Storm King's Thunder

//Psssh, let em//

Scanning: 15

//... ok so that hasn’t even been edited so I’m not sure how that’s happened. At least I don’t think it has been? Yeah see, it lacks the edited tag. So who knows.//

Quote from JcAndD >>

 

Scanning: 20

Crownsguard will return to the inn and locate the team. He has some information to convey.

As Crownsguard returns to the White Hart Inn, what are the rest of you doing? 

Rip will give some meats from lunch to Quill "good to have you back with us, Ink has been quite the handful without you as you can imagine!" he then brings the owl up to speed on current events

Quote from DarthAvarice >>

Flint takes the materials ink produced. 

"Moradin ForgeLord, we got us a commission. Me elf friend is as brave an' skilled a warrior as elves come, plus a bit more! Take these coins fer payment, an' these leathers fer stock, an' help me craft a suit fer him that any dwarf'd be happy ta call 'is own! "

Flint slams a beer then  focuses on his task.

Flint hands over the armor. If half plate armor could be made of flexible leather it would look something like this. The leather is dark, incorporating the smokey pattern of the scorched leather and layered at intervals conforming to Ink's features, in some places sewn with steel cord, in others sliding freely to allow movement. The visible studs on the larger plates are bright in contrast and reinforced to cover vital areas. 

As he has made it back, Crownsguard will enter, look around the room and find Flint, “Excuse me, Flint. I have determined key information about the keep that may assist in our assault on it later. I believe that the keep is under the effect of the Hallow and has been desecrated. I am unsure of the exact effect of the desecration, but I believe it can be dispelled.”

"An' have ye any thought as ta how that could be done?"

“A dispel magic spell of sufficient power would likely accomplish the desired effect. I am unable to manifest a spell of this level. However, it would seem that you are all more competent spell casters than I.”

The autumn sunset sends orange rays through the lodge's immaculate windows. It would be normal to see dust motes floating lazily in the sunbeams, but not here. The establishment is kept well dusted and swept, and the sunlight only enhances the natural rustically elegant ambience of the oak and cedar decor. 

Argus Filroy eventually emerges from his cellar to put some soup on for dinner—it's made with local vegetables and some game meat.

As Marav and Steele rouse to the smell of cooking soup, there is a jarring RAP RAP RAP on the door. Filroy snaps his fingers and lets go of the stirring spoon, which immediately begins to stir the soup of its own accord. Filroy then goes to open the door, and in the near-twilight stands what looks to be just about the whole village—several dozen men and women, many of whom are holding brooms, pitchforks, shovels, garden hoes, and hatchets. They peer into the lodge, trying to get a good look at you from their places outside.

"Hope you made enough soup Argus."

"I'm not getting in the middle of this," FIlroy holds his hands in front of him as he edges back around to the kitchen. "If you need me, I'll be making supper." 

Crownsguard steps to block the doorway, “Hello. I am Crownsguard, your collaborative, combative companion. How may I be of assistance.”

"I think what Rusty is saying is... Can we help you?"

“Correct.”

The villagers look confused and fearful as Crownsguard is speaking, but then nod with understanding as Marav interprets. 

One of the mob, the black-bearded dwarf some of you met before (Rip and Ink might remember him as Kramdar) steps forward. He's holding a meat cleaver in one hand, and the other is stuffed resolutely in his trouser pocket. His beard is still tucked into his butcher's apron.

"Begging your pardon, good sirs, but we all think it best that ye be off and out of Noanar's Hold." The dwarf states, stoutly. "Ye've worn out yer welcome, and done us a great disservice, and it's time you were on your way a'fore ye make matters worse."

The other townsfolk murmur and nod nervously. 

Crownsguard looks to Marav, “I do not understand. Did you do a disservice before I arrived? You have only told me of killing the Hunt Lords and assisting me in eliminating the undead.”

Snapping into place the last few straps of his new studded leather armor, Ink looks up at the situation and says, "If they are inquiring of the herbs and spices, I already left them gold pieces on their doorsteps as payment."