As soon as Mary's blanket falls to the floor, Meira kneels down to pick it up. She's right there as Mary herself crumples to the ground. She simply takes the blanket and wraps it around the woman's shoulders.
For a moment, she gives Lyra the briefest of glances, then focuses back on the grieving woman. "I can hardly imagine what you must be feeling. It's only right you weep for Frederic right now."
She stays near Mary, and a million jokes flash through her head. But even she knows it's not the time. Again she glances towards the halfling. Surely a Cleric would be trained to deal with the grieving, right? Though she always thought more of Lyra being her accomplice for tricks and pranks.
Finally, she speaks softly to Mary. "Perhaps we should get you in out of the cold. It's a bit brisk here at the door."
Noticing her hand still clinched in a fist about the letter, she adds, "And maybe we can hold on to that note for now? You may wish to see what it contains another time."
Lady Alisande's gray eyes grow as wide Gareth explains the extent of his literary neglect, almost choking on her beef stew. "Good heavens. Well, we shall have to remedy that at the earliest opportunity. I daresay a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters would serve you most admirably." She insists, going on to extoll the virtues of said bestiary for monster hunters like Gareth, quietly hoping to rekindle in him an enthusiasm for the written word.
Alisande spends a good portion of the evening dining and conversing with Zephyros, Gareth and Rasziel, inquiring after the particulars of their personal histories whilst also unveiling aspects of her own. Eventually she reveals that she is an initiate in the Many-Starred Cloak, a guild of arcanists who work to keep Neverwinter and neighbouring territories safe from danger.
"My late mother - may Mystra take her into her grace - was a member of the Order as well. She vanished many years ago and was long presumed dead, though in truth she laboured clandestinely to subvert the efforts of a cabal of necromancers amassing power here, somewhere in the Sword Mountains region. It was only in the twilight of her life that she returned to the family estate." Her voice quavers somewhat, the loss of her mother still raw in the memory. "I suppose that is why I am here. Heritage. I am compelled to finish my mother's work, to elevate the standard of House Immerwood once more, after years of... well, much neglect."
Two spots of colour bloom in her fair face, betraying the embarrassment she feels at revealing so much to relative strangers. "These Phandalin libations are rather more potent than I anticipated. Pray forgive me." The noblewoman murmurs and excuses herself, making a brief tour of the town on her own and using the time to compose herself.
When she returns, she concurs with Rasziel's proposal for the entire group, including Lyra and Meira. "If you would have us, I would be honoured to join you in your endeavours. Preparing for a confrontation with either of these dragons certainly seems the most pressing. It is difficult to believe two such fearsome beasts exist in close proximity, and I fear for the safety of Phandalin should their wrath be unleashed upon the town. Yet I cannot in good conscience ignore the mages in this woodland manse for too long. It is possible they bear some connection to the investigations my mother once pursued."
Lyrafelt a knot twist in her stomach as she watched Mary's face change—warm friendliness turning first to shock, then to raw grief. The sight struck her harder than she expected, clinging tight to her chest and cutting deeper than the white dragon's claws had. She'd known of loss before, of course—life and death were part of every cleric's faith—but she had never felt it that deeply before.
For a moment, the cleric could only stand there, frozen, watching Meira gently wrap the blanket around the sobbing woman. What do I do? she asked herself, even as she felt her goddess' presence settle around her like a soft breeze. She murmured a quiet "Yes"to Meira's suggestion and took the taller grieving woman's hand, guiding her gently inside.
Almost without thinking, Lyra closed the door with a whispered word. Spotting a few unlit candles, she murmured the same word to make them flicker to life—hoping their warm glow might ease Mary's sobbing, even a little. She led her to a chair and then she simply stayed close, holding the woman's hand and listening in silence.
Lyra shared more than one glance with Meira during those moments. Both knew there was little they could do, and that no words would lessen the pain. Grief took its own time, and would walk unseen beside Mary for a long while, just as Tymora walked beside Lyra. That thought brought the cleric a bit of clarity. If she could help Mary feel—even faintly—that she was not alone, perhaps that would help?
So, she prayed softly, asking the Lady of Fortuneto let a trace of her light flow through her hand towards Mary. "You are not alone in your grieving, Mary," she said gently, still uncertain that her words would help ... but trying to do so despite everything. "Please, Lean on your family and friends in the days ahead. Do you know Sister Garaele? She guards the Shrine of Luck here in Phandalin. I'm sure she would welcome you with open arms if you wish to spend some time with her."
"And… know that Frederic rests with his brothers by bond, in a graveyard close to the mine. Torrin and the others made sure of it. He gave his life to save them, to buy time so they could survive until help arrived. They were humbled by his sacrifice and spoke highly of him. I wish he'd never had to make it… but your husband's courage saved their lives."
She paused, then added softly, "When you feel ready, perhaps you’d like to visit his grave? Perhaps even read the letter he left for you then?"
After that, Lyra said no more, afraid to overwhelm Mary. With Meira's help, she prepared some tea and stayed until Mary seemed calmer.
Before returning to the inn, Lyra stopped by the Shrine of Luck to find Sister Garaele. She spoke of Mary and Frederic, asking if the priestess might visit the widow now and then—to offer what comfort she could.
Back with the others at the inn, Lyra was quiet. She thanked Zephyrosfor handling matters with the Townmaster and agreed to whatever task the group chose, but it was clear her thoughts were elsewhere.
Later, as the night advanced, the halfling drew closer to Meira, whipering to her:
"Will you stay with me tonight? I just…can you hold me, please?"
If Meira agrees, when they retire to sleep, the halfling will curl up against her, her small form trembling as she sobbed softly for a moment—until, at last, she drifted into a quiet, exhausted sleep.
(ooc: removed 1p 50cp for the dinner and drinks, and another 5sp for a room. And added 20gp as well!)
Having already gotten to know the young noblewoman, the young purple-robed dark-haired man with the sinister-looking scar would still politely listen as she shares personal information about herself, her blush drawing a tiny amused smile from his lips. He sincerely doubted they would ever have reason to be concerned about the young lady acting too uninhibited in any way. Still, there was something almost endearing about her heated cheeks, not what he would have expected from someone of blue blood. Also, her interest of restoring her family name aligned well with his own aspirations.
"As for me, I hail from the Moonsea region. My father was a merchant and I hope to do him proud by building a business of my own. I do need considerable funds to launch this business so for now I would like to help you with your heroics for a fair share of the earnings."Rasziel says plainly, but there is clearly more to tell that he doesn't feel like sharing, yet.
With Lyra's help, Meiragets Mary settled into her house. As the pair sit in silence with the woman, she catches the occasional glance from Lyra. Her face is a mix of emotions, often unreadable, but sometimes showing a hint of sadness or fear. She adds her words of agreement when the cleric praises Frederic's sacrifice. And when visiting the grave is mentioned, she says, "Perhaps if we are available, we could accompany you there."
Before leaving, Meiraplaced the crumpled letter she had retrieved from Mary's fist on the mantle of the hearth. Left there for whenever Mary might be ready to see what was inside.
She accompanied Lyrato the Shrine of Luck to see Sister Garaele. When the halfling mentions having the priestess visit, she suggests, "Maybe we should let Qeline know of Frederic's death as well. It seemed like she was a friend of Mary's."
As the pair head back to the Stonehill Inn, Meira quietly asks, "Where are you from Lyra? I mean, was there some place where you studied to be a cleric? Do you have family there?" There's a hesitance as she asks and a hint of worry. And of course, it's not long before they reach the inn. To Lyra, it is a bit of an odd change as Meira's more somber and thoughtful mood changes almost instantly as they step inside. A light smile comes to her face, and she seems no longer fazed by the events of the last few hours.
When Meiraarrives back at the inn with Lyra, she glances about to see if Qeline might still be there. Sitting with the others, she listens to what Zephyroshas to say about the tasks available. "To me, the most serious problem is the danger to the people of Phandalin," she says. "I think we must go see if this Axeholm place can be secured as a refuge for them. After that, it does seem like getting that sword would be of great help. It does seem like a bit of a ways to go though. And the last one, to go all the way to the Neverwinter Wood, that seems really far. Would it be worth our time?" She doesn't seem set on avoiding that job, rather genuinely curious what the others think.
She does keep near to Lyra, offering to get her a drink as she gets another for herself. As the evening wears on, she doesn't put on a performance by any means as she has done in the past. But she does end up pulling out her her dulcimer for a little bit, singing a lighthearted song.
'There is an inn, a merry old inn beneath an old grey hill, And there they brew a beer so brown That the Man in the Moon himself came down One night to drink his fill.
The Man in the Moon was drinking deep, and the cat began to wail; A dish and a spoon on the table danced, The cow in the garden madly pranced, and the little dog chased his tail.
The Man in the Moon took another mug, and then rolled beneath his chair; And there he dozed and dreamed of ale, Till in the sky the stars were pale, and dawn was in the air.
Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat; 'The white horses of the Moon, They neigh and champ their silver bits; But their master's been and drowned his wits, and the Sun'll be rising soon!'
They rolled the Man slowly up the hill and bundled him into the Moon, While the horses galloped up in rear, And the cow came capering like a deer, and a dish ran up with a spoon.
The round Moon rolled behind the hill, as the Sun raised up her head. She hardly believed her fiery eyes: For though it was day, to her surprise they all went back to bed!'
As the night grew late, and Lyra whispered to her, Meira nodded to the halfling, quietly whispering back:
"Umm, of course. Whatever you wish."There's a barely contained nervousness in Meira as the two retire. As Lyracurls up against her, she puts an arm gently around her, leaning in to kiss her softly on the forehead. She recognizes when the halfling soon drifts off, but sleep does not come quite as quickly for her. For a while she just gazes at the person beside her, until finally the exhaustion of the day takes over her as well.
Zephyros listened attentively and respectfully as Alisande and Rasziel shared a bit about their history while at the bar. When it's his turn to share the bear of a man says, "I grew up in a much more simple fashion. At eighteen I was drafted into the Eskorn army and spent the next fourteen years of my life fighting for every inch. Hard fought, but my nation won the war and I was released from service. After the war, my wife and I sailed to..." He faulters, as he overhears the sailor talking about a lighthouse and ships crashing upon the shore. Zephyros suddenly gets up and approaches the sailor to ask, "Sir, where did you say this lighthouse was?" His thoughts turn to the nightmares he'd been having on a regular basis. The warrior can remember waking up on the beach near a lighthouse and even dreamt about it several times, but couldn't remember where his ship had wrecked. Suddenly recognizing how close the warrior was to the old sailor, even holding his ragged shirt in his fist, Zephyros let's the man go and takes a step back. "My apologies, it's just... I would very much like to go there." He says somewhat embarrassed.
As the group discusses their next mission, Zephyrosnods his approval at Razsiel and Alisande joining the group. "You've both proven capable in a fight and I sense you both can be trusted. I vote yes. We'll need all the allies we can get. However, in addition to the new jobs posted, I would remind our company we have a few other outstanding leads to consider as well. Gnomengarde may have some magic items valuable in the fight against the dragon. Additionally, there's a job to resupply a logging camp to the north in Neverwinter wood. I agree with Meira though. We should prioritize missions that make the townsfolk here the safest. One last thing to add..." The warrior hesitates. "Eventually I would like to look into this lighthouse where ships are crashing against the shore."
Coming to a decision, Ironheart says, "With a much larger green dragon as a new threat, we should secure a secondary location for the townsfolk to evacuate to should the worst come to pass. Axeholm is our next destination. From there we can stop at Gnomengarde before heading back to town." Zephyros looks to the group expecting agreement as he reinforces Meira's preferred course of action.
Zephyros turns to Lyra as she thanks him, recognizes the sorrow in her eyes. He gives the halfling an empathetic nod but says nothing. Nothing need be said. Only time heals some wounds. As the night wore on Zephyros listened intently to Meira's song, relishing the moment of peace in an otherwise hostile world. Disappointed when the song ends, he watches as the two retire for the night. However, Zephyros is loath to sleep himself, knowing there is no rest for him. Every time the warrior closes his eyes, he's haunted by his past. His thoughts turn once again to the Sword Coast and the lighthouse... his shipwreck... his love, Silvara. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in the common room, but the weariness of the road and the strong drink ushered him into slumber next to the warm fire roaring in the hearth.
You have no reason to doubt the validity of the old sailors tail. However, you do recognize the man is already deep in his cups. You suspect he's retelling the tail to be the center of attention if only for a brief moment.
As far as Old Gnawbone is concerned. You've heard the name before and remember reading the dragon's real name is Claugiyliamatar who is at least two centuries old. Rumors suggest the dragon has a huge treasure horde and is protected by a cabal of druids in addition to the dragon herself.
Back at the Miner's Exchange, Halia smiles as you begin to tell her your tail and beckons you into a more private back room of the Exchange. She tells you she's happy to have a fellow Zhent working in the area so long as your aspirations don't cross her own. She then tells you, “As the Triboar Trail runs east, it passes through the ruins of Conyberry, a town sacked by barbarians years ago. There’s a ruined temple south of Conyberry where it’s said the locals hid their gold.” She continues by saying the gold was never found and suggested the search could prove quite lucrative for them both if it were returned to her.
During your talk, two people enter the room wearing leather armor and cloaks. One has a bow and quiver slung over a shoulder and the other has several daggers sheathed on his belt. Both have their hoods pulled over their heads as they approach Halia. Halia smiles as they enter and bids them welcome. One of them whispers into her ear, to which she nods as if approving something and both individuals depart again. Your conversation turns to the dragon sightings. She tells you she's aware of the green dragon living in Kryptgarden Forest but is surprised to hear the old dragon left her lair. Something compelling must have drawn her out though she can't begin to speculate what that might be. She ends with welcoming you to Phandalin and looks forward to working with you.
Meira and Lyra,
You stay for a while with Mary as the woman grieves. Comforting her just by your presence. Mary tells you she doesn't know Sister Garaele but agrees to seek her out when she's ready. As you tell her of Frederic's bravery she stops crying and says, "That sounds like my Frederic, always putting others before himself. Thank you for coming here to tell me. I would love to visit the mine sometime and Frederic's grave, but I'm not ready yet." She tells you that she'll be fine and will need some time to figure out what to do now. She hugs each of you before you depart and thanks you once more.
You both stop by the Shrine of Luck looking for Sister Garaele, but find the shine empty. You head back to the Inn, keeping an eye out for the Sister or Qeline, but see neither. Before the night is over, Sister Garaele shows up as promised... Lyra tells the Sister about Mary and Frederic and the Garaele agrees to check in on the widow in the morning.
Zephyros,
The old sailor's eyes widen as you invade his space and grab him by his collar. However, once you apologize and release the man he says, "No harm, no harm. A Treasure seeker are ya? Well then just follow the Triboar trail to the west until you reach the High Road. Keep heading west until you get to the beach and then turn south. You can't miss it. Rumor has it a strange storm swirls around the lighthouse. Unnatural it is."
As soon as you drift off to sleep...
You dream about your ship crashing against the rocks and breaking apart. You fall into the water with your wife, Silvara, a beautiful Sea Elf. While sinking into the ocean, you see the ship's crew being carried off by several merrow. One such monster attacks you. Before you lose consciousness, you see Silvara throw a trident at the monster, killing it.
In your dream, you wake up on the beach alone amongst the rubble of your ship that was torn apart, and several dead bodies you recognize as some of the ship's crew. As you lift your head, you see a trident lying next to you, your wife's trident. The trident that she used to save your life. You grab the trident. Gripping it tightly, you rush to your feet only to feel faint and fall back to the ground. A moment passes as your head spins. You look around... your wife nowhere to be seen. You look up and see dark clouds swirling above you unnaturally. The focal point is a nearby lighthouse.
Suddenly, you find yourself at the top of the lighthouse looking into the eyes of Silvara. She looks into your eyes and smiles. You touch her cheek, as you do her pale skin turns translucent and her smile fades. You are now looking at your wife as if she were a banshee. She says to you, "Why didn't you come? Why didn't you save me?" She moves forward and yells at you, "Why didn't you come!?!" You take a step backwards as her visage frightens you. When you do, you fall off the top of a lighthouse. You continue to fall an impossible distance as the top of the lighthouse shrinks from view. Above it a swirling vortex of cloud cover.
Before you hit the ground, you startle awake in a cold sweat. The common room to the Inn is empty save for the old sailor in a chair next to you snoring loudly. You look out a window, It's still dark. The fire burns low in the hearth.
Everyone,
Before everyone heads off to rest, Sister Garaele shows up to the Stonehill Inn to make good on her promise of payment. She first hands Rasziel and Alisande 20gp each and then give every other party member 10gp for the return trip. She thanks you for your service and excuses herself, stating that hanging around the tavern is not her cup of tea.
You all benefit from a long rest and awake early the next morning. What would you like to do, if anything, before heading off to Axeholm I presume?
Meiraawakens very early, pleasantly surprised to recall Lyrawas there. She stays put until the halfling awakens as well. Once out of bed, she wants to try to get at least a bit of hot water to wash up. She offers to go fetch that while Lyra rests.
Meirathough does spend a considerable amount of time getting herself washed, making sure her hair is styled just right. She even might try to trim her hair a bit if she can. And then of course her clothes need to be just right as well.
Common Room It takes some time for Meira to make it down, planning to get a small breakfast. She agrees with choice to head for Axeholm first. As others gather though she asks, "Where would we go from there?"
Before the group leaves she would like to see about purchasing some studded leather armor. Something just a little more protective than the simple leather she has now.
Before retiring for the night (or later in the morning, if they don't find Qeline), Lyranods Meira's suggestion to inform Qeline about Frederic's passing. It is only fair to do so, now that Mary already knows what happened.
When asked where she's from, Lyra answers that she has lived all her life in the Temple of Luck in Silverymoon. She's never known her parents since they left her at the temple as a newborn baby. Meira notices that Lyra says this without any anger or sadness, as it is a very common story among many of her companions in the temple. Lyra considers herself lucky —no pun intended ... or perhaps it is— to have been raised there rather than as a street urchin.
Is Silverymoon okay with you, DM? I realized I never defined where Lyra comes from, I think, so I looked up which cities in the Forgotten Realms have temples to Tymora and chose Silverymoon
The night's rest seems to suit Lyra well. Though she won't easily forget what happened the day before, she wakes feeling immensely better. She giggles softly when she finds Meira putting so much care into her appearance and tosses her a pillow from the bed. "Come on, you're going to overwork that poor mirror!" she exclaims, but then offers to help Meira trim her hair.
I strongly suggest that you don't agree, though, Culuril haha
When she finally gets out of bed, she washes thoroughly, but when it comes time to prepare her clothes, hair, and overall appearance, she takes far less time than Meira. One might even argue that what she does with her hair isn't really styling—it's more like chaotically and quickly twisting it into a messy braid that, by some divine intervention, somehow looks charming rather than unruly. As she finishes, she smiles broadly at the tall human next to her, gives her a warm embrace, and happily trots out of the room to meet the others.
On their way to the common room, Lyra realizes, "I forgot to ask you yesterday where you're from, Meira! Do you have any family there?" Since she is asking while sitting with the others, Lyra redirects the question to everyone else, mentioning again that she hails from Silverymoon’s Temple of Tymora.
Since some of you have already mentioned this in previous posts, I can just assume you say it again here instead of making you write everything out again!
"Okay, so… Axeholm next?" she then asks.
Before they set out, Lyra sits next to Zephyros, resting her hand over one of his—considerably larger—hand. "You look tired. Didn't you sleep well again? Oh, please don't tell me you fell asleep right here, Zephyros!" She pauses, thinking carefully about her next words. "You know we're here to do more than quests on the job board, right? Do count on us when you're ready to share your troubles, okay? I think it would help to talk about them. A worry shared is a worry halved, or so people say!" Lyra taps Zephyros' hand gently, smiling warmly at the big warrior without insisting.
The young purple-robed dark-haired man listens respectfully to the bearded soldier, trying to recall anything about Eskorn. He then gives the others a concerned look as the massive veteran reacts quite strongly to the tale of the old sailor, making a mental note of being wary of the man's temper. He gives the bearded soldiera grateful nod for his vote of confidence and decides to not raise any further opinions on in which order they should deal with all that evidently needed to be dealt with. In his mind, securing a place of safety would only be of benefit to the people of Phandalin if they were prepered to leave now and stay there until the threat of the dragons was over. If any of the dragons should ever bother with attacking this town and it's people, they would have no chance in Nessus to reach any sort of safety. Still, if the securing brought the townsfolk some reassurance and comfort it would perhaps be worth their while. "I for one will travel with you to that lighthouse brave warrior..."Rasziel says with small polite smile. "...but let us first deal with what needs more immediate attention."
(History regarding Eskorn: 7)
As sister Garaele turns up Raszielgives her respectful bow and accepts his earnings. He would eat and drink quite sparsely, not one to indulgein any way it seemed, but rather brood over distant troubles. The sweet singing of the quite stylish young woman seems to grant him some relief though and he offers her a small smile and a polite nod after her pleasant performance. He is by now not surprised to see her turn in together with the halfling, but he himself planned to share his room only with his associate and bookkeeper who had a long night before him.
Rasziel would come down for a light breakfast, nodding quitetly to the others as he took a place by the table, taking note of the halfling's concern for the massive bearded warrior. He wasn't convinced of the truth of her words but he realized that he too could do with someone to share the burden of his fate, and his obligation. It was a burden he felt no one but him should ever carry though.
"I believe your friend Zephyros suggested we would visit a place called Gnomegarde once we have secured Axeholm as a safe haven for the townsfolk, but I myself have no opinion on the matter, assuming that you too would agree to have me and the ladyship along for these mission obviously. I'm curious to hear though if we know anything about these two places and what kind of threats we risk facing there."Rasziel says to Meira and the others at the table.
Miner's Exchange
Rasziel would assure Halia that he would do what he can to recover the gold from the temple south of the Conyberry ruins and bid his Black Network contact a continued profitable day before returning to the inn while pondering the new situation he had found himself in. He would have to tread carefully to make sure the interests of the adventurers would stay aligned with that of the Black Network.
Zephyrosnods in appreciation as Rasziel agrees to accompany him to the lighthouse, but says nothing more.
The next morning, Zephryos startles awake, sweat dripping down the mans brow. The bear of a man growls in frustration and anger as he looks around the common room and sees the sailor sleeping soundly near him in another chair. Ironheart feels compelled to yell and curse the gods for cursing him with these ongoing nightmares. However, he bottles it inside of him, warry of disrupting others who are still sleeping. It was bad enough to live through it once... why must I be tortured nightly. 'Not even the war caused me this much consternation.' He chastises himself over that thought. 'The war wasn't my Silvara, wasn't my love.'
Getting up to stoke the fire, the hearth once again roars to life. Recognizing how early it still is, Ironheart grabs his trident and strides out the front door. He takes a deep breath of the cold morning air, before lighting his pipe and puffing on it as he walks. He can see the distant tendrils of dawn approaching to the east as he patrols the still sleeping town, vigilant for anything out of place. The warrior finds some solace in the simple task, the familiar feeling of patrolling. Of making sure the people around him are a bit safer thanks to his efforts. He returns to the Inn prior to anyone waking.
Perception Nat 20+4=24!
When Lyra sits next to Zephyros and sees the exhaustion in his eyes, she asks about his sleep, the warrior says, "The gods curse my sleep little one. There is no rest when I close my eyes." He didn't want to confide in the halfling cleric. He wasn't even sure he intended to, but oddly, he felt a little bit better afterwards. Already feeling like he'd overshared, Zephyros says nothing more, but provides a genuine smile to Lyra as she offers to listen to the man's troubles.
As the group discusses the plan, Ironheart makes sure it's known that he's okay with altering their objective if a logical argument is made for an alternative. "Axeholm is about fifteen miles south of Phandalin. If we leave now, we should be able to make it there in roughly five hours. Gnomengarde is ten miles to the east. If we make haste, we can complete both missions today and be back here late tonight or tomorrow morning if we choose to rest. Is everyone ready?" Zephyros looks around to the others for confirmation or for discussion.
The day before, hearing Lyrawas from Silverymoon, Meirawas only able to say, "Wow, that's quite a long way from here." But then they were walking into the Stonehill Inn to join the others.
Preparing in the room in the morning, Meira can't help but respond to Lyra'steasing. "Hey, I like looking good, so my mirrors are used to it!" As she dodges the pillow she says, "You mess up my hair and I'll have to start all over!" She does agree to let the halfling help with trimming her hair. "I like the asymmetrical look, but I wonder if I should just keep both sides shaved if we're going to be on the road for a bit. It's hard to keep it looking exactly right on the road."
(OOC - Hopefully she doesn't regret asking for the help!)
As Lyratakes just an instant to fix her hair then gives her a hug, she comments. "See! I need those hours of preparations if I'm going to look even half as beautiful as you!" She smiles broadly as she follows after her to find the others.
Having joined the others, she answers Lyra's question, though there is a slight moment of hesitation. "I'm from Floodblest. Near Neverwinter, along the river," she says. "My parents are there. My younger sister and little brother live with them too."
She's quiet when Lyraexpresses her concerns about Zephyros. She does look at him with concern but has nothing to add to the cleric's words. She does turn to Rasziel when he addresses her. "Of course you two are welcome to join us if you are able. If Gnomenguard is nearby it might be worth checking in with them too." She gives a brief glance to Zephyrosbefore adding, "I'm not quite sure we could get there and all the way back by tonight. Especially depending on what we find in Axeholm."
Finishing up his simple morning meal, the young purple-robed dark-haired man with the sinister-looking scar nods in agreement with the stylish young woman's assessment. Axeholm could now even be the lair of yet another dragon as far as they knew, and he would prefer to explore with caution, taking all the time they needed to make sure that all of Axeholm was in fact safe as a refuge for the people of Phandalin should the need arise. "I would need to purchase some equipment suitable for such explorations. If you could direct me to the local general store I will make it a quick visit on our way out of town." Rasziel calmly explains, seeming otherwise ready to depart. After now having heard some personal details also about the couple, he starts to ponder the possibility any of them would have any affiliations that they had not yet revealed and decided to stay somewhat wary with his new companions, for now.
While patrolling the town, you notice a few people up early walking around. A older man wearing farming cloths nods and waves as you walk past. A couple of people with cloaks drawn over their heads are heading out of town to the east. One of them has a bow and quiver of arrows slung over their shoulder. A few nocturnal creatures skitter about, but you don't sense anything out of the ordinary. All is peaceful during your patrol.
Rasziel,
You learn Barthen's Provisions next door to the north of the Inn has everything the adventuring type might need for an extended venture into the wild.
Meira,
You head over to the Lionshield Coster and find Linene Graywind sipping on a cup of hot coffee. She welcomes you in and helps you try on a set of studded leather. She looks at you with approval and says, "Looks good on you! That will be 45gp if you please."
Meirawill pay the 45 gp, although she asks Linene if she might take the plain leather armor she has now for a small discount. "Perhaps 5 gp?" she asks. Once the transactions are complete, she will thank her, ready to go.
Alisande's expression brightens when Zephyros agrees to the proposal that she and Rasziel join the company. Yet she takes careful note of the abrupt change of emotion during the exchange with the drunken sailor. There's more to that soldier's story, she muses to herself, tucking the thought away for later. When Sister Garaele arrives bearing the promised coin, Alisande thanks priestess for her company on the journey as much as the gold. Before the Tymoran departs, Alisande asks whether she's heard of any rumours of necromancers building a base of power, somewhere near Phandalin.
As the evening wears on, the redheaded noble retires to a private room. She draws the shutters closed and spends an hour in quiet ritual. A piece of charcoal in hand, she sketches ornate arcane formulae on the floorboards, before lighting a few sticks of incense in a small brazier in the centre. She fashions runes from the smoke that curls away from the incense, and conjures into being a tiny winged kitten, its soft feathers matching the feline's calico pattern. "Ozymandias," She murmurs fondly, "I've missed you, dearest." The fey creature snuggles up with Alisande on the modest bed, where the mage takes some much-needed rest.
Alisande rises the next morning a little earlier than the others, and partakes of a breakfast composed of honeyed porridge, a fillet of fried whitefish and sweet tea. Having taken a tour of Phandalin the previous evening, she directs Rasziel to Barthen's Provisions. After introductions are made, trade completed and pleasantries are passed, she returns to the same line of inquiry she posed to Sister Garaele."Perhaps this is a strange question with which to conclude our business, Master Barthen... but have you heard any whispers of necromancers or undead stirring near Phandalin?
Lyrapicks up a stool and stands on it to reach Meira's height. She takes the scissors, and very veeeery slowly, very veeeery carefully, she begins trimming the human's hair. The halfling is completely absorbed in the task —tongue sticking out of her lips included— when Meira suddenly calls her beautiful. Snick! Lyra blinks, her hand moves a little too far, and a bit more hair than she intended to cut falls slowly to the ground. Startled, she jumps down from the stool, puts the scissors away, and says, "You know what? I'd better not keep doing this. I'm not that good a hairdresser, you know! And… you already look amazing! I don't believe you could possibly look even more stunning, but have you ever considered letting your hair grow...?"
And that's the precise moment the cleric rushes out of the room and heads downstairs. "Thanks for calling me beautiful, though! No one's ever said that to me before!"Meira can hear her exclaim from outside. "And perhaps no one else will… after Meira kills me for this!" the halfling thinks afterwards.
(ooc: I used Guidance on myself, and even with that, I rolled a total of 9 in Sleight of Hand. Or an 8 if it has to be a general DEX check /facepalm)
Later, Lyra returns Zephyros's smile with an even brighter one. The burly warrior hadn't shared much, but at least he had opened up a little. As said, Lyra doesn't press further, though she is determined to try to watch over the warrior's next sleep if she can.
Since Lyra doesn't need to make any purchases before leaving, she spends her time watching Ozymandias with big, curious eyes. She'd never seen one of the famed winged cats before and feels extremely lucky to be in a party with one of them. Will Ozymandias get along well with Felagi, she wonders? It would be amazing if they would play together!
Earlier in the morning when joining everyone for breakfast...
Those that might notice such things would see Meira had her hair styled much differently today. While the top is unchanged and still brushed over to her right, the sides are both shaved down very short. It's a rather distinctive look.
Her conversations with Lyra seemed quite normal and she had her usual upbeat demeanor.
Linene looks over your old leather armor with a critical eye.. "Well, there's some damage to it, but not terrible. Fair enough, I think I can repair and resell it. I'll take 5gp off the sale price with your trade-in."
Did you shave the sides of your head after Lyra butchered the trim? Lol
Alisande,
When you enter Barthen's Provisions you find the proprietor sitting behind the counter whittling a piece of wood. A lean, balding man stands up as you enter. "Hello and welcome. Let me know if you need anything." You approach the counter and ask your questions as Rasziel gathers some supplies. "Hmm..." Barthen thinks for a moment. "...can't say I have Ma'am. But, if it's necromancers yer after..." He grabs a flask from under the counter and sets it down in front of you. "...a flask of holy water might just be yer ticket." He raises his eyebrows a couple of times while gesturing to the flask. "Whadda ya say?"
The burly soldier briefly nods back to the farmer and even manages a smile, albeit small.
Before most of the group gathers into the main room of the inn, Ironheartsets out to search for Eldrin, to give him the 20 goldthe master wizard had earned for accompanying Mr. Raskin to the mine. Assuming the elven mage is at Adabra's house, Zephyros checks there first.
After all other business is concluded, the veteran states, "Nice haircut, Ms. Dheran."Zephyros quietly mentions to the rogue.
Mary Gilmore's House
As soon as Mary's blanket falls to the floor, Meira kneels down to pick it up. She's right there as Mary herself crumples to the ground. She simply takes the blanket and wraps it around the woman's shoulders.
For a moment, she gives Lyra the briefest of glances, then focuses back on the grieving woman. "I can hardly imagine what you must be feeling. It's only right you weep for Frederic right now."
She stays near Mary, and a million jokes flash through her head. But even she knows it's not the time. Again she glances towards the halfling. Surely a Cleric would be trained to deal with the grieving, right? Though she always thought more of Lyra being her accomplice for tricks and pranks.
Finally, she speaks softly to Mary. "Perhaps we should get you in out of the cold. It's a bit brisk here at the door."
Noticing her hand still clinched in a fist about the letter, she adds, "And maybe we can hold on to that note for now? You may wish to see what it contains another time."
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer || Bronnryn Hethgar, Cleric
Lady Alisande's gray eyes grow as wide Gareth explains the extent of his literary neglect, almost choking on her beef stew. "Good heavens. Well, we shall have to remedy that at the earliest opportunity. I daresay a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters would serve you most admirably." She insists, going on to extoll the virtues of said bestiary for monster hunters like Gareth, quietly hoping to rekindle in him an enthusiasm for the written word.
Alisande spends a good portion of the evening dining and conversing with Zephyros, Gareth and Rasziel, inquiring after the particulars of their personal histories whilst also unveiling aspects of her own. Eventually she reveals that she is an initiate in the Many-Starred Cloak, a guild of arcanists who work to keep Neverwinter and neighbouring territories safe from danger.
"My late mother - may Mystra take her into her grace - was a member of the Order as well. She vanished many years ago and was long presumed dead, though in truth she laboured clandestinely to subvert the efforts of a cabal of necromancers amassing power here, somewhere in the Sword Mountains region. It was only in the twilight of her life that she returned to the family estate." Her voice quavers somewhat, the loss of her mother still raw in the memory. "I suppose that is why I am here. Heritage. I am compelled to finish my mother's work, to elevate the standard of House Immerwood once more, after years of... well, much neglect."
Two spots of colour bloom in her fair face, betraying the embarrassment she feels at revealing so much to relative strangers. "These Phandalin libations are rather more potent than I anticipated. Pray forgive me." The noblewoman murmurs and excuses herself, making a brief tour of the town on her own and using the time to compose herself.
When she returns, she concurs with Rasziel's proposal for the entire group, including Lyra and Meira. "If you would have us, I would be honoured to join you in your endeavours. Preparing for a confrontation with either of these dragons certainly seems the most pressing. It is difficult to believe two such fearsome beasts exist in close proximity, and I fear for the safety of Phandalin should their wrath be unleashed upon the town. Yet I cannot in good conscience ignore the mages in this woodland manse for too long. It is possible they bear some connection to the investigations my mother once pursued."
Mary Gilmore's house
Lyra felt a knot twist in her stomach as she watched Mary's face change—warm friendliness turning first to shock, then to raw grief. The sight struck her harder than she expected, clinging tight to her chest and cutting deeper than the white dragon's claws had. She'd known of loss before, of course—life and death were part of every cleric's faith—but she had never felt it that deeply before.
For a moment, the cleric could only stand there, frozen, watching Meira gently wrap the blanket around the sobbing woman. What do I do? she asked herself, even as she felt her goddess' presence settle around her like a soft breeze. She murmured a quiet "Yes" to Meira's suggestion and took the taller grieving woman's hand, guiding her gently inside.
Almost without thinking, Lyra closed the door with a whispered word. Spotting a few unlit candles, she murmured the same word to make them flicker to life—hoping their warm glow might ease Mary's sobbing, even a little. She led her to a chair and then she simply stayed close, holding the woman's hand and listening in silence.
Lyra shared more than one glance with Meira during those moments. Both knew there was little they could do, and that no words would lessen the pain. Grief took its own time, and would walk unseen beside Mary for a long while, just as Tymora walked beside Lyra. That thought brought the cleric a bit of clarity. If she could help Mary feel—even faintly—that she was not alone, perhaps that would help?
So, she prayed softly, asking the Lady of Fortune to let a trace of her light flow through her hand towards Mary. "You are not alone in your grieving, Mary," she said gently, still uncertain that her words would help ... but trying to do so despite everything. "Please, Lean on your family and friends in the days ahead. Do you know Sister Garaele? She guards the Shrine of Luck here in Phandalin. I'm sure she would welcome you with open arms if you wish to spend some time with her."
"And… know that Frederic rests with his brothers by bond, in a graveyard close to the mine. Torrin and the others made sure of it. He gave his life to save them, to buy time so they could survive until help arrived. They were humbled by his sacrifice and spoke highly of him. I wish he'd never had to make it… but your husband's courage saved their lives."
She paused, then added softly, "When you feel ready, perhaps you’d like to visit his grave? Perhaps even read the letter he left for you then?"
After that, Lyra said no more, afraid to overwhelm Mary. With Meira's help, she prepared some tea and stayed until Mary seemed calmer.
Before returning to the inn, Lyra stopped by the Shrine of Luck to find Sister Garaele. She spoke of Mary and Frederic, asking if the priestess might visit the widow now and then—to offer what comfort she could.
Back with the others at the inn, Lyra was quiet. She thanked Zephyros for handling matters with the Townmaster and agreed to whatever task the group chose, but it was clear her thoughts were elsewhere.
Later, as the night advanced, the halfling drew closer to Meira, whipering to her:
"Will you stay with me tonight? I just…can you hold me, please?"
If Meira agrees, when they retire to sleep, the halfling will curl up against her, her small form trembling as she sobbed softly for a moment—until, at last, she drifted into a quiet, exhausted sleep.
(ooc: removed 1p 50cp for the dinner and drinks, and another 5sp for a room. And added 20gp as well!)
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren
Having already gotten to know the young noblewoman, the young purple-robed dark-haired man with the sinister-looking scar would still politely listen as she shares personal information about herself, her blush drawing a tiny amused smile from his lips. He sincerely doubted they would ever have reason to be concerned about the young lady acting too uninhibited in any way. Still, there was something almost endearing about her heated cheeks, not what he would have expected from someone of blue blood. Also, her interest of restoring her family name aligned well with his own aspirations.
"As for me, I hail from the Moonsea region. My father was a merchant and I hope to do him proud by building a business of my own. I do need considerable funds to launch this business so for now I would like to help you with your heroics for a fair share of the earnings." Rasziel says plainly, but there is clearly more to tell that he doesn't feel like sharing, yet.
Mary Gilmore's House
With Lyra's help, Meira gets Mary settled into her house. As the pair sit in silence with the woman, she catches the occasional glance from Lyra. Her face is a mix of emotions, often unreadable, but sometimes showing a hint of sadness or fear. She adds her words of agreement when the cleric praises Frederic's sacrifice. And when visiting the grave is mentioned, she says, "Perhaps if we are available, we could accompany you there."
Before leaving, Meira placed the crumpled letter she had retrieved from Mary's fist on the mantle of the hearth. Left there for whenever Mary might be ready to see what was inside.
She accompanied Lyra to the Shrine of Luck to see Sister Garaele. When the halfling mentions having the priestess visit, she suggests, "Maybe we should let Qeline know of Frederic's death as well. It seemed like she was a friend of Mary's."
As the pair head back to the Stonehill Inn, Meira quietly asks, "Where are you from Lyra? I mean, was there some place where you studied to be a cleric? Do you have family there?" There's a hesitance as she asks and a hint of worry. And of course, it's not long before they reach the inn. To Lyra, it is a bit of an odd change as Meira's more somber and thoughtful mood changes almost instantly as they step inside. A light smile comes to her face, and she seems no longer fazed by the events of the last few hours.
When Meira arrives back at the inn with Lyra, she glances about to see if Qeline might still be there. Sitting with the others, she listens to what Zephyros has to say about the tasks available. "To me, the most serious problem is the danger to the people of Phandalin," she says. "I think we must go see if this Axeholm place can be secured as a refuge for them. After that, it does seem like getting that sword would be of great help. It does seem like a bit of a ways to go though. And the last one, to go all the way to the Neverwinter Wood, that seems really far. Would it be worth our time?" She doesn't seem set on avoiding that job, rather genuinely curious what the others think.
She does keep near to Lyra, offering to get her a drink as she gets another for herself. As the evening wears on, she doesn't put on a performance by any means as she has done in the past. But she does end up pulling out her her dulcimer for a little bit, singing a lighthearted song.
'There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
One night to drink his fill.
The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased his tail.
The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.
Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat;
'The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!'
They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While the horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with a spoon.
The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes:
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!'
As the night grew late, and Lyra whispered to her, Meira nodded to the halfling, quietly whispering back:
"Umm, of course. Whatever you wish." There's a barely contained nervousness in Meira as the two retire. As Lyra curls up against her, she puts an arm gently around her, leaning in to kiss her softly on the forehead. She recognizes when the halfling soon drifts off, but sleep does not come quite as quickly for her. For a while she just gazes at the person beside her, until finally the exhaustion of the day takes over her as well.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer || Bronnryn Hethgar, Cleric
Zephyros listened attentively and respectfully as Alisande and Rasziel shared a bit about their history while at the bar. When it's his turn to share the bear of a man says, "I grew up in a much more simple fashion. At eighteen I was drafted into the Eskorn army and spent the next fourteen years of my life fighting for every inch. Hard fought, but my nation won the war and I was released from service. After the war, my wife and I sailed to..." He faulters, as he overhears the sailor talking about a lighthouse and ships crashing upon the shore. Zephyros suddenly gets up and approaches the sailor to ask, "Sir, where did you say this lighthouse was?" His thoughts turn to the nightmares he'd been having on a regular basis. The warrior can remember waking up on the beach near a lighthouse and even dreamt about it several times, but couldn't remember where his ship had wrecked. Suddenly recognizing how close the warrior was to the old sailor, even holding his ragged shirt in his fist, Zephyros let's the man go and takes a step back. "My apologies, it's just... I would very much like to go there." He says somewhat embarrassed.
As the group discusses their next mission, Zephyros nods his approval at Razsiel and Alisande joining the group. "You've both proven capable in a fight and I sense you both can be trusted. I vote yes. We'll need all the allies we can get. However, in addition to the new jobs posted, I would remind our company we have a few other outstanding leads to consider as well. Gnomengarde may have some magic items valuable in the fight against the dragon. Additionally, there's a job to resupply a logging camp to the north in Neverwinter wood. I agree with Meira though. We should prioritize missions that make the townsfolk here the safest. One last thing to add..." The warrior hesitates. "Eventually I would like to look into this lighthouse where ships are crashing against the shore."
Coming to a decision, Ironheart says, "With a much larger green dragon as a new threat, we should secure a secondary location for the townsfolk to evacuate to should the worst come to pass. Axeholm is our next destination. From there we can stop at Gnomengarde before heading back to town." Zephyros looks to the group expecting agreement as he reinforces Meira's preferred course of action.
Zephyros turns to Lyra as she thanks him, recognizes the sorrow in her eyes. He gives the halfling an empathetic nod but says nothing. Nothing need be said. Only time heals some wounds. As the night wore on Zephyros listened intently to Meira's song, relishing the moment of peace in an otherwise hostile world. Disappointed when the song ends, he watches as the two retire for the night. However, Zephyros is loath to sleep himself, knowing there is no rest for him. Every time the warrior closes his eyes, he's haunted by his past. His thoughts turn once again to the Sword Coast and the lighthouse... his shipwreck... his love, Silvara. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in the common room, but the weariness of the road and the strong drink ushered him into slumber next to the warm fire roaring in the hearth.
Rasziel,
You have no reason to doubt the validity of the old sailors tail. However, you do recognize the man is already deep in his cups. You suspect he's retelling the tail to be the center of attention if only for a brief moment.
As far as Old Gnawbone is concerned. You've heard the name before and remember reading the dragon's real name is Claugiyliamatar who is at least two centuries old. Rumors suggest the dragon has a huge treasure horde and is protected by a cabal of druids in addition to the dragon herself.
Back at the Miner's Exchange, Halia smiles as you begin to tell her your tail and beckons you into a more private back room of the Exchange. She tells you she's happy to have a fellow Zhent working in the area so long as your aspirations don't cross her own. She then tells you, “As the Triboar Trail runs east, it passes through the ruins of Conyberry, a town sacked by barbarians years ago. There’s a ruined temple south of Conyberry where it’s said the locals hid their gold.” She continues by saying the gold was never found and suggested the search could prove quite lucrative for them both if it were returned to her.
During your talk, two people enter the room wearing leather armor and cloaks. One has a bow and quiver slung over a shoulder and the other has several daggers sheathed on his belt. Both have their hoods pulled over their heads as they approach Halia. Halia smiles as they enter and bids them welcome. One of them whispers into her ear, to which she nods as if approving something and both individuals depart again. Your conversation turns to the dragon sightings. She tells you she's aware of the green dragon living in Kryptgarden Forest but is surprised to hear the old dragon left her lair. Something compelling must have drawn her out though she can't begin to speculate what that might be. She ends with welcoming you to Phandalin and looks forward to working with you.
Meira and Lyra,
You stay for a while with Mary as the woman grieves. Comforting her just by your presence. Mary tells you she doesn't know Sister Garaele but agrees to seek her out when she's ready. As you tell her of Frederic's bravery she stops crying and says, "That sounds like my Frederic, always putting others before himself. Thank you for coming here to tell me. I would love to visit the mine sometime and Frederic's grave, but I'm not ready yet." She tells you that she'll be fine and will need some time to figure out what to do now. She hugs each of you before you depart and thanks you once more.
You both stop by the Shrine of Luck looking for Sister Garaele, but find the shine empty. You head back to the Inn, keeping an eye out for the Sister or Qeline, but see neither. Before the night is over, Sister Garaele shows up as promised... Lyra tells the Sister about Mary and Frederic and the Garaele agrees to check in on the widow in the morning.
Zephyros,
The old sailor's eyes widen as you invade his space and grab him by his collar. However, once you apologize and release the man he says, "No harm, no harm. A Treasure seeker are ya? Well then just follow the Triboar trail to the west until you reach the High Road. Keep heading west until you get to the beach and then turn south. You can't miss it. Rumor has it a strange storm swirls around the lighthouse. Unnatural it is."
As soon as you drift off to sleep...
You dream about your ship crashing against the rocks and breaking apart. You fall into the water with your wife, Silvara, a beautiful Sea Elf. While sinking into the ocean, you see the ship's crew being carried off by several merrow. One such monster attacks you. Before you lose consciousness, you see Silvara throw a trident at the monster, killing it.
In your dream, you wake up on the beach alone amongst the rubble of your ship that was torn apart, and several dead bodies you recognize as some of the ship's crew. As you lift your head, you see a trident lying next to you, your wife's trident. The trident that she used to save your life. You grab the trident. Gripping it tightly, you rush to your feet only to feel faint and fall back to the ground. A moment passes as your head spins. You look around... your wife nowhere to be seen. You look up and see dark clouds swirling above you unnaturally. The focal point is a nearby lighthouse.
Suddenly, you find yourself at the top of the lighthouse looking into the eyes of Silvara. She looks into your eyes and smiles. You touch her cheek, as you do her pale skin turns translucent and her smile fades. You are now looking at your wife as if she were a banshee. She says to you, "Why didn't you come? Why didn't you save me?" She moves forward and yells at you, "Why didn't you come!?!" You take a step backwards as her visage frightens you. When you do, you fall off the top of a lighthouse. You continue to fall an impossible distance as the top of the lighthouse shrinks from view. Above it a swirling vortex of cloud cover.
Before you hit the ground, you startle awake in a cold sweat. The common room to the Inn is empty save for the old sailor in a chair next to you snoring loudly. You look out a window, It's still dark. The fire burns low in the hearth.
Everyone,
Before everyone heads off to rest, Sister Garaele shows up to the Stonehill Inn to make good on her promise of payment. She first hands Rasziel and Alisande 20gp each and then give every other party member 10gp for the return trip. She thanks you for your service and excuses herself, stating that hanging around the tavern is not her cup of tea.
You all benefit from a long rest and awake early the next morning. What would you like to do, if anything, before heading off to Axeholm I presume?
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights. DM for Dragons of Icespire Peak Pbp
In the Room
Meira awakens very early, pleasantly surprised to recall Lyra was there. She stays put until the halfling awakens as well. Once out of bed, she wants to try to get at least a bit of hot water to wash up. She offers to go fetch that while Lyra rests.
Meira though does spend a considerable amount of time getting herself washed, making sure her hair is styled just right. She even might try to trim her hair a bit if she can. And then of course her clothes need to be just right as well.
Common Room
It takes some time for Meira to make it down, planning to get a small breakfast. She agrees with choice to head for Axeholm first. As others gather though she asks, "Where would we go from there?"
Before the group leaves she would like to see about purchasing some studded leather armor. Something just a little more protective than the simple leather she has now.
(OOC - I have Armor of Cold Resistance, Leather in inventory. Did Gareth take that? Or someone else?)
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer || Bronnryn Hethgar, Cleric
Before retiring for the night (or later in the morning, if they don't find Qeline), Lyra nods Meira's suggestion to inform Qeline about Frederic's passing. It is only fair to do so, now that Mary already knows what happened.
When asked where she's from, Lyra answers that she has lived all her life in the Temple of Luck in Silverymoon. She's never known her parents since they left her at the temple as a newborn baby. Meira notices that Lyra says this without any anger or sadness, as it is a very common story among many of her companions in the temple. Lyra considers herself lucky —no pun intended ... or perhaps it is— to have been raised there rather than as a street urchin.
Is Silverymoon okay with you, DM? I realized I never defined where Lyra comes from, I think, so I looked up which cities in the Forgotten Realms have temples to Tymora and chose Silverymoon
The night's rest seems to suit Lyra well. Though she won't easily forget what happened the day before, she wakes feeling immensely better. She giggles softly when she finds Meira putting so much care into her appearance and tosses her a pillow from the bed. "Come on, you're going to overwork that poor mirror!" she exclaims, but then offers to help Meira trim her hair.
I strongly suggest that you don't agree, though, Culuril haha
When she finally gets out of bed, she washes thoroughly, but when it comes time to prepare her clothes, hair, and overall appearance, she takes far less time than Meira. One might even argue that what she does with her hair isn't really styling—it's more like chaotically and quickly twisting it into a messy braid that, by some divine intervention, somehow looks charming rather than unruly. As she finishes, she smiles broadly at the tall human next to her, gives her a warm embrace, and happily trots out of the room to meet the others.
On their way to the common room, Lyra realizes, "I forgot to ask you yesterday where you're from, Meira! Do you have any family there?" Since she is asking while sitting with the others, Lyra redirects the question to everyone else, mentioning again that she hails from Silverymoon’s Temple of Tymora.
Since some of you have already mentioned this in previous posts, I can just assume you say it again here instead of making you write everything out again!
"Okay, so… Axeholm next?" she then asks.
Before they set out, Lyra sits next to Zephyros, resting her hand over one of his—considerably larger—hand. "You look tired. Didn't you sleep well again? Oh, please don't tell me you fell asleep right here, Zephyros!" She pauses, thinking carefully about her next words. "You know we're here to do more than quests on the job board, right? Do count on us when you're ready to share your troubles, okay? I think it would help to talk about them. A worry shared is a worry halved, or so people say!" Lyra taps Zephyros' hand gently, smiling warmly at the big warrior without insisting.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren
The young purple-robed dark-haired man listens respectfully to the bearded soldier, trying to recall anything about Eskorn. He then gives the others a concerned look as the massive veteran reacts quite strongly to the tale of the old sailor, making a mental note of being wary of the man's temper. He gives the bearded soldier a grateful nod for his vote of confidence and decides to not raise any further opinions on in which order they should deal with all that evidently needed to be dealt with. In his mind, securing a place of safety would only be of benefit to the people of Phandalin if they were prepered to leave now and stay there until the threat of the dragons was over. If any of the dragons should ever bother with attacking this town and it's people, they would have no chance in Nessus to reach any sort of safety. Still, if the securing brought the townsfolk some reassurance and comfort it would perhaps be worth their while. "I for one will travel with you to that lighthouse brave warrior..." Rasziel says with small polite smile. "...but let us first deal with what needs more immediate attention."
(History regarding Eskorn: 7)
As sister Garaele turns up Rasziel gives her respectful bow and accepts his earnings. He would eat and drink quite sparsely, not one to indulgein any way it seemed, but rather brood over distant troubles. The sweet singing of the quite stylish young woman seems to grant him some relief though and he offers her a small smile and a polite nod after her pleasant performance. He is by now not surprised to see her turn in together with the halfling, but he himself planned to share his room only with his associate and bookkeeper who had a long night before him.
Rasziel would come down for a light breakfast, nodding quitetly to the others as he took a place by the table, taking note of the halfling's concern for the massive bearded warrior. He wasn't convinced of the truth of her words but he realized that he too could do with someone to share the burden of his fate, and his obligation. It was a burden he felt no one but him should ever carry though.
"I believe your friend Zephyros suggested we would visit a place called Gnomegarde once we have secured Axeholm as a safe haven for the townsfolk, but I myself have no opinion on the matter, assuming that you too would agree to have me and the ladyship along for these mission obviously. I'm curious to hear though if we know anything about these two places and what kind of threats we risk facing there." Rasziel says to Meira and the others at the table.
Miner's Exchange
Rasziel would assure Halia that he would do what he can to recover the gold from the temple south of the Conyberry ruins and bid his Black Network contact a continued profitable day before returning to the inn while pondering the new situation he had found himself in. He would have to tread carefully to make sure the interests of the adventurers would stay aligned with that of the Black Network.
Zephyros nods in appreciation as Rasziel agrees to accompany him to the lighthouse, but says nothing more.
The next morning, Zephryos startles awake, sweat dripping down the mans brow. The bear of a man growls in frustration and anger as he looks around the common room and sees the sailor sleeping soundly near him in another chair. Ironheart feels compelled to yell and curse the gods for cursing him with these ongoing nightmares. However, he bottles it inside of him, warry of disrupting others who are still sleeping. It was bad enough to live through it once... why must I be tortured nightly. 'Not even the war caused me this much consternation.' He chastises himself over that thought. 'The war wasn't my Silvara, wasn't my love.'
Getting up to stoke the fire, the hearth once again roars to life. Recognizing how early it still is, Ironheart grabs his trident and strides out the front door. He takes a deep breath of the cold morning air, before lighting his pipe and puffing on it as he walks. He can see the distant tendrils of dawn approaching to the east as he patrols the still sleeping town, vigilant for anything out of place. The warrior finds some solace in the simple task, the familiar feeling of patrolling. Of making sure the people around him are a bit safer thanks to his efforts. He returns to the Inn prior to anyone waking.
Perception Nat 20+4=24!
When Lyra sits next to Zephyros and sees the exhaustion in his eyes, she asks about his sleep, the warrior says, "The gods curse my sleep little one. There is no rest when I close my eyes." He didn't want to confide in the halfling cleric. He wasn't even sure he intended to, but oddly, he felt a little bit better afterwards. Already feeling like he'd overshared, Zephyros says nothing more, but provides a genuine smile to Lyra as she offers to listen to the man's troubles.
As the group discusses the plan, Ironheart makes sure it's known that he's okay with altering their objective if a logical argument is made for an alternative. "Axeholm is about fifteen miles south of Phandalin. If we leave now, we should be able to make it there in roughly five hours. Gnomengarde is ten miles to the east. If we make haste, we can complete both missions today and be back here late tonight or tomorrow morning if we choose to rest. Is everyone ready?" Zephyros looks around to the others for confirmation or for discussion.
The day before, hearing Lyra was from Silverymoon, Meira was only able to say, "Wow, that's quite a long way from here." But then they were walking into the Stonehill Inn to join the others.
Preparing in the room in the morning, Meira can't help but respond to Lyra's teasing. "Hey, I like looking good, so my mirrors are used to it!" As she dodges the pillow she says, "You mess up my hair and I'll have to start all over!" She does agree to let the halfling help with trimming her hair. "I like the asymmetrical look, but I wonder if I should just keep both sides shaved if we're going to be on the road for a bit. It's hard to keep it looking exactly right on the road."
(OOC - Hopefully she doesn't regret asking for the help!)
As Lyra takes just an instant to fix her hair then gives her a hug, she comments. "See! I need those hours of preparations if I'm going to look even half as beautiful as you!" She smiles broadly as she follows after her to find the others.
Having joined the others, she answers Lyra's question, though there is a slight moment of hesitation. "I'm from Floodblest. Near Neverwinter, along the river," she says. "My parents are there. My younger sister and little brother live with them too."
She's quiet when Lyra expresses her concerns about Zephyros. She does look at him with concern but has nothing to add to the cleric's words. She does turn to Rasziel when he addresses her. "Of course you two are welcome to join us if you are able. If Gnomenguard is nearby it might be worth checking in with them too." She gives a brief glance to Zephyros before adding, "I'm not quite sure we could get there and all the way back by tonight. Especially depending on what we find in Axeholm."
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer || Bronnryn Hethgar, Cleric
Finishing up his simple morning meal, the young purple-robed dark-haired man with the sinister-looking scar nods in agreement with the stylish young woman's assessment. Axeholm could now even be the lair of yet another dragon as far as they knew, and he would prefer to explore with caution, taking all the time they needed to make sure that all of Axeholm was in fact safe as a refuge for the people of Phandalin should the need arise. "I would need to purchase some equipment suitable for such explorations. If you could direct me to the local general store I will make it a quick visit on our way out of town." Rasziel calmly explains, seeming otherwise ready to depart. After now having heard some personal details also about the couple, he starts to ponder the possibility any of them would have any affiliations that they had not yet revealed and decided to stay somewhat wary with his new companions, for now.
Lyra,
Silverymoon is fine.
Zephyros,
While patrolling the town, you notice a few people up early walking around. A older man wearing farming cloths nods and waves as you walk past. A couple of people with cloaks drawn over their heads are heading out of town to the east. One of them has a bow and quiver of arrows slung over their shoulder. A few nocturnal creatures skitter about, but you don't sense anything out of the ordinary. All is peaceful during your patrol.
Rasziel,
You learn Barthen's Provisions next door to the north of the Inn has everything the adventuring type might need for an extended venture into the wild.
Meira,
You head over to the Lionshield Coster and find Linene Graywind sipping on a cup of hot coffee. She welcomes you in and helps you try on a set of studded leather. She looks at you with approval and says, "Looks good on you! That will be 45gp if you please."
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights. DM for Dragons of Icespire Peak Pbp
Meira will pay the 45 gp, although she asks Linene if she might take the plain leather armor she has now for a small discount. "Perhaps 5 gp?" she asks. Once the transactions are complete, she will thank her, ready to go.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer || Bronnryn Hethgar, Cleric
Alisande's expression brightens when Zephyros agrees to the proposal that she and Rasziel join the company. Yet she takes careful note of the abrupt change of emotion during the exchange with the drunken sailor. There's more to that soldier's story, she muses to herself, tucking the thought away for later. When Sister Garaele arrives bearing the promised coin, Alisande thanks priestess for her company on the journey as much as the gold. Before the Tymoran departs, Alisande asks whether she's heard of any rumours of necromancers building a base of power, somewhere near Phandalin.
As the evening wears on, the redheaded noble retires to a private room. She draws the shutters closed and spends an hour in quiet ritual. A piece of charcoal in hand, she sketches ornate arcane formulae on the floorboards, before lighting a few sticks of incense in a small brazier in the centre. She fashions runes from the smoke that curls away from the incense, and conjures into being a tiny winged kitten, its soft feathers matching the feline's calico pattern. "Ozymandias," She murmurs fondly, "I've missed you, dearest." The fey creature snuggles up with Alisande on the modest bed, where the mage takes some much-needed rest.
Alisande rises the next morning a little earlier than the others, and partakes of a breakfast composed of honeyed porridge, a fillet of fried whitefish and sweet tea. Having taken a tour of Phandalin the previous evening, she directs Rasziel to Barthen's Provisions. After introductions are made, trade completed and pleasantries are passed, she returns to the same line of inquiry she posed to Sister Garaele. "Perhaps this is a strange question with which to conclude our business, Master Barthen... but have you heard any whispers of necromancers or undead stirring near Phandalin?
OOC: Ritual casting of Find Familiar - 10GP
Lyra picks up a stool and stands on it to reach Meira's height. She takes the scissors, and very veeeery slowly, very veeeery carefully, she begins trimming the human's hair. The halfling is completely absorbed in the task —tongue sticking out of her lips included— when Meira suddenly calls her beautiful. Snick! Lyra blinks, her hand moves a little too far, and a bit more hair than she intended to cut falls slowly to the ground. Startled, she jumps down from the stool, puts the scissors away, and says, "You know what? I'd better not keep doing this. I'm not that good a hairdresser, you know! And… you already look amazing! I don't believe you could possibly look even more stunning, but have you ever considered letting your hair grow...?"
And that's the precise moment the cleric rushes out of the room and heads downstairs. "Thanks for calling me beautiful, though! No one's ever said that to me before!" Meira can hear her exclaim from outside. "And perhaps no one else will… after Meira kills me for this!" the halfling thinks afterwards.
(ooc: I used Guidance on myself, and even with that, I rolled a total of 9 in Sleight of Hand. Or an 8 if it has to be a general DEX check /facepalm)
Later, Lyra returns Zephyros's smile with an even brighter one. The burly warrior hadn't shared much, but at least he had opened up a little. As said, Lyra doesn't press further, though she is determined to try to watch over the warrior's next sleep if she can.
Since Lyra doesn't need to make any purchases before leaving, she spends her time watching Ozymandias with big, curious eyes. She'd never seen one of the famed winged cats before and feels extremely lucky to be in a party with one of them. Will Ozymandias get along well with Felagi, she wonders? It would be amazing if they would play together!
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren
Earlier in the morning when joining everyone for breakfast...
Those that might notice such things would see Meira had her hair styled much differently today. While the top is unchanged and still brushed over to her right, the sides are both shaved down very short. It's a rather distinctive look.
Her conversations with Lyra seemed quite normal and she had her usual upbeat demeanor.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric
Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer || Bronnryn Hethgar, Cleric
Meira,
Linene looks over your old leather armor with a critical eye.. "Well, there's some damage to it, but not terrible. Fair enough, I think I can repair and resell it. I'll take 5gp off the sale price with your trade-in."
Did you shave the sides of your head after Lyra butchered the trim? Lol
Alisande,
When you enter Barthen's Provisions you find the proprietor sitting behind the counter whittling a piece of wood. A lean, balding man stands up as you enter. "Hello and welcome. Let me know if you need anything." You approach the counter and ask your questions as Rasziel gathers some supplies. "Hmm..." Barthen thinks for a moment. "...can't say I have Ma'am. But, if it's necromancers yer after..." He grabs a flask from under the counter and sets it down in front of you. "...a flask of holy water might just be yer ticket." He raises his eyebrows a couple of times while gesturing to the flask. "Whadda ya say?"
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights. DM for Dragons of Icespire Peak Pbp
The burly soldier briefly nods back to the farmer and even manages a smile, albeit small.
Before most of the group gathers into the main room of the inn, Ironheart sets out to search for Eldrin, to give him the 20 gold the master wizard had earned for accompanying Mr. Raskin to the mine. Assuming the elven mage is at Adabra's house, Zephyros checks there first.
After all other business is concluded, the veteran states, "Nice haircut, Ms. Dheran." Zephyros quietly mentions to the rogue.