Dornin looks amongst the crowds. Seeing the Firbolg tend to the wounded with a healing spell. The people are most likely in shock from what has occurred, Dornin isn’t even sure of the wellbeing of Arfed. He speaks up “ These ruffians are finished with bothering you.. for now, the Wintershields will be arriving in moments, my only request for you is to keep our identities from them for I may look into the whereabouts of the final man. Additionally, be sure that any coin found on this crew belongs to the Purple Pony.” (Persuasion:10)
He walks to the side of Kallith and the Minotaur, being sure to speak loudly enough for the dwarf to hear, “ Perhaps our destinies are intertwined this day, we should be going before we get thrown into a shallow grave by the Wintershields. It doesn’t matter where we go, as long as we leave immediately.”
Dornin begins to head towards the front door to leave, quickly
A thud and a yelp reverberate from the back of the room. A middle aged woman in finery has her hands clasped as a lift, helping an older man out the window. He slips and tumbles from the room but the flash of a cloak with Wintershield colors framed by the window is there to help him. The woman straightens, dusts herself off and stands gently watching.
Before you can leave the Horns arrive, and end. A cluster of Wintershields runs up the stairs to the open door. A woman, bedecked in a breast plate with the emblazoned image of a clenched mail fist, her silver blonde hair pulled severely into a bun, takes one glance about the room then turns her discerning eye to each of you. “You will survive” She says her face lightening, a smile fills the space, full of gentle caring, comfort of a mothers loving embrace. A groan comes from the bar, she turns quickly towards the hidden, badly beaten form of Arfed.
A man in heavy armor, his Wintershield cloak revealing his rank as Captain. Handle bar mustache, gruff well lined face. Speaks with a roughness you would expect from a captain. His skin tone and accent reveal a southern origin. He takes the whole scene in with a single glance, “Bind and gag that kid” He barks out a series of commands, taking the four of you under his presence, “The four of you, sit, hands on the table. Don't think of doing anything until we talk. These criminals are known to us, most of you are not, I have some questions.” He directs the other Shields, securing the tavern and streets, a couple run off towards the alley Hammond disappeared around.
Octo
A couple weeks ago, the gates of Abiershire
Octo was detained when arriving at Abiershire, forced to wait until Captain Jaanath had arrived. The man now in front of you.
“While Neverwinter is considered a Cosmopolitan city, your kind are neither usual, nor known for peaceful endeavors. Everybody within this city expects peace…and prosperity, if those are your only pursuits you are welcome. If they are not, we will meet again under less pleasant circumstances.”
His sternness is palpable “I expect your word of peace and will accept it as your Bond…do you agree?”
OOC: I’m good with 4, if you decide to add a 5, no issues.
Octo looks at the Firbolg, Kallith appears to be her name. “Broke a few ribs. If you could spare a bit of healing, I won’t complain. Starting to hurt now that the rush of battle is over.”
The half-elf that was throwing around arcane magic suggests we leave. Hmm, maybe better safe than sorry. Octo thinks. Just as he is about to agree, the Shields arrive, ordering them to sit.
Oh great, its Captain Jaanath, the one I promised I’d be peaceful too. Well what happened here may not have been ‘peaceful’, but he and the others did the right thing, and that’s what matters. Those are the thoughts in his head as he moves to the table, picking a wooden splinter out of his nose.
Kallith is slow to leave, even with Dornins warning, staying around to help the wounded and healing Octo for 6 hit points. She introduces herself and notes the names of the other "defenders". Fairly ignorant of the role of the Wintershields, she inquires about why they would end in a shallow grave if they waited.
When the Wintershields arrive quickly, she complies and sits down, only delaying to protest "Hey, this one might still need help."
Dornin upon seeing the Shields is almost frozen in fear, immediately raising his hands into the air to show he is unarmed. When the captain demands they sit, he complies without question.
Dornin has never had any issues with the law, based on stories, he’s expecting to live out his days behind rusty bars, eating wretched food and wearing less than desirable clothing. Upon this realization, he sits quietly waiting for his fate. It was nice seeing the sun while it lasted.
The purse is yours (a few Nibs (13Cp) tucked in his waist band). The arrow is shattered and useless.
The woman in finery strides to the Captain, they whisper to each other for a few seconds, the Captain glancing in your direction. The only words you hear, …condemnation…Bounty…and Invitation, before the two turn towards the table you are sitting at.
The women, an experienced imperious tone “That was either very brave, or very stupid. Either way you have my thanks. If Hammond had noticed me in the corner I would be darked.” She turns to the Captain with a nod “Captain” and turns to leave…
The captain doesn't wait for her to leave, “So Octo, a couple weeks, better than I expected” He glances back at the dead, “I won't hold this one against you, I have heard the citizens speak of you, they have come to accept your presence in the town it seems.” He takes in the entire group with one expansive glance. “The Mayor has already spoken of what has happened here, you are all free to go. She has extended her invitation to join her at ‘The Hall’, it is not a command, if you are so willing come at your convenience.” He wanders over to the bar the bandits' possessions laid out upon it, inviting you all to join him.
The items are grouped together according to the previous owner.
The Elf carried a dagger, a small coin purse with 3 moons(Sp), and 18 nibs(Cp). Tucked into his boot top was a pair of Amnian roldons (2 PP) with a small scrap of paper.
The scrap has notes scrawled about the edges, across, through or atop the others making them nearly unreadable. Two words stand out alone, circled in the middle of the scrap. The words appear as a jumbled mix of letters not spelling anything.
Dornin
The letters and writing are written in Sperethiel, (Elvish), but don't seem to actually spell a word.
Chandle
Interesting, they are using another language as part of their Cant, it is a cipher. Perhaps with a little time Chandle would be able to decipher the words.
The lookout had a brace of daggers, one is missing.
The Female Dwarf, a whelp that hasn't seen more than 20 summers, carried a small components pouch, a thin vial of thick rosy liquid, and a few Nibs (6cp).
“The scrap of paper I will need to keep as evidence. Does it mean anything to you?” He looks at you hopefully, shrugging his question, “ I had to ask. You are welcome to take everything else as a finders fee. There was a small bounty on these three. You can pick it up at the Garrison.” The captains speech is short clipped sentences, each a command on their own. It is clear he is not used to the word no.
2pp 3sp 24cp a dagger 1gp a brace (2?) of daggers minus one 1gp each a component pouch 12.5gp unknown vial of thick rosey liquid value unknown and 3 bounties at the garrison. Split four ways? Chandle feeling unusually charitable pulls out the coin purse with 13 nibs also then quickly checks for the missing dagger.
Plus an invite from the mayor to meet at the hall.
Chandle feeling unusually charitable pulls out the coin purse From the lookout.
Chandle asks, “Any idea what the substance in the vial is? Also should we meet with the mayor together? Oh oh lastly when we collect the bounties, even split right?” It’s obvious this little bit of loot has her a bit excited.
Kallith looks after the finely dressed woman. "Oh, that was the major? And Hammond would have had no qualms in attacking her? The way she spoke about him, they seem to know each other."
Kallith looks at the corpses and her eyes lingers on the young dwarf. "Already a bounty on her head?" Deep sadness in her voice. She bows down and makes a few gestures of peace according to the last rites that Iallanis prescribes. The firbolg plucks blooming flowers from her staff and lays them on the dead.
She doesn't insist on her split of the money, barely able to distinguish between the different kinds of coin and just takes whatever is shoved her way. However, the druid shows interest in the tin vial of rosy liquid and inspects it with a critical eye [medicine 20]. If that doesn't tell her what it is, she will also taste a drop.
Nodding at Chandles proposal, she says "An invitation by the town leader is a great honor. I would be glad to go."
After Dornin looks over the parchment, he lets the captain know “ I can read it, however, it is complete nonsense”
Like a switch, Dornin’s attitude changes from a man who was going to lose everything to one of extreme gratitude. “Your invitation is excepted, it would be an honor”
Dornin looks over his robes and ponders if he will be underdressed. First impressions mean everything, especially to political figures. He does not speak up about taking any coin for himself.
Octo accepts his share of coin, knowing its necessity.
“I think it makes sense to visit the mayor together. Perhaps it will lead us all to greater things, instead of idling around the Purple Pony?” Octo offers.
“Thank you for your healing gift, my ribs feel good again.” He says to Kallith, then to all of them, “My name is Octo, and I am at your service. It appears Saraphin has run off, so it looks like it’s the four of us then for the bounties!”
Captain Janaath looks down towards the vial, contemplating its presence upon the bar, “As far as we can tell, its just a regular potion of healing , but it carries a hint of necromantic energy. They have been showing up on the street’s lately. It is said they cure ‘The Wastes’. Their have been incidents, fights, assaults, even a murder over these little vials.” He looks back at you. “We traced their origins to Mother Ismel’s, but well, there is no crime”
Picking up the parchment he regards it critically, "Yes I see it is written in Sperethiel, but you say the words mean nothing, what do they say?" He looks tired, with a determined set of his jaw "Since Kurd and Hammond arrived from the city 'The Rats' have gotten out of control, I sure could use a break, a clue, anything, right about now"
Kallith
Concerning the quick healing of Hammond’s wound medicine
You realize you have been humming a little ditty, a bedtime song. Meant to scare children, how did it go. ‘Embers light, embers bright, to fill the troll with fright’ yes something like that. A troll is said to heal quickly, even before your eyes unless fire is used, but you cant think of a sentient being with that ability.
The undertaker with his laden cart pulls up front, “Taking these for burial captain, or you want them dropped at the garrison” The expression on the mans face shows years of living with the dead, he watches as the bound and gagged female dwarf is hauled to her feet, and marched out the door past him. “She was such a sprite but a few months ago, living at the orphanage can be tough but…to so quickly turn to this, what a shame.”
"She will be most pleased that you accepted, give me an hour or so to clean up this mess then we will meet at the Hall." The captain tries a wane smile
DM Note
Potions require a bonus action to use, an Action to administer to others.
A component pouch is only worth 12.5gp if it can be sold for 12.5gp. While coins of different realms, Northern Moons(sp), Amnian Roldons(pp), Cormyrean dragons(gp) are interchangeable between nations, goods, and services are not. You need to trade, bargain, or barter for goods and services if you want a better price, (Purchase or sale).
Kallith listens to Janaaths explanation of the strange potion of healing. Does the term 'The Wastes' tell her anything [medicine 10]?
She addresses the captain: "Who is this Mother Ismel? I'm very curious about her methods of producing these. If they lead to such conflict, I wish to speak with her on these matters."
The firbolg keeps quiet about her hunch on Hammonds healing ability for now, instead preferring to ask: "When did Kurd and Hammond arrive? Seems like they're the source of quite some trouble in Abiershire."
She quietly observes the undertaker work his trade, having done all she could for the departed.
Dornin stands with Octo, addressing his large size but curious on how a being such as a Minotaur can be so polite yet so brutal. “Well met Octo, my name is Dornin of Phandalin. I must say, someone with your stature and abilities is surely some I can put my trust into.”
He also acknowledges the dwarf, so quick and has one hell of a shot with that bow. Another person to make us into a team if we play our cards right. Dornin speaks up to address the firbolg, Minotaur and dwarf. “ I feel our best chances of survival for the upcoming conflict is to stick together. If what has been said is true, we might’ve caught ourselves in the middle of something nasty in this town and the last place I would want to be is alone. I say we ready ourselves for the Mayor”
Dornin would also like to look over the components pouch to see if there is anything in there that he may use for casting
‘The Wastes’ is the name given to the recent plague infecting Neverwinter and its immediate surroundings. Once a victim begins to show signs they slowly lose energy and vitality, a little bit more every day until they die from the affliction.
The Captains eyes leave the items and the Bar top behind, turning to face Kallith “Mother Ismel lives in the old Halflings quarter, Vervain court I believe. I haven't met her having only been in town a couple weeks myself”
The radiant woman, the follower of Torm turns with a twinkle in her eye “It is said that Abiershire is on the site of the original Neverwinter, long ago when it was settled by the fairer races. The Halflings built an enclave as the city grew. Now that enclave is all that remains, reminding us of the old City now buried and forgotten.” She leans in, her voice growing hush and heavy with drama, only the lantern beneath her chin is missing from this scary story. “It is said that Ismelda was there before, the old city growing up around her, and that she will be here when all of this is gone” she waves her hand outward, indicating the town and not the tavern.
“Lieutenant, that is quite enough.Scary stories to frighten children is all. In truth she is nothing more than a purveyor of herbs, and alchemy. Runs a small shop selling elixirs and salves to ease the peoples ills”
Turning back to Kallith the Captain nods his head at your question, an air of sadness and anger. ‘Last year ‘The Rats’ were nothing, petty criminals, pickpockets” The captain trails off as if recalling a memory. “Several months ago, a man named Barnabas arrived in the city, his crew, including Kurd, Hammond and two others took control; the Rats haven't been the same. Larceny on a grand scale, racketeering, tyranny, murder, extortion they have their fingers in everything. Kurd and Hammond came out to Abiershire a couple weeks ago and began organizing.
The components pouch is brand new, well stocked for casting most cantrips and 1st level spells
Octo accepts his share of coin, knowing its necessity.
“I think it makes sense to visit the mayor together. Perhaps it will lead us all to greater things, instead of idling around the Purple Pony?” Octo offers.
“Thank you for your healing gift, my ribs feel good again.” He says to Kallith, then to all of them, “My name is Octo, and I am at your service. It appears Saraphin has run off, so it looks like it’s the four of us then for the bounties!”
(What is the share of coins?). If the component pouch, potion, and coins are spoken for Chandle takes what’s left and heads to the garrison to collect the bounty. ‘Gonna cost just to wash the blood from my clothes…’
—-Dornin speaks up to address the firbolg, Minotaur and dwarf. “ I feel our best chances of survival for the upcoming conflict is to stick together. If what has been said is true, we might’ve caught ourselves in the middle of something nasty in this town and the last place I would want to be is alone. I say we ready ourselves for the Mayor”
On her way past she looks at Dornin, “I’ll meet you all there gotta collect my share and get cleaned up a bit.”
“It is nice to meet you Dornin of Phandalin. It does appear that we’ve all made the same enemies here. Enemies that are both formidable and seem to be gaining power in this town. I think sticking together makes sense.” Octo takes a step back to make room for the dwarf named Chandle, as he says he is going to get cleaned up and leaves the Pony.
OOC: Splitting just the coin: 5 gp, 1 sp each, and then 7 extra cp for Chandle. That work? I’m not worried about the cost of the components, potion, or daggers myself.
Kallith nods to Chandle. "Well spoken. I'll meet you there then. A bath wouldn't hurt me either after that brawl."
The firbolg would be interested in the potion of healing, mostly because of its special properties of curing the wastes and since she would be interested in meeting the maker of said potion, the mystical Mother Ismel. "Since there is something necromantic about it, I'm worried to use it. I have no need for the component pouch." indicating her blooming staff, her spellcasting focus.
Kallith turns to the woman of Torm. "May I ask your name? Did you come here together with the captain?"
One look at yourself in the clear light of the sun. Arterial spray covering from tip to tail. You don't think you will be able to wash it from the clothing, at least not in any hurry, and that is even if the Inn has the right supplies. You remember seeing a laundry around here, a few moments thought, ah there it is; worth a check at least.
The smell of soaps and starch wafted out the entrance, clean and fresh, a simple affair with racks of clothing filling the space. A small desk tucked close to the front with an elderly human woman, needle in hand stitching a piece of cloth. A man clears his throat upon your entrance. “I do beg of you not to touch a thing. Are the authorities aware, hmmm” he eyes you, covered in crimson. “Fine, 2 Nibs and I will do it immediately, just to get you on your way sir.” prestidigitation : 2 cp
Dornin, Kallith, Octo
The radiant lieutenant regards Kallith with her customary smile, warmth and comfort. “Charl, Elderon Charl. No, I have been here for many years. Most of that time as the second to the Captain’s predecessor. He was murdered several weeks back, the first night we encountered Kurd and Hammond. I would have fallen as well, Hammond had me beaten, weaponless until I pulled my trusty ‘Shining Lady’ from my boot.” She hefts a tiny silver headed mace from a boot sheath. “Managed a huge whack against his head, woke up later in the infirmary”.
After speaking with the Captain you retire from the Pony; heading back to your respective Inn’s you relax or bathe (A Bath costs 2 cp), then move on. Grabbing a simple bite from a street vendor on the way; a handpie and quaff (2 Nibs (cp) each); you make your way towards ‘The Keep’. The central seat of power in Abiershire, it acts as both Garrison and Administration.
The curtain wall surrounding the town is made of hewn timber, but ‘The keep’ is built of sturdy, brick and chiseled stone. A large central courtyard opens before it, merchants wagons and tents filling the space to bursting. You sit on a dry fountain waiting for Chandle to arrive, watching an argument between several citizens and a pair of Wintershields…”The well is dry, you wont get any water no matter how many buckets you put down there”, and the guard getting exasperated, “...we sent men, they haven't returned, please feel free to climb down your self”, and “I don't appreciate your tone sir, we are doing all we can”. This town is a powder keg, nerves are frayed, a mob has begun to gather around the guards at the well. Chandle spots you and heads straight through the center of the square.
Dm Note
Feel free to backtrack the narrative in your posts if there are details left unexplored, questions left unasked or actions you feel are necessary.
Dornin goes to speak with the guard who claimed they sent men into the well, hoping to ask a few questions before we see the mayor. " You sent men into the well? Strange, how long ago did they not return? Did they enter through the well or a separate entrance?"
He glances at his new friends, giving a look that shows that this might be something worth looking into. Sewers are a great way for criminals to get around stealthily, especially ones that are known as "Rats". Jumping into dormant wells has never been Dornin's forte, however until today, neither was getting into bar brawls and political meetings, so anything is possible.
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(4 people is also fine with me!)
Dornin looks amongst the crowds. Seeing the Firbolg tend to the wounded with a healing spell. The people are most likely in shock from what has occurred, Dornin isn’t even sure of the wellbeing of Arfed. He speaks up “ These ruffians are finished with bothering you.. for now, the Wintershields will be arriving in moments, my only request for you is to keep our identities from them for I may look into the whereabouts of the final man. Additionally, be sure that any coin found on this crew belongs to the Purple Pony.”
(Persuasion:10)
He walks to the side of Kallith and the Minotaur, being sure to speak loudly enough for the dwarf to hear, “ Perhaps our destinies are intertwined this day, we should be going before we get thrown into a shallow grave by the Wintershields. It doesn’t matter where we go, as long as we leave immediately.”
Dornin begins to head towards the front door to leave, quickly
A thud and a yelp reverberate from the back of the room. A middle aged woman in finery has her hands clasped as a lift, helping an older man out the window. He slips and tumbles from the room but the flash of a cloak with Wintershield colors framed by the window is there to help him. The woman straightens, dusts herself off and stands gently watching.
Before you can leave the Horns arrive, and end. A cluster of Wintershields runs up the stairs to the open door. A woman, bedecked in a breast plate with the emblazoned image of a clenched mail fist, her silver blonde hair pulled severely into a bun, takes one glance about the room then turns her discerning eye to each of you. “You will survive” She says her face lightening, a smile fills the space, full of gentle caring, comfort of a mothers loving embrace. A groan comes from the bar, she turns quickly towards the hidden, badly beaten form of Arfed.
A man in heavy armor, his Wintershield cloak revealing his rank as Captain. Handle bar mustache, gruff well lined face. Speaks with a roughness you would expect from a captain. His skin tone and accent reveal a southern origin. He takes the whole scene in with a single glance, “Bind and gag that kid” He barks out a series of commands, taking the four of you under his presence, “The four of you, sit, hands on the table. Don't think of doing anything until we talk. These criminals are known to us, most of you are not, I have some questions.” He directs the other Shields, securing the tavern and streets, a couple run off towards the alley Hammond disappeared around.
Octo
A couple weeks ago, the gates of Abiershire
Octo was detained when arriving at Abiershire, forced to wait until Captain Jaanath had arrived. The man now in front of you.
“While Neverwinter is considered a Cosmopolitan city, your kind are neither usual, nor known for peaceful endeavors. Everybody within this city expects peace…and prosperity, if those are your only pursuits you are welcome. If they are not, we will meet again under less pleasant circumstances.”
His sternness is palpable “I expect your word of peace and will accept it as your Bond…do you agree?”
OOC: I’m good with 4, if you decide to add a 5, no issues.
Octo looks at the Firbolg, Kallith appears to be her name. “Broke a few ribs. If you could spare a bit of healing, I won’t complain. Starting to hurt now that the rush of battle is over.”
The half-elf that was throwing around arcane magic suggests we leave. Hmm, maybe better safe than sorry. Octo thinks. Just as he is about to agree, the Shields arrive, ordering them to sit.
Oh great, its Captain Jaanath, the one I promised I’d be peaceful too. Well what happened here may not have been ‘peaceful’, but he and the others did the right thing, and that’s what matters. Those are the thoughts in his head as he moves to the table, picking a wooden splinter out of his nose.
(Party of four is fine)
Chandle may have lifted the coin purse off her embedded target when she retrieved her arrow…
sleight of hand 15
Wise as a serpent and sly as a fox.
Kallith is slow to leave, even with Dornins warning, staying around to help the wounded and healing Octo for 6 hit points. She introduces herself and notes the names of the other "defenders". Fairly ignorant of the role of the Wintershields, she inquires about why they would end in a shallow grave if they waited.
When the Wintershields arrive quickly, she complies and sits down, only delaying to protest "Hey, this one might still need help."
Dornin upon seeing the Shields is almost frozen in fear, immediately raising his hands into the air to show he is unarmed. When the captain demands they sit, he complies without question.
Dornin has never had any issues with the law, based on stories, he’s expecting to live out his days behind rusty bars, eating wretched food and wearing less than desirable clothing. Upon this realization, he sits quietly waiting for his fate. It was nice seeing the sun while it lasted.
Chandle
The purse is yours (a few Nibs (13Cp) tucked in his waist band). The arrow is shattered and useless.
The woman in finery strides to the Captain, they whisper to each other for a few seconds, the Captain glancing in your direction. The only words you hear, …condemnation…Bounty…and Invitation, before the two turn towards the table you are sitting at.
The women, an experienced imperious tone “That was either very brave, or very stupid. Either way you have my thanks. If Hammond had noticed me in the corner I would be darked.” She turns to the Captain with a nod “Captain” and turns to leave…
The captain doesn't wait for her to leave, “So Octo, a couple weeks, better than I expected” He glances back at the dead, “I won't hold this one against you, I have heard the citizens speak of you, they have come to accept your presence in the town it seems.” He takes in the entire group with one expansive glance. “The Mayor has already spoken of what has happened here, you are all free to go. She has extended her invitation to join her at ‘The Hall’, it is not a command, if you are so willing come at your convenience.” He wanders over to the bar the bandits' possessions laid out upon it, inviting you all to join him.
The items are grouped together according to the previous owner.
The Elf carried a dagger, a small coin purse with 3 moons(Sp), and 18 nibs(Cp). Tucked into his boot top was a pair of Amnian roldons (2 PP) with a small scrap of paper.
The scrap has notes scrawled about the edges, across, through or atop the others making them nearly unreadable. Two words stand out alone, circled in the middle of the scrap. The words appear as a jumbled mix of letters not spelling anything.
Dornin
The letters and writing are written in Sperethiel, (Elvish), but don't seem to actually spell a word.
Chandle
Interesting, they are using another language as part of their Cant, it is a cipher. Perhaps with a little time Chandle would be able to decipher the words.
The lookout had a brace of daggers, one is missing.
The Female Dwarf, a whelp that hasn't seen more than 20 summers, carried a small components pouch, a thin vial of thick rosy liquid, and a few Nibs (6cp).
“The scrap of paper I will need to keep as evidence. Does it mean anything to you?” He looks at you hopefully, shrugging his question, “ I had to ask. You are welcome to take everything else as a finders fee. There was a small bounty on these three. You can pick it up at the Garrison.” The captains speech is short clipped sentences, each a command on their own. It is clear he is not used to the word no.
2pp 3sp 24cp a dagger 1gp a brace (2?) of daggers minus one 1gp each a component pouch 12.5gp unknown vial of thick rosey liquid value unknown and 3 bounties at the garrison. Split four ways? Chandle feeling unusually charitable pulls out the coin purse with 13 nibs also then quickly checks for the missing dagger.
Plus an invite from the mayor to meet at the hall.
Chandle feeling unusually charitable pulls out the coin purse From the lookout.
Chandle asks, “Any idea what the substance in the vial is? Also should we meet with the mayor together? Oh oh lastly when we collect the bounties, even split right?” It’s obvious this little bit of loot has her a bit excited.
Wise as a serpent and sly as a fox.
Kallith looks after the finely dressed woman. "Oh, that was the major? And Hammond would have had no qualms in attacking her? The way she spoke about him, they seem to know each other."
Kallith looks at the corpses and her eyes lingers on the young dwarf. "Already a bounty on her head?" Deep sadness in her voice. She bows down and makes a few gestures of peace according to the last rites that Iallanis prescribes. The firbolg plucks blooming flowers from her staff and lays them on the dead.
She doesn't insist on her split of the money, barely able to distinguish between the different kinds of coin and just takes whatever is shoved her way. However, the druid shows interest in the tin vial of rosy liquid and inspects it with a critical eye [medicine 20]. If that doesn't tell her what it is, she will also taste a drop.
Nodding at Chandles proposal, she says "An invitation by the town leader is a great honor. I would be glad to go."
After Dornin looks over the parchment, he lets the captain know “ I can read it, however, it is complete nonsense”
Like a switch, Dornin’s attitude changes from a man who was going to lose everything to one of extreme gratitude.
“Your invitation is excepted, it would be an honor”
Dornin looks over his robes and ponders if he will be underdressed. First impressions mean everything, especially to political figures. He does not speak up about taking any coin for himself.
Octo accepts his share of coin, knowing its necessity.
“I think it makes sense to visit the mayor together. Perhaps it will lead us all to greater things, instead of idling around the Purple Pony?” Octo offers.
“Thank you for your healing gift, my ribs feel good again.” He says to Kallith, then to all of them, “My name is Octo, and I am at your service. It appears Saraphin has run off, so it looks like it’s the four of us then for the bounties!”
Captain Janaath looks down towards the vial, contemplating its presence upon the bar, “As far as we can tell, its just a regular potion of healing , but it carries a hint of necromantic energy. They have been showing up on the street’s lately. It is said they cure ‘The Wastes’. Their have been incidents, fights, assaults, even a murder over these little vials.” He looks back at you. “We traced their origins to Mother Ismel’s, but well, there is no crime”
Picking up the parchment he regards it critically, "Yes I see it is written in Sperethiel, but you say the words mean nothing, what do they say?" He looks tired, with a determined set of his jaw "Since Kurd and Hammond arrived from the city 'The Rats' have gotten out of control, I sure could use a break, a clue, anything, right about now"
Kallith
Concerning the quick healing of Hammond’s wound medicine
You realize you have been humming a little ditty, a bedtime song. Meant to scare children, how did it go. ‘Embers light, embers bright, to fill the troll with fright’ yes something like that. A troll is said to heal quickly, even before your eyes unless fire is used, but you cant think of a sentient being with that ability.
The undertaker with his laden cart pulls up front, “Taking these for burial captain, or you want them dropped at the garrison” The expression on the mans face shows years of living with the dead, he watches as the bound and gagged female dwarf is hauled to her feet, and marched out the door past him. “She was such a sprite but a few months ago, living at the orphanage can be tough but…to so quickly turn to this, what a shame.”
"She will be most pleased that you accepted, give me an hour or so to clean up this mess then we will meet at the Hall." The captain tries a wane smile
DM Note
Kallith listens to Janaaths explanation of the strange potion of healing. Does the term 'The Wastes' tell her anything [medicine 10]?
She addresses the captain: "Who is this Mother Ismel? I'm very curious about her methods of producing these. If they lead to such conflict, I wish to speak with her on these matters."
The firbolg keeps quiet about her hunch on Hammonds healing ability for now, instead preferring to ask: "When did Kurd and Hammond arrive? Seems like they're the source of quite some trouble in Abiershire."
She quietly observes the undertaker work his trade, having done all she could for the departed.
Dornin stands with Octo, addressing his large size but curious on how a being such as a Minotaur can be so polite yet so brutal. “Well met Octo, my name is Dornin of Phandalin. I must say, someone with your stature and abilities is surely some I can put my trust into.”
He also acknowledges the dwarf, so quick and has one hell of a shot with that bow. Another person to make us into a team if we play our cards right.
Dornin speaks up to address the firbolg, Minotaur and dwarf. “ I feel our best chances of survival for the upcoming conflict is to stick together. If what has been said is true, we might’ve caught ourselves in the middle of something nasty in this town and the last place I would want to be is alone. I say we ready ourselves for the Mayor”
Dornin would also like to look over the components pouch to see if there is anything in there that he may use for casting
‘The Wastes’ is the name given to the recent plague infecting Neverwinter and its immediate surroundings. Once a victim begins to show signs they slowly lose energy and vitality, a little bit more every day until they die from the affliction.
The Captains eyes leave the items and the Bar top behind, turning to face Kallith “Mother Ismel lives in the old Halflings quarter, Vervain court I believe. I haven't met her having only been in town a couple weeks myself”
The radiant woman, the follower of Torm turns with a twinkle in her eye “It is said that Abiershire is on the site of the original Neverwinter, long ago when it was settled by the fairer races. The Halflings built an enclave as the city grew. Now that enclave is all that remains, reminding us of the old City now buried and forgotten.” She leans in, her voice growing hush and heavy with drama, only the lantern beneath her chin is missing from this scary story. “It is said that Ismelda was there before, the old city growing up around her, and that she will be here when all of this is gone” she waves her hand outward, indicating the town and not the tavern.
“Lieutenant, that is quite enough. Scary stories to frighten children is all. In truth she is nothing more than a purveyor of herbs, and alchemy. Runs a small shop selling elixirs and salves to ease the peoples ills”
Turning back to Kallith the Captain nods his head at your question, an air of sadness and anger. ‘Last year ‘The Rats’ were nothing, petty criminals, pickpockets” The captain trails off as if recalling a memory. “Several months ago, a man named Barnabas arrived in the city, his crew, including Kurd, Hammond and two others took control; the Rats haven't been the same. Larceny on a grand scale, racketeering, tyranny, murder, extortion they have their fingers in everything. Kurd and Hammond came out to Abiershire a couple weeks ago and began organizing.
The components pouch is brand new, well stocked for casting most cantrips and 1st level spells
(What is the share of coins?). If the component pouch, potion, and coins are spoken for Chandle takes what’s left and heads to the garrison to collect the bounty. ‘Gonna cost just to wash the blood from my clothes…’
—-Dornin speaks up to address the firbolg, Minotaur and dwarf. “ I feel our best chances of survival for the upcoming conflict is to stick together. If what has been said is true, we might’ve caught ourselves in the middle of something nasty in this town and the last place I would want to be is alone. I say we ready ourselves for the Mayor”
On her way past she looks at Dornin, “I’ll meet you all there gotta collect my share and get cleaned up a bit.”
Wise as a serpent and sly as a fox.
“It is nice to meet you Dornin of Phandalin. It does appear that we’ve all made the same enemies here. Enemies that are both formidable and seem to be gaining power in this town. I think sticking together makes sense.” Octo takes a step back to make room for the dwarf named Chandle, as he says he is going to get cleaned up and leaves the Pony.
OOC: Splitting just the coin: 5 gp, 1 sp each, and then 7 extra cp for Chandle. That work? I’m not worried about the cost of the components, potion, or daggers myself.
(OOC: Thanks for working out the share.)
Kallith nods to Chandle. "Well spoken. I'll meet you there then. A bath wouldn't hurt me either after that brawl."
The firbolg would be interested in the potion of healing, mostly because of its special properties of curing the wastes and since she would be interested in meeting the maker of said potion, the mystical Mother Ismel. "Since there is something necromantic about it, I'm worried to use it. I have no need for the component pouch." indicating her blooming staff, her spellcasting focus.
Kallith turns to the woman of Torm. "May I ask your name? Did you come here together with the captain?"
Chandle
One look at yourself in the clear light of the sun. Arterial spray covering from tip to tail. You don't think you will be able to wash it from the clothing, at least not in any hurry, and that is even if the Inn has the right supplies. You remember seeing a laundry around here, a few moments thought, ah there it is; worth a check at least.
The smell of soaps and starch wafted out the entrance, clean and fresh, a simple affair with racks of clothing filling the space. A small desk tucked close to the front with an elderly human woman, needle in hand stitching a piece of cloth. A man clears his throat upon your entrance. “I do beg of you not to touch a thing. Are the authorities aware, hmmm” he eyes you, covered in crimson. “Fine, 2 Nibs and I will do it immediately, just to get you on your way sir.” prestidigitation : 2 cp
Dornin, Kallith, Octo
The radiant lieutenant regards Kallith with her customary smile, warmth and comfort. “Charl, Elderon Charl. No, I have been here for many years. Most of that time as the second to the Captain’s predecessor. He was murdered several weeks back, the first night we encountered Kurd and Hammond. I would have fallen as well, Hammond had me beaten, weaponless until I pulled my trusty ‘Shining Lady’ from my boot.” She hefts a tiny silver headed mace from a boot sheath. “Managed a huge whack against his head, woke up later in the infirmary”.
After speaking with the Captain you retire from the Pony; heading back to your respective Inn’s you relax or bathe (A Bath costs 2 cp), then move on. Grabbing a simple bite from a street vendor on the way; a handpie and quaff (2 Nibs (cp) each); you make your way towards ‘The Keep’. The central seat of power in Abiershire, it acts as both Garrison and Administration.
The curtain wall surrounding the town is made of hewn timber, but ‘The keep’ is built of sturdy, brick and chiseled stone. A large central courtyard opens before it, merchants wagons and tents filling the space to bursting. You sit on a dry fountain waiting for Chandle to arrive, watching an argument between several citizens and a pair of Wintershields…”The well is dry, you wont get any water no matter how many buckets you put down there”, and the guard getting exasperated, “...we sent men, they haven't returned, please feel free to climb down your self”, and “I don't appreciate your tone sir, we are doing all we can”. This town is a powder keg, nerves are frayed, a mob has begun to gather around the guards at the well. Chandle spots you and heads straight through the center of the square.
Dm Note
Feel free to backtrack the narrative in your posts if there are details left unexplored, questions left unasked or actions you feel are necessary.
Dornin goes to speak with the guard who claimed they sent men into the well, hoping to ask a few questions before we see the mayor. " You sent men into the well? Strange, how long ago did they not return? Did they enter through the well or a separate entrance?"
He glances at his new friends, giving a look that shows that this might be something worth looking into. Sewers are a great way for criminals to get around stealthily, especially ones that are known as "Rats". Jumping into dormant wells has never been Dornin's forte, however until today, neither was getting into bar brawls and political meetings, so anything is possible.