Ace walks into the inn. "Hey Martisha, remember me? I was here a couple weeks ago. You all ok?"

Quote from EMIW >>

Tor grunts in agreement. "Sure." He hefts another body onto his shoulder. "Which way did these things come from? Leilon? Or Phandalin?"

 The stout woman grunts after throwing the last of the bodies onto the fire pit. "I don't rightly know, t'be honest. I was at the forge when that slip of a halfling came running in saying there were things approaching. I glanced out and saw them walking towards the door, and slammed it right shut. I heard shouts from the other door and sent Silla to go check. There were also some trying to get into the front door. If I had t'guess, I'd expect they came from the north, but that's just a guess."

Quote from GamingArcitectV2 >>

Ace walks into the inn. "Hey Martisha, remember me? I was here a couple weeks ago. You all ok?"

 The half-elf blinks, as though trying to remember, "I'm not sure I do, m'lord, but we get so many visitors. Backes has the better memory for people, that's why I hired him after all."

Quote from KRSalamander >>

Oloven can't help but notice that this crew from the inn is being a bit cavalier about the inn being attacked by the undead. With a watchful eye he asks Teega "Would ya mind enlightenin' us as to what happened here? What's a necromancer of Myrkul want with a lovely roadside establishment like this?"  

"A necromancer of Myrkul?" She says with a bit of a shock, "I've no idea. What makes you think that there's anything like that involved? There is always some kind of danger out here in the Sword Coast. There's been all sorts of wandering monsters since the Spellplague. That's why 'Tisha's been petitioning Leilon to develop a trade and protection pact. I hope that lazy, good for nothin' Sergeant Hazz will listen to sense now. Many of the residents of Leilon come and pause here on their way onward to Neverwinter or Triboar or even Phandalin. As to what happened here," she shrugs seemingly at a loss for words, "these... undead creatures attacked us, as I said. I've no idea where."

The idea that this is the type of thing that might just happen on any given day and folk would just be used to it is unsettling for Oloven, to say the least. Is that really what things are like out here? He thinks of his family being so flippant about a monster attack and it makes him shiver.

He knows he ought to rest after that fight, but he doesn't want the trail to go cold, and there probably isn't much sunlight left. Oloven excuses himself and goes outside to take another look around at the scene to try and determine who these undead were, where they came from, and if there's any sign that whoever is responsible might still be around. He also checks the pockets of the bodies to see if any of them are holding any clues. 

10

"Hold, just a moment, Oloven, I will join you."

Sigi says a few words of prayer as the corpses are fed to the fire.  It is not his preferred method of interment, but desperate times.  Their talk of Leilon and defense pacts catches his ear.  "I too might have interest in making arrangements with you, good tavernkeep.  Along with establishing a shrine to the Earthmother, the church has also entrusted me with raising up a crop of a new breed of hops - 'Hotenow Gold' we are calling it - and setting up a brewery.  There is much work ahead, but by this time next year I expect to have barrels of brew ready to serve.  And I don't mean to brag, but I really think it will be spectacular.  You see, most cold weather hops breeds carry an intense, bitter flavor on account of the stresses of the climate.  By cross-breeding a classic northern breed with two breeds native to Chult, we think we have preserved the cold-weather hardiness while softening the bitter profile and it will let us make an ale with the warmer, nuttier profile of Cormyr and Daleland classics, but cultivated, brewed and barreled right here in the north.....".  He goes on for another minute, cheerfully assuming everyone else finds this as interesting has he does.

He then excuses himself and hurries outside to join Oloven.  Trusting the monk to have more skill at investigation and tracking, he nevertheless tries to help figure out which direction those zombies came from.  He also says a prayer to Chauntea and asks for her blessing to guide Oloven to the truth of the matter.

"Much obliged, Brother Sigi." 

Investigation: 23

Guidance: 2

Oloven is able to find evidence of a trail heading off to the north, off the road. To follow it will require a survival roll.

Oloven shows Siegfried what he's found and suggests they return to tell the others. 

When they've returned, Oloven tells them "There's a trail leadin' north. I think we'll be able to follow it, even in the dark. Might lead to the source of all this bad business. But honestly boys, I'm hurtin'. I need a rest to re-center myself and patch up these wounds." 

(Oloven is at less than half health and used up almost all his ki, so a short rest would be great.)

After checking that none are injured and sighing at the damage to her front door and entryway, Martisha appears very interested at Brother Siegfried's words. "I would be very happy to make a deal with you, Brother Dwarf. While our current selection is adequate, we have to have it carted up from Waterdeep and down from Neverwinter. I brew my own cider from my small orchard out back, but if your brew is all you promise, I'd be happy to sell it here and even give a larger portion than normal for exclusive rights outside of Leilon. For a term of a few years at least. We can talk the details later of course."

Quote from KRSalamander >>

Oloven shows Siegfried what he's found and suggests they return to tell the others. 

When they've returned, Oloven tells them "There's a trail leadin' north. I think we'll be able to follow it, even in the dark. Might lead to the source of all this bad business. But honestly boys, I'm hurtin'. I need a rest to re-center myself and patch up these wounds." 

(Oloven is at less than half health and used up almost all his ki, so a short rest would be great.)

 "Agreed. We've got two goals - getting Nikita to Phandalin, and getting ourselves to Leilon. We're not out here to play hero, chasing into the dark after villains."

Tor rolls his eyes at the idea of heroes and adventurers, who probably would have gone haring into the night on such a whim. 

"We've done what we can here for now."

He calls over to Backes - "How much are your rooms?"

Siegfried draws a deep breath to begin challenging Tor's position.  It is the duty of all that love and cherish life to safeguard it against the abomination that is necromancy.  

But he takes a second long breath and then releases a sigh.  It was only days ago he looked with distaste as their young companion Ace disregarded counsel from their leader... and here he was prepared to do the same.  And besides... Tor wasn't wrong.  They do have a mission.  And there is more than one way to see that the necromancer is addressed.  He makes a note to send one more sending tonight and advise the temple in Neverwinter.  If they have the manpower to spare, surely they will send someone to look into this.

So he lets the matter go for now.  "Backes... five of your deepest mugs for me and my friends.  I would toast to our continued good health and another victory!"

(If we're taking a short rest, I'm gonna roll Oloven's hit dice.)

Hit dice recovery: 33

In response to Tor's assertion that they're not here to play hero, Oloven responds "Now, wait a moment there, chief. I think you misunderstood. I am of a mind that we follow that trail out there. In fact, I'd argue we GOT to. Not for the sake of heroics but because that necromancer ain't gonna let up. We beat a few of his horde tonight sure, but who's to say he won't send more in an hour or two? Or tonight when we're sleeping? He's got monsters that can pop outta the ground and walk through walls. We can't just let him go about his evil business! Anyway, we're all members of the 'Swords' now, ain't we? I think some heroics are part of the package..." 

Tor drums his fingers on his thigh, and looks northward along the trail he's told the dead things came by. He looks deep in thought.

"I take your point Oloven." It's notably the first time this journey he has used Oloven's first name. "Whatever's out there is a danger to Leilon. But the old Swords had a hero complex, so I'm told, and I aim to do better than them. I've not dealt with necromancers before, I don't know all of what they can do. What I do know is, I'm just a soldier. I can cut down those poor shells that used to be folk all day, but those other things?" He shakes his head. "They're beyond me. Can't stab a ghost to death. And just us five are going to go chasing after how many of those damn things, in the pitch black?" He gestures around. The dim evening twilight that lit their battle is growing darker by the minute. "That's a death trap. But in Leilon there's a whole garrison. And a mage. Maybe the Brother does another one of his messaging spells, tells them to meet us here, on my word. And when they arrive we all go hunt this death wizard together. We keep watch tonight, help fix the doors, and we'll have a safe retreat in case more of the dead do turn up and it's too much."

He pauses for a few seconds for Oloven to take in his plan. "Does that sound fair?"

"It is plenty fair. Only, you're workin' without complete intel. There's one important thing you oughtta know." 

Oloven unstraps his axe of black metal. He flips it in his hand to hold it by the head and offers the handle to Tor. "Ya actually can stab a ghost." 

The weapon is of simple construction. No fancy etching or ornamentation. But there's something strange about it. It's not simply made of dark metal and dark wood. It has no shine whatsoever. It's as if all the candles had gone out, and you were looking at it in a dark room. Looking at it out of the corner of your eye it seems less to be an axe than it is an axe shaped hole in the room. 

"Take it. I don't need it. If you're me at least, you can also punch a ghost. I can also manipulate the darkness so we're almost impossible to hear coming, and a number of other useful things. Darkness is my specialty. And brother Sigi over there? The destruction of the undead is somewhat of a specialty of his profession. With a word, he can turn them lesser ones runnin' for the hills. Between the five of us, we can do more destruction to the machinations of a necromancer than a garrison could. And with far less bloodshed." 

(Assuming you do stay in the inn for at least an hour for a short rest, the following happens, if you don't stay, let me know. Also, for now, I'll run Tyrel as an npc, until we can find a satisfactory place for him to exit. At the latest, once you get to Leilon, he'll just remain there as the blacksmith.)

As you enter the inn proper, you meet the rest of the staff and current occupants. Backes keeps the ale flowing. As Martisha mentioned, it's a decent vintage, but nothing special, up from Waterdeep. Or, if you prefer, there's the house cider. Backes calls it the "Waycider... on account of it being from the Wayside Inn... and it's cider... tough crowd." It's not life changing, but it is quite good, crisp with a sweet aftertaste. While none of it is strictly "on the house," the survivors are happy to pay for any drinks you have.

Martisha, for her part, sits in the corner at a lone table, poring over records and seemingly dealing with the stress of the recent attack by losing herself in the details. Though at some point, you see Nikita approach Martisha and they talk for a bit, Nikita sits and looks thoughtful afterward.

If anyone mentions Martisha sitting by herself and not interacting, Backes says, "She's a good sort, but not very personable, that's why she hired me!" he notes with a grin. "Been here a good 6 months now. And, while I love the job, I'm saving up to open me own place in Neverwinter or Waterdeep. Me an' Teega are thinking we might go into business together." Teega, too, joins the drinking and is quite talkative and offers to repair any armor or weapons. She also offers to sell the three suits of armor she has all plate--one is a suit of full plate that she's been building for some time, her masterpiece so far, resplendent with lightning and hammer motifs, the second is a more modest affair with no decoration, and the third is somewhere in between, decorated with ropework cuffs and fluted accents, but the chest has been left bare so if a person has a personal device they want engraved, it would take her a day or two, she says. Backes, meanwhile, regales any who will listen of stories of his, "ahem, privateering," days though those days are long behind him now.

From the kitchen in the back, a half-orc woman emerges just long enough to thank the adventurers and give them a piece of her special pork pie. It is very spicy, but delicious for those who can stomach the burn. On her neck, beneath each ear, are tattoos of curved daggers. If asked, she admits she got them because she knew it would upset her mother, a human from Luskan. It was a foolish youthful folly, she says. The cook introduces herself as Cooragh Struckt, a longtime friend of Martisha. Those who are from nearby may recognize Cooragh as famous for her incredibly tasty, and alarmingly well-spiced, stews and meat pies.

In addition, there is a young half-elf woman named Kara. She is dusky-skinned and copper-haired. She might be five foot tall on her toes. She was almost as broad as Teega, but where Teega was all hard, tough muscle from working the forge all day, Kara was flowing and athletically firm. If Teega was the hard rock of earth, Kara was the shifting smoothness of water. She was the head steward, and managed the two other girls who worked as servers at the Wayside Inn. She was thankful that neither of the other girls was present at the moment. One was visiting her parents for Greengrass. The other girl was on her honeymoon. Kara was polite and cheerful, ready with a smile and quick to remove any dirty plates or cups. 

Those are all the employees of the inn. Other visitors include a young halfling named Silla Scalesweep. She sits at a table, humming to herself, seemingly attempting to soothe herself after the attack. She approaches Brother Siegfried at some point. "I overheard you mention that you were traveling to Leilon... I was wondering if I might go with you. You all can obviously keep yourselves safe and, after tonight, I'm too scared to travel on my own." She explains that she's traveling from Neverwinter to Leilon, hoping to get hired on as a fisher as she heard the fishery in town is hiring. She was told to seek out Valdi Estapaar, the woman in charge of the fishery in the town. She wears her long hair in five braids atop her head, and she is very talkative. She also plays the harmonica quite well and is keen to have an audience.

In addition to Silla, there is a young, rakish human man who introduces himself as Tarbin Tul. He styles himself as a traveling bard who wanders the High Road, seeking new songs to add to his already impressive repertoire. You find he actually is quite talented, and promises to turn tonight's "adventure" into a song spreading the legends of the "Reborn Swords of Leilon!" Tarbin sits by the fire, singing along to Silla’s ditties on the harmonica. He gladly buys a drink for anyone who helped drive off the undead.

Finally, there was a group of three simple farmers who, by the way they talked to Backes and the others, were regulars here. They each offered a handshake and bought a drink for the party, introducing themselves as Malark, Bors, and Ivon. Bors and Ivon clearly looked like brothers or close cousins. But they mostly kept to themselves seated at the bar, talking about their hopes for their crops this year.

"Young lady, it would be our honor to escort you.  We do need to make a short side trip to Phandalin, so as long as that does not sour you on the idea, I will speak with the others about it.  Do you have a horse or pony?  If not, there may be room yet in my cart."

Silla brightens a little and then sighs about Phandalin. "I have Sir Geoffrey Bigglesworth... that's my mastiff."

Quote from KRSalamander >>

"It is plenty fair. Only, you're workin' without complete intel. There's one important thing you oughtta know." 

Oloven unstraps his axe of black metal. He flips it in his hand to hold it by the head and offers the handle to Tor. "Ya actually can stab a ghost." 

The weapon is of simple construction. No fancy etching or ornamentation. But there's something strange about it. It's not simply made of dark metal and dark wood. It has no shine whatsoever. It's as if all the candles had gone out, and you were looking at it in a dark room. Looking at it out of the corner of your eye it seems less to be an axe than it is an axe shaped hole in the room. 

"Take it. I don't need it. If you're me at least, you can also punch a ghost. I can also manipulate the darkness so we're almost impossible to hear coming, and a number of other useful things. Darkness is my specialty. And brother Sigi over there? The destruction of the undead is somewhat of a specialty of his profession. With a word, he can turn them lesser ones runnin' for the hills. Between the five of us, we can do more destruction to the machinations of a necromancer than a garrison could. And with far less bloodshed." 

 Tor weighs up the axe in his hand. Gives it a few practice slashes. Sights along the blade. Then he sighs, and turns to the other three in the group.

"Okay. Lord Neverember might have made me head of the Swords, but I'm not a tyrant. If you don't want to go traipsing into the dark after the walking dead, I don't blame you. I won't stop you if you want to stay here, and I won't think less of you. Everyone else - rest up, get some food and drink in you, enjoy the company. We're moving out in an hour."

Tyrel says, "I will go with you if everyone thinks that's best, but I am here to be a blacksmith, not chase after some necromancer. Also, what happens if they come back to the Inn and we're not here?"