(OOC: we'll presume this interaction to have happened before Eltras)
"Hmm? What? Oh yes. If harder to hit is what you want, than you'll want the bracers of defense I have. But if you want a little protection from being hit, and a little from hostile magics - say the kind a lizard shaman might use - then you'll want either a ring or a cloak of protection." He explains. "I don't make these, son, I'm a weaponsmith, but we get a few special items like these from Waterdeep now and then. You're getting them at quite the bargain - well, I suppose YOU are getting them for free. I should say Morwen is getting the bargain, I guess. By way of Reyna. By way of Feydon," he guffaws. "So be sure to thank that son-of-a-*****!" His laughing continues. Morwen's eyes can be seen visibly rolling.
Gus - Oh then a ring or cloak would be most useful and thank you again master dwarf. And thank you Lady Morwen, master Feydon and mistress Reyna.
Always ignored by those oxygen thieves….Eltra tosses the cloak over at Jek “Honestly who sleeps at the table during dinner. Here you big oaf“
"Hmm-? whoa!" once again as he is startled awake his chair is in precarious danger of falling backward, but this time despite all the hand waving and wild spastic gesturing to move his center of mass forward, the cloak proves to be just the right weight to tip him the other way. "Ahh!" you hear him cry out as his chair lands with a thunderous crash, amplified by the sound of his metal armor clanging against the tiles as he skids out backward along the floor, on his back, like some kind of well-aimed Ice Hurling puck, and thanks to the layers of wax polish on the floor, he doesn't stop until his head smashes into a vase filled with dried flowers, causing it in turn to fall onto his face.
The dwarf sputters and groans, dried Evergold spewing from his mouth and nostrils. Just as he's about to collect himself he's overcome with a fit of sneezing so violent he falls back down onto his backside again. "Evergold??" He says and sneezes again. "Why did it have to be Evergold!?" he cries, sneezing uncontrollably. It's not for at least a full minute or two that he's returned to the table. His eyes firmly locked onto Eltra's the entire time, while he gathers his chair, sets it back up, and reseats himself. Finally composed, he raises a finger to point at the old gnome and then is overcome with another fit of sneezing. "I- achoo! I- achoo! Don't need your damned - achoo! Cloak - achoo! I've got some already -achoo! Enchanted!"
Kelson, Darfin, and even Morwen are clearly struggling to refrain from laughing. Delfen, however, hasn't bothered to refrain himself. Though his laugh is subtle and almost wheezy in nature, it continues on well past the time the dwarf has finished sneezing. It isn't until Jekk finally moves his glare from Eltra to Delfen that the wizard goes silent - not all at once, but gradually. Once quiet, he resumes his glare at Eltra. "So I'll take it that's one cloak of protection for the gnome with no manners?" he nearly shouts. "Great then. One cloak of protection for the rudest gnome on Toril, coming right up. I'll get right on that, yesirree. Hmph." He brushes off the remaining Evergold flakes from his armor, sneezing one final time, then, putting his helmet on, resumes his reclined position and within moments can be heard snoring once again.
(OOC: we'll presume this interaction to have happened before Eltras)
"Hmm? What? Oh yes. If harder to hit is what you want, than you'll want the bracers of defense I have. But if you want a little protection from being hit, and a little from hostile magics - say the kind a lizard shaman might use - then you'll want either a ring or a cloak of protection." He explains. "I don't make these, son, I'm a weaponsmith, but we get a few special items like these from Waterdeep now and then. You're getting them at quite the bargain - well, I suppose YOU are getting them for free. I should say Morwen is getting the bargain, I guess. By way of Reyna. By way of Feydon," he guffaws. "So be sure to thank that son-of-a-*****!" His laughing continues. Morwen's eyes can be seen visibly rolling.
Gus - Oh then a ring or cloak would be most useful and thank you again master dwarf. And thank you Lady Morwen, master Feydon and mistress Reyna.
The dwarf's laughing comes to a slow stop. His eyebrow arches. "Thank them indeed," he mutters, frustrated that his 'hilarious' joke was misunderstood. Then he sizes you up. "You look like a ring kind of fellow. I'll get you a ring of protection then (almost imperceptibly under his breath: "those are cheaper anyway, even if they do the same thing.")
Gus will excuse himself, grabbing a plate of bread, cheese and some extra meat for him and Cleo. He'll look for a steward to escort him back to the rooms. In route he'll ask, thank you for showing us back to the rooms, I was wondering, would you or one of the other stewards have a set of clothing you might be willing to part with? Nothing fancy, something suitable for exploring a swamp? he chuckles to himself, I'm exploring a swamp looking for a lizard lich, facing a score of shamans and a hundred warriors. I might have bitten off more than I can chew. What do you madame Cloe?
When the dwarf went skidding across the floor, Dawn jumped up to dash over to him and make sure he was uninjured. Unfortunately, there wasn't much she could do about allergies...
"Mr.Jekk, I would greatly appreciate a ring of protection if you have one. While I am deft in the use of a dagger, I prefer to keep some distance between myself and my target."
Gus will excuse himself, grabbing a plate of bread, cheese and some extra meat for him and Cleo. He'll look for a steward to escort him back to the rooms. In route he'll ask, thank you for showing us back to the rooms, I was wondering, would you or one of the other stewards have a set of clothing you might be willing to part with? Nothing fancy, something suitable for exploring a swamp? he chuckles to himself, I'm exploring a swamp looking for a lizard lich, facing a score of shamans and a hundred warriors. I might have bitten off more than I can chew. What do you madame Cloe?
You reach your room, but not until you are reassured by the servant that there will be spare clothing suitable for a swamp in the supplies prepared for you. The servant bows, them departs as you enter inside. Madame Cleo meows as she resumes her reposed position on the bed, but in her meow you feel a renewed confidence that everything will work itself out. You don't have to kill a single lizardman - you just have to count them, read some navigational instrument every night, and make it back in one piece. That there might be a lizardman lich out there is hard not to feel concerned about. But then, you had heard things to suggest he is a bit more complex than just being set on wanton destruction. Having asked for trading rights apparently bodes something approaching well. Maybe he can even be engaged in a parlay? There's also the hope of an experienced warrior joining you at Crom's Hold. Your mind wanders to the geas 'mythal' that was cast, retracing what you could of it as you fall asleep.
Bree decides to eat as well, savoring the bread with spiced fruit spreads as one of her favorites.
"I hope I can resupply some of the spices I keep in my travel pack." She says to the other adventurers.
Overhearing this, Morwen mumbles something about making sure there will be plenty of spices in your things tomorrow, before excusing herself at last. The food is delicious indeed. You can't help but wonder what will be here in the morning as you're overtaken by a yawn.
On hearing your request for a ring of protection, and having recovered from his skid across the floor - the only thing having been hurt in the process being his ego - the middle-aged dwarf nods his agreement. "Indeed," he says. "You'll get a ring of protection then," he booms, looking where Morwen exited to make sure she heard it.
When the dwarf went skidding across the floor, Dawn jumped up to dash over to him and make sure he was uninjured. Unfortunately, there wasn't much she could do about allergies...
The sputtering Dwarf waves Dawn away as she nears; she gets close enough beforehand to see that the only thing injured is his pride. She tries to conceal her own smile, after seeing everyone else's, and resumes her seat.
Bree decides to use the heated bath and then retire to her room for the night. once in her room she spends two hours reading the book on the High Forest fauna and flora before going to sleep.
Hnefa yawns. "Tired" she says, after having eaten more than any three members of the group combined. She lumbers out of the room back towards the suites. "You will take me back to my room," her voice can be heard from the hall, followed by an obsequious "Of course, ma'am." Her thundering footsteps then fade.
Listening to her depart, Kelson frowns. "Not so great on stealth, that one," he mutters. "I've got something that might help her with that. I just need to see about getting them resized," he adds to himself. He then departs the room bidding anyone left a fond farewell but reassuring them that he'll be there in the morning to see them off and answer any last questions they have about the swamps.
Bree decides to use the heated bath and then retire to her room for the night. once in her room she spends two hours reading the book on the High Forest fauna and flora before going to sleep.
The bath is soothing and nearly lulls you to sleep before you make it back to your room. But you do, and you get a couple of hours into what is proving to be a very educational - if not exciting - book. Then you find yourself in dreamland for the evening, playing out the way dreamland always does, shifting sceneries, and characters. You get the sense that time has passed and then are reminded for some reason of the horrifying scream that came from Feydon the Cold - you look around the dreamscape but can't see anyone in pain. Until suddenly, its ALL you can see - his taught spine this time audibly cracking as his screams bring you back awake. Heart pounding, you look around, and everything is as it was. You are back in your room, and all is well. The light coming in from the window at the edge of the room speaks of early dawn. Then you remember what Morwen had said about the morning spread. Your stomach growls with this thought in anticipation of what treats there will be this time.
(+75 XP for having been involved in a strategy session with such famous people where you also talked yourself into getting better weapons and protections, and another +25 for talking yourself into getting better magical help other than just scrolls of 'Non-Magical Jar Mk. II - that make 645 total for everyone, I'll do it, but if you notice you're not at 645, you can go ahead and adjust it so that you are).
EDIT: I have to go over it myself I'm getting confused, but I'm pretty sure its correct to be at 645 because everyone is at 545 now, and it'd be weird that everyone would be 'wrong' somehow. I may have added too much at one point, but I think it'll add up either way. Regardless, you're at 645 - if I screwed up then you get the difference for having endured a DM that doesn't know what they're doing with virtual TTRPG shit lol).
(OOC: given that there's nothing else to do tonight but go to sleep, and given there's an extra interaction for her in the morning, I'm going to go ahead and advance things to morning for Dawn, but PLEASE FEEL FREE to role-play what she did in the evening; did she take a bath, like Bree? Did she read anything? etc. It won't impact the following though).
Dawn finds her dreams to be unusually bizarre. Images of dwarves skidding across rooms, of guards beating helpless, chained prisoners just for shits and giggles, and the ever-haunting scream that came out of Feydon's soul play into your dreamscape in ways that keep ruining what otherwise would have been pleasant images of delicious foods, and the thought of seeing what sunrise will be like from atop the temple of Lathander here in Daggerford. She awakens to the sound of screaming, however.
Blinking, she nearly hops out of bed to grab a weapon when she realizes that it was just a remnant from her dream. Everything is fine. There is still only darkness coming in from the room's window, however, so you lie back down for a moment to collect your thoughts.
Just as you do so, a knocking is heard at your door.
"Just a moment," you reflexively call out, as you hurriedly get dressed into your robes. Answering the door, you are shocked to see Sir Isteval standing there, himself wearing his priestly robes as well. He's carrying a small tray with pastries on them, as well as a mug of what smells like some kind of fragrant tea.
"Forgive me, Dawn, I hope I'm not disturbing you. But I thought you might like to attend morning prayer at the temple - something I never miss. It was only a short walk to come and escort you there... plus," he looks at the pastry and smiles. "It gave me an excuse to eat several of these already. They're from Morwen's spread downstairs - I thought these might tide you over until after prayers. Shall we head over? It'll start in about a quarter hour, so there's not much time to dally, I'm afraid."
A voice from behind him suddenly sounds. "Excuse me, Sir Isteval, I am bid to escort the guest to the temple of Lathander." Turning his body reveals a servant of no more than 18 standing anxiously in the hall, but then he sees you and seems to relax. "Oh," is all he can say.
"It looks like I beat you to it son. It's okay, I can take it from here." He pats the boy on the shoulder with his free arm, then produces a silver coin for him holding it out for him to take.
The boy's eyes widen, and he looks to the knight as if to say 'are you sure?'. The man only smiles and nods. The boy then takes the coin and bows. "Thank you, kindly, Sir Isteval." He briefly bows in your direction as well. "Ma'am," he says, then departs.
The knight turns back to you. "Now, where were we... ah yes. Shall we head over?"
OOC: did Jekk ever acknowledge her request for a magic item? She was one the first to make her request.
Dawn didn’t do much that evening. She had already cleaned up. And once she climbed into that very comfortable bed, she fell asleep before she could read. She even missed turning out the light.
In the morning after opening the door and seeing who was knocking, she bowed and said, “Thank you very much Sir Isteval! I’m ready to go .”
On the way, she ate the pastries that Sir Isteval had brought for her, being careful not to get crumbs on her robes.
(OOC: Do you prefer we roll that way vs. rolling on our character sheets and reporting the results here? Those rolls are visible in the campaign game log.)
While Dawn has a weapon back in her room, she uses it more for eating than fighting. "I don't really use weapons, so a ring or a cloak sounds ideal. That way I'm more likely to be available to heal the others."
(OOC oh sorry - I wasn't aware we could roll right on our sheets and it would show. Uhm, it might be easier to drop them in chat, but if you're doing it that way, and given that I can look it up if I want, that is fine really.)
Jekk: "Ok then - which would you prefer? They do the same thing really. I think. Not so mysteriously named - Cloak of Protection and Ring of Protection..."
(OOC: yeah, sorry I forgot that this was never answered -- Jekk had asked you to pick which, because you mentioned a cloak or a ring - you can go ahead and just add whichever one you wanted, and we'll presume you told him so; I can see how this could've been missed it was a one line response stuck between walls of text lol)
OOC: did Jekk ever acknowledge her request for a magic item? She was one the first to make her request.
Dawn didn’t do much that evening. She had already cleaned up. And once she climbed into that very comfortable bed, she fell asleep before she could read. She even missed turning out the light.
In the morning after opening the door and seeing who was knocking, she bowed and said, “Thank you very much Sir Isteval! I’m ready to go .”
On the way, she ate the pastries that Sir Isteval had brought for her, being careful not to get crumbs on her robes.
“Good. Don’t worry, we’ll be back before the other’s are even awake, most likely - and then you can join them for breakfast,” after you choose a selection of pastries using a cloth napkin on the tray to successfully keep crumbs from your robe, he smiles and sets the tray down onto a stand outside the door that seems meant precisely for trays to be picked up because it fits perfectly. It’s only then you notice that he has a cane that had been obscured by the platter, resting against his leg. He grabs it with the arm that had been holding the plate, and the two of you begin the journey toward the temple. He’s clearly become accustomed to the use of a cane for some time, as it hardly slows him down, but it's also clear that he’d have difficulty walking without it. What kind of frightful creature might have wounded him in such a way that he’d permanently need the assistance of a cane despite being at most 60 years of age, you can’t help but wonder. You have a feeling, based on what you know of him, that it might have been a dragon. That he’s battled dragons is well known, but how many, and what color they were, you can’t recall. Even if you could, you couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t just fanciful tales that had grown with time, as the man next to you feels far too… vulnerable… too gentle a soul, to have slain a dragon. Or even have survived battle with one. Not that you doubt his courage or skill, you just have a hard time reconciling the image of the man who had shed a tear while watching Feydon scream, with someone that could lift a sword in anger, doing battle with fearsome creatures, despite their malign intentions. You get the sense that perhaps he missed his calling - perhaps he should have followed the path you are on instead. And you get the sense that he feels so as well.
The first light of dawn casts a soft, golden glow over Daggerford as Sir Isteval steps out of the castle gates, his warrior-priest robes of Lathander flowing gently in the cool morning breeze. The pale rose and gold embroidery glimmers faintly, catching the light of the rising sun. You walk beside him, your expression serene but eager. You can’t help but clutch your holy symbol—a golden sunburst—close to your chest, feeling your heart beating with anticipation of the scene that awaits you in the temple. Never before have you been an honored guest in a temple to the Morninglord, nor in attendance with such a renown devotee.
The streets of Daggerford are quiet, the town still waking. A few early risers nod respectfully as you pass, recognizing the warrior-priest and marveling at you, his celestial companion. Sir Isteval offers a warm smile and a gentle word of blessing to those you meet, his deep voice carrying a quiet authority that puts even the most nervous townsfolk at ease.
Breaking the silence between you, Sir Isteval frowns a little. “I… hope I didn’t embarrass you last night. I should have known that you would likely not have had much reason to know the High Radiance. Hells, I barely know her. But then, I’m not a full priest - I’ve been granted the honorary role of a priest to Lathander in this town, but in any other it wouldn’t be proper for me to wear this garb. That I worship Lathander at all is a carryover from my youth, where I earned my reputation as a Paladin of Amauntor. With him gone,” he sighs. “Well, I shouldn’t say gone. Merely, changed, I suppose. And not for the worse, I must add. In his new aspect, I’ve found, he’s lost much of the edge that he once had - there was a hardness to Amauntor that never settled well with me, if I’m honest. But when he… changed, I feel that I did too. In much the same way.”
(You get the sense that he's waiting for you to respond about whether or not he'd embarrassed you)
When everyone heads to bed Eltra follows suit having eaten his fill. He’d take nice hot bath and read one of the books about the north before going to bed. He’d read until he was tired, get his solid 7-8, and wake up at sunrise to record the days happenings in his journal. If there’s time before breakfast he’d read the book some more.
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Always ignored by those oxygen thieves….Eltra tosses the cloak over at Jek “Honestly who sleeps at the table during dinner. Here you big oaf“
Gus - Oh then a ring or cloak would be most useful and thank you again master dwarf. And thank you Lady Morwen, master Feydon and mistress Reyna.
"Hmm-? whoa!" once again as he is startled awake his chair is in precarious danger of falling backward, but this time despite all the hand waving and wild spastic gesturing to move his center of mass forward, the cloak proves to be just the right weight to tip him the other way. "Ahh!" you hear him cry out as his chair lands with a thunderous crash, amplified by the sound of his metal armor clanging against the tiles as he skids out backward along the floor, on his back, like some kind of well-aimed Ice Hurling puck, and thanks to the layers of wax polish on the floor, he doesn't stop until his head smashes into a vase filled with dried flowers, causing it in turn to fall onto his face.
The dwarf sputters and groans, dried Evergold spewing from his mouth and nostrils. Just as he's about to collect himself he's overcome with a fit of sneezing so violent he falls back down onto his backside again. "Evergold??" He says and sneezes again. "Why did it have to be Evergold!?" he cries, sneezing uncontrollably. It's not for at least a full minute or two that he's returned to the table. His eyes firmly locked onto Eltra's the entire time, while he gathers his chair, sets it back up, and reseats himself. Finally composed, he raises a finger to point at the old gnome and then is overcome with another fit of sneezing. "I- achoo! I- achoo! Don't need your damned - achoo! Cloak - achoo! I've got some already -achoo! Enchanted!"
Kelson, Darfin, and even Morwen are clearly struggling to refrain from laughing. Delfen, however, hasn't bothered to refrain himself. Though his laugh is subtle and almost wheezy in nature, it continues on well past the time the dwarf has finished sneezing. It isn't until Jekk finally moves his glare from Eltra to Delfen that the wizard goes silent - not all at once, but gradually. Once quiet, he resumes his glare at Eltra. "So I'll take it that's one cloak of protection for the gnome with no manners?" he nearly shouts. "Great then. One cloak of protection for the rudest gnome on Toril, coming right up. I'll get right on that, yesirree. Hmph." He brushes off the remaining Evergold flakes from his armor, sneezing one final time, then, putting his helmet on, resumes his reclined position and within moments can be heard snoring once again.
The dwarf's laughing comes to a slow stop. His eyebrow arches. "Thank them indeed," he mutters, frustrated that his 'hilarious' joke was misunderstood. Then he sizes you up. "You look like a ring kind of fellow. I'll get you a ring of protection then (almost imperceptibly under his breath: "those are cheaper anyway, even if they do the same thing.")
Gus will excuse himself, grabbing a plate of bread, cheese and some extra meat for him and Cleo. He'll look for a steward to escort him back to the rooms. In route he'll ask, thank you for showing us back to the rooms, I was wondering, would you or one of the other stewards have a set of clothing you might be willing to part with? Nothing fancy, something suitable for exploring a swamp? he chuckles to himself, I'm exploring a swamp looking for a lizard lich, facing a score of shamans and a hundred warriors. I might have bitten off more than I can chew. What do you madame Cloe?
Bree decides to eat as well, savoring the bread with spiced fruit spreads as one of her favorites.
"I hope I can resupply some of the spices I keep in my travel pack." She says to the other adventurers.
When the dwarf went skidding across the floor, Dawn jumped up to dash over to him and make sure he was uninjured. Unfortunately, there wasn't much she could do about allergies...
Bree having finished eating goes to Jekk
"Mr.Jekk, I would greatly appreciate a ring of protection if you have one. While I am deft in the use of a dagger, I prefer to keep some distance between myself and my target."
You reach your room, but not until you are reassured by the servant that there will be spare clothing suitable for a swamp in the supplies prepared for you. The servant bows, them departs as you enter inside. Madame Cleo meows as she resumes her reposed position on the bed, but in her meow you feel a renewed confidence that everything will work itself out. You don't have to kill a single lizardman - you just have to count them, read some navigational instrument every night, and make it back in one piece. That there might be a lizardman lich out there is hard not to feel concerned about. But then, you had heard things to suggest he is a bit more complex than just being set on wanton destruction. Having asked for trading rights apparently bodes something approaching well. Maybe he can even be engaged in a parlay? There's also the hope of an experienced warrior joining you at Crom's Hold. Your mind wanders to the geas 'mythal' that was cast, retracing what you could of it as you fall asleep.
Overhearing this, Morwen mumbles something about making sure there will be plenty of spices in your things tomorrow, before excusing herself at last. The food is delicious indeed. You can't help but wonder what will be here in the morning as you're overtaken by a yawn.
On hearing your request for a ring of protection, and having recovered from his skid across the floor - the only thing having been hurt in the process being his ego - the middle-aged dwarf nods his agreement. "Indeed," he says. "You'll get a ring of protection then," he booms, looking where Morwen exited to make sure she heard it.
The sputtering Dwarf waves Dawn away as she nears; she gets close enough beforehand to see that the only thing injured is his pride. She tries to conceal her own smile, after seeing everyone else's, and resumes her seat.
Bree decides to use the heated bath and then retire to her room for the night. once in her room she spends two hours reading the book on the High Forest fauna and flora before going to sleep.
Hnefa yawns. "Tired" she says, after having eaten more than any three members of the group combined. She lumbers out of the room back towards the suites. "You will take me back to my room," her voice can be heard from the hall, followed by an obsequious "Of course, ma'am." Her thundering footsteps then fade.
Listening to her depart, Kelson frowns. "Not so great on stealth, that one," he mutters. "I've got something that might help her with that. I just need to see about getting them resized," he adds to himself. He then departs the room bidding anyone left a fond farewell but reassuring them that he'll be there in the morning to see them off and answer any last questions they have about the swamps.
The bath is soothing and nearly lulls you to sleep before you make it back to your room. But you do, and you get a couple of hours into what is proving to be a very educational - if not exciting - book. Then you find yourself in dreamland for the evening, playing out the way dreamland always does, shifting sceneries, and characters. You get the sense that time has passed and then are reminded for some reason of the horrifying scream that came from Feydon the Cold - you look around the dreamscape but can't see anyone in pain. Until suddenly, its ALL you can see - his taught spine this time audibly cracking as his screams bring you back awake. Heart pounding, you look around, and everything is as it was. You are back in your room, and all is well. The light coming in from the window at the edge of the room speaks of early dawn. Then you remember what Morwen had said about the morning spread. Your stomach growls with this thought in anticipation of what treats there will be this time.
(+75 XP for having been involved in a strategy session with such famous people where you also talked yourself into getting better weapons and protections, and another +25 for talking yourself into getting better magical help other than just scrolls of 'Non-Magical Jar Mk. II - that make 645 total for everyone, I'll do it, but if you notice you're not at 645, you can go ahead and adjust it so that you are).
EDIT: I have to go over it myself I'm getting confused, but I'm pretty sure its correct to be at 645 because everyone is at 545 now, and it'd be weird that everyone would be 'wrong' somehow. I may have added too much at one point, but I think it'll add up either way. Regardless, you're at 645 - if I screwed up then you get the difference for having endured a DM that doesn't know what they're doing with virtual TTRPG shit lol).
(OOC: given that there's nothing else to do tonight but go to sleep, and given there's an extra interaction for her in the morning, I'm going to go ahead and advance things to morning for Dawn, but PLEASE FEEL FREE to role-play what she did in the evening; did she take a bath, like Bree? Did she read anything? etc. It won't impact the following though).
Dawn finds her dreams to be unusually bizarre. Images of dwarves skidding across rooms, of guards beating helpless, chained prisoners just for shits and giggles, and the ever-haunting scream that came out of Feydon's soul play into your dreamscape in ways that keep ruining what otherwise would have been pleasant images of delicious foods, and the thought of seeing what sunrise will be like from atop the temple of Lathander here in Daggerford. She awakens to the sound of screaming, however.
Blinking, she nearly hops out of bed to grab a weapon when she realizes that it was just a remnant from her dream. Everything is fine. There is still only darkness coming in from the room's window, however, so you lie back down for a moment to collect your thoughts.
Just as you do so, a knocking is heard at your door.
"Just a moment," you reflexively call out, as you hurriedly get dressed into your robes. Answering the door, you are shocked to see Sir Isteval standing there, himself wearing his priestly robes as well. He's carrying a small tray with pastries on them, as well as a mug of what smells like some kind of fragrant tea.
"Forgive me, Dawn, I hope I'm not disturbing you. But I thought you might like to attend morning prayer at the temple - something I never miss. It was only a short walk to come and escort you there... plus," he looks at the pastry and smiles. "It gave me an excuse to eat several of these already. They're from Morwen's spread downstairs - I thought these might tide you over until after prayers. Shall we head over? It'll start in about a quarter hour, so there's not much time to dally, I'm afraid."
A voice from behind him suddenly sounds. "Excuse me, Sir Isteval, I am bid to escort the guest to the temple of Lathander." Turning his body reveals a servant of no more than 18 standing anxiously in the hall, but then he sees you and seems to relax. "Oh," is all he can say.
"It looks like I beat you to it son. It's okay, I can take it from here." He pats the boy on the shoulder with his free arm, then produces a silver coin for him holding it out for him to take.
The boy's eyes widen, and he looks to the knight as if to say 'are you sure?'. The man only smiles and nods. The boy then takes the coin and bows. "Thank you, kindly, Sir Isteval." He briefly bows in your direction as well. "Ma'am," he says, then departs.
The knight turns back to you. "Now, where were we... ah yes. Shall we head over?"
OOC: did Jekk ever acknowledge her request for a magic item? She was one the first to make her request.
Dawn didn’t do much that evening. She had already cleaned up. And once she climbed into that very comfortable bed, she fell asleep before she could read. She even missed turning out the light.
In the morning after opening the door and seeing who was knocking, she bowed and said, “Thank you very much Sir Isteval! I’m ready to go .”
On the way, she ate the pastries that Sir Isteval had brought for her, being careful not to get crumbs on her robes.
(OOC: yeah, sorry I forgot that this was never answered -- Jekk had asked you to pick which, because you mentioned a cloak or a ring - you can go ahead and just add whichever one you wanted, and we'll presume you told him so; I can see how this could've been missed it was a one line response stuck between walls of text lol)
“Good. Don’t worry, we’ll be back before the other’s are even awake, most likely - and then you can join them for breakfast,” after you choose a selection of pastries using a cloth napkin on the tray to successfully keep crumbs from your robe, he smiles and sets the tray down onto a stand outside the door that seems meant precisely for trays to be picked up because it fits perfectly. It’s only then you notice that he has a cane that had been obscured by the platter, resting against his leg. He grabs it with the arm that had been holding the plate, and the two of you begin the journey toward the temple. He’s clearly become accustomed to the use of a cane for some time, as it hardly slows him down, but it's also clear that he’d have difficulty walking without it. What kind of frightful creature might have wounded him in such a way that he’d permanently need the assistance of a cane despite being at most 60 years of age, you can’t help but wonder. You have a feeling, based on what you know of him, that it might have been a dragon. That he’s battled dragons is well known, but how many, and what color they were, you can’t recall. Even if you could, you couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t just fanciful tales that had grown with time, as the man next to you feels far too… vulnerable… too gentle a soul, to have slain a dragon. Or even have survived battle with one. Not that you doubt his courage or skill, you just have a hard time reconciling the image of the man who had shed a tear while watching Feydon scream, with someone that could lift a sword in anger, doing battle with fearsome creatures, despite their malign intentions. You get the sense that perhaps he missed his calling - perhaps he should have followed the path you are on instead. And you get the sense that he feels so as well.
The first light of dawn casts a soft, golden glow over Daggerford as Sir Isteval steps out of the castle gates, his warrior-priest robes of Lathander flowing gently in the cool morning breeze. The pale rose and gold embroidery glimmers faintly, catching the light of the rising sun. You walk beside him, your expression serene but eager. You can’t help but clutch your holy symbol—a golden sunburst—close to your chest, feeling your heart beating with anticipation of the scene that awaits you in the temple. Never before have you been an honored guest in a temple to the Morninglord, nor in attendance with such a renown devotee.
The streets of Daggerford are quiet, the town still waking. A few early risers nod respectfully as you pass, recognizing the warrior-priest and marveling at you, his celestial companion. Sir Isteval offers a warm smile and a gentle word of blessing to those you meet, his deep voice carrying a quiet authority that puts even the most nervous townsfolk at ease.
Breaking the silence between you, Sir Isteval frowns a little. “I… hope I didn’t embarrass you last night. I should have known that you would likely not have had much reason to know the High Radiance. Hells, I barely know her. But then, I’m not a full priest - I’ve been granted the honorary role of a priest to Lathander in this town, but in any other it wouldn’t be proper for me to wear this garb. That I worship Lathander at all is a carryover from my youth, where I earned my reputation as a Paladin of Amauntor. With him gone,” he sighs. “Well, I shouldn’t say gone. Merely, changed, I suppose. And not for the worse, I must add. In his new aspect, I’ve found, he’s lost much of the edge that he once had - there was a hardness to Amauntor that never settled well with me, if I’m honest. But when he… changed, I feel that I did too. In much the same way.”
(You get the sense that he's waiting for you to respond about whether or not he'd embarrassed you)
When everyone heads to bed Eltra follows suit having eaten his fill. He’d take nice hot bath and read one of the books about the north before going to bed. He’d read until he was tired, get his solid 7-8, and wake up at sunrise to record the days happenings in his journal. If there’s time before breakfast he’d read the book some more.