The barmaid Aisha laughs at the Bard, and says I'll exchange a bottle of wine for your entertainment
She turns to the rest at the table Are you staying here tonight, if so I'll make up the beds in 5 rooms with clean linen, they haven't been used for a month or so. I'll have father come and talk to you about it. No one goes out in the mist other than the Vistani it's said to be an overlap of worlds this near the Shadowfell. Each month it brings trouble from the dire wolves and even worse werewolves. I'll be right back.
She walked to the bar and snagged a bottle of aged wine, and a large jug of sweet water from the well. Then returns to the table to place them gently there.
"Yes, I believe we are all staying the night, the stagecoach wouldn't take us further than Daggerford this night."The young woman with the blonde braided hair says as Aisha returns, but she senses something is off, things the barmaid had said that didn't fully make sense to her. "You are troubled by werewolves here?" She says after a moment, knowing her mentor would want her to continue their work.
"We saw them. Wolves and werewolves chased our carriage," Vaelar says with a grim expression darkening his severe features.
"Thats why the townsfolk are gathered here," he assumes aloud, casting his eyes over the crowd of people. He keeps his face angled down away from them and speaks quietly, parting his lips just enough for his coarse voice to be heard.
Simon the Innkeeper talks briefly with his daughter, then heads toward the table.
The coachmen refuse to drive on tonight. If you don't want to sleep in the stables I'll offer you 5 rooms for 5 silver, I can't go lower than that. He dries his hands on his apron.
Your dinner is ready so I'll have that brought over with another jug of ale. Your drinks are on the house grace of your bard.
You asked about the Vistani, they are merchants who come here for the monthly market. Fine horses and honest traders. They buy ale and wine here by the barrel. At the moment they are camped just inside the town limits.
We only used to have a wolf problem when there was famine. Now they arrive every full moon.
(OOC each of you have 100GP stashed away from other adventures)
Vaelar's slender fingers dip into a pouch at his waist, withdrawing a silver coin and setting it on the table. He slides it across to where the innkeeper is standing.
"A room, please." Though his words are few and he says them quietly, there is still a politeness to his manner.
"Is there not someone who can cull the wolves?" he asks.
Vaelar is a hunter. Scores of wild beasts have fallen to his arrows. He could add these wolves and their monstrous kin to his list, and perhaps their blood would wash away some of the stain in his.
Simon nods Harpers are here at the moment, but they are too few. The townspeople would lose a fight if they tried pitchforks.
There is something strange about todays attack on the coach, normally they ignore it, though the coachman said they were direwolves most likely from the Shadowfell. Would you join them on the hunt tonight? They are after a Loup Garou who has ben raiding the farmsteads and taking children. Eat first then decide, I'll have your baggage taken upstairs.
"Gratitude," he says to Aisha as the wine is presented. He takes a moment to inspect the bottle, studying the label and committing it to memory before pouring two glasses. He offers the first to Crisaryn and then gently swirls his own glass, inhaling the scent with a sigh. He took a small sip before smiling to the young woman who delivered it. "Anyone else?" he asks the party.
The bard, who looked to be having a wonderful time, despite the dangers of the road, listend carefully to Simon. He tried to bring to mind anything else he could recall of the Vistani or the Loup Garou, bits of lore or any specific stories he may have heard. He then adds his silver coin for the room.
"I will aid your noble cause," he says to Simon after a very brief pause. "Tomorrow night we will sing of the liberation of Daggerford!" he exclaimed, glass raised high.
The situation in Daggerford started a year ago with a strange man fleeing into the village from the Shadowfell. He was covered in scratches and a bite was on his shoulder. He stayed for a month to heal, then disappeared into the woods. Then the fog came and lay down thickly every full moon, the day and the night bled into each other. The trouble with the direwolves started after the local wolfpack was beaten and fled elsewhere. The direwolves followed the Loup Garou and kept to the fog, not so the werewolves. Lycanthropy can be cured if only they catch the leader. The death of the Loup Garou is necessary to reset the land back to normal.
"Werewolves in the mist!" You've heard these dreaded words spoken again and again by farmers, merchants, and adventurers alike. The hamlets east of Daggerford have fallen prey to a pack of werewolves that spills out of the Misty Forest on nights of the full moon, cloaked in crawling mist that seems to follow them wherever they go. The beasts spread death and mayhem, slaughtering adults and stealing children before retreating back into the woods. Others have tried to combat the werewolf menace, with little success.
Carrying a large platter to the table Aisha lays down a sliced suckling pig, fried potatoes and bitter greens with a bowl of applesauce. Here enjoy! When you've finished there are Harpers here who want to talk to you.
Looking at the time candle it was still only 6 bells, barely evening.
Vaelar politely but silently dismisses the offered wine. Even the finest of elven vintages would hold no candle to what he really craved. The house's ale would suit him as well as anything.
"I will hunt," Vaelar says with a nod. It is a small gesture, but heavy with conviction. The blades across his back would feast tonight.
OOC: 17 on a Nature check to see if he knows anything about werewolves?
Vaelar knows that the standard curse can be lifted after the sire is dead. There are curse lifting spell scrolls available. They travel fast in the woods when fully transformed. Those that favour a half transformation are often see armoured with weapons. They are normal humans for 27 days each Moon then finally they change into the beast. He also knows that they may not be harmed by normal blades, he'd need to get his silvered. Nothing survives decapitation.
Vaelar gratefully accepts the meal set before them. He takes only a small serving; just enough to satiate the dull mortal hunger that he still felt in the pit of his stomach. He does not savour the succulent pork and hearty vegetables, as they taste bland on his tongue no matter how well prepared, but the hunger and its satiation is a welcome reminder that he is not completely lost to his curse.
"My weapons will fell the wolves. But they will be useless against werewolves. Does anyone in your town have silvered blades?" he asks the innkeeper.
The young woman with the blonde braided hair too places a silver coin on the table for her room, declining the offered wine from the drow with a friendly smile. "I'll join you too if you'll have me." She says a bit shyly, then fairly unceremoniously digging into the tasty-looking food. She knew this was what her mentor would have wanted her to do, and now she was fortunate enough to sit at a table with others like him. "Will you come too?"She curiously asks Crisaryn and Murdock who both seemed like the types who could deal with evil monsters too.
Illmirth takes in the magnificent spread with a smile. As a seasoned traveler and adventurer he knew that there was no guarantee of a next meal this nice, or of a next meal at all if things didn't go well with the Harper's.
Over dinner he happily shares a few stories from the road; where, in his opinion, the best wine was produced, unique or particularly delicious specialty foods he has encountered, and even a wild tale about a group of bandits he "converted" with a song and a few well chosen words. He also asks more of the others. "Share with me your favorite favorite story of adventure, monsters slain, innocents defended, or tyrants overthrown, all fine starts, and equally deserving to be preserved in song or story."
Illmirth was always on the lookout for his next inspiration. When the meal is finished he approaches the Harper's, asking of their plan to vanquish the furry scourge of the land.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
They lean against the bar with a tankard full of ale, watching the ebb and flow of the people in the room. Jaheira with braids and beads and two scimitars on her back and Khalid her husband, a fighter. They wait for Illmirth to walk over to them and they say We'll talk to you all together when everyone is ready. If you don't have a silvered weapon we have the means of doing it. Ranald says it will take but minutes. He is in the stable using the small anvil there. While waiting for your friends, I'd suggest taking your blade to him
Supper is a strange affair, as what the old Paladin suspects to be a drow begins weaving tales of beasts and devils. Carefully stuffing his book back into his trousers, Murdock quietly whispers a small prayer of thanks and begins eating. The applesauce is thin, cool and sweet, a stark contrast to the salt of the meat and sharpness of greens. The aged warrior focuses on the meats and potatoes primarily, stocking on energy in preparation for what would come. He listens in silence to the tales of wolves and bestial transformations, a grimdark expression crossing his hazel eyes. He says nothing for the most part, letting the others ask all he could. Taking his cup, he pours himself some of the water offered prior, drawing a soft but deep sip as the mention of a scouting faction in town draws his attention.
He does not rush his meal thereafter, instead savoring what he can of the meal. Slowly, the small pile of greens diminishes further, and fewer potatoes remain on his platter. When at last his plate sits empty, the warrior readies to rise. At the priestess', Loreleis', behest he gives but a curt nod, and answers simply: "Mine honour is to mine duty, and mine duty is to His Light. I shall hunt." Before leaving, he drains his cup of water, opting to collect his supplies before addressing these "Harpers." His mail clatters, every step of his sabatons clomping against the floor. As the older man steps back out into the damp night air, the stark scent he'd merely whiffed earlier hangs dense around town. He begins planning his moves as he steps, tying the loose strands of graying brown hair back from his face. He considers collecting bait, a hog for slaughter, or a sprig of the herb used at the town limits, but ultimately focuses on meeting his fellow "hunters," in planning what would come next. He accompanies the others, one by one, as they approach the smithy for this "silvering" process.
"Very well," he says with a slight bow. "And well met. I am Illmirth. I shall return promptly and am eager to hear how I may aid your noble quest."
He then heads out to the stable to meet Ranald. Handing him a pair of daggers, he says, "Sharp enough for a dire wolf I believe, but perhaps something a bit more shiny for the werewolf...."
When the smithy gets to his work Illmirth heads back in to join the party.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Another sword or is it daggers this time, I almost expected a rapier from you sir Bard. I've almost finished this scimitar. Place your daggers on the table and I'll be right with you. Then Ranald started singing a dwarven battlesong as he hammered away.
Crisaryn had pulled a silver coin from a pouch at her waist as well. "Yes, I'll take a room also." That taken care of, she then gratefully accepts a glass of wine from Illmirth. "Thank you." She then lifts the wine to her lips, taking a very small sip.
She had listened to the others speak of wolves and werewolves. She had not really seen them herself, but was not surprised at the danger given the nature of their carriage ride. Well, and the howls too.
When the meal arrived she took small portions for herself. While not seeming in a rush, she quietly ate her food and quite quickly her plate was empty. She gave little indication if she enjoyed it or not.
As conversation turned to hunting these beasts in the mist, she followed the talk. As Lorelei inspired about her coming too, she nodded. "Yes, I'll join this hunt of the Loup Garou."
At the mention of silvering weapons, Crisaryn seems to consider for a moment. "Maybe unnecessary, but I suppose my daggers could be silvered." She does wait for the others to do whatever was needed with these Harper's to get that done.
DM
Aisha
The barmaid Aisha laughs at the Bard, and says I'll exchange a bottle of wine for your entertainment
She turns to the rest at the table Are you staying here tonight, if so I'll make up the beds in 5 rooms with clean linen, they haven't been used for a month or so. I'll have father come and talk to you about it. No one goes out in the mist other than the Vistani it's said to be an overlap of worlds this near the Shadowfell. Each month it brings trouble from the dire wolves and even worse werewolves. I'll be right back.
She walked to the bar and snagged a bottle of aged wine, and a large jug of sweet water from the well. Then returns to the table to place them gently there.
Lorelei Dawnwarden
"Yes, I believe we are all staying the night, the stagecoach wouldn't take us further than Daggerford this night." The young woman with the blonde braided hair says as Aisha returns, but she senses something is off, things the barmaid had said that didn't fully make sense to her. "You are troubled by werewolves here?" She says after a moment, knowing her mentor would want her to continue their work.
Vaelar
"We saw them. Wolves and werewolves chased our carriage," Vaelar says with a grim expression darkening his severe features.
"Thats why the townsfolk are gathered here," he assumes aloud, casting his eyes over the crowd of people. He keeps his face angled down away from them and speaks quietly, parting his lips just enough for his coarse voice to be heard.
"Who are the Vistani?"
He turns his attention back to Aisha.
DM
Simon the Innkeeper talks briefly with his daughter, then heads toward the table.
The coachmen refuse to drive on tonight. If you don't want to sleep in the stables I'll offer you 5 rooms for 5 silver, I can't go lower than that. He dries his hands on his apron.
Your dinner is ready so I'll have that brought over with another jug of ale. Your drinks are on the house grace of your bard.
You asked about the Vistani, they are merchants who come here for the monthly market. Fine horses and honest traders. They buy ale and wine here by the barrel. At the moment they are camped just inside the town limits.
We only used to have a wolf problem when there was famine. Now they arrive every full moon.
(OOC each of you have 100GP stashed away from other adventures)
Vaelar
Vaelar's slender fingers dip into a pouch at his waist, withdrawing a silver coin and setting it on the table. He slides it across to where the innkeeper is standing.
"A room, please." Though his words are few and he says them quietly, there is still a politeness to his manner.
"Is there not someone who can cull the wolves?" he asks.
Vaelar is a hunter. Scores of wild beasts have fallen to his arrows. He could add these wolves and their monstrous kin to his list, and perhaps their blood would wash away some of the stain in his.
DM
Simon.
Simon nods Harpers are here at the moment, but they are too few. The townspeople would lose a fight if they tried pitchforks.
There is something strange about todays attack on the coach, normally they ignore it, though the coachman said they were direwolves most likely from the Shadowfell. Would you join them on the hunt tonight? They are after a Loup Garou who has ben raiding the farmsteads and taking children. Eat first then decide, I'll have your baggage taken upstairs.
Illmirth
"Gratitude," he says to Aisha as the wine is presented. He takes a moment to inspect the bottle, studying the label and committing it to memory before pouring two glasses. He offers the first to Crisaryn and then gently swirls his own glass, inhaling the scent with a sigh. He took a small sip before smiling to the young woman who delivered it. "Anyone else?" he asks the party.
The bard, who looked to be having a wonderful time, despite the dangers of the road, listend carefully to Simon. He tried to bring to mind anything else he could recall of the Vistani or the Loup Garou, bits of lore or any specific stories he may have heard. He then adds his silver coin for the room.
"I will aid your noble cause," he says to Simon after a very brief pause. "Tomorrow night we will sing of the liberation of Daggerford!" he exclaimed, glass raised high.
***OoC: history check: 20***
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
DM
History for Illmirth
The situation in Daggerford started a year ago with a strange man fleeing into the village from the Shadowfell. He was covered in scratches and a bite was on his shoulder. He stayed for a month to heal, then disappeared into the woods. Then the fog came and lay down thickly every full moon, the day and the night bled into each other. The trouble with the direwolves started after the local wolfpack was beaten and fled elsewhere. The direwolves followed the Loup Garou and kept to the fog, not so the werewolves. Lycanthropy can be cured if only they catch the leader. The death of the Loup Garou is necessary to reset the land back to normal.
"Werewolves in the mist!" You've heard these dreaded words spoken again and again by farmers, merchants, and adventurers alike. The hamlets east of Daggerford have fallen prey to a pack of werewolves that spills out of the Misty Forest on nights of the full moon, cloaked in crawling mist that seems to follow them wherever they go. The beasts spread death and mayhem, slaughtering adults and stealing children before retreating back into the woods. Others have tried to combat the werewolf menace, with little success.
DM
Aisha
Carrying a large platter to the table Aisha lays down a sliced suckling pig, fried potatoes and bitter greens with a bowl of applesauce. Here enjoy! When you've finished there are Harpers here who want to talk to you.
Looking at the time candle it was still only 6 bells, barely evening.
Vaelar
Vaelar politely but silently dismisses the offered wine. Even the finest of elven vintages would hold no candle to what he really craved. The house's ale would suit him as well as anything.
"I will hunt," Vaelar says with a nod. It is a small gesture, but heavy with conviction. The blades across his back would feast tonight.
OOC: 17 on a Nature check to see if he knows anything about werewolves?
DM
Vaelar knows that the standard curse can be lifted after the sire is dead. There are curse lifting spell scrolls available. They travel fast in the woods when fully transformed. Those that favour a half transformation are often see armoured with weapons. They are normal humans for 27 days each Moon then finally they change into the beast. He also knows that they may not be harmed by normal blades, he'd need to get his silvered. Nothing survives decapitation.
Vaelar
Vaelar gratefully accepts the meal set before them. He takes only a small serving; just enough to satiate the dull mortal hunger that he still felt in the pit of his stomach. He does not savour the succulent pork and hearty vegetables, as they taste bland on his tongue no matter how well prepared, but the hunger and its satiation is a welcome reminder that he is not completely lost to his curse.
"My weapons will fell the wolves. But they will be useless against werewolves. Does anyone in your town have silvered blades?" he asks the innkeeper.
DM
Simon
The Harpers brought their own smith along, the town smith doesn't know how to silver a weapon. See if they will do it for you.
Lorelei Dawnwarden
The young woman with the blonde braided hair too places a silver coin on the table for her room, declining the offered wine from the drow with a friendly smile. "I'll join you too if you'll have me." She says a bit shyly, then fairly unceremoniously digging into the tasty-looking food. She knew this was what her mentor would have wanted her to do, and now she was fortunate enough to sit at a table with others like him. "Will you come too?" She curiously asks Crisaryn and Murdock who both seemed like the types who could deal with evil monsters too.
Illmirth
Illmirth takes in the magnificent spread with a smile. As a seasoned traveler and adventurer he knew that there was no guarantee of a next meal this nice, or of a next meal at all if things didn't go well with the Harper's.
Over dinner he happily shares a few stories from the road; where, in his opinion, the best wine was produced, unique or particularly delicious specialty foods he has encountered, and even a wild tale about a group of bandits he "converted" with a song and a few well chosen words. He also asks more of the others. "Share with me your favorite favorite story of adventure, monsters slain, innocents defended, or tyrants overthrown, all fine starts, and equally deserving to be preserved in song or story."
Illmirth was always on the lookout for his next inspiration. When the meal is finished he approaches the Harper's, asking of their plan to vanquish the furry scourge of the land.
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
DM
The Harpers., Jaheira and Khalid.
They lean against the bar with a tankard full of ale, watching the ebb and flow of the people in the room. Jaheira with braids and beads and two scimitars on her back and Khalid her husband, a fighter. They wait for Illmirth to walk over to them and they say We'll talk to you all together when everyone is ready. If you don't have a silvered weapon we have the means of doing it. Ranald says it will take but minutes. He is in the stable using the small anvil there. While waiting for your friends, I'd suggest taking your blade to him
Murdock
Supper is a strange affair, as what the old Paladin suspects to be a drow begins weaving tales of beasts and devils. Carefully stuffing his book back into his trousers, Murdock quietly whispers a small prayer of thanks and begins eating. The applesauce is thin, cool and sweet, a stark contrast to the salt of the meat and sharpness of greens. The aged warrior focuses on the meats and potatoes primarily, stocking on energy in preparation for what would come. He listens in silence to the tales of wolves and bestial transformations, a grimdark expression crossing his hazel eyes. He says nothing for the most part, letting the others ask all he could. Taking his cup, he pours himself some of the water offered prior, drawing a soft but deep sip as the mention of a scouting faction in town draws his attention.
He does not rush his meal thereafter, instead savoring what he can of the meal. Slowly, the small pile of greens diminishes further, and fewer potatoes remain on his platter. When at last his plate sits empty, the warrior readies to rise. At the priestess', Loreleis', behest he gives but a curt nod, and answers simply: "Mine honour is to mine duty, and mine duty is to His Light. I shall hunt." Before leaving, he drains his cup of water, opting to collect his supplies before addressing these "Harpers." His mail clatters, every step of his sabatons clomping against the floor. As the older man steps back out into the damp night air, the stark scent he'd merely whiffed earlier hangs dense around town. He begins planning his moves as he steps, tying the loose strands of graying brown hair back from his face. He considers collecting bait, a hog for slaughter, or a sprig of the herb used at the town limits, but ultimately focuses on meeting his fellow "hunters," in planning what would come next. He accompanies the others, one by one, as they approach the smithy for this "silvering" process.
"Very well," he says with a slight bow. "And well met. I am Illmirth. I shall return promptly and am eager to hear how I may aid your noble quest."
He then heads out to the stable to meet Ranald. Handing him a pair of daggers, he says, "Sharp enough for a dire wolf I believe, but perhaps something a bit more shiny for the werewolf...."
When the smithy gets to his work Illmirth heads back in to join the party.
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
DM
Ranald
Another sword or is it daggers this time, I almost expected a rapier from you sir Bard. I've almost finished this scimitar. Place your daggers on the table and I'll be right with you. Then Ranald started singing a dwarven battlesong as he hammered away.
Crisaryn Melkial
Crisaryn had pulled a silver coin from a pouch at her waist as well. "Yes, I'll take a room also." That taken care of, she then gratefully accepts a glass of wine from Illmirth. "Thank you." She then lifts the wine to her lips, taking a very small sip.
She had listened to the others speak of wolves and werewolves. She had not really seen them herself, but was not surprised at the danger given the nature of their carriage ride. Well, and the howls too.
When the meal arrived she took small portions for herself. While not seeming in a rush, she quietly ate her food and quite quickly her plate was empty. She gave little indication if she enjoyed it or not.
As conversation turned to hunting these beasts in the mist, she followed the talk. As Lorelei inspired about her coming too, she nodded. "Yes, I'll join this hunt of the Loup Garou."
At the mention of silvering weapons, Crisaryn seems to consider for a moment. "Maybe unnecessary, but I suppose my daggers could be silvered." She does wait for the others to do whatever was needed with these Harper's to get that done.
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