Jayson and Capone make their way to Broma's side after Caponespeaks to the party secretly, to confer further. In greater detail, Jayson shares exactly what he saw happen with Faith Fal'man's eye. Capone's tiny legs clink and clank as they make their way across the common, drawing attention away from intensely furrowed ocular panes and a furiously active mind.
Silently, they discuss their findings within the privacy of their own skulls, and receive information from the other three as it becomes available. Broma is too focused on his work to be even tangentially involved, but as they aid him and his patients with a touch of magic and the reassuring and subconscious grandfatherly support of a great and full beard, they make a terrible day for the people of Phandalin a little less terrible. The townsfolk cannot offer more, the fifty gold pieces that the adventurers receive from them in gratitude able to be split between them however they'd like.
The time you have in the common is at least ten minutes and so enough to count as a short rest. Feel free to update your character sheets with a SR.
To the echoing mental intrusion of Capone, Alaina says nothing.
To the heated conversation of Faith, Sildar, Sister Garaele and the jocular Lorken, she turns not an eye.
Harbin Wester, the injured townsfolk, the piteous cries of Daisy the Cow; Alaina minds not a jot.
In her owlbear cloak she cuts an intimidating figure. Bow loosely in hand, she disturbs nothing as she walks one way then another through the town common. A silent investigator, a trackless shadow.
Or at least, she would be, if not for Carp and Pip.
It seems the trouble is not enough for them to be confined at home. She can ignore almost everything, give a near single-minded focus to the task in front of her, if not for the relentless interest of these small hero-worshiping children.
'Did you see a dragon? Did you see the wizard? Did you kill the dra--?? What's that? Are you looking for--? What are you doing with--? Oh, she's looking for--! Can you tell what happened a week ago by looking at--? Can you do Ranger magic with this stone I fou--? Can I be a Ranger? What happens when you hit a monster with your--?'
They are unrelenting. They do not need to breathe, to sleep, to eat, to cry. Their questions will haunt her dreams.
Alaina is very certain that there are no hidden traps or treasures that elude her. There are no Raiders in the corner waiting to pounce, nor other conspirators nearby plotting mischief, a moment from striking.
She is reasonably certain that the tracks and the path of the battle conforms with what she has overheard of Gudrune and the Townmaster's conversation. The battle was brief but fierce. They struck from a position of advantage at the rear of adventurers theRaiders had caroused with the night before. They took two hostages, and fled across the Town Green.
But investigating their capabilities, their next steps. Finding anything else? With the distraction of the children to blame she discovers less than nothing.
Lorken is last to arrive on the scene, and takes in the scene and the other adventurers hard at work. He hears Capone's voice in his mind, which is a novel experience. Heeding Capone's warning, and curious as well, Lorken seeks out Faith, intending to keep an eye on him and, if possible, draw him into conversation about what happened.
Lorken's springy gait carries him quickly after the aasimar and Sildar, catching up with them just as the reach the Shrine of Tymora the north-westerly corner of the common. A rough, barely shaped shrine formed from a cairn of local unpolished stone, several steps lead up to an archway and a small internal spice with an altar and a burning candle. Icons of the Goddess of Luck take pride of place.
Outside the shrine there are some smaller symbols carved into the rocks of the arch. Axes with lines of brightness or majesty flowing from them. Five pointed stars. Masks. Mortal symbols Lorken does not know well, all rising to a scintillating capstone that almost glows green in the light of the setting sun.
Lorkenmay make a religion check if he wishes to identify any of the icongraphy. DC 10.
The aasimar takes only a single step into the shrine before he falls to his knees. Great tears fall from his eyes, almost immediately, and Sister Garaele has barely stepped to the other side of the altar before he launches into his confession.
"Forgive me, holy Sister. I have sinned, I have shamed myself, my divine ancestors, and the Harpers most sorely!"
"I cannot believe it, Faith. Tell me, what has happened to you, and the adventurers you set forth with."
Faith tells a long story interrupted by even longer self-recriminations, Lorken listening to it all.
Two weeks prior Faith and his compatriots sallied forth to Wave Echo Cave, with Gundren Rockseeker. After many adventures in the Phandelver region and the arrest of Albrek, they felt ready to finally rescue Gundren's brothers and reclaim the lost forge of spells from the Spider who had sought to ruin them and the town of Phandalin at every opportunity.
At first things had gone well. The journey to the mine was short once the route known, and the entrance to the cave was easy to find with Gundren with them. Inside, things turned. The body of Tharden Rockseeker was the first finding, and a warning of what was to come. Gundren they left with his brothers to make sacred prayers to his lord Dumathoin, while they ventured further in, in search of justice and redress.
The mine was poorly lit, but fortunately few of their party had need for torches. The various creatures of the mine offered little challenge at first. Stirges, oozes and skeletons fell to their blades and their spells.
The rhythmic pounding of some great ocean hidden under the mountain against the walls of the mine was their only record of the passing time.
A storeroom formed their base. A sturdy door able to be bolstered and locked shut, allowing them to rest and eat. Eventually, after several days they found themselves in an old guestroom haunted by a wraith. He entreated them to fight a monster in the room next to them, where there lay the lost Forge of Spells.
Faith Fal'man clutches his head suddenly, lightly. "Apologies sister. A relentless headache has bothered me since my flight from the mine. I thought it passed on entering the goddess' shrine, but now it returns in full force as I reveal my cowardice.
"We entered the cavern. A great workshop with dust covered work tops and benches. A great anvil of unusual material, a huge forge and moulds, and a great gem held within a brazier of green flame, guarded by a creature with many eyes... I--.
"We--" Faith grimaces once more.
"We approached the horror. There was no battle. No other monster in that cavern. No strange goblins or servants of those terrible five aberrations. There was no danger to my companions and yet... I struggle to understand my actions sister. I fled! I left my friends, my blood-brothers to be struck down by those horrors, those abominations. I left them to their doom and fled with the stolen prize! Please, what can I do to atone for this sin."
Sister Garaele and Sildar are understandably troubled.
"What of the goblins that pursued you, friend?" asks Sildar.
Sister Garaele is more hesitant. "Faith," she starts. "You say several things which do not, to me, clearly make sense. You do not account for the weeks gone, only days. You say there was no battle but you say there were five--"
Faith's right eye circles in his head for a moment, and the priestess of Tymora steps back, gasping.
Lorken may roll a check for Arcana, History, or Insight.
Also, feel free to react/ask/suggest any alternate course of action that you'd like in addition to or instead of the checks above that he might take.
Alaina does not ignore the children, and tries to answer their questions, at least until it begins threatening her sanity. She will join Lorken at the shrine after she is completed outside. She doesn't bother shooing them off, so it's possible they trail after her...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Coriana - Company of the Grey Chain Wagner - Dragon Heist: Bards. DM - The Old Keep
(Lorken's Religion check for the iconography: 12 - he only takes a glance at them on his way after Faith.
As Lorken passes through the threshold of the shrine, he briefly touches his brow in salute to the goddess. He murmurs a few words under his breath in this place dedicated to Tymora.
"My lady, I have a feeling we'll be needing your help before long."
Lorken moves closer to Faith as he begins to tell his tale. He listens to the halting narrative, frowning at the inconsistencies. When the priestess of Tymora flinches, Lorken doesn't hold back - he steps quickly to face the aasimar, squatting down on his haunches to try and look into Faith's eyes, to try to get a sense of what is afflicting him.
Though lapsed, the symbol at the top of the archway is as familiar to the Satyr as it would be to any Tymorad: the five pointed star of Tyche, mother of luck.
Those gods who might have some power over Tymora’s domain of luck have their symbols carved lower in the door too: Brightaxe and Vergadain of the dwarves; Dallah Thaun of the halflings; Garl Glittergold of the gnomes. At the bottom, icons for both Mask and Erevan Ilesere are carved too, but of Beshaba there is no mention. The goddess’ twin. The inheritor of misfortune. The nature of divinity and its aspects is the foundational mystery of the Tymorad faith. So deep that even a glance at the archway is enough to remind the adventurer.
His mind soon turns to other things however as the story of the mine unfolds. Where the cleric leaps backwards at the sudden writhing of Faith’s eye, the satyr springs forwards.
Aasimar have a touch of the outer planes about them. Divine. Celestial. Everyone knows that, though few may have met them. If being from the outer planes makes a man more susceptible or more resistant to the touch of madness is not something everyone knows.
It is quite clear now, however, that there is madness here. Certainly, the Aasimar believes what they say. They are not pretending. Not trying to deceive. Lorken detects no malice in their story, no attempt to bring harm but it is clear they can’t detect the inconsistencies in what they say. No more than they could try and see inside their own nose, even with their eye turning cartwheels inside their skull.
Jayson greets Sister Garaele and adds, "Something perhaps in the mines did this to Faith. I wonder if there is a priestly magic that could cure Faith? We're just grasping at grass blades. There is something foul here. The wizard in league with the white dragon and who know what else. Something in the mines is not right if Faith is the only one to return and Faith here is struggling with something else on top of that."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Signature
Levi Flint - DM - Mad Mage; Korvin - DM - Tyranny of Dragons; Player Lucan - The One Breath, Player Gildor Surion - Balder's Gate-Decent;
Lost in thought, Lorken stands back up and leaves the distraught aasimar, heading back out into the town. He seeks out Gudrune, who he had seen addressing what he'd guess were commanders of some sort.
When he finds them, he'll relate what Faith spoke of in the temple, and ask to be filled in with what happened in the square.
Faith falls to his knees in anguish. “If I do not have my own mind, if I cannot trust my thoughts to recognise what is ill from what is good…” he seems unable to finish. His hands cover his face, then after a moment his shoulders begin to shake in silent sobs and choppy, wracked breaths.
Sister Garaele speaks to Jayson quietly, eyes tracking Lorken for a moment as he leaves without another word, before settling back on the sobbing man. “Faith trained under a mystic monastic order in a distant land. His heritage provides many of the same magics that I may call down from my lady and her servants above. I will do what I can, but—“
“When it is done, he will need to rest. I shall take him to the Stonehill Inn. Meet me there after you are finished here, and we can discuss your next steps, however I might help.”
While Capone is busy trying to be useful, he turns to Broma, and asks absent-mindedly, "Where do you think Iarno fled to? Do you think he'd tell me if I asked him nicely?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm probably laughing.
It is apparently so hard to program Aberrant Mind and Clockwork Soul spell-swapping into dndbeyond they had to remake the game without it rather than implement it.
Capone just says, "Won't know til I ask, I suppose."
Then, tapping inner psionic energies he reaches far out into the aether, sending a tendril of his thoughts out searching, seeking his target, and to Iarno he says "Hey there, me again, the voice from earlier. Where did you go? How can we meet up? It looks like your wizard friend pulled through."
(Casts sending through psionic spells feature by spending 3sp, so no v/s/m components or signs he's even doing it. Iarno can reply, if he wants, up to 25 words.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm probably laughing.
It is apparently so hard to program Aberrant Mind and Clockwork Soul spell-swapping into dndbeyond they had to remake the game without it rather than implement it.
Jayson says to Sister Garaele, "Those of us that aren't otherwise involved in other things will meet you at the Stonehill Inn." Jayson bows to Sister Gareale.
Jayson accepts 25gp from Broma and says, "You will need to pay for thing perhaps for you research equipment and gear. I will keep this 25gp for the group to pay for our lodging, meals and drinks. Your work is fascinating my new friend. I might be able to learn some medical techniques from you. My skills are not as advanced as yours. Good work."
Jayson looks around for the others to see if he can assist them prior to heading to the Inn later to check on Faith and the Sister Garaele.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Signature
Levi Flint - DM - Mad Mage; Korvin - DM - Tyranny of Dragons; Player Lucan - The One Breath, Player Gildor Surion - Balder's Gate-Decent;
Capone just says, "Won't know til I ask, I suppose."
Then, tapping inner psionic energies he reaches far out into the aether, sending a tendril of his thoughts out searching, seeking his target, and to Iarno he says "Hey there, me again, the voice from earlier. Where did you go? How can we meet up? It looks like your wizard friend pulled through."
(Casts sending through psionic spells feature by spending 3sp, so no v/s/m components or signs he's even doing it. Iarno can reply, if he wants, up to 25 words.)
Capone just says, "Won't know til I ask, I suppose."
Then, tapping inner psionic energies he reaches far out into the aether, sending a tendril of his thoughts out searching, seeking his target, and to Iarno he says "Hey there, me again, the voice from earlier. Where did you go? How can we meet up? It looks like your wizard friend pulled through."
(Casts sending through psionic spells feature by spending 3sp, so no v/s/m components or signs he's even doing it. Iarno can reply, if he wants, up to 25 words.)
Though he is far distant, the formerly incarcerated Albrek’s surprise is as clear mentally as it would be if he were stood before you with his eyebrows raised.
”How pleasant to hear from you, Satyr friend. I’m afraid, although asked without malice, you’d be followed. Expect my return forthwith, with answers in hand.”
Tymora’s priestess nods in acknowledgement of her fellow Harper’s reply, then turns to begin her ministration.
Alaina meets up wish Jayson outside the shrine and says, "I did some poking around where the prisoner escaped from. I didn't get any new insight, but I did confirm the facts that are being talked about by all are consistent with the facts. I'll meet up with everyone at the inn, I want to do some shopping and dump some used equipment."
She will then head off to the shops in town to update her equipment.
[[ I assume mundane equipment can be sold for 50% and basic PH equipment is available. Are healing potions available? What about greater or superior healing potions? ]]
Usually, as a frontier town with only a single Cleric, there is a goodly supply of Healing Potions for 50 gold pieces a flask, you discover, from Barthen’s Provisions.
Greater Healing Potions are harder to come by, however more often than not a few are available at Lionshield Coster. Better potions than that are not sold openly, and would need some dedicated effort to ferret out.
In the wake of the attack however, you would be more likely to find a private seller who had hidden a Superior Healing Potion, than buy a Greater Healing Potion as usual. The vast majority of the open and purchasable stock of Phandalin has been used on the injured.
Healing potions during this emergency might be sold to you for over their usual asking price depending on how you approach and barter with Elmina Barthen, the proprietor of Barthen’s Provisions.
Capone, after receiving an answer, says to Broma."Strange, it seems Iarno thinks me a Satyr, and he'll return 'forthwith'. But, he wouldn't tell me where he went, concerned, naturally, that I wouldn't come alone."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm probably laughing.
It is apparently so hard to program Aberrant Mind and Clockwork Soul spell-swapping into dndbeyond they had to remake the game without it rather than implement it.
"As well he should be," chortles the man in cerulean scales. "I would surely follow, if only to attain the samples I couldn't extract before!" He doesn't skip a beat while talking, his hands moving in a rather mechanical fashion to pinch a vein that appears to be spraying blood. Flecks of crimson dash across his helm, yet he continues to work, unfazed. [I assumed that would still count under his previous Medicine Roll, since he's still "working"]
"At the very least, he'll be returning as you say, and I will have another chance to procure my samples." His tone of voice is unnervingly cheerful. Soon after, he begins whistling once more, the same disjointed tune he was piping at the start of the battle with the goblins.
Capone watches him work with fascination, the workings of flesh seemed odd, even alien to him. "Who do you think the Satyr is, though? And why would he think it would speak to him him as I do? I worry, perhaps, this confused identity puts the fey in question, in danger. No?"Capone hands Broma the medical instrument he was about to reach for, seemingly anticipating his need, whether the little Autognome knows what it is or is for is still uncertain.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm probably laughing.
It is apparently so hard to program Aberrant Mind and Clockwork Soul spell-swapping into dndbeyond they had to remake the game without it rather than implement it.
Broma finishes with the patient before him and rises to assess the next one, a broken leg that needs to be set. Before walking away, he turns to the autognome, waving his hand upon his face and uttering several inane tones. Magic crackles and hums as the spatters of blood on his helm fizzle out, one by one. [Casts Prestidigitation several times]
"Perhaps you should ask our own satyr.Lorkenmay have some clue as to whom they speak of." His deep voice is thoughtful, free of judgement, suspicion, or malice.
By the time he's approached his next patient, his armor is pristine, and he gets to work with little preassessment, whistling all the while.
Silently, they discuss their findings within the privacy of their own skulls, and receive information from the other three as it becomes available. Broma is too focused on his work to be even tangentially involved, but as they aid him and his patients with a touch of magic and the reassuring and subconscious grandfatherly support of a great and full beard, they make a terrible day for the people of Phandalin a little less terrible. The townsfolk cannot offer more, the fifty gold pieces that the adventurers receive from them in gratitude able to be split between them however they'd like.
To the echoing mental intrusion of Capone, Alaina says nothing.
To the heated conversation of Faith, Sildar, Sister Garaele and the jocular Lorken, she turns not an eye.
Harbin Wester, the injured townsfolk, the piteous cries of Daisy the Cow; Alaina minds not a jot.
In her owlbear cloak she cuts an intimidating figure. Bow loosely in hand, she disturbs nothing as she walks one way then another through the town common. A silent investigator, a trackless shadow.
Or at least, she would be, if not for Carp and Pip.
It seems the trouble is not enough for them to be confined at home. She can ignore almost everything, give a near single-minded focus to the task in front of her, if not for the relentless interest of these small hero-worshiping children.
'Did you see a dragon? Did you see the wizard? Did you kill the dra--?? What's that? Are you looking for--? What are you doing with--? Oh, she's looking for--! Can you tell what happened a week ago by looking at--? Can you do Ranger magic with this stone I fou--? Can I be a Ranger? What happens when you hit a monster with your--?'
They are unrelenting. They do not need to breathe, to sleep, to eat, to cry. Their questions will haunt her dreams.
Alaina is very certain that there are no hidden traps or treasures that elude her. There are no Raiders in the corner waiting to pounce, nor other conspirators nearby plotting mischief, a moment from striking.
She is reasonably certain that the tracks and the path of the battle conforms with what she has overheard of Gudrune and the Townmaster's conversation. The battle was brief but fierce. They struck from a position of advantage at the rear of adventurers the Raiders had caroused with the night before. They took two hostages, and fled across the Town Green.
But investigating their capabilities, their next steps. Finding anything else? With the distraction of the children to blame she discovers less than nothing.
Lorken's springy gait carries him quickly after the aasimar and Sildar, catching up with them just as the reach the Shrine of Tymora the north-westerly corner of the common. A rough, barely shaped shrine formed from a cairn of local unpolished stone, several steps lead up to an archway and a small internal spice with an altar and a burning candle. Icons of the Goddess of Luck take pride of place.
Outside the shrine there are some smaller symbols carved into the rocks of the arch. Axes with lines of brightness or majesty flowing from them. Five pointed stars. Masks. Mortal symbols Lorken does not know well, all rising to a scintillating capstone that almost glows green in the light of the setting sun.
The aasimar takes only a single step into the shrine before he falls to his knees. Great tears fall from his eyes, almost immediately, and Sister Garaele has barely stepped to the other side of the altar before he launches into his confession.
"Forgive me, holy Sister. I have sinned, I have shamed myself, my divine ancestors, and the Harpers most sorely!"
"I cannot believe it, Faith. Tell me, what has happened to you, and the adventurers you set forth with."
Faith Fal'man clutches his head suddenly, lightly. "Apologies sister. A relentless headache has bothered me since my flight from the mine. I thought it passed on entering the goddess' shrine, but now it returns in full force as I reveal my cowardice.
"We entered the cavern. A great workshop with dust covered work tops and benches. A great anvil of unusual material, a huge forge and moulds, and a great gem held within a brazier of green flame, guarded by a creature with many eyes... I--.
"We--" Faith grimaces once more.
"We approached the horror. There was no battle. No other monster in that cavern. No strange goblins or servants of those terrible five aberrations. There was no danger to my companions and yet... I struggle to understand my actions sister. I fled! I left my friends, my blood-brothers to be struck down by those horrors, those abominations. I left them to their doom and fled with the stolen prize! Please, what can I do to atone for this sin."
Sister Garaele and Sildar are understandably troubled.
"What of the goblins that pursued you, friend?" asks Sildar.
Sister Garaele is more hesitant. "Faith," she starts. "You say several things which do not, to me, clearly make sense. You do not account for the weeks gone, only days. You say there was no battle but you say there were five--"
Faith's right eye circles in his head for a moment, and the priestess of Tymora steps back, gasping.
Alaina does not ignore the children, and tries to answer their questions, at least until it begins threatening her sanity. She will join Lorken at the shrine after she is completed outside. She doesn't bother shooing them off, so it's possible they trail after her...
Coriana - Company of the Grey Chain
Wagner - Dragon Heist: Bards.
DM - The Old Keep
(Lorken's Religion check for the iconography: 12 - he only takes a glance at them on his way after Faith.
As Lorken passes through the threshold of the shrine, he briefly touches his brow in salute to the goddess. He murmurs a few words under his breath in this place dedicated to Tymora.
"My lady, I have a feeling we'll be needing your help before long."
Lorken moves closer to Faith as he begins to tell his tale. He listens to the halting narrative, frowning at the inconsistencies. When the priestess of Tymora flinches, Lorken doesn't hold back - he steps quickly to face the aasimar, squatting down on his haunches to try and look into Faith's eyes, to try to get a sense of what is afflicting him.
(Lorken's Insight check: 15)
Though lapsed, the symbol at the top of the archway is as familiar to the Satyr as it would be to any Tymorad: the five pointed star of Tyche, mother of luck.
Those gods who might have some power over Tymora’s domain of luck have their symbols carved lower in the door too: Brightaxe and Vergadain of the dwarves; Dallah Thaun of the halflings; Garl Glittergold of the gnomes. At the bottom, icons for both Mask and Erevan Ilesere are carved too, but of Beshaba there is no mention. The goddess’ twin. The inheritor of misfortune. The nature of divinity and its aspects is the foundational mystery of the Tymorad faith. So deep that even a glance at the archway is enough to remind the adventurer.
His mind soon turns to other things however as the story of the mine unfolds. Where the cleric leaps backwards at the sudden writhing of Faith’s eye, the satyr springs forwards.
Aasimar have a touch of the outer planes about them. Divine. Celestial. Everyone knows that, though few may have met them. If being from the outer planes makes a man more susceptible or more resistant to the touch of madness is not something everyone knows.
It is quite clear now, however, that there is madness here. Certainly, the Aasimar believes what they say. They are not pretending. Not trying to deceive. Lorken detects no malice in their story, no attempt to bring harm but it is clear they can’t detect the inconsistencies in what they say. No more than they could try and see inside their own nose, even with their eye turning cartwheels inside their skull.
The aasimar is trying to be truthful and honest.
Jayson greets Sister Garaele and adds, "Something perhaps in the mines did this to Faith. I wonder if there is a priestly magic that could cure Faith? We're just grasping at grass blades. There is something foul here. The wizard in league with the white dragon and who know what else. Something in the mines is not right if Faith is the only one to return and Faith here is struggling with something else on top of that."
Signature
Levi Flint - DM - Mad Mage; Korvin - DM - Tyranny of Dragons; Player Lucan - The One Breath, Player Gildor Surion - Balder's Gate-Decent;
Lost in thought, Lorken stands back up and leaves the distraught aasimar, heading back out into the town. He seeks out Gudrune, who he had seen addressing what he'd guess were commanders of some sort.
When he finds them, he'll relate what Faith spoke of in the temple, and ask to be filled in with what happened in the square.
Faith falls to his knees in anguish. “If I do not have my own mind, if I cannot trust my thoughts to recognise what is ill from what is good…” he seems unable to finish. His hands cover his face, then after a moment his shoulders begin to shake in silent sobs and choppy, wracked breaths.
Sister Garaele speaks to Jayson quietly, eyes tracking Lorken for a moment as he leaves without another word, before settling back on the sobbing man. “Faith trained under a mystic monastic order in a distant land. His heritage provides many of the same magics that I may call down from my lady and her servants above. I will do what I can, but—“
“When it is done, he will need to rest. I shall take him to the Stonehill Inn. Meet me there after you are finished here, and we can discuss your next steps, however I might help.”
While Capone is busy trying to be useful, he turns to Broma, and asks absent-mindedly, "Where do you think Iarno fled to? Do you think he'd tell me if I asked him nicely?"
I'm probably laughing.
It is apparently so hard to program Aberrant Mind and Clockwork Soul spell-swapping into dndbeyond they had to remake the game without it rather than implement it.
Without turning from his work, metal hands bloodied, Broma replies with a counterpoint: "Would he have been truthful if you had?"
Capone just says, "Won't know til I ask, I suppose."
Then, tapping inner psionic energies he reaches far out into the aether, sending a tendril of his thoughts out searching, seeking his target, and to Iarno he says "Hey there, me again, the voice from earlier. Where did you go? How can we meet up? It looks like your wizard friend pulled through."
(Casts sending through psionic spells feature by spending 3sp, so no v/s/m components or signs he's even doing it. Iarno can reply, if he wants, up to 25 words.)
I'm probably laughing.
It is apparently so hard to program Aberrant Mind and Clockwork Soul spell-swapping into dndbeyond they had to remake the game without it rather than implement it.
Jayson says to Sister Garaele, "Those of us that aren't otherwise involved in other things will meet you at the Stonehill Inn." Jayson bows to Sister Gareale.
Jayson accepts 25gp from Broma and says, "You will need to pay for thing perhaps for you research equipment and gear. I will keep this 25gp for the group to pay for our lodging, meals and drinks. Your work is fascinating my new friend. I might be able to learn some medical techniques from you. My skills are not as advanced as yours. Good work."
Jayson looks around for the others to see if he can assist them prior to heading to the Inn later to check on Faith and the Sister Garaele.
Signature
Levi Flint - DM - Mad Mage; Korvin - DM - Tyranny of Dragons; Player Lucan - The One Breath, Player Gildor Surion - Balder's Gate-Decent;
Though he is far distant, the formerly incarcerated Albrek’s surprise is as clear mentally as it would be if he were stood before you with his eyebrows raised.
”How pleasant to hear from you, Satyr friend. I’m afraid, although asked without malice, you’d be followed. Expect my return forthwith, with answers in hand.”
Tymora’s priestess nods in acknowledgement of her fellow Harper’s reply, then turns to begin her ministration.
Alaina meets up wish Jayson outside the shrine and says, "I did some poking around where the prisoner escaped from. I didn't get any new insight, but I did confirm the facts that are being talked about by all are consistent with the facts. I'll meet up with everyone at the inn, I want to do some shopping and dump some used equipment."
She will then head off to the shops in town to update her equipment.
[[
I assume mundane equipment can be sold for 50% and basic PH equipment is available.
Are healing potions available? What about greater or superior healing potions?
]]
Coriana - Company of the Grey Chain
Wagner - Dragon Heist: Bards.
DM - The Old Keep
Usually, as a frontier town with only a single Cleric, there is a goodly supply of Healing Potions for 50 gold pieces a flask, you discover, from Barthen’s Provisions.
Greater Healing Potions are harder to come by, however more often than not a few are available at Lionshield Coster. Better potions than that are not sold openly, and would need some dedicated effort to ferret out.
In the wake of the attack however, you would be more likely to find a private seller who had hidden a Superior Healing Potion, than buy a Greater Healing Potion as usual. The vast majority of the open and purchasable stock of Phandalin has been used on the injured.
Healing potions during this emergency might be sold to you for over their usual asking price depending on how you approach and barter with Elmina Barthen, the proprietor of Barthen’s Provisions.
((yes and yes to sales and PH equipment))
Capone, after receiving an answer, says to Broma. "Strange, it seems Iarno thinks me a Satyr, and he'll return 'forthwith'. But, he wouldn't tell me where he went, concerned, naturally, that I wouldn't come alone."
I'm probably laughing.
It is apparently so hard to program Aberrant Mind and Clockwork Soul spell-swapping into dndbeyond they had to remake the game without it rather than implement it.
"As well he should be," chortles the man in cerulean scales. "I would surely follow, if only to attain the samples I couldn't extract before!" He doesn't skip a beat while talking, his hands moving in a rather mechanical fashion to pinch a vein that appears to be spraying blood. Flecks of crimson dash across his helm, yet he continues to work, unfazed. [I assumed that would still count under his previous Medicine Roll, since he's still "working"]
"At the very least, he'll be returning as you say, and I will have another chance to procure my samples." His tone of voice is unnervingly cheerful. Soon after, he begins whistling once more, the same disjointed tune he was piping at the start of the battle with the goblins.
Capone watches him work with fascination, the workings of flesh seemed odd, even alien to him. "Who do you think the Satyr is, though? And why would he think it would speak to him him as I do? I worry, perhaps, this confused identity puts the fey in question, in danger. No?" Capone hands Broma the medical instrument he was about to reach for, seemingly anticipating his need, whether the little Autognome knows what it is or is for is still uncertain.
I'm probably laughing.
It is apparently so hard to program Aberrant Mind and Clockwork Soul spell-swapping into dndbeyond they had to remake the game without it rather than implement it.
Broma finishes with the patient before him and rises to assess the next one, a broken leg that needs to be set. Before walking away, he turns to the autognome, waving his hand upon his face and uttering several inane tones. Magic crackles and hums as the spatters of blood on his helm fizzle out, one by one. [Casts Prestidigitation several times]
"Perhaps you should ask our own satyr. Lorken may have some clue as to whom they speak of." His deep voice is thoughtful, free of judgement, suspicion, or malice.
By the time he's approached his next patient, his armor is pristine, and he gets to work with little preassessment, whistling all the while.