Fodd thought perhaps he'd got away without anyone noticing his chair difficulty but is crushed when Horrence calls attention to his difficulty. Mustering what dignity was left available to him, he clears his throat and presses a chubby hand over his rusty breastplate. "I vow I will return these children to their parents alive." he declares, "I shall investigate this tree house and seek clues as to their whereabouts." He suspects that, because of his own upbringing, he will have some insight into the minds of deeply impoverished children keen to explore and prove their mettle, but deep down he's just hoping to avoid Horrence's perceptive eyes and insensitive sense of humour.
Ragnor motions towards his chair and warmly pronounces, "Yes, these chairs are a bit on the small side. Fortunately for the town Fodd's bravery and compassion are not." He looks towards the group just long enough to flash a smile to his compatriot before settling back into his comfortable stare and unemotionally continuing, "Ella, I am glad that we will join our magics to cleanse this foul corruption, even if just for a short time. I shall also meditate on how I can use my magic to find out more about this disease. Befouling the nature which brings us life is the most heinous of acts. We will find these children and bring to justice whomever, or whatever, is behind this putrescence." Ragnor's tone starts to darken as his pace of speech increases, "They will pay a dear, dear price for this. We will make an example of their treachery such that no man or beast within 10 towns will ever..." Ragnor starts to notice that familiar rage building inside of him opts to focus intently on his drink once more, cleansing his anger with an uncomfortable speed. Then as calmly as he started he continues, "My friends, this town needs us and I am honoured to take this journey with the finest band of heroes I have had the fortune to know.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Fodd is definitely hurt and definitely trying to hide it: Deception = 20
BUT Fodd is delighted to hear the praise from the visibly impressive Ragnor and almost beams with pride when he is unofficially teamed up with the dwarf. Itching to get started he almost knocks over another chair as he makes for the door. "Then it is decided, let us make haste to the treehouse!"
(( Going to pause here for a beat so that Corryn gets a chance to post and can pick which team he's on. Subsequent posts will indicate which of the two teams they relate to. I'll post twice in a row if required, just to keep things neat. )).
At a moment of distraction, Ella reaches under the table to pick up the cup that was knocked to the ground earlier in the evening and slips it onto the bar.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Corryn, had stayed silent throughout the unfolding discussion, listening attentively, but at the same time clearly deep in thought, as if immediately trying to figure out how the seemingly disparate events might be connected or how they would affect the broader picture.
When the group is about to split up, he quickly catches up to Ragnor and Fodd, but speaks loud enough so the entire group can hear.
I think my skills will be best suited to assist Ragnor and Fodd in their investigation of the tree house; I will make sure we don't miss any clues.
Corryn's tone is matter of fact, but there may have been a hint of discomfort or concern detectable, if he did not hide it well enough; Deception: 13
((He is trying to hide a slight concern over whether the Paladin and Druid would have quite the right frame of mind to find relevant clues in a gang's tree house, as well as a minor bit of discomfort at Ragnor's displayed intensity.))
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Fodd feels especially large and awkward looming alongside the gnome and the dwarf, his discomfort not helped my the constant squeak of his rusty armour every time he takes a step. He tries to hold on to the fact that he is striding forth to do good with his noble and heroic companions, cheek to cheek with his brethren in arms, but can't shake the feeling that he looks ridiculous next to them and is, in fact, walking cheek to ample arse-cheek with the two older and more experienced adventurers.
"I will be honoured to fight alongside you, Mr Goldweaver" he says, hoping to instil a more noble and companionable air to proceedings. He then bends to whisper earnestly in Ragnor's ear. "Fear not Mr Fireforge, if the tree lacks stairs I shall assist you. My father always said: all folk have their own particular assets and must use them to the benefit of others" (Stealth check = 18)
Heartened by his friend's enthusiasm, Ragnor excitedly sidles up next to Fodd as they walk towards the treehouse, "Your father would be proud to see your bravery this day." He attempts to throw his arm over Fodd's shoulder but with his diminutive height struggles to reach, and instead accidentally gives Fodd a fairly strong shove in the back. "Sorry my dear friend."
"Ah! Yes - jolly good plan my dear Ella" says Horrence, slapping his hand on his leg (which causes a slight jangle from the various screws and bits and pieces filling his pockets).
"I must say I'm not a fan of trees myself- whether they have houses in them of not- have a tendency not to grow straight, and buggered if I can tell how they work. Much better to focus on getting this young err... Mika, Mila... what did you say Jovian... to tell us where her friends of run off to than be faffing around with nature, if you ask me?"
He hops down off his chair, and begins to follow on after those already leaving. After a few steps he realises he has again left his glasses on the table, turns back with a muttered "damn and blast" and collects them.
Polishing them once again before restoring them to the brim of his nose he raises his voices slightly just at Fodd, Ragnor and Corryn reach the door and says "ahhh..um... yes... may I gently suggest we reconvene here in a few hours to compare notes? No point in us all running off like golem's with a limericks for brains!"
He turns to Ella, bows slightly (which given that the halfling already walks slightly hunched brings him perilous close to the floor), gestures to the door and says expectantly "shall we?"
"Let's," Ella says, pulling her ragged brown skirts into a neat curtsy. "Will you still be open when we return, Elin, Griga, Fridi? I don't want to inconvenience you all if it's getting late."
As you gather to leave, Joviar remains slumped in his seat, head slowly tracking your progress toward the door even as his eyes visibly grow heavier. Griga and Elin move quickly to clear the table around him, the latter silent as always and the former making a special effort. At your question, Ella, Fridi spreads her arms in a cheerful manner as if to indicate that closing is unlikely to be a consideration.
Opening the thick wooden door of the Delver's Torch, you find yourself in the near-darkness of the District Street. Once, just a few years ago, this would have been a bustling street, the inn being located only slightly off the District's central square and market. Now, a kind of muted hush hangs over it. Gone are the festive stalls, the couples strolling arm in arm or the hawkers and buskers pestering passers by for coin in exchange for street meat or an epic re-enactment of a legendary Delve. The absence of light appears to have taken with it something beyond visibility.
Your journey takes you south and then east, winding your way through increasingly residential streets. The buildings on either side grow both taller and less sound. Horrence, your experienced eye can't help but soak in details and make calculations. Here, a foundation starting to crack. There, a building tilting at an angle soon requiring reinforcement with beam or spell. The buildings aren't precisely crumbling as of yet, but they are visibly decaying. Neither the skills nor the materials to repair them are available in anything like the volumes required to maintain the district and the situation looks like to get worse with every passing month.
The leaning tenement, when you come upon it, lives up to its name. Precariously rising between a warehouse on the right and an abandoned residential home on the left, it tilts forward alarmingly, looming over the street as if it were a wrathful parent towering over a child caught in some forbidden act. There are few lights in the windows, the occasional faint glow of candles visible through threadbare curtains on just a handful of the windows on each of the building's four floors. The few windows on the ground floor have been sealed with a variety of methods. One is crudely boarded up, one has been sealed with a hodgepodge of bricks held together by mortar and two more have metal bars across them in an irregular pattern. What the residents of such a poor community have to fear from theft is unclear, but the precautions are there nonetheless.
Leaning against the bricks by the double doors to the tenement stands a man you do not recognize ((DM: Not that unusual in the district, which has hundreds of residents and does get a bit of migration from other places, even after the Flow was disrupted)). Of medium height and with a laborer's build, he wears patched homespun clothing of which you can discern little in the darkness. As you approach, he straightens and moves slightly, barring entry into the building. You note a thick club tied to his belt in a crude rope harness and the faint glint of brass knuckles adorning his left fist.
The darkness and chill of the night air comes as a shock after the warmth and light of the Delver's Torch. For Ragnor and Corryn the world shifts into grey, their darkvision piercing the gloom without difficulty but revealing little to hearten the spirit. The street, even so close to the heart of the District, is largely empty and the shutters on windows tend toward the barred. There are no pedestrians in the immediate vicinity, and the few you encounter as you make your way east and slightly south most quickly and furtively, casting nervous glances about themselves or simply wallowing in their own troubles.
Fodd, for you the world is wrapped in darkness with visibility reduced to only a few feet. The overcast sky lets through precious little moonlight, but the occasional window casts candle or lamplight into the street and the rough outlines of buildings remain clearly visible. Moving with Rangor and Corryn, you are able to traverse the district with some speed despite the darkness, the whining of your battered armor cutting through what is otherwise a quiet night.
Corryn, as your group passes through Blake's Hovel Lane, your instincts and natural weariness send tingles up your spine, a sure fire sign that eyes are tracking your progress. This is not entirely surprising, as the Lane was notorious for being an outpost of the city's underbelly even in the far richer days of the Flow. Still, no one emerges from the shadows to challenge you and the darkness springs no hidden dangers or lurking muggers to impede you on your way. You suspect the sight of the very large Fodd, armor creak audible from three districts away, might have played a factor in dissuading those who might otherwise have taken an interest in three travelers on a dark night.
Ahead, near the eastern edge of the district, buildings give way to grass and tall, thick trees. What is a pleasant park in the daytime, where families once picnicked and still often stroll is a more ominous sight at night. The trees are close together, having long been allowed to grow wild. Their roots form a ready tripping hazard beneath your feet and their branches intertwine above your heads, blocking out what little light the few stars peeking through the clouds might shed. You know, having glimpsed it once or twice, that the treehouse rests within this forest park, a short distance directly through it to the east. The path lies before you, and darkness all around.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As they venture into the wooded path, Fodd stays close and just behind his two keen-eyed companions, following their quick feet as best he can in the dark; eyes switching between peering into the dark for signs of danger and scanning the gloom in front of his feet to avoid tripping on a root. (Dexterity Check = 6) He feels vulnerable and nervous and makes an effort to break the creepy silence of the night around them (and cover the sound of his crappy armour). "Did either of you happen to fight alongside my father? I know he served with many fierce and doughty small-folk. He always said: a person's measure is not the size of their body, but the size of their heart!"
Fodd himself had always taken comfort in this adage since his chubby child body began to blossom into the hulking, cumbersome form he now inhabits, despite his best efforts.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Spotting the man by the door, Ella slows her pace, positioning herself slightly behind her halfling companion and, placing a hand on the Professor's shoulder, whispers a prayer of Guidance for him - her eyes lifted to the heavens for a moment.
((What does the sky look like please DM?))
((Also can I insight check the man? Do I get the feeling he look tired, hungry, angry, drunk etc? Insight check = 17))
Fodd accepts the torch gratefully. "Ah of course. He worked in a District far from here so that explains why you may not have met, although I'm sure his great deeds are well known to you."Fodd raises the torch and uses it to scan the trees around them, peering as far down the path as the light reaches, searching for any evil that might need smiting, or wrongs that may require enthusiastic righting.
((DM, I'd like to use Divine Sense but I can't work out how to do the special [whatsit] trick))
Fodd thought perhaps he'd got away without anyone noticing his chair difficulty but is crushed when Horrence calls attention to his difficulty. Mustering what dignity was left available to him, he clears his throat and presses a chubby hand over his rusty breastplate. "I vow I will return these children to their parents alive." he declares, "I shall investigate this tree house and seek clues as to their whereabouts." He suspects that, because of his own upbringing, he will have some insight into the minds of deeply impoverished children keen to explore and prove their mettle, but deep down he's just hoping to avoid Horrence's perceptive eyes and insensitive sense of humour.
Ragnor motions towards his chair and warmly pronounces, "Yes, these chairs are a bit on the small side. Fortunately for the town Fodd's bravery and compassion are not." He looks towards the group just long enough to flash a smile to his compatriot before settling back into his comfortable stare and unemotionally continuing, "Ella, I am glad that we will join our magics to cleanse this foul corruption, even if just for a short time. I shall also meditate on how I can use my magic to find out more about this disease. Befouling the nature which brings us life is the most heinous of acts. We will find these children and bring to justice whomever, or whatever, is behind this putrescence." Ragnor's tone starts to darken as his pace of speech increases, "They will pay a dear, dear price for this. We will make an example of their treachery such that no man or beast within 10 towns will ever..." Ragnor starts to notice that familiar rage building inside of him opts to focus intently on his drink once more, cleansing his anger with an uncomfortable speed. Then as calmly as he started he continues, "My friends, this town needs us and I am honoured to take this journey with the finest band of heroes I have had the fortune to know.
Can I insight check for whether Horrence hurt Fodd’s feelings? (Insight=7)
((Fodd, if your feelings are hurt is that something you want to try and conceal from Horrence? If so please roll Deception)).
“Then perhaps you and I, Professor, should seek out the children’s friends, and Mister Gillmary and Mister Fireforge should scour the treehouse?”
Fodd is definitely hurt and definitely trying to hide it: Deception = 20
BUT Fodd is delighted to hear the praise from the visibly impressive Ragnor and almost beams with pride when he is unofficially teamed up with the dwarf. Itching to get started he almost knocks over another chair as he makes for the door. "Then it is decided, let us make haste to the treehouse!"
"As long as there are some stairs for us shorter folk."
(( Going to pause here for a beat so that Corryn gets a chance to post and can pick which team he's on. Subsequent posts will indicate which of the two teams they relate to. I'll post twice in a row if required, just to keep things neat. )).
At a moment of distraction, Ella reaches under the table to pick up the cup that was knocked to the ground earlier in the evening and slips it onto the bar.
Corryn, had stayed silent throughout the unfolding discussion, listening attentively, but at the same time clearly deep in thought, as if immediately trying to figure out how the seemingly disparate events might be connected or how they would affect the broader picture.
When the group is about to split up, he quickly catches up to Ragnor and Fodd, but speaks loud enough so the entire group can hear.
Corryn's tone is matter of fact, but there may have been a hint of discomfort or concern detectable, if he did not hide it well enough; Deception: 13
((He is trying to hide a slight concern over whether the Paladin and Druid would have quite the right frame of mind to find relevant clues in a gang's tree house, as well as a minor bit of discomfort at Ragnor's displayed intensity.))
Fodd feels especially large and awkward looming alongside the gnome and the dwarf, his discomfort not helped my the constant squeak of his rusty armour every time he takes a step. He tries to hold on to the fact that he is striding forth to do good with his noble and heroic companions, cheek to cheek with his brethren in arms, but can't shake the feeling that he looks ridiculous next to them and is, in fact, walking cheek to ample arse-cheek with the two older and more experienced adventurers.
"I will be honoured to fight alongside you, Mr Goldweaver" he says, hoping to instil a more noble and companionable air to proceedings. He then bends to whisper earnestly in Ragnor's ear. "Fear not Mr Fireforge, if the tree lacks stairs I shall assist you. My father always said: all folk have their own particular assets and must use them to the benefit of others" (Stealth check = 18)
Heartened by his friend's enthusiasm, Ragnor excitedly sidles up next to Fodd as they walk towards the treehouse, "Your father would be proud to see your bravery this day." He attempts to throw his arm over Fodd's shoulder but with his diminutive height struggles to reach, and instead accidentally gives Fodd a fairly strong shove in the back. "Sorry my dear friend."
"Ah! Yes - jolly good plan my dear Ella" says Horrence, slapping his hand on his leg (which causes a slight jangle from the various screws and bits and pieces filling his pockets).
"I must say I'm not a fan of trees myself- whether they have houses in them of not- have a tendency not to grow straight, and buggered if I can tell how they work. Much better to focus on getting this young err... Mika, Mila... what did you say Jovian... to tell us where her friends of run off to than be faffing around with nature, if you ask me?"
He hops down off his chair, and begins to follow on after those already leaving. After a few steps he realises he has again left his glasses on the table, turns back with a muttered "damn and blast" and collects them.
Polishing them once again before restoring them to the brim of his nose he raises his voices slightly just at Fodd, Ragnor and Corryn reach the door and says "ahhh..um... yes... may I gently suggest we reconvene here in a few hours to compare notes? No point in us all running off like golem's with a limericks for brains!"
He turns to Ella, bows slightly (which given that the halfling already walks slightly hunched brings him perilous close to the floor), gestures to the door and says expectantly "shall we?"
"Let's," Ella says, pulling her ragged brown skirts into a neat curtsy. "Will you still be open when we return, Elin, Griga, Fridi? I don't want to inconvenience you all if it's getting late."
== Ella and Horrence ==
*switching to 2nd person narration*
As you gather to leave, Joviar remains slumped in his seat, head slowly tracking your progress toward the door even as his eyes visibly grow heavier. Griga and Elin move quickly to clear the table around him, the latter silent as always and the former making a special effort. At your question, Ella, Fridi spreads her arms in a cheerful manner as if to indicate that closing is unlikely to be a consideration.
Opening the thick wooden door of the Delver's Torch, you find yourself in the near-darkness of the District Street. Once, just a few years ago, this would have been a bustling street, the inn being located only slightly off the District's central square and market. Now, a kind of muted hush hangs over it. Gone are the festive stalls, the couples strolling arm in arm or the hawkers and buskers pestering passers by for coin in exchange for street meat or an epic re-enactment of a legendary Delve. The absence of light appears to have taken with it something beyond visibility.
Your journey takes you south and then east, winding your way through increasingly residential streets. The buildings on either side grow both taller and less sound. Horrence, your experienced eye can't help but soak in details and make calculations. Here, a foundation starting to crack. There, a building tilting at an angle soon requiring reinforcement with beam or spell. The buildings aren't precisely crumbling as of yet, but they are visibly decaying. Neither the skills nor the materials to repair them are available in anything like the volumes required to maintain the district and the situation looks like to get worse with every passing month.
The leaning tenement, when you come upon it, lives up to its name. Precariously rising between a warehouse on the right and an abandoned residential home on the left, it tilts forward alarmingly, looming over the street as if it were a wrathful parent towering over a child caught in some forbidden act. There are few lights in the windows, the occasional faint glow of candles visible through threadbare curtains on just a handful of the windows on each of the building's four floors. The few windows on the ground floor have been sealed with a variety of methods. One is crudely boarded up, one has been sealed with a hodgepodge of bricks held together by mortar and two more have metal bars across them in an irregular pattern. What the residents of such a poor community have to fear from theft is unclear, but the precautions are there nonetheless.
Leaning against the bricks by the double doors to the tenement stands a man you do not recognize ((DM: Not that unusual in the district, which has hundreds of residents and does get a bit of migration from other places, even after the Flow was disrupted)). Of medium height and with a laborer's build, he wears patched homespun clothing of which you can discern little in the darkness. As you approach, he straightens and moves slightly, barring entry into the building. You note a thick club tied to his belt in a crude rope harness and the faint glint of brass knuckles adorning his left fist.
== Ragnor, Fodd and Corryn ==
The darkness and chill of the night air comes as a shock after the warmth and light of the Delver's Torch. For Ragnor and Corryn the world shifts into grey, their darkvision piercing the gloom without difficulty but revealing little to hearten the spirit. The street, even so close to the heart of the District, is largely empty and the shutters on windows tend toward the barred. There are no pedestrians in the immediate vicinity, and the few you encounter as you make your way east and slightly south most quickly and furtively, casting nervous glances about themselves or simply wallowing in their own troubles.
Fodd, for you the world is wrapped in darkness with visibility reduced to only a few feet. The overcast sky lets through precious little moonlight, but the occasional window casts candle or lamplight into the street and the rough outlines of buildings remain clearly visible. Moving with Rangor and Corryn, you are able to traverse the district with some speed despite the darkness, the whining of your battered armor cutting through what is otherwise a quiet night.
Corryn, as your group passes through Blake's Hovel Lane, your instincts and natural weariness send tingles up your spine, a sure fire sign that eyes are tracking your progress. This is not entirely surprising, as the Lane was notorious for being an outpost of the city's underbelly even in the far richer days of the Flow. Still, no one emerges from the shadows to challenge you and the darkness springs no hidden dangers or lurking muggers to impede you on your way. You suspect the sight of the very large Fodd, armor creak audible from three districts away, might have played a factor in dissuading those who might otherwise have taken an interest in three travelers on a dark night.
Ahead, near the eastern edge of the district, buildings give way to grass and tall, thick trees. What is a pleasant park in the daytime, where families once picnicked and still often stroll is a more ominous sight at night. The trees are close together, having long been allowed to grow wild. Their roots form a ready tripping hazard beneath your feet and their branches intertwine above your heads, blocking out what little light the few stars peeking through the clouds might shed. You know, having glimpsed it once or twice, that the treehouse rests within this forest park, a short distance directly through it to the east. The path lies before you, and darkness all around.
As they venture into the wooded path, Fodd stays close and just behind his two keen-eyed companions, following their quick feet as best he can in the dark; eyes switching between peering into the dark for signs of danger and scanning the gloom in front of his feet to avoid tripping on a root. (Dexterity Check = 6) He feels vulnerable and nervous and makes an effort to break the creepy silence of the night around them (and cover the sound of his crappy armour). "Did either of you happen to fight alongside my father? I know he served with many fierce and doughty small-folk. He always said: a person's measure is not the size of their body, but the size of their heart!"
Fodd himself had always taken comfort in this adage since his chubby child body began to blossom into the hulking, cumbersome form he now inhabits, despite his best efforts.
Spotting the man by the door, Ella slows her pace, positioning herself slightly behind her halfling companion and, placing a hand on the Professor's shoulder, whispers a prayer of Guidance for him - her eyes lifted to the heavens for a moment.
((What does the sky look like please DM?))
((Also can I insight check the man? Do I get the feeling he look tired, hungry, angry, drunk etc? Insight check = 17))
Ragnor reaches into his bag and carefully pulls out a torch and tinderbox, lighting the torch and motioning it towards Fodd.
"Here you go, this will help you see. I don't believe I did know your father, dear Fodd. I've not been much for company for many decades now."
((DM can I do a Nature check to see if I recall or notice anything important about the area and if anything seems unusual 6 ))
Fodd accepts the torch gratefully. "Ah of course. He worked in a District far from here so that explains why you may not have met, although I'm sure his great deeds are well known to you." Fodd raises the torch and uses it to scan the trees around them, peering as far down the path as the light reaches, searching for any evil that might need smiting, or wrongs that may require enthusiastic righting.
((DM, I'd like to use Divine Sense but I can't work out how to do the special [whatsit] trick))