Chronos looks grimly at the sight and nods his assent. "Indeed. It appears something terrible may have happened to our baker friend. Tis a terrible, TERRIBLE thing to deprive a market of it's vendors, ESPECIALLY a baker." He turns to Gus, determination in his eyes. "We must find this man, and bring him back. So others may experience his delectable delicacies."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
He/Him. I am the DM, you are the player. You make the mistakes and I decide the consequences. Now, with that being said - Are you SURE you want to cast Fireball?
After purchasing a waterskin and healer's kit from a pleasant half-elf merchant, Torm wanders the bustling market.
The tall Aasmir mutters to himself, "Helm, why am I in this place? There must be a reason a mixed lot such as us was suddenly dumped in the midst of this place?"
Making his way over toward Gus and Chronos, he overhears the concern and excitement in their voices as they discuss the vanished baker.
Investigation check: 20
Torm sees a trail in the dirt of what looks like something heavy being dragged away from the stall. He points out the track to Gus and Chronos.
Torm approaches, and the moment the tall Aasimar points out the track in the dirt, it’s as if a bolt lightning strikes the gnome.
His eyes go wide. “We’ve got a trail!”
Without missing a beat, he clambers up a crate for dramatic effect, arms flailing for balance before he steadies himself and thrusts a sticky finger toward the path. “Look at it! Heavy drag marks, just beyond the bun cart!”
He leaps down, landing with a dramatic grunt, dust puffing around his boots.
“This... this changes everything,” he murmurs, half to himself.
He turns to the others, serious now, voice low and grave. “Time to move. Whoever’s behind this left a trail. And I, for one, intend to follow it.”
He twirls in place, nearly slipping on his own gooey footprints before recovering and pointing at Torm, wild-eyed and reverent. “You’re the Breadcrumb Beacon! You found the trail, and now—now we follow it.”
He turns to the rest of the group, rallying like a general with a war cry. “Who’s with me? For the baker! For the buns! For justice and jelly!”
Then, more softly, to Chronos at his side: “I knew today was going to be special.”
Chronos roars with delight and begins chasing after the trail. "FOR THE BUNS!!!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
He/Him. I am the DM, you are the player. You make the mistakes and I decide the consequences. Now, with that being said - Are you SURE you want to cast Fireball?
The track proves quite short: Two parallel drag lines, leading straight back away from the middle of the stall. dirt and gravel has scattered around them, as if something was moved very, very fast for a moment.
[on a 20 for investigation]
The awning of the stall is torn at the back, loose threads waving faintly in the gentle breeze.
[Feel free to ask for descriptions of the market, etc - things might not look the way you think. Small stuff you can just assume, as long as it fits the background: I have an adventure in mind and it would be a shame to waste the opportunity. Disclaimer: I've never run 5th Edition, and will be making this up as I go!]
Gus crouches low at the edge of the stall, his fingers hovering just above the drag lines carved into the dirt. His eyes flick back and forth, following the disturbed gravel, the sharp edges of motion etched into the earth. He exhales slowly.
“Two parallel grooves… not footprints."
He stands and turns toward the awning at the rear of the stall, reaching out to pluck one of the torn threads. It curls around his finger, fluttering slightly.
“I think we’re chasing something with purpose. Not theft—removal. Maybe even extraction. But whatever did this didn’t bother with subtlety… which means someone must have seen something.”
Insight to determine if Gus can note any behavior from the remaining vendors that would lead him to believe they say....something:17
Hey, no need to apologize. I'm really sorry to hear that things have been difficult lately. Please take care of yourself and go at your own pace—your health and well-being are what matter most. As you will probably read, we have been entertaining ourselves....
Coriana - Company of the Grey Chain Wagner - Dragon Heist: Bards. Corwin - A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C Sharinn - The Truth Beneath the Surface DM - The Old Keep
The mirth of the situation vanished in an instant. Something more sinister seemed to be afoot.
Tuu'Saayn took a deep breath, focusing his mind lest he get carried away with raw emotion. He moved with purpose to the scene of the crime. His companions found a trai to follow, but the tiefling wondered why anyone would kidnap a vendor, let alone this one in particular. He pauses for a moment, searching for any other clues.
Investigation (+1) 2
**OoC he looks for signs of a robbery or anything missing other than the vendor**
Most of the torn threads in the canopy were far out of Gus' reach - but a few drifted down in the still air.
All around, the hustle and bustle of the Dyn Singh Night Market continued unabated - people were shopping, spending their hard-earned coppers for sweetmeats or buying bright baubles as gifts. Each store had its own lighting to highlight their stock - mostly simple lanterns or candles, though a few had faintly glowing crystals - the lighting leaves large areas of dark shadow, as well as cheerfully lit stalls. The crowd ebbs and flows - now a dozen people crowd by, and moments later the stall is quiet. The sound of badly played music drifts over everything, as a piper leads a merry dance, collecting coppers as they go.
No-one else seems to have noticed the missing Baker, or the lady from the clothes store - as if the shadows simply swallowed them up.
[A 17 from Gus & he can tell no-one's noticed - a 2 from Tuu'Saayn and he's distracted by the abandoned cashbox]
The clothing vendors stall is neat and tidy, though some of the lamps behind it have gone out, leaving the area darkly shadowed - no-one looks twice at Tuu'Saayn pacing and staring behind it.
No drag marks are visible, but there is a pale blue hair ribbon lying behind the stall, darkened with a few drops of something.
Gus stands still for a moment, just outside the baker’s stall, his usually animated features now stilled with thought. One hand absently taps the side of his nose with a sticky finger as his gaze drifts upward to the canopy, torn and fluttering threads catching the lanternlight. The buzz of the market continues around him—unconcerned, uninterrupted.
“No one screams. No one sees. No one even notices,” he mutters, mostly to himself, the awe edged with unease. “Two people yanked into the ether and it’s business as usual. Like they were never here. Like the market expects this.”
He squints up at the torn cloth again, stepping back for a better angle, eyes tracing the direction of the tear, then slowly sweeping down to where the drag lines begin—two shallow gouges in the earth, and gravel thrown outward in a scatter pattern.
"Just—whiff! Gone.”
He crouches low, brushing his fingers gently through the disturbed dirt. His brows furrow deeper.
“Parallel lines. Could be arms. Could be legs. Could be a tray of buns, but I doubt it... too wide.” He glances up again. “Whatever took them dragged them first. But what happened next?”
Just then, Tuu’Saayn approaches and speaks, sharing the detail about the ribbon. Gus straightens, attention snapping into sharp focus.
“A ribbon? Blue? Blood on it?”He clicks his tongue. “That’s two stalls now, two disappearances, and both clean as a whistle. Shadows and silence. I don’t like it.”
He turns back toward the drag marks and begins following them, carefully, letting his eyes sweep from side to side, hoping for any trace of a third party—clawed prints, strange tracks, even something magical if the dust pattern shifts in odd ways.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Tuu'Saayn nods in agreement with Gus.
He gives the gnome space, but rests his hand casually on the hilt of one of his many daggers and stays close by. His eyes scan the area constantly, alert for danger, or for anyone who takes too keen an interest in the party's activities.
23 perception
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Chronos looks grimly at the sight and nods his assent. "Indeed. It appears something terrible may have happened to our baker friend. Tis a terrible, TERRIBLE thing to deprive a market of it's vendors, ESPECIALLY a baker." He turns to Gus, determination in his eyes. "We must find this man, and bring him back. So others may experience his delectable delicacies."
He/Him. I am the DM, you are the player. You make the mistakes and I decide the consequences. Now, with that being said - Are you SURE you want to cast Fireball?
After purchasing a waterskin and healer's kit from a pleasant half-elf merchant, Torm wanders the bustling market.
The tall Aasmir mutters to himself, "Helm, why am I in this place? There must be a reason a mixed lot such as us was suddenly dumped in the midst of this place?"
Making his way over toward Gus and Chronos, he overhears the concern and excitement in their voices as they discuss the vanished baker.
Investigation check: 20
Torm sees a trail in the dirt of what looks like something heavy being dragged away from the stall. He points out the track to Gus and Chronos.
Torm approaches, and the moment the tall Aasimar points out the track in the dirt, it’s as if a bolt lightning strikes the gnome.
His eyes go wide. “We’ve got a trail!”
Without missing a beat, he clambers up a crate for dramatic effect, arms flailing for balance before he steadies himself and thrusts a sticky finger toward the path. “Look at it! Heavy drag marks, just beyond the bun cart!”
He leaps down, landing with a dramatic grunt, dust puffing around his boots.
“This... this changes everything,” he murmurs, half to himself.
He turns to the others, serious now, voice low and grave. “Time to move. Whoever’s behind this left a trail. And I, for one, intend to follow it.”
He twirls in place, nearly slipping on his own gooey footprints before recovering and pointing at Torm, wild-eyed and reverent. “You’re the Breadcrumb Beacon! You found the trail, and now—now we follow it.”
He turns to the rest of the group, rallying like a general with a war cry. “Who’s with me? For the baker! For the buns! For justice and jelly!”
Then, more softly, to Chronos at his side: “I knew today was going to be special.”
Chronos roars with delight and begins chasing after the trail. "FOR THE BUNS!!!"
He/Him. I am the DM, you are the player. You make the mistakes and I decide the consequences. Now, with that being said - Are you SURE you want to cast Fireball?
The track proves quite short: Two parallel drag lines, leading straight back away from the middle of the stall. dirt and gravel has scattered around them, as if something was moved very, very fast for a moment.
[on a 20 for investigation]
The awning of the stall is torn at the back, loose threads waving faintly in the gentle breeze.
[Feel free to ask for descriptions of the market, etc - things might not look the way you think. Small stuff you can just assume, as long as it fits the background: I have an adventure in mind and it would be a shame to waste the opportunity. Disclaimer: I've never run 5th Edition, and will be making this up as I go!]
Gus crouches low at the edge of the stall, his fingers hovering just above the drag lines carved into the dirt. His eyes flick back and forth, following the disturbed gravel, the sharp edges of motion etched into the earth. He exhales slowly.
“Two parallel grooves… not footprints."
He stands and turns toward the awning at the rear of the stall, reaching out to pluck one of the torn threads. It curls around his finger, fluttering slightly.
“I think we’re chasing something with purpose. Not theft—removal. Maybe even extraction. But whatever did this didn’t bother with subtlety… which means someone must have seen something.”
Insight to determine if Gus can note any behavior from the remaining vendors that would lead him to believe they say....something: 17
Hey everyone!
SO sorry for not being active.
lately, I’ve been having worse depressive episodes and anxiety.
AGAIN, SO SORRY!
Hey, no need to apologize. I'm really sorry to hear that things have been difficult lately. Please take care of yourself and go at your own pace—your health and well-being are what matter most.
As you will probably read, we have been entertaining ourselves....
Hey, Kid: You ready to run this game now? Because my vision of the Radiant Citadel is probably a little...Darker than whatever you had in mind
No apology needed.
As you’ll see, the characters have found some sweet distractions in the meantime. ;-)
[Pause to let everyone catch up - else Gustavo will get all the fun!]
I’m bowing out.
Coriana - Company of the Grey Chain
Wagner - Dragon Heist: Bards.
Corwin - A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C
Sharinn - The Truth Beneath the Surface
DM - The Old Keep
The mirth of the situation vanished in an instant. Something more sinister seemed to be afoot.
Tuu'Saayn took a deep breath, focusing his mind lest he get carried away with raw emotion. He moved with purpose to the scene of the crime. His companions found a trai to follow, but the tiefling wondered why anyone would kidnap a vendor, let alone this one in particular. He pauses for a moment, searching for any other clues.
Investigation (+1) 2
**OoC he looks for signs of a robbery or anything missing other than the vendor**
Most of the torn threads in the canopy were far out of Gus' reach - but a few drifted down in the still air.
All around, the hustle and bustle of the Dyn Singh Night Market continued unabated - people were shopping, spending their hard-earned coppers for sweetmeats or buying bright baubles as gifts. Each store had its own lighting to highlight their stock - mostly simple lanterns or candles, though a few had faintly glowing crystals - the lighting leaves large areas of dark shadow, as well as cheerfully lit stalls. The crowd ebbs and flows - now a dozen people crowd by, and moments later the stall is quiet. The sound of badly played music drifts over everything, as a piper leads a merry dance, collecting coppers as they go.
No-one else seems to have noticed the missing Baker, or the lady from the clothes store - as if the shadows simply swallowed them up.
[A 17 from Gus & he can tell no-one's noticed - a 2 from Tuu'Saayn and he's distracted by the abandoned cashbox]
Tuu'Saayn moved with purpose to the other vendor's stall. He looks closely at the ground, inspecting the area behind the stall for similar drag marks.
19 (+1)investigation
The clothing vendors stall is neat and tidy, though some of the lamps behind it have gone out, leaving the area darkly shadowed - no-one looks twice at Tuu'Saayn pacing and staring behind it.
No drag marks are visible, but there is a pale blue hair ribbon lying behind the stall, darkened with a few drops of something.
[on a 19, Tuu'Saayn finds a small clue]
He uses his dagger to pick up the ribbon. He is focusing on the drops and trying to determine if they are blood.
He carefully replaced the ribbon, then quickened his pace to share his findings with the party.
"It appears as if the clothing vendor may be in trouble as well. I found a bit of hair ribbon in the vacant stall."
**OoC: if he thinks its blood he shares that info as well.**
13
Three small drops of what's probably blood.
Gus stands still for a moment, just outside the baker’s stall, his usually animated features now stilled with thought. One hand absently taps the side of his nose with a sticky finger as his gaze drifts upward to the canopy, torn and fluttering threads catching the lanternlight. The buzz of the market continues around him—unconcerned, uninterrupted.
“No one screams. No one sees. No one even notices,” he mutters, mostly to himself, the awe edged with unease. “Two people yanked into the ether and it’s business as usual. Like they were never here. Like the market expects this.”
He squints up at the torn cloth again, stepping back for a better angle, eyes tracing the direction of the tear, then slowly sweeping down to where the drag lines begin—two shallow gouges in the earth, and gravel thrown outward in a scatter pattern.
"Just—whiff! Gone.”
He crouches low, brushing his fingers gently through the disturbed dirt. His brows furrow deeper.
“Parallel lines. Could be arms. Could be legs. Could be a tray of buns, but I doubt it... too wide.” He glances up again. “Whatever took them dragged them first. But what happened next?”
Just then, Tuu’Saayn approaches and speaks, sharing the detail about the ribbon. Gus straightens, attention snapping into sharp focus.
“A ribbon? Blue? Blood on it?” He clicks his tongue. “That’s two stalls now, two disappearances, and both clean as a whistle. Shadows and silence. I don’t like it.”
He turns back toward the drag marks and begins following them, carefully, letting his eyes sweep from side to side, hoping for any trace of a third party—clawed prints, strange tracks, even something magical if the dust pattern shifts in odd ways.
Survival Check: 15
Tuu'Saayn nods in agreement with Gus.
He gives the gnome space, but rests his hand casually on the hilt of one of his many daggers and stays close by. His eyes scan the area constantly, alert for danger, or for anyone who takes too keen an interest in the party's activities.
23 perception