Sparlock's Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Quarion, who hadn't actually expected his spell to kill the pathetic creature, hoped that nobody was looking closely enough to see the shimmering air between himself and the now expired former captive. "Well, he didn't make it far," he said, in the general direction of his companions. "I think we may have inadvertently scared him quite literally to death."

As he was busy dealing with their captive he hadn't heard the exchange between Lissandra and Skiaceq.  Turned to the visibly agitated monk he says, "What's gotten into you, man? You look like you've seen a ghost. Wait, did you see a ghost? Quick, somebody get me a magical sword!"

 Lissandra

 Lissandra soon learned that Skiaceq sure seemed impulsive. It made her tense, as well, but she relaxed as soon as the Aarakocra did. "It's alright," she assured him, "the town's a mess. No wonder you've had a rough night." She awaited answering the questions about his father, and instead focused on the Aarakocra's wounds. She hooked her mace to her belt, and reached out towards Skiaceq's mangled wings.

"Are you hurt? Let me have a look at this, first, then we can talk away from little prying eyes," though as she said so and glanced in the direction of the kobold the half-elf was interrogating, but instead found the kobold free, and dead. Lissandra just shook her head, having missed what had transpired. At least they had one kobold, although she doubted it would have anything useful to say - judging from the result of the other interrogation.

The half-elf joined their conversation. He was a merry and shifty fellow, for sure, but despite his ill attempt at an interrogation, he only appeared to do his best at disarming the situation. "No, I sure hope he hasn't seen any ghost," she replied, "and let's hope he won't become one either. Here," she said and focused on Skiaceq's rifted and bloody wing for a moment. Lissandra closed her eyes and spoke in soft, unheard whispers. She held her hand against the wound, and a tranquil, blue light emanated from her. Warmth and comfort spread throughout Skiaceq, and the wound closed completely. (OOC: My Cure light wounds heals minimum 5hp, so his wounds should be okay as he heals 5 hp)

The priestess opened her eyes and smiled. "There." She then proceeded to answer Skiaceq's question. "I work with your father. He's been tracking a cult, and I've been asked to assist. Last I heard he was okay, despite rather recklessly getting himself captured on purpose in order to gain more information," she explained. "Far as we know, they're looking for an object in some tunnels nearby, of which I believe you were summoned to help find and keep safe?" She said to Skiaceq. Ideally she'd keep the information a little more under wraps, but the situation had escalated far outside of what she had imagined. They would need all the help they could get.

Relief is clear in Skiaceq's posture. "Purposely..." he mutters, almost chuckling. That was brazen even for Leosin, and yet more believable than him being caught and overpowered. Compared to his father, Skaiceq was a chick flailing its arms.

"It eases me to hear that. Thank you, Lissandra," he says sincerely, replacing her name's consonant sounds with trills and tweets where appropriate. "I searched the tunnel you speak of, but we found nothing." He gestures toward Valji and Darvin. "I don't know them well, but I would not be alive without them. If we are to stop this siege, we need their help."

Skiaceq's attention falls to the weight on his hip. "Oh." Untying the pouch, he spills fourteen gold coins into his hand, then takes Valji's hand and places them on the gnome's palm. To Darvin, he gives fifteen, keeping only a single coin for himself. The cleanest, shiniest one. "I will need your help a bit longer. We cannot stop a dragon, but if the cultists are searching for something, we can lure them away. Speak with Nighthill first to make sure you are paid."

"I'm all for getting paid, believe me," Quarion replies. "And thank you for these, by the way," he says, putting the gold in his coinpurse. "What I could most use right now, though, is some sleep. It's late, we're worn out, and things seem to be relatively quiet for now. Perhaps we should take advantage of the lull to restore our strength before venturing out to lure these cultists away. I'm very much interested in hearing all about your plan -- you're not the only one with a loved one being held captive -- but first things first. I don't know how our wizard friend is doing, but that sleep spell used up the last magic in my tank, I'm afraid, so if ... when we run into trouble, I for one would feel better if we had all our tools available to us. What do you say?"

"Valji, my friend," he says, calling out to the gnome who was fishing through the cultist's possessions, and beckoning for him to approach so they can make this decision together. "Our avian ally here has a plan. My position is that we need to rest before doing anything too adventurous. Wouldn't you agree?"

He hadn't thought about it, but when Darvin utters the word 'sleep', the night's fatigue weighs on Skiaceq's shoulders all at once. Still, the thought of leaving Leosin entrapped didn't sit easily in his mind.

The need for reassurance turns Skiaceq to Lissandra, the only other person who might know Leosin well. "I remember my father's strength, but I have not seen him in nearly two decades. Can he escape on his own? Or should I fear for his safety?"

Lissandra

"Well," Lissandra mused, stroking her chin with her free hand, "from what I know, he is quite the capable individual. It's unlikely that he would put himself in a situation without an out," she reassured Skiaceq, "although I wouldn't know how. I guess we just have to trust in him."

She then nodded affirmingly in the direction of the other two. "You all seem capable. I guess whatever lies ahead, we'll need what spare skills and rest there is. This Nighthill, is he in charge?"

"He seems to be," replies Quarion. "Governor, I think they called him. Shall we seek him out now, to inquire about payment and whether we can afford to take some time to rest?"

Valji finishes his little excursion and returns to the now smaller group of intrepid adventurers. "Yes, some sleep would be welcome. I also want to study this medallion the bearded man was wearing, and study my spell book to restore my magic. Oh, and since the others left, I guess we can split this treasure amongst ourselves! You leave, you lose!" He pulls out the gold and silver coins from the human, and splits the rings, necklaces, and baubles between the party. (OOC: Quarion and Valji each get 7 gp and 1 sp. Ski gets 7 gp and 3 sp, and Valji offers Lissandra the extra 2 gold for 9 gp and 1 sp.) "You don't mind it I keep this small vial of beard oil, do you? I'm also a tinkerer, and this oil would be good for a contraption I'm working on..."

"By all means, help yourself to the oil, Valji," Quarion says as he accepts the coins. "So. It sounds like we're all in agreement, then? Why don't we see if we can find the governor." And he starts walking back up toward the wall where they'd last seen Nighthill.

Walking back into the courtyard, you can see some of the refugees from the city trickling out and the guards returning to their regular positions around the keep. Taking the stairs up to the parapet leads you to Governor Nighthill

Similar to when the party first met him, the right side of his face and head are bandaged and his right arm hangs in a sling. The purple blood soaking his blue coat has been roasted dry by the heat of dragonfire, and a small of sulfur graces the air

"Governor," Quarion says. "We heard the dragon. We're sorry we weren't there to help... We were detained by two groups of raiders; one tried to enter the keep through the tunnel, the other through the gate. You'll be pleased to know we dispatched them easily, but from the sounds of it your guards didn't fare so well. How bad was it? And how did you get it to leave?"

Lissandra

"Why, thank you" Lissandra replied when she received the trinkets from the Gnome, "though I'm sure this belongs to someone," she twirled a ring between her finger, studying it. It was unlikely that she would find the owner, and she had learned over the course of her life that sometimes it was okay to keep your findings, but she would keep her eye out for the owner.

The gnome wanted to keep some oil, and the half-elf replied with his name. "Valji, is it? Lissandra, nice to meet you," she stretched out her hand, then turned to the half-elf and presented it to him, as well. "I didn't catch your name?" she said with a welcoming and polite smile. She then followed the small group to meet with the Governor.

The state of the keep, refugees and guards spoke volumes. Even the governor had taken a serious beating. When the Governor and half-elf had spoken, Lissandra presented herself to the governor. "Governor Nighthill, I presume? Lissandra, uh, traveling priestess. I came upon and aided these fellows when they were fending off intruders," she presented herself and gave some weight to Quarion's part of the story. The priestess eyed the governor's wounds, and those around them. "How bad are the casualties? And your arm? I can offer some healing and medicine."

"A pleasure, I'm sure, Lissandra. Were these more pleasant times. I think that damned red dragon is toying with us.... trying to keep us pinned in. She'll be back. Took a couple arrows with her this time at least!" he cries defiantly at the sky, seeming to hope the dragon can hear him. 

Governor Nighthill wearily sighs before continuing, "We lost three men to her this time. Nothing our healer could do. And we'll probably lose more before the night's up. Thank you for your assistance; we may have need for more before this attack let's up."

"You expect the dragon back tonight? This wasn't the first attack, then?" says Quarion to the governor. Then, turning to his companions, "I suppose so much for a night's rest, then... We can't in good conscience go to sleep for the night while these brave guards are out getting broiled by that thing, can we?"

Motioning for the others to step away for a "party huddle", Quarion says quietly, "Can we? Look, I have no interest in becoming a grilled half-elf, and there's no way we're going to kill a dragon... The best we can hope for is that we manage to drive it off, but I have no idea how to do that. Any bright ideas? Do we stay and give it our best? I'd rather stay focused on rescuing our friends and family, but on the other hand, if this dragon keeps coming back there might not be a town to come back to afterwards even if we are successful. And if we don't stay, what do we tell the governor?"

Skiaceq contemplates Darvin’s words. He tries to speak in a low tone, but as Aarakocra can’t whisper, he chooses his words carefully. “If stopping a dragon is possible, Leosin will know how. I intend to extract him, but we should begin by learning what he has discovered on our own.”

He turns his attention to Lissandra and positions his wingtips around his beak to muffle his voice. “You said the dragon’s servants were seeking something in the tunnels. That kobold said it was not aware of a goal but opening the gate. The ones coming through the tunnel did not search for anything. They only charged into the keep. It doesn’t add up. Did Leosin say what he believes they are seeking? If not... it seems our only option is to find out what he learned during his captivity.”

Valji reaches up and shakes Lissandra's hand, a big grin breaking out on his normally haunted face. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady! I am indeed Valji, a humble gnome and mage at your service. But we meet in dark times...end times...no time..." he trails off as he drops her hand.

At the "party huddle" he says, "Look, I am useless against a dragon right now. Need some rest. Let's get it but be ready to come out and help if another attack comes tonight. The town has plenty of guards to share the watch tonight."

[a few minutes earlier (since I forgot to respond to Lissandra)...]

"Where are my manners?" says Quarion, reaching out to shake Lissandra's hand. "Darvin Rein. Weaver of song. Songer of the weave. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." The more often he speaks this pseudonym out loud, the more comfortable he feels in the identity. Darvin is braver, more confident, than he. Darvin dispatches kobolds with a flourish. Quarion wouldn't have been able to do that. A mental switch flips, and this new, bold, Darvin character spreads over his psyche.

[back in the present]

"Sounds good to me," Darvin says to Valji, feeling relieved that his ally was not keen to stretch themselves and face a dragon without enough energy to fuel their more powerful magic. "If the rest of us are agreed, I'll let the governor that we need to rest if we're going to be any use to him. Skiaceq? Lissandra?"

The party seeming to have reached a consensus that it would be best to get some rest while they can, Darvin approaches the governor again and conveys their decision. "We've talked it over, governor, and come to the conclusion that as much as we would like to stay here and help the guards, our party will be of more use in the long run if we can get some rest first, especially as the majority of us depend on a night's sleep for the use of our more powerful magical faculties. Is there somewhere the group of us can get some sleep? If there is an urgent need before the night is through, of course, we will be happy to interrupt our recovery to come to your aid; we will leave it to you to decide what counts as sufficiently urgent."

Unless the governor emphatically objects, the group will take a long rest in whatever location the governor suggests.

Governor Nighthill looks disappointed for a second before thoughtfully considering, "Its been a difficult night for all of us... Still, I've heard reports of the usefullness of your magic. Our guest rooms are... crowded, as you can imagine, but the barracks has recently found itself short a couple of members, so you might try there. Edvard! Show these folks to the barracks."

A tall, balding guardsman comes walking up to the group. What remains of his hair is tied back in a surprisingly thick black ponytail which trails down to his collar. Edvard leads the group into the keep, idly mentioning the other basement entrance which leads to the dungeons as you pass it. Walking you into a small room full of bunks, he points out a particular couple of them and returns to his watch on the wall.

The night passes relatively quietly for a war zone. After you managed to stop the smaller incursions, the guards watched those entryways more closely. At odd points in the evening you hear a bustle outside, but don't make much of it.

Valji

 How do you spend your morning routine in this besieged condition? There is activity all around, and the area is very crowded. If you need more space, the courtyard is available to you. A small kitchen is supplying what amounts to rations to the civilians. Hardtack bread with a bit of ale to wash it down.

Darvin does a bit of stretching in the courtyard before heading to the kitchen for bread and ale, which he consumes while making small talk with a group of civilians, doing his best to lift their spirits in whatever small ways he can. After breakfast he starts asking around to see whether anyone might have some spare supplies they'd be willing to part with, offering to compensate them at the standard market rate for such things. Ideally he'd like to obtain a crossbow and bolts, as well as a healer's kit.