This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Mola, grinning, asks if the pig is part of the prize, and if not, what happens to it.
At the stone-throwing contest, he cheers wildly for the little ones, casting guidance on each of them, grinning and ruffling available heads of hair. He then waits his turn to chuck three stones. He goes to pick up the first one, but one of the humans bumps into him roughly, and grabs it before Mola can get to it. Mola's eye twitches, and he grits his teeth. He emits a low growl, barely audible. (He rages as a bonus action.) He grabs another light stone and in one movement, before the burly human can set up to throw, Mola hurls it with a loud grunt.
61
It soars across the field. He quickly grabs the medium stone, pauses for a few seconds to look at the burly human with an intense expression, mouth wide open, tongue all the way out, "RAHHH!", and hurls it with another grunt.
49
He turns back and slaps his shoulders and knees and hips and thighs rhythmically, in a seeming bid to intimidate the burly human. He whirls to grab the third heavy stone, boosts it noisily to his shoulder, and shot-puts it with a hearty roar.
31
He nearly falls over with the effort of boosting the final, very heavy stone almost as far as he sent the medium one. His arms raise in exultation, forefingers and pinkies pointed to the sky, and his chest rises and falls, sucking in huge lungfuls of air, his tattoos seeming to move almost on their own underneath his shirt. He does more of the odd rhythmic arm motions (OOC: think the haka), and turns back to the crowd, and his eyes clear. He almost staggers but he catches himself. He catches the eye of the burly human and a look of faint self-awareness and embarrassment flashes across his face, but it's gone in a second. He grins, and says, with a lot of sincerity, "watch yourself there, friend, you don't want to bump into the wrong person by accident. Never know what'll happen. Good luck with your throwing!" He claps him on the shoulder, and saunters off slowly.
From her vantage point in the tavern, Gwin has been cheering on her companions with genuine enthusiasm. Well he won that handily, didn't he???, she announces to no one in particular after Mola wins the stone throwing contest. As the crowd begins to disperse at the conclusion of the contests she jumps down from her seat, still chuckling at her little joke. She spies Rixton talking to a human with an owl perched on his shoulder. I wonder what that's all about? she thinks to herself and heads over to join them. As she passes Mola she gives him a little whistle and cocks her head in the direction of their half-elf companion, wordlessly inviting him to join her.
"Of course, where are my manners?" Jheric lays a hand on his chest, over the hung crystal, "I am called Jheric the Investigator. If there are more like us, I think it would be best to find a quiet place to speak. It's a bit too noisy here."
"Hmm," Rixton says. "I'm something of a detective myself. We will all gather after the contests. Until then."
Thus, Rixtonwill head off to the archery and pig-catching contests.
----------------------------------
Rixtonwill spend the stone-throwing contest examining the other contestants and chatting up the others, pointing out Molaas one of his adventuring team and generally talking up their suitability to adventure.
After the contests have concluded, he will wave over Molaand Gwinto size up Jheric
Jheric follows Rixton in rounding up the others, though he's not sure who exactly each are through the crowds until they finally meet. All the while, he keeps his little journal in hand, scribbling a finger over certain pages when minor details are pointed out.
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
After securing a table for Jheric, Gwin, Molaand himself, Rixtonand Molago to accept their prizes. On the stage, Rixtonraises his handaxe high as people applaud. He lifts Mola'shand as well. "The Crimson Jackals will find the Pike Brothers and bring them home!" he calls out.
Performance/Persuasion (with advantage for Molahelping?) - Roll 1: 5, Roll 2: 6,
Mola tries to grin easily as he accepts the prizes, cradling the two potions in one arm as Rixton grabs his other hand in triumph. When he hears "crimson jackals" he turns to Rixton with a thoughtful, impressed expression, and then nods, looking at the rest of the crowd. He almost turns into a jackal, but thinks better of it, but he lets out a very impressive imitation of a jackal's cry.
When they get to the table, he nods at Jheric. "Mola. Though you probably know that already." Nodding at the journal. "Can I ask what's in your book? Never spent much time with them myself, but I love the idea of them. All that knowledge, in one little fragile thing. Anyhow, what brings you to town? Are you here to help Aunt Lou?" He uses a clusmy old Harper code phrase. He also flags down a server and orders an amazing amount of food, but only a small glass of beer, after the drunkard's run.
(Before I forget, before we move along outside the city, Mola's going to head back to the shop where they found the message on the piece of leather and cast speak with animals and try to ask the mule if it's seen anything interesting, where its owners are, and generally gossip.)
Rixton's proclamation from the winners' podium catches a portion of the crowd off their guard, but a "Three cheers for the Crimson Jackals!" is heard from someone among the throng. As Rixton and Mola make their way down the steps, they are congratulated warmly by several individuals, one of whom pats Mola on the back and says, "Bring our Pikes back to Yartar!"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The chaos of Molaand Rixton'swins settles down eventually and Rixtonsets himself back down at the table with Gwinand Jheric. "Well, that should have garnered us some attention," he says. "Now let's see if it flushes out the right quarry."
The rogue orders a drink and sits back in his chair, eyes darting around the room in a betrayal of his casual demeanor. He is looking for anyone with undue interest in them now, someone that is more focused on them than the festivities at hand.
Insight: 17
"Jheric," he says to keep the casual conversation going. "What is your specialty in the arcane arts?"
Jheric closes his journal and lays it down on the table between himself and Mola, "A book is as valuable as the owner makes it. Before my...new contract, I was, and still am, an Investigator. I've carried a journal in my work for so long it's just become natural for me." A moment or two passes, thinking of where the conversation would go, then a consequence comes to Jheric, "But not to worry, though. I was told who to look for last night, and I only have your names and descriptions. Otherwise a lot of traveling notes - where I've stayed, things I've bought, places of note, and so on."
As the raucous cheers faded and Rixton settled back in, Jheric removed his bright-red lenses, "A typical question in my field. Seems like everyone who knows how to weave a spell is looking for a way to split open peoples' minds or make them see things." He shrugs, as though he'd just argued over favorite breakfast spreads, "That's not for me. The bad in people always comes out. But when the bad comes out, so do knives and such. For times like that, it's better to bring a bigger knife." He lays his hand on the table, and the smile that follows is accented by a layer of frost creeping out from his palm on the wood.
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Gwin chimes in, A journal! Oh, how lovely. I don't do much journaling myself, you know. My hand can never keep up with my brain, which travels faster than a roc in flight. However (this word she says slowly for dramatic effect) I DO carry a wee notebook for doodling, and reveals a small book from inside her cloak. She then opens the book and begins to methodically flip the pages, revealing a series of pictures that appear to be moving; an animated scene of a dwarf cleric slaying a green dragon. Clever, eh?
Noticing the frost creep out from underneath Jheric's hand, she says in a more serious tone, I'm glad to have another spell caster in our midst. I have a feeling finding the Pikes will require all of our unique gifts. So let us get down to brass shacks and come up with a plan to rescue our brothers.
"Well, first of all, we have a time, distance, and general direction, so good start there. Any other details?" Jheric settles in with a drink and his notebook ready. A new page is opened, but his finger simply hovers over the blank space.
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Rixton'seyes continue to scan the room as he answers, "The Grandfather Tree in the High Forest is likely where the Pikes were headed. We aren't entirely sure why. They have followed no protocols, including how to leave a message, in acting on this...possible threat."
The rogue turns to Mola. "You were going to have a chat with their mule, weren't you?"
"Grandfather Tree....High Forest....Right, good start there. Anyone know the way? I assume 'High' also implies large?" As Jheric's hand traces over the paper, script traces in his wake as though some invisible ink flowed from his fingertip. On the inside of his hand, a fine, black, tapering line runs from within his sleeves to the end of his index finger.
"Enough drinks and I guess you can have a conversation with anything, eh?"
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
“People have talked about that particular grandfather for years. Supposed to be extremely big. Tall. Wide. Then ringed by burial mounds, maybe hosting our friends, the Uthgardts. Hallowed ground to them, and maybe others like the elves. But I guess maybe it went bad, and the Hand is involved? Or got in the way? And yes, I’m going to head over to the mule to see if it has anything to say, what it knows, maybe ask if it wants to come along. Then what? Head out of town, seeking out the Uthgardts, and the lone survivor of the ambush? Or something else. Also we’ll want to see who takes interest in our endeavor on the way out.”
He’s speaking clearly, but quietly, and without moving his lips a lot, and his hand playing with his beard, occluding his mouth.
Mola visits the leather workers' shop for a second time, and he sees that nothing has changed. He surmises, however, that someone has been looking after the mule, for in the small paddock there is fresh pile of straw. Mola uses his ability to speak with animals and works through a rather convoluted conversation with the creature. By the end of it, Mola has gathered the following:
The mule's name is Tarnie, and he sorely misses his owners because they feed him apples and sugar beets.
Tarnie asks Mola multiple times if he happens to have any apples and sugar beets.
The last time Tarnie saw the Pikes was at night; they left the shop together and did not give him any apples or sugar beets.
Tarnie attempts to describe a creature that he saw through the window the same night the Pikes left the shop together. The mule relies repeatedly on the phrases horns, hair, and two legs. Whatever this creature was, it neither left the house with the Pikes nor gave Tarnie any apples or sugar beets.
Tarnie will go with Mola, especially if there's any chance of being fed apples and sugar beets.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Mola absolutely invites Tarnie along, having no mount of his own. (He does stop in the shop again and look for any sign of a horned bipedal individual: (Perception: 10).) They immediately go and purchase a large bag of apples and some sugar beets, and share some together, before reuniting with the group. He also stocks up on some things -- a random useless widget that he finds at a street vendor's stall, as well as a cask of beer, as he's heard that the Uthgardts enjoy their drinking, and it might come in handy. He asks Tarnie if he wouldn't mind carrying the cask, and if not, Mola's happy to do so.
When they are back together, he asks Rixton, Jheric, and Gwin if they are ready to go, if anyone has had new ideas of how they're supposed to depart the city, and if anyone's seen any particular odd attention on them since their Pike announcement.
Mola's investigation of the Pikes' shop and residence fails to reveal any further information. Tarnie has no objections to the new arrangements, including carrying Mola's recent purchases.
Rixtonchecks on Hentley as he picks up Knickerboxer, chatting with the boy as they prepare his horse to go together. After a wave farewell, he meets up with his team at the road heading east.
"Let's find the Pikes," he says, and spurs Kickerboxer onto Evermoor Way.
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Mola, grinning, asks if the pig is part of the prize, and if not, what happens to it.
At the stone-throwing contest, he cheers wildly for the little ones, casting guidance on each of them, grinning and ruffling available heads of hair. He then waits his turn to chuck three stones. He goes to pick up the first one, but one of the humans bumps into him roughly, and grabs it before Mola can get to it. Mola's eye twitches, and he grits his teeth. He emits a low growl, barely audible. (He rages as a bonus action.) He grabs another light stone and in one movement, before the burly human can set up to throw, Mola hurls it with a loud grunt.
61
It soars across the field. He quickly grabs the medium stone, pauses for a few seconds to look at the burly human with an intense expression, mouth wide open, tongue all the way out, "RAHHH!", and hurls it with another grunt.
49
He turns back and slaps his shoulders and knees and hips and thighs rhythmically, in a seeming bid to intimidate the burly human. He whirls to grab the third heavy stone, boosts it noisily to his shoulder, and shot-puts it with a hearty roar.
31
He nearly falls over with the effort of boosting the final, very heavy stone almost as far as he sent the medium one. His arms raise in exultation, forefingers and pinkies pointed to the sky, and his chest rises and falls, sucking in huge lungfuls of air, his tattoos seeming to move almost on their own underneath his shirt. He does more of the odd rhythmic arm motions (OOC: think the haka), and turns back to the crowd, and his eyes clear. He almost staggers but he catches himself. He catches the eye of the burly human and a look of faint self-awareness and embarrassment flashes across his face, but it's gone in a second. He grins, and says, with a lot of sincerity, "watch yourself there, friend, you don't want to bump into the wrong person by accident. Never know what'll happen. Good luck with your throwing!" He claps him on the shoulder, and saunters off slowly.
From her vantage point in the tavern, Gwin has been cheering on her companions with genuine enthusiasm. Well he won that handily, didn't he???, she announces to no one in particular after Mola wins the stone throwing contest. As the crowd begins to disperse at the conclusion of the contests she jumps down from her seat, still chuckling at her little joke. She spies Rixton talking to a human with an owl perched on his shoulder. I wonder what that's all about? she thinks to herself and heads over to join them. As she passes Mola she gives him a little whistle and cocks her head in the direction of their half-elf companion, wordlessly inviting him to join her.
‘The hardest thing in this world is to live in it.’ - Buffy Summers
"Hmm," Rixton says. "I'm something of a detective myself. We will all gather after the contests. Until then."
Thus, Rixton will head off to the archery and pig-catching contests.
----------------------------------
Rixton will spend the stone-throwing contest examining the other contestants and chatting up the others, pointing out Mola as one of his adventuring team and generally talking up their suitability to adventure.
After the contests have concluded, he will wave over Mola and Gwin to size up Jheric
Jheric follows Rixton in rounding up the others, though he's not sure who exactly each are through the crowds until they finally meet. All the while, he keeps his little journal in hand, scribbling a finger over certain pages when minor details are pointed out.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Is there any kind of public acknowledgement of the winners? Mola would usually avoid such things but he knows they are meant to be obvious and public.
(Yes, all contest winners are honored publicly and given their prizes after each event; Rixton is now famous; Mola doubly so)
After securing a table for Jheric, Gwin, Mola and himself, Rixton and Mola go to accept their prizes. On the stage, Rixton raises his handaxe high as people applaud. He lifts Mola's hand as well. "The Crimson Jackals will find the Pike Brothers and bring them home!" he calls out.
Performance/Persuasion (with advantage for Mola helping?) - Roll 1: 5, Roll 2: 6,
Mola tries to grin easily as he accepts the prizes, cradling the two potions in one arm as Rixton grabs his other hand in triumph. When he hears "crimson jackals" he turns to Rixton with a thoughtful, impressed expression, and then nods, looking at the rest of the crowd. He almost turns into a jackal, but thinks better of it, but he lets out a very impressive imitation of a jackal's cry.
When they get to the table, he nods at Jheric. "Mola. Though you probably know that already." Nodding at the journal. "Can I ask what's in your book? Never spent much time with them myself, but I love the idea of them. All that knowledge, in one little fragile thing. Anyhow, what brings you to town? Are you here to help Aunt Lou?" He uses a clusmy old Harper code phrase. He also flags down a server and orders an amazing amount of food, but only a small glass of beer, after the drunkard's run.
(Before I forget, before we move along outside the city, Mola's going to head back to the shop where they found the message on the piece of leather and cast speak with animals and try to ask the mule if it's seen anything interesting, where its owners are, and generally gossip.)
Rixton's proclamation from the winners' podium catches a portion of the crowd off their guard, but a "Three cheers for the Crimson Jackals!" is heard from someone among the throng. As Rixton and Mola make their way down the steps, they are congratulated warmly by several individuals, one of whom pats Mola on the back and says, "Bring our Pikes back to Yartar!"
The chaos of Mola and Rixton's wins settles down eventually and Rixton sets himself back down at the table with Gwin and Jheric. "Well, that should have garnered us some attention," he says. "Now let's see if it flushes out the right quarry."
The rogue orders a drink and sits back in his chair, eyes darting around the room in a betrayal of his casual demeanor. He is looking for anyone with undue interest in them now, someone that is more focused on them than the festivities at hand.
Insight: 17
"Jheric," he says to keep the casual conversation going. "What is your specialty in the arcane arts?"
Jheric closes his journal and lays it down on the table between himself and Mola, "A book is as valuable as the owner makes it. Before my...new contract, I was, and still am, an Investigator. I've carried a journal in my work for so long it's just become natural for me." A moment or two passes, thinking of where the conversation would go, then a consequence comes to Jheric, "But not to worry, though. I was told who to look for last night, and I only have your names and descriptions. Otherwise a lot of traveling notes - where I've stayed, things I've bought, places of note, and so on."
As the raucous cheers faded and Rixton settled back in, Jheric removed his bright-red lenses, "A typical question in my field. Seems like everyone who knows how to weave a spell is looking for a way to split open peoples' minds or make them see things." He shrugs, as though he'd just argued over favorite breakfast spreads, "That's not for me. The bad in people always comes out. But when the bad comes out, so do knives and such. For times like that, it's better to bring a bigger knife." He lays his hand on the table, and the smile that follows is accented by a layer of frost creeping out from his palm on the wood.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Gwin chimes in, A journal! Oh, how lovely. I don't do much journaling myself, you know. My hand can never keep up with my brain, which travels faster than a roc in flight. However (this word she says slowly for dramatic effect) I DO carry a wee notebook for doodling, and reveals a small book from inside her cloak. She then opens the book and begins to methodically flip the pages, revealing a series of pictures that appear to be moving; an animated scene of a dwarf cleric slaying a green dragon. Clever, eh?
Noticing the frost creep out from underneath Jheric's hand, she says in a more serious tone, I'm glad to have another spell caster in our midst. I have a feeling finding the Pikes will require all of our unique gifts. So let us get down to brass shacks and come up with a plan to rescue our brothers.
‘The hardest thing in this world is to live in it.’ - Buffy Summers
"Well, first of all, we have a time, distance, and general direction, so good start there. Any other details?" Jheric settles in with a drink and his notebook ready. A new page is opened, but his finger simply hovers over the blank space.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Rixton's eyes continue to scan the room as he answers, "The Grandfather Tree in the High Forest is likely where the Pikes were headed. We aren't entirely sure why. They have followed no protocols, including how to leave a message, in acting on this...possible threat."
The rogue turns to Mola. "You were going to have a chat with their mule, weren't you?"
"Grandfather Tree....High Forest....Right, good start there. Anyone know the way? I assume 'High' also implies large?" As Jheric's hand traces over the paper, script traces in his wake as though some invisible ink flowed from his fingertip. On the inside of his hand, a fine, black, tapering line runs from within his sleeves to the end of his index finger.
"Enough drinks and I guess you can have a conversation with anything, eh?"
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
“People have talked about that particular grandfather for years. Supposed to be extremely big. Tall. Wide. Then ringed by burial mounds, maybe hosting our friends, the Uthgardts. Hallowed ground to them, and maybe others like the elves. But I guess maybe it went bad, and the Hand is involved? Or got in the way? And yes, I’m going to head over to the mule to see if it has anything to say, what it knows, maybe ask if it wants to come along. Then what? Head out of town, seeking out the Uthgardts, and the lone survivor of the ambush? Or something else. Also we’ll want to see who takes interest in our endeavor on the way out.”
He’s speaking clearly, but quietly, and without moving his lips a lot, and his hand playing with his beard, occluding his mouth.
Mola visits the leather workers' shop for a second time, and he sees that nothing has changed. He surmises, however, that someone has been looking after the mule, for in the small paddock there is fresh pile of straw. Mola uses his ability to speak with animals and works through a rather convoluted conversation with the creature. By the end of it, Mola has gathered the following:
Mola absolutely invites Tarnie along, having no mount of his own. (He does stop in the shop again and look for any sign of a horned bipedal individual: (Perception: 10).) They immediately go and purchase a large bag of apples and some sugar beets, and share some together, before reuniting with the group. He also stocks up on some things -- a random useless widget that he finds at a street vendor's stall, as well as a cask of beer, as he's heard that the Uthgardts enjoy their drinking, and it might come in handy. He asks Tarnie if he wouldn't mind carrying the cask, and if not, Mola's happy to do so.
When they are back together, he asks Rixton, Jheric, and Gwin if they are ready to go, if anyone has had new ideas of how they're supposed to depart the city, and if anyone's seen any particular odd attention on them since their Pike announcement.
Mola's investigation of the Pikes' shop and residence fails to reveal any further information. Tarnie has no objections to the new arrangements, including carrying Mola's recent purchases.
Rixton checks on Hentley as he picks up Knickerboxer, chatting with the boy as they prepare his horse to go together. After a wave farewell, he meets up with his team at the road heading east.
"Let's find the Pikes," he says, and spurs Kickerboxer onto Evermoor Way.