Calwit thinks for a minute and says aloud 'Ah...breakfast...well it's the least I can do, let me see...' He ducks under the bar and scrambles around, muttering 'Can't be offering pies again...' before pulling out a rather sad looking bag of trail mix that he drops onto the counter with a puff of dust, though it looks far from magical. He heartily claims 'Every oat, nut, seed and currant in that bag was grown on Ilkalith's soil! You can eat it with or without milk, on the go or sat down, but any way you have it, you're sure to feel great afterwards!', although anybody that braves trying the trail mix feels more like they've just eaten a handful of sand rather than great meal, since you're unsure how long the bag has been lingering down there. 

After you leave the tavern, you head down towards the town centre before planning to swing east at the market square, which should take you straight to Brimbul's manor. Abishai's lute playing is well-received to the townspeople, which is quite a surprise. They've endured enough wannabe adventurers coming through and making a racket, so it's a pleasant change for them to hear an actual quality musician. It even softens the few odd looks and stares you get, considering what races the party is made up of. On the way, after seeing nothing of note, Aralia finishes off the final portion of the Primal Fruit. It's a very, very strange taste, not at all as nice as the previous pieces, and tastes more like she's swallowed a bucket of ice cubes, which in turn leave a sinking feeling in her stomach. Then, her vision is clouded with streams of illusory, euphoric light, and her mind is invaded with quiet lyre strums and the singing of heavenly cherubs, as if she's ascending herself, though nobody observing her can see any changes, aside from the potential odd expression. She gains the benefits of the death ward spell, and can she please make a Constitution Saving throw, as she feels the sensation in the pit of her stomach lurch down.

Aralia Con save: 11 

The sinking feeling in Aralia's stomach grows, and drops all the way down to the floor, as if she's getting dragged down to hell, torn between the heavenly visions around her and the chilling, dreadful anxiety of the lower planes within. This takes a serious toll on her health, and whilst she does gain some divine protection against death, she also suffers from some fiendish fatigue and affliction. She is also now poisoned

Abishai nods his head in acknowledgment at any townsfolk who stops and listens, soaking up the attention that he craves. He thinks how much more famous he would be with the infamous Balowang as his sideshow. As his playing ends, with a renewed focus, Abishai finds the rest of the party and asks, "Well, I think it's nearly time to meet up with Brimbul. Shall we?"

Aralia slows her pace as the final bite of the Primal Fruit takes hold, her vision clouded by illusory light. A faint smile flickers across her face as the heavenly sensations seem to lift her, but the sinking dread in her stomach quickly pulls her back down. The feeling grows heavier and her stoic demeanor wavers as she presses a hand against a nearby tree for support. Her free hand clutches at her stomach as icy dread and nausea sweep over her, and though her body is wracked with fiendish fatigue, the divine protection of the fruit’s power lingers.

Straightening with effort, Aralia forces her expression back into one of calm control, dismissing any concerned glances with a curt wave. “I’m fine. Just some aftereffects from the fruit,” she mutters, unwilling to show weakness or elaborate further. She follows the others to meet Brimbol.

Insight: 15

Unable to help but notice Aralia's temporary nausea. Abishai stops with a concerned look on his face that doesn't ease even after Aralia's dismissal. "Are you sure you're okay? You didn't eat those oats Calwit gave us, did you? That bag of oats looked pretty old." Thinking back to the interaction, Abishai knows he didn't touch the bag but was unsure if anyone grabbed it after he headed out the door. "I might be able to help if you have food poisoning."

Abishai ignores Aralia's comment about the fruit. Unable to believe the fruit he enjoyed so much could be the cause for such concern.

“It’s the fruit,” Aralia confesses quietly to the bard, straightening despite the lingering nausea. “The last bite wasn’t like the rest. My stomach feels like it’s being pulled in two directions, and my head’s…clouded, but not entirely unpleasant.” She shakes her head, as if trying to clear it. “I don’t think it’s food poisoning, exactly. It’s something...else.” Her lips press into a thin line, and she takes a steadying breath. “If you’ve got something that could help, I won’t say no, but I’ll manage either way.”

Quote from EmileTherese >>

“It’s the fruit,” Aralia confesses quietly to the bard... “If you’ve got something that could help, I won’t say no, but I’ll manage either way.”

Abishai eyes Aralia with skepticism when she mentions the fruit again as the source. However, his face turns into a warm smile as she accepts his help. He begins to play a soothing melody from his lute. "Give me your hand." Abishai says. Once she does the magical power from his song flows into her.

[[ OOC: He takes his doss lute and uses it to cast protection from poison hopefully neutralizing the poison. ]]

Abishai's song does in fact neutralise the cold, deathly fatigue Aralia was experiencing, though the faint angelic choir and visions of light don't fade. [Poisoned condition removed, but the death ward affect stays]

As Abishai makes sure Aralia's in fighting condition again, the party turns out of the market square (which is empty, due to the markets only being on at the end of the week and the hour of the morning) and then heads down a lane, the rows of neat brick houses soon dissolving back into open pastures and fields, and with it the cobbles of the town that made up the road slowly fade away to be replaced with gravel, with neat hedgerows surrounding the paths as you approach the house in the distance. It has an intimidating silhouette as you approach, long and tall, thin windows every other foot of brickwork, and with bricks and rooftiles the colour of ash, though as you near, you get a closer look at the manor, and realise that it's covered in some sort of bright, colourful rope, tapering from chimney pot to chimney pot, and then along all the windowsills, wrapping around the drainpipes and dangling from the porch. As you get closer, it becomes clearer what it is; they are fabric party streamers, draped over every inch of the once intimidating building, and particularly hanging over the paler, squarish brick above the doorway which would usually contain a date of construction from the architect, or perhaps even the name of the house. The most you can decipher is 'M__OG____Y HO_S_ -__54'

As you come to marvel at the building and it's eccentric decorations from the driveway, a gardener looks up from the flowerbed nearby, holding a sizeable scythe for a man of his stature. He's very old, his skin so grey and wrinkled that his eyes and mouth seems so pursed together you can hardly imagine they're open, with each of the deep wrinkles resulting in great fissures of darkness criss-crossing his face. His thin, long nose pokes out from beneath the wide straw hat that covers his brow and shades his hair a darker grey hair, though his ears are tucked back, yet you assume from his general appearance he must be an elf. He leans on his tool with some temper, looking particularly thin, tall and bony, which is what you'd expect for a man of his age, yet muscular and weathered, which is what you'd expect for a man of his profession. He then grumpily says 'Ah. You're early. Head on in, the door's never locked with me around. And before you go floating off with inflated egos, the streamers aren't for your arrival either. Brimbul likes to keep the place merry.' He spits the last word out as if it's an offence to him and his bloodline, but then goes back to tending the yard.

Silvosh looks around to admire the garden as she heads for the door.

Aralia studies the gardener curiously. "What's your name? And why does keeping it merry bother you?" 

Insight: 9 -.-

The gardener laughs in disregard. 'My name is no matter to you lot, and neither is my opinions of Brimbul's choice of furnishing, should we say. We're of two different tastes, him and I.' To Aralia, it seems he's just a crabby old man that isn't a fan of anything fun, which would match his drab appearance. Once the gardener is finished speaking, he gets back to work and swings his scythe round to continue to trimming the tusks of a topiary elephant situated across from the flower beds. You all take a look around the grounds, Silvosh particularly interested, and notice that not only are all the flowers very colourful, being the vibrant kind which pollinators would flock to, but dotted around the gardens are large topiary creations, each depicting different animals; the elephant the gardener is trimming, a seal balancing a ball on it's snout, a tiger leaping through a hoop, three doves flying out of an oversized top hat, and far more.

Abathax looks at all the interesting decorations, so different from his home plane where people didn't have time for these kind of things. But also knowing that on this plane this will most likely mean someone with money lives there. Now he is not necessarily in this for money, but money can be used to equip one better and that's something that's always good be thinks. 

Quote from Shiverquill >>

 The most you can decipher is 'M__OG____Y H__OS_ -__54'

'Ah. You're early. Head on in, the door's never locked with me around. And before you go floating off with inflated egos, the streamers aren't for your arrival either. Brimbul likes to keep the place merry.'

"I feel safer already with you around, old man. You must be working security," Abishai responds and then continues, "Gardening just a hobby I take it? I'm glad you clarified the decor. It's natural to presume the red carpet would be rolled out for us."

As Abishai walks up to the door his curiosity is peaked and asks Silvosh, "Would you mind giving me a boost above the door? I'd like to read what that inscription says."

Ssha has been following the others, the general quiet brute of the group observing the town… his mind in the underground of the tavern mostly, as any yuanti has a suspicious nose for accult and torturous stylings of activity…. It is the childhood they all leave; the brood nest of their vert existence… and so on principle of detesting excessive ideology and pageantry,  A red carpet would have made Ssha very upset in fact… 

”let uss ssssee what this patron wants with us; I for my part enjoy a good hunt, and the glory of the killing of something deserving death… we all come to an end, and that many have come to theirs at my hand, is the honor I seek” *taking the rear flank of the group most of the time in public to not scare locals excessively* 

The old man bitterly chuckles at Abishai's questions, and continues to tend to the gardens. The inscription is a whopping 15 feet up the wall, the whole house coming in at around 35 feet tall, so even if Abishai got a boost from Silvosh, he'd struggle to reach it, particularly as he'd have to lean over the porch to do so.

"On second thought, it's probably too high to reach." Abishai comes to the realization he would be short a few feet even with Silvosh's assistance. He thinks about asking Wendell for help using magic of some kind, but looks to the group to see if anyone else is as curious as he is to see what it says. If it looks like Abishai is alone with his curiosity he'll fall in line with the rest and enter the home even though he knows he has another trick up his sleeve to complete this task, but unwilling to use it just yet.

As Abishai walks past the gardener he says to the old man, "Your garden is quite lovely old man. It brings more joy to this world than all the streamers that could ever be hung. I'm impressed with your artistic talent."

Aralia, seeing that Abishai is having trouble and finding herself curious as well, walks over. "Need some help?"

Quote from EmileTherese >>

Aralia, seeing that Abishai is having trouble and finding herself curious as well, walks over. "Need some help?"

 "By all means." Abishai steps aside as Aralia walks over and gestures to the inscription above the door. "I'd love some."

Aralia nods, examining the area around the inscription for anything she might be able to climb or grab onto with Athletics/Acrobatics.