Then Bjorn, seeing that the troll is dead, and a Stirge is troubling Yagra, will point at the stirge, and "oh, your askin' for it!" As he walks over, his spear in hand. He rolled a 19 to hit in game log, so Bjorn will thrust his spear foward, the spear end going directly through the stirge, dealing 3 damage.
Ryder glances over at Yagra, noting the way she sways on her feet—she’s barely holding herself together. Meanwhile, Abishai watches as Durnan moves with practiced urgency, grabbing oil from a nearby lamp. It suddenly clicks—Durnan isn’t taking any chances. Without hesitation, he douses the fallen troll and sets it ablaze, ensuring it won’t rise again before having his staff drag it back to the well where it belongs.
Turning to the group, Durnan offers a rare nod of appreciation. "You fought well, thanks for stepping up against these creatures... I got your tab for today. Don't even worry about it." With that, he returns to the bar, barking orders at his employees to get the tavern back in order.
Before long, the Yawning Portal is alive once more—drinks are poured, songs are sung, and the excitement of battle becomes just another tale for the patrons to tell. Every familiar face in the tavern checks in on each of you, making sure you're still in one piece.
Sooner than later, you find yourselves gathered around a table, plates of food and tankards of ale set before you—all covered by Durnan. The night moves on, but the weight of what just happened lingers.
Josef settles back down in a seat, enjoys the food and drink, well the City of Splendor certainly doesn't fall short on adventure and surprises does it?
As the troll falls to the ground, Murgen slumps against the well clutching his side where the stirge had bit him. Grunting his hand glows slightly as his wound begins to heal (Lay on hands for 2pts of healing). He sheaths his weapons and stumbles forwards just as Durnan and Abishai ignite the troll. Cursing, Murgen stumbles back from the blaze, still too dazed to understand what is happening for a moment before nodding to them in thanks. He follows the others over to Yagra and quickly checks over her wounds, "You really are a glutton for punishment you know?" He chuckles as his hands glow once more, trying to heal the worst of her wounds (Using 2 more lay on hands). "Any reason those thugs were after you? I ain't seen them around before. New crew or just some lowlife's I've somehow avoided having the pleasure of meeting before?"
Once Yagra is patched up, Murgen limps back over to the bar and tanks Durnan for the drinks. "Can't have thugs roughing up a fellow merc. And if a troll trashed this place I'd need to go somewhere else to drink." He waves off an old client as they come over to chat. Grabbing another ale from the barkeep and mulled wine for Abishai, Murgen makes his way over to the mage. Offering him the drink, Murgen then pulls up a stool and sits down. "My thanks! Dying to an oversized mosquito was not how I wanted to go. Murgen's the name," he rasps as he offers his hand to the elf. As he leans back, Murgen notices Josef sitting nearby and motions for him to join them. "Good call on the oil for that troll. Nasty creature that was."
Bjorn walks around the tavern, asking for pen and paper. He also seems to have forgotten about the dead stirge on his spear shaft. Bjorn will also approach Yagra. "It might be best to head off to a medic, with wounds like those." If he has gotten some paper, than he will present a crude drawing of some of the bandits. "Do you have any recollection of who these people are?"
Grabbing another ale from the barkeep and mulled wine for Abishai, Murgen makes his way over to the mage. Offering him the drink, Murgen then pulls up a stool and sits down. "My thanks! Dying to an oversized mosquito was not how I wanted to go. Murgen's the name," he rasps as he offers his hand to the elf.
He accepts the glass of wine from Murgen with a nod of thanks and shakes his hand before responding, "A pleasure. My name is Abishai. Those creatures are quite foul. You handled yourself well back there and those healing talents are quite impressive. I've tried learning how to cast that magic but I've never been able to grasp the correct cantations."
Bjorn walks around the tavern, asking for pen and paper.
Abishai offers Bjorn a single sheet of paper from his book and provides him with his quill and ink. "I'll be wanting these back when you're done, if you please." He says, referring to his quill and ink.
As soon as the troll is ablaze, Ryder continues to crouch, ready, in case the bandits try to strike again. It was weird, he had to admit, to be fighting alongsidea member of the city watch. The draw weight of his bow made the scars on his back ache, and he winced a little, even though he hadn't been wounded. Crossing to the table, he mutters quietly, "I'm sorry I couldn't do more back there. My bow usually does more damage then that."
Yagra sinks into a chair and grabs a drink as if quenching her thirst is more urgent than tending to her wounds. With a wry smile, she confides in Murgen and Bjorn, “Do I know them? Not personally, but they’re Xanathar’s… tensions have been growing with some of my latest employers.” Murgen’s eyes narrow in understanding, recalling the whispers about her ties with the Zhents—a common thread among Waterdeep’s mercenaries. Bjorn’s concern is evident, but Yagra offers only a brief nod before turning back to her drink, determined not to dwell on the pain.
Before everyone can settle back at their familiar tables, someone pushes through the tide of returning patrons. His tone is both urgent and admiring as he declares, “You be adventurers, am I right? I saw you!—working together against those monsters. I’ve never seen such bravery; you took down that beast like a well-rehearsed symphony. I could really use your help with something pressing. Let’s find a table to talk, shall we?”
Abishai thinks for a moment, 'Yes, this is what I hoped for. An opportunity to join a group in search of powerful artifacts and gain experience with my magical craft.' However, his thought changes to one of disappointment as Bjorn responds first. 'Curse the city watch for stepping in so quickly, but maybe there's still an opportunity here.' Abishai stands, intent on following this newcomer. He clears his throat before speaking, "I'm sure the city watch has enough to worry about. Perhaps us adventurers will be better suited to the task at hand." He gestures towards the rest of the individuals gathered.
Abishai then waits to be led by the newcomer to a table of his choosing.
Abishai puts the palm of his hand on his face as Ryder tells this stranger he's not an adventurer and wonders if this newcomer will overlook the lack of experience in the group and trust us anyways with his quest. "I think what my friend here meant to say is, please, lead the way, let's talk."
Josef listens to the newcomer, Adventurer? Sure why not. Yes friend, lead on and tell us your tale. A maiden to rescue? A monster to vanquish? Or perhaps, an ancient relic to recover from the cult of the dead three?
Once you find a table big enough for everyone the figure who approached you sits down, strokes his mustache, adjusts his floppy hat, and tightens his scarf. “Volothamp Geddarm, chronicler, wizard, and celebrity, at your service. I trust you’ve noted the violence in our fair city these past tendays. I haven’t seen so much blood since my last visit to Baldur’s Gate! But now I fear I have misplaced a friend amid this odious malevolence.
“My friend’s name is Floon Blagmaar. He’s got more beauty than brains, and I worry he took a bad way home a couple nights ago and was kidnapped — or worse. If you agree to track him down with all due haste, I can offer you ten dragons apiece now, and I can give you each ten times that when you find Floon. May I prevail upon you in my hour of need?”
"A kidnapping? Why wasn't this reported to the city watch?" He glances down at the paper with the thugs, and takes Abishai's words into some consideration, but shakes his head. "Regardless if this job is more suited for adventurers, I feel I am still under obligation to ensure the law is kept." He hands Abishai back his bottle and quill. He glances at Rydar. "However, it isn't in my place to prevent any of you to take up the offer, so I suggest we work together on this."
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How many stirges are left?
just one on yagra
Then Bjorn, seeing that the troll is dead, and a Stirge is troubling Yagra, will point at the stirge, and "oh, your askin' for it!" As he walks over, his spear in hand. He rolled a 19 to hit in game log, so Bjorn will thrust his spear foward, the spear end going directly through the stirge, dealing 3 damage.
that'se enough to destroy the last stirge and only the troll's body remains.
Ryder is next
{Are there any more enemies? if not, Ryder will make sure Yagra is all right.}
{Edit: Yes I know that trolls regenerate. But Ryder doesn't. So he would make sure that Yagra is all right.}
[A paper drops out of a flash of light and drifts to the ground at your feet] -(extended sig)-
As the fight draws down, Abishai tries to remember what he knows about trolls.
History: 7
Investigation: 20
Nature: 13
[[ OOC: @DM please use whatever roll you feel is appropriate.]]
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Ryder glances over at Yagra, noting the way she sways on her feet—she’s barely holding herself together. Meanwhile, Abishai watches as Durnan moves with practiced urgency, grabbing oil from a nearby lamp. It suddenly clicks—Durnan isn’t taking any chances. Without hesitation, he douses the fallen troll and sets it ablaze, ensuring it won’t rise again before having his staff drag it back to the well where it belongs.
Turning to the group, Durnan offers a rare nod of appreciation. "You fought well, thanks for stepping up against these creatures... I got your tab for today. Don't even worry about it." With that, he returns to the bar, barking orders at his employees to get the tavern back in order.
Before long, the Yawning Portal is alive once more—drinks are poured, songs are sung, and the excitement of battle becomes just another tale for the patrons to tell. Every familiar face in the tavern checks in on each of you, making sure you're still in one piece.
Sooner than later, you find yourselves gathered around a table, plates of food and tankards of ale set before you—all covered by Durnan. The night moves on, but the weight of what just happened lingers.
Josef settles back down in a seat, enjoys the food and drink, well the City of Splendor certainly doesn't fall short on adventure and surprises does it?
As the troll falls to the ground, Murgen slumps against the well clutching his side where the stirge had bit him. Grunting his hand glows slightly as his wound begins to heal (Lay on hands for 2pts of healing). He sheaths his weapons and stumbles forwards just as Durnan and Abishai ignite the troll. Cursing, Murgen stumbles back from the blaze, still too dazed to understand what is happening for a moment before nodding to them in thanks. He follows the others over to Yagra and quickly checks over her wounds, "You really are a glutton for punishment you know?" He chuckles as his hands glow once more, trying to heal the worst of her wounds (Using 2 more lay on hands). "Any reason those thugs were after you? I ain't seen them around before. New crew or just some lowlife's I've somehow avoided having the pleasure of meeting before?"
Once Yagra is patched up, Murgen limps back over to the bar and tanks Durnan for the drinks. "Can't have thugs roughing up a fellow merc. And if a troll trashed this place I'd need to go somewhere else to drink." He waves off an old client as they come over to chat. Grabbing another ale from the barkeep and mulled wine for Abishai, Murgen makes his way over to the mage. Offering him the drink, Murgen then pulls up a stool and sits down. "My thanks! Dying to an oversized mosquito was not how I wanted to go. Murgen's the name," he rasps as he offers his hand to the elf. As he leans back, Murgen notices Josef sitting nearby and motions for him to join them. "Good call on the oil for that troll. Nasty creature that was."
Bjorn walks around the tavern, asking for pen and paper. He also seems to have forgotten about the dead stirge on his spear shaft. Bjorn will also approach Yagra. "It might be best to head off to a medic, with wounds like those." If he has gotten some paper, than he will present a crude drawing of some of the bandits. "Do you have any recollection of who these people are?"
He accepts the glass of wine from Murgen with a nod of thanks and shakes his hand before responding, "A pleasure. My name is Abishai. Those creatures are quite foul. You handled yourself well back there and those healing talents are quite impressive. I've tried learning how to cast that magic but I've never been able to grasp the correct cantations."
Abishai offers Bjorn a single sheet of paper from his book and provides him with his quill and ink. "I'll be wanting these back when you're done, if you please." He says, referring to his quill and ink.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
As soon as the troll is ablaze, Ryder continues to crouch, ready, in case the bandits try to strike again. It was weird, he had to admit, to be fighting alongside a member of the city watch. The draw weight of his bow made the scars on his back ache, and he winced a little, even though he hadn't been wounded. Crossing to the table, he mutters quietly, "I'm sorry I couldn't do more back there. My bow usually does more damage then that."
[A paper drops out of a flash of light and drifts to the ground at your feet] -(extended sig)-
Yagra sinks into a chair and grabs a drink as if quenching her thirst is more urgent than tending to her wounds. With a wry smile, she confides in Murgen and Bjorn, “Do I know them? Not personally, but they’re Xanathar’s… tensions have been growing with some of my latest employers.” Murgen’s eyes narrow in understanding, recalling the whispers about her ties with the Zhents—a common thread among Waterdeep’s mercenaries. Bjorn’s concern is evident, but Yagra offers only a brief nod before turning back to her drink, determined not to dwell on the pain.
Before everyone can settle back at their familiar tables, someone pushes through the tide of returning patrons. His tone is both urgent and admiring as he declares, “You be adventurers, am I right? I saw you!—working together against those monsters. I’ve never seen such bravery; you took down that beast like a well-rehearsed symphony. I could really use your help with something pressing. Let’s find a table to talk, shall we?”
"Adventurer? Nay, I am a member of the city watch. Do tell me what is the matter, and I will see to it," Bjorn says, walking to the man.
Abishai thinks for a moment, 'Yes, this is what I hoped for. An opportunity to join a group in search of powerful artifacts and gain experience with my magical craft.' However, his thought changes to one of disappointment as Bjorn responds first. 'Curse the city watch for stepping in so quickly, but maybe there's still an opportunity here.' Abishai stands, intent on following this newcomer. He clears his throat before speaking, "I'm sure the city watch has enough to worry about. Perhaps us adventurers will be better suited to the task at hand." He gestures towards the rest of the individuals gathered.
Abishai then waits to be led by the newcomer to a table of his choosing.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
"Well, I'm not an adventurer yet, but I hope to be. I'd like to hear what you're talking about."
[A paper drops out of a flash of light and drifts to the ground at your feet] -(extended sig)-
Abishai puts the palm of his hand on his face as Ryder tells this stranger he's not an adventurer and wonders if this newcomer will overlook the lack of experience in the group and trust us anyways with his quest. "I think what my friend here meant to say is, please, lead the way, let's talk."
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Josef listens to the newcomer, Adventurer? Sure why not. Yes friend, lead on and tell us your tale. A maiden to rescue? A monster to vanquish? Or perhaps, an ancient relic to recover from the cult of the dead three?
Once you find a table big enough for everyone the figure who approached you sits down, strokes his mustache, adjusts his floppy hat, and tightens his scarf. “Volothamp Geddarm, chronicler, wizard, and celebrity, at your service. I trust you’ve noted the violence in our fair city these past tendays. I haven’t seen so much blood since my last visit to Baldur’s Gate! But now I fear I have misplaced a friend amid this odious malevolence.
“My friend’s name is Floon Blagmaar. He’s got more beauty than brains, and I worry he took a bad way home a couple nights ago and was kidnapped — or worse. If you agree to track him down with all due haste, I can offer you ten dragons apiece now, and I can give you each ten times that when you find Floon. May I prevail upon you in my hour of need?”
"A kidnapping? Why wasn't this reported to the city watch?" He glances down at the paper with the thugs, and takes Abishai's words into some consideration, but shakes his head. "Regardless if this job is more suited for adventurers, I feel I am still under obligation to ensure the law is kept." He hands Abishai back his bottle and quill. He glances at Rydar. "However, it isn't in my place to prevent any of you to take up the offer, so I suggest we work together on this."