Meiracan't help but overhear what this man says to Zephyros. Having had her fill, she gets up and comes over to the bar as well. "Don Jon Raskin! Yes, we saw your name on the job board. We might be able to help you out. How long do you suppose the trip is? And all we have to do is drop you off at the mine?"
Lyralistens to Meiraand Zephyros, nodding along to their suggestions, as they do make a lot of sense. "But the job did say the gnomes might have something useful to protect others from a dragon attack. It's not only about warning them..."Still, she can't argue that Gnomengarde's location makes it harder to respond quickly to the orc threat after their attack at Butterskull Ranch.
When Meira and Zephyros stand to speak with the stranger, Lyra leans toward Eldrinand Garethwith a grin, whispering, "Do you think that man will drink as much whiskey as he can before he leaves Phandalin, or carry a keg to keep drinking along the way?"
Then she hops off her seat and trails after the others, stepping up beside them. She offers the cowboy a cheerful smile and says, "Good morning, Don Juan, my name's Lyra."
She doesn't elaborate—just watches his reaction, her eyes glinting with amusement. The cleric once read a very interesting novel about the adventures of a certain charming rake who left quite the trail of broken hearts behind him. She's curious to see if this one lives up to the name, even if it is only partly similar.
Don's glassy-eyed gaze turns to you as you approach. "Well, hello there, Miss. I reckon the walk will take us the better part of five hours. If we leave now, we can get there before sundown. Easy money if you ask me. Once we get there, your job is done."
Lyra,
"Good morning, Miss." He tips his hat to you after your greeting. "Pleasure to meet you."
You get the sense he didn't even notice the way you pronounced his name.
Meiraglances over to Lyra, having caught her change in the man's name. But she says nothing to her while continuing to speak with Don Jon. "Well, we have had lunch, so perhaps we could get going soon. It will depend on what our companions all say." This time she turns to Zephyros. "Do you think it wise to turn around and leave so soon? I daresay the others were hoping for a night at the inn. But if we're going to help anyone that survived the orcs, it might best to get a head start today."
She gives a quick glance again to Lyra. "I know I certainly would not have minded a bath. You ok with heading out of town... like... now?"
Lyra thinks “Boooooriiiiiing” as Don Jon doesn't even notice her pun. But hey, Meirahas! She grins a bit—mostly to herself—and keeps listening to the conversation.
When she asks about the best time to leave, Lyra exclaims, "Now? As in... right now? Literally now? Oh gods, please no!" The halfling points at Zephyros. "He needs a bit of rest! Okay, maybe not a full night's sleep at the inn, since time is probably of the essence. But I'd say we give our bodies at least a few hours before we depart, right? We'll be better off if we're a bit more rested, won't we?"
She glances over at Eldrinand Garethto see what they think, then leans closer to Meiraand whispers, "I'd die... even kill... okay, probably not that much... for a hot bath as well!"
Zephyroslooks at Meirawith a weariness in his eyes that speaks volumes. He stands up straight from the bar counter and says, "I agree time is critical if we hope to save anyone at the ranch, but we'll have a long trek after leaving the mine." He thinks for a moment to determine if he knows how long the travel to the ranch will be from the mine (Survival: 23 with disadvantage due to exhaustion).
"Lyra, it's true. I could use a good nights rest in the comfort of the Inn. And more of Toblin's fine fair tonight would be a treat as well. As much as I hate to delay, I believe we should leave at first light tomorrow."
The armored warrior turns to Don and asks, "Would you be willing to wait until tomorrow to set out?"
You would know on average your group can travel 25 miles in one day on foot without becoming exhausted. The mine is 15 miles to the East which would take you five hours to get there at a normal pace. Another fifty miles from the mine to arrive at Butterskull Ranch since you have to first travel North before turning East again. You can reasonably expect your trip to the ranch to take two days before you arrive.
Everyone,
Don Jon listens to the group discuss the merits of leaving now vs. in the morning. "Listen, I would like to get to the mine sooner than later, but I can wait until morning. My employers insisted I be escorted, else I'd be there already. I'll be ready to leave when you are." He takes another pull of the whiskey in his hand, finishing it off and places the glass on the bar. "You let me know what you decide."
"Oh, he definitely has a portable keg somewhere," Gareth agrees with a grin as they watch the conversation between Zephyros and Don Jon play out.
The ranger approaches the others gathered around Don Jon. The stench of whiskey coming from the man is almost enough to make his eyes water.
"I hate to say it, but I do think we need to rest as well," Gareth says, his eyes flicking toward the exhausted form of Zephyros. "If my companions are in agreement, we can set out with you at first light."
In an aside to Lyra, the ranger agrees about the bath. "That sounds wonderful. I think I still have some of that ooze on me from the dwarven temple."
Meiralistens to the others and honestly looks relieved to hear they want to wait until morning. She chuckles when Lyraleans in to whisper to her. "Glad you said something," she whispers back, "I won't dare get in the way of you getting a hot bath then! No matter how much I might want one." She then lowers her voice even further as she continues her whispering. "Were you hoping perhaps a Don Juan might join you? A shame nobody caught your clever remark." She grins then turns to the others.
"What are we thinking then? Sounds like start at first light?" She looks around to see if anyone disagrees. "If we aren't going to be leaving now, then what sort of fun can be had in Phandalin? I mean, other than songs and dancing back here tonight."
Lyrais visibly relieved to hear they'll be resting until morning. She had begged for “a few hours,” but a whole night? Even better! She claps her hands excitedly, clearly happy with the decision.
"Oh?" she grins mischievously at Meira. "But someone did catch the clever remark, didn't she?" The response is quick and triumphant—but then the halfling seems to process what Meiraactually said before that, and she freezes. A series of increasingly horrified expressions flicker across her face as her imagination runs wild with the implications. After a few seconds, she blurts out, "Wha—? Whaaaaat? Eugh! No! Not in a thousand years!"
Once the cleric recovers from the mental image and brushes it off with an exaggerated shudder, she continues. "So! Hot bath. You and me. Aaaand…" she glances at Gareth, "you too? Anyone else?” Lyra pauses, thoughtful. "Do you think the baths here are mixed? Ours were, back at Tymora’s temple. We were taught that the gods made us how we are, and there's nothing shameful in that—though some people still liked to drape a towel over the important bits. Personal comfort, not temple policy. Of course, I hear Lathander’s followers are a bit more…” she squints, trying to find the right word. Stiff? Traditional? Cautious? Like someone who even folds their socks before a bath. She seems to settle for, "…conservative?"
Lyra glances skyward for a moment and adds, "Don't get me wrong, Lathander—you're great. Your people too." She looks at the group again, "Just in case he's listening. Anyway! Anyone knows if the baths here are mixed or not?"
To Meira's question about what sort of fun can be had in Phandalin, she looks attentively to what is being said, not knowing the town that much. "Hummm, is there a market or shops we could visit? Just to take a few looks. And what about ... I don't know .... darts? I hear people usually play darts in taverns. And cards. I've never really played, but trying new things sounds fun."
Replying to Lyra, Meiratries to sound confused, "Really? Someone did catch the remark?" However, with the halfling looking at her with that grin, she can't keep up the pretense. As the horrified expression appears on her face though, Meirastarts to laugh.
"Baths first?" she asks. Looking around at the others to see if anyone else is going to be interested. "I think Phandalin might be too small to have such elaborate public baths. I was just hoping the Stonehill Inn here might have a tub or something." She is by no means an expert on the customs here or in Neverwinter for that matter.
With a sudden flash, another grin comes to her face. "Oh! I bet Tymora favors mixed baths because it might help some to... get lucky." Her eyes flick to Lyra, clearly intending for her remark to get a reaction from her.
Eldrin has been quiet throughout the meal, eating with his usual meticulous care, more for the sake of decorum than hunger. He listens to the conversation around him with a faint air of detachment, though the subtle lift at the corner of his mouth betrays his amusement at Lyra’s antics and Meira’s easy banter.
“A night’s rest seems sensible,”he murmurs, glancing once at Zephyros’s weariness. “Not only for the sake of our bodies, but because plans made in exhaustion tend to falter.”
His gaze shifts, thoughtful, not distant but calculating, “As for myself, I’ll not be lingering here. I intend to pay a visit to Adabra before nightfall.”
“We had… unfinished conversation,” he adds mildly. “Her knowledge of the regional flora, particularly those relevant to alchemical suspensions, warrants further exploration. I don’t expect to be long.”
Only now does his gaze flick between Lyra and Meira with a dry, glimmering note of humor. “Besides, I suspect my company would be better appreciated surrounded by dried herbs than interrupting anyone’s private bath.”
The statement is delivered with his typical precision, half amusement, half dismissal, but the softness in his tone makes it clear he bears no malice.
Standing smoothly, he adjusts his cloak. “I’ll rejoin you before the evening’s end.”
With slight nod of his head toward the group, Eldrin steps away from the table, already turning his mind toward infusions, tinctures, and the quiet satisfaction of intellectual pursuit.
You inquire with Toblin about the local bathhouse. He informs you that the town doesn't have an official bathhouse, but he has a room towards the back of the Inn with three tubs with privacy screens. He says the baths cost five silver pieces each. You spend the afternoon washing all of your nooks and crannies. The water is warm, borderline hot. Steam rolls off the water into the cooler air and gives a slight, pleasant lavender aroma. You all feel much better after a good scrubbing.
Eldrin,
You walk over to Adabra's home/shop. You knock on the door, and no one answers. You knock a second time... still nothing. However, just as you are about to knock a third time, a familiar voice addresses you. "Hello, Deary. It's good to see you again so soon." Ababra walks up to you with a basket full of various herbs and other regents. She gives you a warm smile and beckons you inside as she opens the door.
Inside is a modest dwelling still in disarray from recent relocation. Adabra sets down the basket on a nearby table and walks over to a kettle still warm from resting on a wood stove. "Tea?" She pours you a cup and one for herself as she motions you to the table with the basket and sits down in one of the two open chairs. "Now, what can I do for you, Deary?"
Zephyros,
After Don Jon agrees to leave at first light, you waste no time in taking advantage of your afternoon off and head straight to bed upstairs.
While resting, 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 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 the next scene of 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 your former 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.
Eldrin steps lightly over the threshold, giving a respectful nod as Adabra ushers him inside. His gaze sweeps across the clutter of herbs and papers with the faintest narrowing of his eyes, not disapproval, but rather the sharpness of one accustomed to order.
When she offers tea, he inclines his head in acceptance. “Thank you,” he murmurs, the warmth of the cup in his hand contrasting with the formality of his posture.
As she sits and asks her question, Eldrin rests the cup on its saucer, fingers gently steepled around it.
“I won’t take up much of your time,” he begins, voice measured but sincere. “During our last meeting, I found your knowledge of regional flora to be of considerable merit. It occurred to me that, much as it is not uncommon for apprentice wizards to find themselves in the halls of my order, seated among tomes and guided by those with greater experience, I might hope to arrange something similar here.”
His pale gaze flickers, meaningfully, toward the basket of herbs, then to the various shelves crowded with bundles and jars. “Not in expectation of mastery, of course, that would be naïve of me to expect that in a few hours. But in hopes that I might assist with menial work, ask questions as they arise, and learn what I can by observation, should that arrangement be amenable to you.”
He lifts the teacup then, sipping carefully, waiting to see how she might answer.
Adabra smiles as you accept the tea and listens respectfully. She appears thoughtful for a moment as she ponders your words then sips her tea. "You wish to become an apprentice alchemist, do you?" Her smile increases at the thought. She looks at your clean robes and asks, "I would be glad for the help in exchange for knowledge of my craft. These hands can't handle the crushing of herbs like they used to."
Adabra points to a table against the far wall where lies her mortar and pestle. "With my windmill grinder unavailable to me the process to grind herbs has become... harder on me. If you help process these herbs I'll teach you all about the herbs as we turn them into potions. How's that sound?"
Eldrin listens carefully, as she mentions apprentice alchemist, he inclines his head with polite warmth but corrects her gently, his voice low and steady.
“Apprentice is not quite accurate, I think, it implies a formality of tutelage, of oaths and long commitment. I cannot give that, not while my obligations lie with the work posted in town. But when a task is complete, if I may find myself here in those hours after, I will commit my focus to learning, in exchange for work.”
He rests two fingers lightly against the wood grain of the table as his lips move, soft, clipped syllables of Elvish under his breath. A shimmer of arcane threads coils faintly around his hand, delicate and translucent. A spectral hand manifests above the mortar, translucent but sure, fingers curling as it takes hold of the pestle.
Without prompting, the arcane hand begins its work, slow, rhythmic movements, grinding the first of the herbs with practiced precision.
Then he unclasps the worn leather journal from his satchel and opens it to a fresh page, the pale parchment waiting, pristine and with a snap of his finger a quill appears floating above the paper, ready to take notes.
Pleased at the progress being made, Eldrin finally lifts the teacup and sips, then glances toward her with an attentive gaze, the hovering quill bobbing faintly in the air over his open notebook, poised for her instruction.
“Shall we begin properly? What is the name of this herb? Where does it grow… and what, precisely, are we drawing from it?”
Zephyros furiously bolts awake, his enchanted trident slams against the wooden floor beside him and the clank reverberates through the room.
After panting violently and a few quiet moments, the startled man sluggishly glances at his fallen weapon.
He begins to reach for his pristine armament when he notices its placed on the ground exactly like his dream... and precisely similar to the real occurrence in his past.
After pausing, he growls. "Is this some sick joke to you? You think you can taunt me from your high and mighty sky?!" The grizzly man shouts in anger as he glares at the heavens from his window.
The battle-hardened fighter adds, "First you taint my wife's pride, then flood my mind with horrific memories?! I'll never obey your will!"
Realizing everyone can likely perceive his angry rant, he snatches his polearm from the ground and tries falling back to sleep.
Adabra responds to you as you make clear your intentions, "I see. Well in that case we better make good use of our time then, shouldn't we? I'll take what help I can get, Deary." She watches as you summon your mage hand and use it to grind the herbs into a fine powder. "That's a fine skill you have there. I wish I contained such magic." She rubs her hands together as if massaging the pain from them. Her smile quickly returns as she sees you prepared to take notes and ask about the herbs used. "This herb here is called Wyndor's herb. We are fortunate as it grows in abundance around the hillsides of Phandalin."
She goes on at some length as to how to properly process the herb and the medicinal properties of the plant. She then continues the lesson, explaining how she uses crushed up garnets and distilled water to infuse healing potions. The process isn't difficult, but it is time consuming. She continues to describe various other plants and regents in her custody. She displays unparalleled patience as you ask your questions, and elaborates to ensure you fully understand the information she shares with you.
[[OOC: You are now proficient in the Nature skill. I have added it to your character sheet. Additionally, you may attempt to create your own potions if you possess the ingredients and time to create them. However, you do not yet possess proficiency in alchemist tools.]]
Zephyros,
You are able to go back to sleep after tossing and turning for some time. Your sleep is fitful, but you don't have anymore dreams and awake early the next morning. (Unless disturbed by an ally of course.)
You gain the benefit of a long rest. Your exhaustion level decreases back to zero.
Gareth, Meira, and Lyra,
As you are finishing up your baths you hear some muffled yelling coming from upstairs, but you can't make out the words. You believe its coming from Zephyros' room. However, the yelling ends quickly enough and doesn't cause MUCH concern.
Replying to Lyra, Meiratries to sound confused, "Really? Someone did catch the remark?" However, with the halfling looking at her with that grin, she can't keep up the pretense. As the horrified expression appears on her face though, Meirastarts to laugh.
With a sudden flash, another grin comes to her face. "Oh! I bet Tymora favors mixed baths because it might help some to... get lucky." Her eyes flick to Lyra, clearly intending for her remark to get a reaction from her.
Only now does his gaze flick between Lyra and Meira with a dry, glimmering note of humor. “Besides, I suspect my company would be better appreciated surrounded by dried herbs than interrupting anyone’s private bath.”
"Hey, don't laugh at me!"Lyraprotests—but then immediately starts laughing too. It's hard not to, with Meiragrinning like that. But when she quips about Tymorafavoring mixed baths, Lyra freezes, staring at her with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. "How did I never think of that before!?"
It's exactly then that Eldrinspeaks up about visiting Adabra, casually adding that he wouldn't want to interrupt anyone's private bath. And suddenly, Lyra's brain goes in two directions at once.
First: “Oh! But you can come too, you know? You wouldn't be interrup—" Second: “Wait. Did she just...? Does she mean...? No. She couldn’t. Could she? *Brain shock* Oh gods, focus, Lyra.”
Her mind tries very hard to follow follow both at once, but her mouth fails entirely. All she manages to say to the elf is a slightly too-loud: “...Okay! See you later!”
She turns back to Meira, her expression cycling wildly for a second time—only now with a whole new set of gestures. Open-mouthed, then blushing, then frowning in thought, then scratching her head, and finally blushing even harder.
"Oh!" she says at last. A pause. "Oh no. It all makes sense now. The goddess of Fortune has been matchmaking this whole time....! Honestly? I kinda like that."
~
Later, in the baths, Lyra finds it super odd that there are private screens. She doesn't actually request one for herself but doesn¡t say anything if the others keep theirs, just as she was taught in the temple. The halfling truly relaxes and enjoys the hot water, taking more than one deep, contented breath. She also plays a little—a lot, really—with the water, and jokes around with Garethand Meira. And she definitely takes a peek or two—a lot more, really—toward where Meirais. At first, she tries to hide it, but to be fair, she doesn't put much effort into it.
~
As they return toward their rooms, Lyra freezes when she hears noises coming from Zephyros's room. She looks at her companions, clearly concerned, then approaches the warrior's door and opens it slightly. He seems to be asleep again... but the sounds were disturbing enough to make the halfling want to ask about it. Probably better to wait until morning.
Seeing Lyrastart to laugh with her, then watching her eyes widen at her quip brings a pleased smile to Meira'slips. Though then after Eldrin departs, she feels confused as she's unable to really understand all the expressions coming from the halfling. 'Did I say something wrong?' she worries. She does note the blushing, feeling a tiny bit pleased. 'But have I offended her too much?' For just a moment Meiraseems at a loss for words. But as Lyraconcludes, she manages to mumble a response. "Good. Yea, glad you liked that." She chuckles a little nervously and is more than happy to turn her attention to going to speak with Toblin.
In the baths, when it's clear that Lyrais not going to use the privacy screen, Meirastarts to look a bit concerned. "Yea, sure, nothing... shameful in how we were made." She laughs nervously. "Umm... sure, I don't care." Despite her words, she can't help but keep a towel about her lower bits as she prepares to get into the bath. She fastidiously tries to appear like she was not looking over at the halfling at all, though she steals several glances. Finally dropping her last covering, she very quickly slips into the water, blushing slightly.
Soon though, she too relaxes in the warmth of the bath. She joins in the joking with both Garethand Lyra. At one point she tries to devise a way to splash a little water over at the halfling, though she halts that as she realizes what a mess it was making. Her eyes frequently glance over to Lyra, and it is soon obvious that the other woman has fully caught her at it. Her face flushes and even deeper red and Meira is quiet a moment, before recovering as she starts to lightly sing:
'Sing hey! For the bath at close of day that washes the weary mud away A loon is he that will not sing O! Water Hot is a noble thing!'
With that she seems to have found her voice and a new confidence. The music is a little different without her instrument to accompany her. But her voice rings our soft and joyful. By now, having washed up and the water starting to cool, she steps out, continuing:
'O! Water cold we may pour at need down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed but better is beer if drink we lack, and Water Hot poured down the back.'
And she soon has her towel again and starts to dry. Her eyes drift to Lyrawith a wink. "If you need any help just let me know."
Meiratoo hears the noise from Zephyros' room, and she follows along with Lyrato check on him. As he seems to have been asleep again, she agrees to wait. "He was really tired. Probably good to let him sleep."
Meira can't help but overhear what this man says to Zephyros. Having had her fill, she gets up and comes over to the bar as well. "Don Jon Raskin! Yes, we saw your name on the job board. We might be able to help you out. How long do you suppose the trip is? And all we have to do is drop you off at the mine?"
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Lyra listens to Meira and Zephyros, nodding along to their suggestions, as they do make a lot of sense. "But the job did say the gnomes might have something useful to protect others from a dragon attack. It's not only about warning them..." Still, she can't argue that Gnomengarde's location makes it harder to respond quickly to the orc threat after their attack at Butterskull Ranch.
When Meira and Zephyros stand to speak with the stranger, Lyra leans toward Eldrin and Gareth with a grin, whispering, "Do you think that man will drink as much whiskey as he can before he leaves Phandalin, or carry a keg to keep drinking along the way?"
Then she hops off her seat and trails after the others, stepping up beside them. She offers the cowboy a cheerful smile and says, "Good morning, Don Juan, my name's Lyra."
She doesn't elaborate—just watches his reaction, her eyes glinting with amusement. The cleric once read a very interesting novel about the adventures of a certain charming rake who left quite the trail of broken hearts behind him. She's curious to see if this one lives up to the name, even if it is only partly similar.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Meira,
Don's glassy-eyed gaze turns to you as you approach. "Well, hello there, Miss. I reckon the walk will take us the better part of five hours. If we leave now, we can get there before sundown. Easy money if you ask me. Once we get there, your job is done."
Lyra,
"Good morning, Miss." He tips his hat to you after your greeting. "Pleasure to meet you."
You get the sense he didn't even notice the way you pronounced his name.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Meira glances over to Lyra, having caught her change in the man's name. But she says nothing to her while continuing to speak with Don Jon. "Well, we have had lunch, so perhaps we could get going soon. It will depend on what our companions all say." This time she turns to Zephyros. "Do you think it wise to turn around and leave so soon? I daresay the others were hoping for a night at the inn. But if we're going to help anyone that survived the orcs, it might best to get a head start today."
She gives a quick glance again to Lyra. "I know I certainly would not have minded a bath. You ok with heading out of town... like... now?"
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Lyra thinks “Boooooriiiiiing” as Don Jon doesn't even notice her pun. But hey, Meira has! She grins a bit—mostly to herself—and keeps listening to the conversation.
When she asks about the best time to leave, Lyra exclaims, "Now? As in... right now? Literally now? Oh gods, please no!" The halfling points at Zephyros. "He needs a bit of rest! Okay, maybe not a full night's sleep at the inn, since time is probably of the essence. But I'd say we give our bodies at least a few hours before we depart, right? We'll be better off if we're a bit more rested, won't we?"
She glances over at Eldrin and Gareth to see what they think, then leans closer to Meira and whispers, "I'd die... even kill... okay, probably not that much... for a hot bath as well!"
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Zephyros looks at Meira with a weariness in his eyes that speaks volumes. He stands up straight from the bar counter and says, "I agree time is critical if we hope to save anyone at the ranch, but we'll have a long trek after leaving the mine." He thinks for a moment to determine if he knows how long the travel to the ranch will be from the mine (Survival: 23 with disadvantage due to exhaustion).
"Lyra, it's true. I could use a good nights rest in the comfort of the Inn. And more of Toblin's fine fair tonight would be a treat as well. As much as I hate to delay, I believe we should leave at first light tomorrow."
The armored warrior turns to Don and asks, "Would you be willing to wait until tomorrow to set out?"
Zephyros,
You would know on average your group can travel 25 miles in one day on foot without becoming exhausted. The mine is 15 miles to the East which would take you five hours to get there at a normal pace. Another fifty miles from the mine to arrive at Butterskull Ranch since you have to first travel North before turning East again. You can reasonably expect your trip to the ranch to take two days before you arrive.
Everyone,
Don Jon listens to the group discuss the merits of leaving now vs. in the morning. "Listen, I would like to get to the mine sooner than later, but I can wait until morning. My employers insisted I be escorted, else I'd be there already. I'll be ready to leave when you are." He takes another pull of the whiskey in his hand, finishing it off and places the glass on the bar. "You let me know what you decide."
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
"Oh, he definitely has a portable keg somewhere," Gareth agrees with a grin as they watch the conversation between Zephyros and Don Jon play out.
The ranger approaches the others gathered around Don Jon. The stench of whiskey coming from the man is almost enough to make his eyes water.
"I hate to say it, but I do think we need to rest as well," Gareth says, his eyes flicking toward the exhausted form of Zephyros. "If my companions are in agreement, we can set out with you at first light."
In an aside to Lyra, the ranger agrees about the bath. "That sounds wonderful. I think I still have some of that ooze on me from the dwarven temple."
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf (Phandelver and Below) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan (Vecna: Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Gareth Blackwood (Dragon of Icespire Peak) ♦ Karys Velthune (Out of the Abyss) ♦ Surina Xarith (Simple, Heroic Adventure)
DM: Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus
Meira listens to the others and honestly looks relieved to hear they want to wait until morning. She chuckles when Lyra leans in to whisper to her. "Glad you said something," she whispers back, "I won't dare get in the way of you getting a hot bath then! No matter how much I might want one." She then lowers her voice even further as she continues her whispering. "Were you hoping perhaps a Don Juan might join you? A shame nobody caught your clever remark." She grins then turns to the others.
"What are we thinking then? Sounds like start at first light?" She looks around to see if anyone disagrees. "If we aren't going to be leaving now, then what sort of fun can be had in Phandalin? I mean, other than songs and dancing back here tonight."
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Lyra is visibly relieved to hear they'll be resting until morning. She had begged for “a few hours,” but a whole night? Even better! She claps her hands excitedly, clearly happy with the decision.
"Oh?" she grins mischievously at Meira. "But someone did catch the clever remark, didn't she?" The response is quick and triumphant—but then the halfling seems to process what Meira actually said before that, and she freezes. A series of increasingly horrified expressions flicker across her face as her imagination runs wild with the implications. After a few seconds, she blurts out, "Wha—? Whaaaaat? Eugh! No! Not in a thousand years!"
Once the cleric recovers from the mental image and brushes it off with an exaggerated shudder, she continues. "So! Hot bath. You and me. Aaaand…" she glances at Gareth, "you too? Anyone else?” Lyra pauses, thoughtful. "Do you think the baths here are mixed? Ours were, back at Tymora’s temple. We were taught that the gods made us how we are, and there's nothing shameful in that—though some people still liked to drape a towel over the important bits. Personal comfort, not temple policy. Of course, I hear Lathander’s followers are a bit more…” she squints, trying to find the right word. Stiff? Traditional? Cautious? Like someone who even folds their socks before a bath. She seems to settle for, "…conservative?"
Lyra glances skyward for a moment and adds, "Don't get me wrong, Lathander—you're great. Your people too." She looks at the group again, "Just in case he's listening. Anyway! Anyone knows if the baths here are mixed or not?"
To Meira's question about what sort of fun can be had in Phandalin, she looks attentively to what is being said, not knowing the town that much. "Hummm, is there a market or shops we could visit? Just to take a few looks. And what about ... I don't know .... darts? I hear people usually play darts in taverns. And cards. I've never really played, but trying new things sounds fun."
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Replying to Lyra, Meira tries to sound confused, "Really? Someone did catch the remark?" However, with the halfling looking at her with that grin, she can't keep up the pretense. As the horrified expression appears on her face though, Meira starts to laugh.
"Baths first?" she asks. Looking around at the others to see if anyone else is going to be interested. "I think Phandalin might be too small to have such elaborate public baths. I was just hoping the Stonehill Inn here might have a tub or something." She is by no means an expert on the customs here or in Neverwinter for that matter.
With a sudden flash, another grin comes to her face. "Oh! I bet Tymora favors mixed baths because it might help some to... get lucky." Her eyes flick to Lyra, clearly intending for her remark to get a reaction from her.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Eldrin has been quiet throughout the meal, eating with his usual meticulous care, more for the sake of decorum than hunger. He listens to the conversation around him with a faint air of detachment, though the subtle lift at the corner of his mouth betrays his amusement at Lyra’s antics and Meira’s easy banter.
“A night’s rest seems sensible,” he murmurs, glancing once at Zephyros’s weariness. “Not only for the sake of our bodies, but because plans made in exhaustion tend to falter.”
His gaze shifts, thoughtful, not distant but calculating, “As for myself, I’ll not be lingering here. I intend to pay a visit to Adabra before nightfall.”
“We had… unfinished conversation,” he adds mildly. “Her knowledge of the regional flora, particularly those relevant to alchemical suspensions, warrants further exploration. I don’t expect to be long.”
Only now does his gaze flick between Lyra and Meira with a dry, glimmering note of humor. “Besides, I suspect my company would be better appreciated surrounded by dried herbs than interrupting anyone’s private bath.”
The statement is delivered with his typical precision, half amusement, half dismissal, but the softness in his tone makes it clear he bears no malice.
Standing smoothly, he adjusts his cloak. “I’ll rejoin you before the evening’s end.”
With slight nod of his head toward the group, Eldrin steps away from the table, already turning his mind toward infusions, tinctures, and the quiet satisfaction of intellectual pursuit.
Gareth, Meira, & Lyra,
You inquire with Toblin about the local bathhouse. He informs you that the town doesn't have an official bathhouse, but he has a room towards the back of the Inn with three tubs with privacy screens. He says the baths cost five silver pieces each. You spend the afternoon washing all of your nooks and crannies. The water is warm, borderline hot. Steam rolls off the water into the cooler air and gives a slight, pleasant lavender aroma. You all feel much better after a good scrubbing.
Eldrin,
You walk over to Adabra's home/shop. You knock on the door, and no one answers. You knock a second time... still nothing. However, just as you are about to knock a third time, a familiar voice addresses you. "Hello, Deary. It's good to see you again so soon." Ababra walks up to you with a basket full of various herbs and other regents. She gives you a warm smile and beckons you inside as she opens the door.
Inside is a modest dwelling still in disarray from recent relocation. Adabra sets down the basket on a nearby table and walks over to a kettle still warm from resting on a wood stove. "Tea?" She pours you a cup and one for herself as she motions you to the table with the basket and sits down in one of the two open chairs. "Now, what can I do for you, Deary?"
Zephyros,
After Don Jon agrees to leave at first light, you waste no time in taking advantage of your afternoon off and head straight to bed upstairs.
While resting, 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 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 the next scene of 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 your former 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 startle awake in a cold sweat.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Eldrin steps lightly over the threshold, giving a respectful nod as Adabra ushers him inside. His gaze sweeps across the clutter of herbs and papers with the faintest narrowing of his eyes, not disapproval, but rather the sharpness of one accustomed to order.
When she offers tea, he inclines his head in acceptance. “Thank you,” he murmurs, the warmth of the cup in his hand contrasting with the formality of his posture.
As she sits and asks her question, Eldrin rests the cup on its saucer, fingers gently steepled around it.
“I won’t take up much of your time,” he begins, voice measured but sincere. “During our last meeting, I found your knowledge of regional flora to be of considerable merit. It occurred to me that, much as it is not uncommon for apprentice wizards to find themselves in the halls of my order, seated among tomes and guided by those with greater experience, I might hope to arrange something similar here.”
His pale gaze flickers, meaningfully, toward the basket of herbs, then to the various shelves crowded with bundles and jars. “Not in expectation of mastery, of course, that would be naïve of me to expect that in a few hours. But in hopes that I might assist with menial work, ask questions as they arise, and learn what I can by observation, should that arrangement be amenable to you.”
He lifts the teacup then, sipping carefully, waiting to see how she might answer.
Eldrin,
Adabra smiles as you accept the tea and listens respectfully. She appears thoughtful for a moment as she ponders your words then sips her tea. "You wish to become an apprentice alchemist, do you?" Her smile increases at the thought. She looks at your clean robes and asks, "I would be glad for the help in exchange for knowledge of my craft. These hands can't handle the crushing of herbs like they used to."
Adabra points to a table against the far wall where lies her mortar and pestle. "With my windmill grinder unavailable to me the process to grind herbs has become... harder on me. If you help process these herbs I'll teach you all about the herbs as we turn them into potions. How's that sound?"
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Eldrin listens carefully, as she mentions apprentice alchemist, he inclines his head with polite warmth but corrects her gently, his voice low and steady.
“Apprentice is not quite accurate, I think, it implies a formality of tutelage, of oaths and long commitment. I cannot give that, not while my obligations lie with the work posted in town. But when a task is complete, if I may find myself here in those hours after, I will commit my focus to learning, in exchange for work.”
He rests two fingers lightly against the wood grain of the table as his lips move, soft, clipped syllables of Elvish under his breath. A shimmer of arcane threads coils faintly around his hand, delicate and translucent. A spectral hand manifests above the mortar, translucent but sure, fingers curling as it takes hold of the pestle.
Without prompting, the arcane hand begins its work, slow, rhythmic movements, grinding the first of the herbs with practiced precision.
Then he unclasps the worn leather journal from his satchel and opens it to a fresh page, the pale parchment waiting, pristine and with a snap of his finger a quill appears floating above the paper, ready to take notes.
Pleased at the progress being made, Eldrin finally lifts the teacup and sips, then glances toward her with an attentive gaze, the hovering quill bobbing faintly in the air over his open notebook, poised for her instruction.
“Shall we begin properly? What is the name of this herb? Where does it grow… and what, precisely, are we drawing from it?”
Zephyros furiously bolts awake, his enchanted trident slams against the wooden floor beside him and the clank reverberates through the room.
After panting violently and a few quiet moments, the startled man sluggishly glances at his fallen weapon.
He begins to reach for his pristine armament when he notices its placed on the ground exactly like his dream... and precisely similar to the real occurrence in his past.
After pausing, he growls. "Is this some sick joke to you? You think you can taunt me from your high and mighty sky?!" The grizzly man shouts in anger as he glares at the heavens from his window.
The battle-hardened fighter adds, "First you taint my wife's pride, then flood my mind with horrific memories?! I'll never obey your will!"
Realizing everyone can likely perceive his angry rant, he snatches his polearm from the ground and tries falling back to sleep.
Eldrin,
Adabra responds to you as you make clear your intentions, "I see. Well in that case we better make good use of our time then, shouldn't we? I'll take what help I can get, Deary." She watches as you summon your mage hand and use it to grind the herbs into a fine powder. "That's a fine skill you have there. I wish I contained such magic." She rubs her hands together as if massaging the pain from them. Her smile quickly returns as she sees you prepared to take notes and ask about the herbs used. "This herb here is called Wyndor's herb. We are fortunate as it grows in abundance around the hillsides of Phandalin."
She goes on at some length as to how to properly process the herb and the medicinal properties of the plant. She then continues the lesson, explaining how she uses crushed up garnets and distilled water to infuse healing potions. The process isn't difficult, but it is time consuming. She continues to describe various other plants and regents in her custody. She displays unparalleled patience as you ask your questions, and elaborates to ensure you fully understand the information she shares with you.
[[OOC: You are now proficient in the Nature skill. I have added it to your character sheet. Additionally, you may attempt to create your own potions if you possess the ingredients and time to create them. However, you do not yet possess proficiency in alchemist tools.]]
Zephyros,
You are able to go back to sleep after tossing and turning for some time. Your sleep is fitful, but you don't have anymore dreams and awake early the next morning. (Unless disturbed by an ally of course.)
You gain the benefit of a long rest. Your exhaustion level decreases back to zero.
Gareth, Meira, and Lyra,
As you are finishing up your baths you hear some muffled yelling coming from upstairs, but you can't make out the words. You believe its coming from Zephyros' room. However, the yelling ends quickly enough and doesn't cause MUCH concern.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
"Hey, don't laugh at me!" Lyra protests—but then immediately starts laughing too. It's hard not to, with Meira grinning like that. But when she quips about Tymora favoring mixed baths, Lyra freezes, staring at her with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. "How did I never think of that before!?"
It's exactly then that Eldrin speaks up about visiting Adabra, casually adding that he wouldn't want to interrupt anyone's private bath. And suddenly, Lyra's brain goes in two directions at once.
First: “Oh! But you can come too, you know? You wouldn't be interrup—"
Second: “Wait. Did she just...? Does she mean...? No. She couldn’t. Could she? *Brain shock* Oh gods, focus, Lyra.”
Her mind tries very hard to follow follow both at once, but her mouth fails entirely. All she manages to say to the elf is a slightly too-loud: “...Okay! See you later!”
She turns back to Meira, her expression cycling wildly for a second time—only now with a whole new set of gestures. Open-mouthed, then blushing, then frowning in thought, then scratching her head, and finally blushing even harder.
"Oh!" she says at last. A pause. "Oh no. It all makes sense now. The goddess of Fortune has been matchmaking this whole time....! Honestly? I kinda like that."
~
Later, in the baths, Lyra finds it super odd that there are private screens. She doesn't actually request one for herself but doesn¡t say anything if the others keep theirs, just as she was taught in the temple. The halfling truly relaxes and enjoys the hot water, taking more than one deep, contented breath. She also plays a little—a lot, really—with the water, and jokes around with Gareth and Meira. And she definitely takes a peek or two—a lot more, really—toward where Meira is. At first, she tries to hide it, but to be fair, she doesn't put much effort into it.
~
As they return toward their rooms, Lyra freezes when she hears noises coming from Zephyros's room. She looks at her companions, clearly concerned, then approaches the warrior's door and opens it slightly. He seems to be asleep again... but the sounds were disturbing enough to make the halfling want to ask about it. Probably better to wait until morning.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Seeing Lyra start to laugh with her, then watching her eyes widen at her quip brings a pleased smile to Meira's lips. Though then after Eldrin departs, she feels confused as she's unable to really understand all the expressions coming from the halfling. 'Did I say something wrong?' she worries. She does note the blushing, feeling a tiny bit pleased. 'But have I offended her too much?' For just a moment Meira seems at a loss for words. But as Lyra concludes, she manages to mumble a response. "Good. Yea, glad you liked that." She chuckles a little nervously and is more than happy to turn her attention to going to speak with Toblin.
In the baths, when it's clear that Lyra is not going to use the privacy screen, Meira starts to look a bit concerned. "Yea, sure, nothing... shameful in how we were made." She laughs nervously. "Umm... sure, I don't care." Despite her words, she can't help but keep a towel about her lower bits as she prepares to get into the bath. She fastidiously tries to appear like she was not looking over at the halfling at all, though she steals several glances. Finally dropping her last covering, she very quickly slips into the water, blushing slightly.
Soon though, she too relaxes in the warmth of the bath. She joins in the joking with both Gareth and Lyra. At one point she tries to devise a way to splash a little water over at the halfling, though she halts that as she realizes what a mess it was making. Her eyes frequently glance over to Lyra, and it is soon obvious that the other woman has fully caught her at it. Her face flushes and even deeper red and Meira is quiet a moment, before recovering as she starts to lightly sing:
'Sing hey! For the bath at close of day
that washes the weary mud away
A loon is he that will not sing
O! Water Hot is a noble thing!'
With that she seems to have found her voice and a new confidence. The music is a little different without her instrument to accompany her. But her voice rings our soft and joyful. By now, having washed up and the water starting to cool, she steps out, continuing:
'O! Water cold we may pour at need
down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed
but better is beer if drink we lack,
and Water Hot poured down the back.'
And she soon has her towel again and starts to dry. Her eyes drift to Lyra with a wink. "If you need any help just let me know."
Meira too hears the noise from Zephyros' room, and she follows along with Lyra to check on him. As he seems to have been asleep again, she agrees to wait. "He was really tired. Probably good to let him sleep."
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer