispers, "Tis the best stew I've ever had. If I knew no better, I'd say that one was a wizard...a food wizard if there was ever such a thing." He pours a steaming mug of water and plops a bag of tea into it. Scents of orange peel and cloves waiver about the air.
The Halfling identified as Copperkettle bring over a tureen of hearty mutton stew and sizable piece of soda bread. Garon returns with the tea and places it on the table in front of Bhuraelea.
"Dwarvish runes you say? I'd not run into many Dwarves round these parts. But It wouldn't be impossible, the old Dwarf stronghold Gauntlgrym is only a few days ride and them mountains are lousy with tunnels and mines, " Garon remarks as he delivers the warm mug.
"Going there may not be necessary. I happen to be fluent in both Dwarvish and Elvish. Oh and though I do not think it will be useful I can also speak Draconic." Adalbricht says as he motions for the funds to be brought over.
(OOC) Im assuming an autocorrect error on funds/runes. The runes that Boh saw were carved onto the broken pillars.
"It were a fortress for a Dragon cult , lad," Garon says to Adalbricht, "there may be some use for all that growling and coughing. If theres naught else I can do ta help, I going to go finish up the closing. Yer rooms are at the top of the stairs. There's no one else bedding down here tonight so the four of em are yers."
Garon shuffles back to the bar and begins to wipe up spilled bits of ale and stew.
Obsben eventually gets over freight and climbs back into his seat; but, he shoots Boh a disapproving look along the way. "Thanks again, Garon." The halfling waves after the cook before turning to the others. "So, by the sounds of it all the fortress, or at least a path headed in that direction is our destination then. We can probably ask around to see if any have a map of the area. Not that I would bet on it, but you know."He shrugs, then lets out a yawn. "Anyways, aside from maybe picking up some grappling hooks or some healer's kit, think its about time turn in early. Maybe we catch any guards slacking or whatever..."With a sleepy smile, Obsben hops out of his seat and goes to get directions to one of the rooms from Garon.