"Actually, I was about to..." Rylan starts to say as the rock man trudges toward a meal table, expecting Rylan to join him without question.
The noble human sighs, but an amused grin remains on his face... "Well, I suppose a crust of bread and some cheese would do." He says, mostly to himself.
Looking over at Arkun and adds, "You're not going to force me to sup with him alone, are you?" He stands, continuing as he beckons Arkun over. "Come. It's my very first meal with a rock man. We might as well make a proper party out of it."
In response to Rumble's question about the Dao, Rylan nods, immediately. "Indeed."He replies "When I was a child, my governess was a native of Zakhara. She used to weave bedtime tales about the Land of Fate. The Grand Calif, the desert riders... Wonderful stuff... Genies, if I'm correct, were powerful spirits born from the elements... And the Dao was, if I recall correctly, an earth spirit... Am I getting that right?"
Rylan leans forward, not entirely skeptical when he asks, "Is that what you are, friend? A genie of the earth?"
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DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Arkun packs his wooden badger carving away in his pocket, then walks over and pulls up a chair, looking back and forth between the two. "Rock man.. very interesting." He looks carefully at his hands, but does not touch. "I've not had the honor of meeting one such as you. Rumble... seems appropriate. I have never heard of a Dao, or seen one. A genie you say?" He turns to Rylan, appraising him. "I've never heard these stories, you must tell us one sometime. A spirit being made of elements? Now that does sound like a bedtime story."
He takes a long slurp of his ale, then extends a tattooed hand, saying "Name's Arkun. Arkun Iridae.. where are you fellows from? Have you traveled far to get here? Seen anything interesting, on your journeys? Any genies that you have encountered, handing out wishes? That's something I'd like to see..." He holds up his hand, interested in breaking bread with these new folks. They're just as damn odd as me, makes me feel a little better, somehow. Arkun visibly relaxes in the seat, his arms and legs almost going limp as he seems to be enjoying himself.
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Sylra remained where she stood, her hands resting lightly on the worn leather straps of her pack as Kaylessa’s words filled the quiet of the inn. The murmured conversations of the few other patrons faded into an indistinct hum, a backdrop against which the innkeeper’s voice rose clearly, each word carrying weight and purpose. Sylra listened intently, hearing not only the content of what was said, but the cadence and texture of it—steady, yet edged with frustration, like wind whistling through a narrowing pass. The descriptions struck her with their raw familiarity: fog that clung stubbornly to the Sumber Hills even under the bright sun, sudden gusts of hot wind where only cool breezes should run, and lightning thrusting upward into empty sky. These were not the kinds of tales told idly. They bore the shape of something observed and remembered, unsettling precisely because they did not fit what anyone here expected from the world around them.
The scents of the inn hung thick around her as she listened, a blend of wood smoke and yeast, faint traces of sweat and oil on polished wood and worn leather. Beneath it all lingered a dryness in the air that reminded her, faintly, of a field left too long without rain. The floorboards beneath her boots creaked softly as she adjusted her stance, the sound swallowed quickly by the hush of the room, where even those not paying direct attention seemed to feel the weight of what was being discussed. Kaylessa’s voice carried a kind of quiet urgency, tempered by long patience but underpinned with a determination that caught Sylra’s ear more than the words themselves. She recognized it immediately—the tone of someone who had been dismissed too many times by people too comfortable in their denial to act.
When the woman’s account finally trailed off into silence, Sylra allowed the moment to stretch just long enough to show she was considering it fully. Her breath came slow and measured, the faint sound of fabric shifting as she straightened her shoulders and turned slightly toward Kaylessa, her gray eyes steady and clear. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the same deliberate calm that it always did, but now with a subtle undertone of resolve that matched the heaviness of the air between them. She chose her words carefully, knowing the weight they carried in a place where most would rather avoid saying too much.
“I would hear your theory,” she said, her tone even, low, but carrying clearly to the innkeeper’s ears. There was no judgment there, no hint of doubt—only the quiet assurance of someone who knew how to listen and was willing to do so. “You’ve paid attention when others looked away. You’ve given voice to what they’ve left unspoken. If there is sense to be made of what’s happening here, I would rather hear it from someone brave enough to name it than from those who would bury it in silence.”
She held Kaylessa’s gaze without pressing further, her posture relaxed yet purposeful. The faint scent of rain still clung to her cloak despite the dry afternoon outside, mingling with the heavier smells of the room as she waited. There was no need to offer promises just yet—her presence and her words made her intentions clear enough. Sylra had come to this town to find what others would not, and if Kaylessa truly had insight into what lay beneath the surface, she would not leave before hearing it.
The more Rylan rattled off about his knowledge of Genies, the more Rumble's eyes gradually widen in both surprise and awe. Yet while under normal circumstances he'd have been struck speechless by the end, the question to cap it all off with is one the genasi cannot help but let out a hearty chuckle. One that almost turned into a full-blown laughing fit!
But between Arkun finally joining in and some self displine finally returning to the surface, Rumble eventually calmed down. Though it was with a grin in his voice that he replied to Rylan after shaking Arkun's hand. "A pleasure Mr. Iridae. 'fore I get to that-" He looks to Rylan. "You're right about what the Dao are -- or mostly are to those less inclined to be drawn in their high-minded nonsense. But what I am is what'chu might call the byproduct of a Dao who was very big into fraternizing with her slaves to put things politely; especially when they prove themselves to be as industrious as my father back in the day."Rumble crossed his arms and started to lean back in his seat, but quickly caught himself to instead inspect the chair as much he could without leaving it.
But seeing as it hadn't groaned or creaked, or didn't do so too noticable to his ears, he sighed in relief as he turned again to the others. "To be clear, not all Genasi like myself are so... mmm... fortunately misfortunate as I, 'specially those born of Djinni lines, if not simply having been born of two Genasi."He further explained, before regarding Arkun once more. "Now ta answer yer earlier question, I'm still but a humble novice, but I yet count myself a Knight of Samular. Thems them, uhh, knightly order a fair ways east of here, I wanna say? But as my route here to Red Larch was on the cir-que-tua-tus side I'd have easier time pointing it out on a map than describing how to get there."He said with a chuckle. "And I can't say I've seen anything interesting on the road, but I've 'heard' some things I... I think it'll be alright to share with ya if interested. Both of ya. BUT, as Tyr as my witness, if ya come across a genie promising wishes it's a straight up scam. And if ya see one, then whatever you do -- don't ask for one! Trust me, only pain and misery lies down them roads."
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When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Rylan hides his amused smile behind his beverage as he replies, "I'll very much keep that in mind, Sir Rumble. Much obliged."
His eyes shift to the door, still feeling a sense of urgency despite the novelty of this conversation. Glancing at the two travelers he asks in a slighly hushed voice, "If I may ask... What know ye of this region? I'm not much traveled in the area and still very much getting my bearings."
Once he gets going, he can't quite stop himself. He continues, leaning forward, a bit over-eager. "In particular, I'm quite curious to learn more about the Feathergale Knights. Perhaps you've heard of them? They are a chivalric order devoted to the preserving the tradition of mounted aerial combat..."With a cocky smiles he "casually" adjusts his tunic to ensure the heraldic seal of House Belabranta is proudly visible, assuming everyone who gazes upon it would understand its significance. "...something my family has a keen interest in..."
Suddenly aware of his own boorishness, he wipes the cocky grin off his face, settles back on earnest curiosity and continues. "Anyway, I'm told they have a stronghold in this region and I am most interested to learn what reputation they might have among the common folk..."
He searches the eyes of both his meal companions for some sign of recognition. "Do you know of them?"
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DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Aldric pauses for a moment, considering what to do next. With nothing to indicate where Sheriff Harburk might be, he has no choice but to trust the innkeeper's word that this is the right place. It isn't unusual for a settlement's lawman to also have another job. Aldric may be supported by Summit Hill, but his deputy, Grasel, raises cattle.
After taking another look around at the various buildings and the dusty road, the knight decides to stop in at the first building — the one with the sign of a ham being carved by a cleaver.
OOC: Aldric will walk up to the building and will look in a window if one is available. I'm not sure if it looks like a building you should just walk into (like a shop) or more like a house where you should knock. Aldric will make that determination and follow his gut.
Kaylessa leans forward, her elbows on the front desk as she eagerly answers Sylra. "There's a place not far from town, it's hard to miss. There's a big ole rock just hangin' out in the middle o' nowhere, like it grew up out the earth itself. We locals call it Lance Rock, and I'm tellin' you there's an evil presence there. First time you walk past it you'll know exactly what I mean. Now I talked to the sheriff and some o' the town elders about it, but folks are too busy around here and nobody's for helpin'. That's why I was hopin' maybe you and that other big fella might be willin' to help me out and investigate. If there's trouble brewin' that's bad for business, so I'd be willin' to put the money where my mouth is. I've got fifty gold pieces reserved for the first group o' folks that can go investigate and make sure there ain't no sinister forces lurkin'there," she explains, growing more animated the further she gets into her tale.
ALDRIC:
After peeking into the window to verify that this was in fact a place of business, Aldric steps into a small and quaint butcher shop. A short human woman around thirty years, with fine black hair pulled back into a ponytail, is in the midst of chopping meat in a bloodied apron behind the front desk, and to the other side of the room is a tall, lean, and muscle-bound human man. Looking around ten years her senior, he has wiry brown hair and a thick mustache, both flaked with gray. He looks to be in the process of packaging meat, while the woman looks up to your entrance, not skipping a beat at the sight of a large half-orc entering her store.
"Hey, stranger, always nice to see a new face. Take a look at the cuts, let me know what you're interested in. There's a couple more slabs hangin' in the smokehouse if nothing here is to your liking," she says.
RYLAN, ARKUN & RUMBLE:
"Here you are," a server says, distributing a cheese wheel and knife alongside some warm, doughy bread and a bowl of stew for each of you as you talk, along with the second mug of ale for Rylan and Arkun.
OOC: Removed 1 sp from each of your inventories for the meal.
Arkun looks out of sorts what with all the talk about Djinn, knights, and aerial mounted combat. His eyes go wide and he takes a deep drought of ale, dipping into the stew and dabbing the bread into the stew. "I'm afraid you both have me there. I know nothing about the Feathergale knights, it does sound very interesting, perhaps to watch, but that's not my thing. I'm here for information as well - I'm looking for someone namedHaeleeya Hanadroum, have you heard of them? I've been sent to find this person here at Red Larch. They have knowledge, supposedly, about some group of druids that have unusual powers, a group called the Circle of the Scarlet Moon. Have you ever heard of them, or anything about them? Apparently they have rituals, connections to nature that we've never even dreamed of.. I ..uh.. live in the woods, you see. I have a .. connection .. to nature, things that most folk around here have probably never heard of. They think I'm strange here. Well, they're right. I travel on different paths than most city folk. Sorry I'm no help to you on your jousting feather knights or your Knights of Samular. But... perhaps we could help one another?" He looks over at Rylan and says, "Perhaps the people in this town wouldn't shrink away from you, or flail their arms about (he takes a hard look at thehandling at the far end of the bar with this) if you approached them for information." Arkun takes a big slurping spoon of stew, with juice dribbling down his chin.He uses a piece of bread to arrest the errant drips and redirect them towards his mouth. He looks up at Rylan and Rumble in curiosity.
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Rumble nodded and puffed out his chest, clearly feeling rather proud of himself for aiding a fellow knight, or at least a noble warrior in his eyes. Though, he wouldn't bask for long in the emotion, as the smell of food approaching the table immediately captures his attention!
Only deeply ingrained discipline kept him from immediately stuffing his face once the spread is put out. At least not without first thanking the server and paying his due. But while under normal circumstances he'd have gone a step further in offering to pay for everyone else and tipping generously, his patience for pleasantries could only hold out so long against the onslaught of more angry gurgles of a stomach in need of sustenance!
Still, his ears remained wide open as he turned a few chunks of read into stew-soaked appetizers. Though for all the relief the food brought him, the seriousness behind Rylan's tone and hushed voice made it impossible for Rumble to not look at the man with brows furrowed in growing concern. He even found himself leaning forward a bit just as Rylan had, only to reel back moments later and stare wide-eyed at the man.
There is.... no immediate reply from Rumble. Instead, he just sat there staring and processing for close to a minute, before following a blink and shudder, awakens from his stupor. Now it was his turn to lean, glance to Rylan and Arkun each in turn, and then speak in hushed tones. "Fellas, I... don't know nuthin' 'bout no Feathergale Knights or Circle of Scarlet. But-"He waggles his fingers. "It is funny ya mentioned'em. The Knights, at least, though I'd imagine we could help each other out fer the other thing. B-but listen! I can't say exactly how long its been going on, but I want to say relatively recently, the Knights of Samular did get reports of homesteaders and the like going missing, and big ass feathers being left behind on the scene. Even got some s'pose eyewitness accounts of folk seeing big birds or some such flying away from the scene of the disappearances."He said, expression serious, but almost comically, stoney hand absentmindedly patted around until it found the soup spoon of his stew.
"Now, I ain't no strangers to big ass monsters of any kind popping up out of the blue and running off with a two-legged meal or two. Nor am I the sort to make too many presumptions about folk I don't--*sluuuurrp*... *lip smack*... Mm, that's good -- *ahem* -- folk I don't know too well. But consider'n their vocation, could be they might know somethin'. Also-"He looks to Arkun. "-this could be a stretch. But maybe they'd be even have a better idea on where we might find this circle of yours, or help in the search with getting a bird's eye view, 'ssuming things don't quite pan out with this Haeleelee fella of yers. Eitha way, I think we honestly can help each other."He glances down to his meal. "But uhh... a-after lunch, yea? 'cause according rule twenty-two of my order, if'n it can be helped, never go out on an empty stomach least your mind's eye become blinded or... s-someting like that."
Aldric drops his sack and removes his helm, sliding it under his shield arm once again. Several beads of sweat run down the side of his green-skinned head.
Looking at the woman, but addressing the man around his tusks, he says, "Sir Aldric Harthstone of the Knights of Samular and marshal of Westbridge. I'm looking for Sheriff Harburk." He then turns to look at the man. "It's a matter of some importance. Are you Sheriff Harburk?"
Rylan considers Arkun and Rumble's words carefully before he replies.
"Does seems to be a hive of strange activity in this region. Truth be told, I've not much experience adventuring, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's some link to be found between each of the concerns that brought us here."
He looks to Arkun, "I would be pleased to assist you in your search for information, but I must first speak with my appointed contacts here. They're trusted agents of Lords' Alliance. I'm certain they're more than knowledgable about the goings on about town. Perhaps they could be of service if you wanted to accompany me."
He looks to Rumble. "They may be interested to hear your tales of harried homesteaders as well."
He takes a bite of food and gestures welcomingly to his new acquaintances. "Would you like to come along?"
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DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Sylra stood in silence as Kaylessa spoke, her gray eyes fixed steadily on the woman as she leaned forward against the desk. The innkeeper’s words tumbled out with growing urgency, each detail painting the shape of something that had clearly weighed on her for some time. Sylra listened closely, noting the way her voice rose as she described Lance Rock, and how her tone shifted from frustration to determination when she spoke of the gold she had set aside. There was a sharp edge of conviction in her words, and it cut through any lingering doubt that this was simply a superstition or idle tale. The picture she painted was clear enough: a place that carried a presence too heavy to ignore, yet one that others in the town chose to turn away from rather than confront.
When Kaylessa finished, her elbows still resting on the desk and her eyes bright with the force of her appeal, Sylra allowed the silence between them to stretch for a breath. She let the weight of what had been said settle fully before she moved, her shoulders straightening as she shifted her stance and let her fingers brush lightly across the leather strap of her pack. She inclined her head faintly, a quiet acknowledgment of what the woman had shared, and the faintest suggestion of approval at the courage it had taken to name the thing out loud when no one else would.
“You’ve done more than most would,” Sylra said at last, her voice low and even, but with a quiet resonance that carried through the room. “You saw what others refused to see, and you found your voice when theirs failed them. That is no small thing, and it’s worth more than most here would admit.” She let her words linger for a moment before continuing, her tone shifting slightly as she set her resolve into them. “This place you describe… if there is something wrong there, I will know it when I stand before it. And if there is something to be done, then it will be done.”
She met Kaylessa’s gaze and held it, her expression calm but firm, her gray eyes steady and unflinching as though she had already committed herself to the path ahead. There was no need to bluster or make grand promises; her presence alone spoke to the depth of her intent. “Keep your gold ready,” she continued, her voice as level as before, but carrying a weight that left no question of her sincerity. “If there is something at Lance Rock that should not be, you will have your answer.”
With that, she allowed her posture to settle back into stillness, though she did not yet turn to leave. Her hands remained lightly at her pack, her head still inclined slightly toward Kaylessa as she waited. If the woman had more to say, Sylra would hear it, because she understood well enough that sometimes the most important truths came only after someone felt they were finally being listened to. Patience and resolve had carried her this far, and she would not abandon them now, not when the first real thread in this tangled knot had at last begun to show itself.
The Helm at Highsun begins to clear out as you finish with your meal, the afternoon traffic giving way to only a few sleepy regulars. The food and ale are surprisingly delectable for an establishment in a frontier town like this, and the servers clean the table with a sharp attentiveness.
ALDRIC:
The woman behind the counter smiles. "Jalessa Ornra," she introduces herself. "And yep, you're lookin' for my man over there." The man brushes his hands against his apron to dry them, then steps out with an outstretched hand, looking Aldric up and down. "So you're the fella that keeps Westbridge in line," he says gruffly with a thick drawl, shaking Aldric's hand with the firmness of a frontier lawman. "Always good to meet another man of the law. Sheriff Harburk Tuthmarillar," he introduces himself, "Heard good things about your town. I'd get out there someday if my own town weren't keepin' me so busy." His look is stern, his eyes inquisitive, but his words extend a harsh but warm kindness that his face does not offer. "Now to what do I owe the pleasure?"
SYLRA:
Kaylessa exhales a grateful, but troubled, sigh. She leans forward, gazing intently at Sylra. "Now don't get me wrong, your words make me giddier than a grandpa in a corn maze, but you be careful. This ain't somethin' you should be doin' on your own," she warns. "Lance Rock is only a few miles west o' the Long Road but 'round these parts, if you're not on the road you're askin' for trouble. And now I can't be payin' you if you ain't comin' back, so if you ask me? I'm mighty grateful you're for listenin' to my hunches but you'll want to find yourself some help if you're for investigatin'."
She leans back, shuffling some papers on the desk. "And you just let me know if you're wantin' a room at any time. We got rooms for all, you can sleep cheap or get yourself a nice room with a hearth and runnin' water. That's right, we got cisterns up top o' this place that run your water right down to your room," she says.
Aldric glances at Jalessa, and deeming her safe, decides to cut to the chase. He locks his gaze on the butcher.
"My deputy and I were able to successfully capture a group of bandits recently. And from them, we learned they report to someone named Grimjaw in a place called Rivergard Keep. I've been noticing over the past six months that banditry, kidnappings, murders, and raids have increased in the Valley. I'm sure you've been seeing similar trends around Red Larch. I'm trying to get to the root of this and cut it out before it can get out of hand."
The half-orc adjusts his footing and continues. "I can't do it alone, and I'm hoping you and some of your men will help. I have no idea where this Rivergard Keep is, but I'm sure with your help, we'll be able to find it quickly."
Arkun looks to Rylan and then to Rumble as he finishes his stew, nodding in the affirmative. He pulls out a small carving knife and when Garlen and Kaylessa appear distracted or in another room, he makes a small carving on the table where they are seated, a symbol (Druidic) that looks like an acorn on the table.
Druidic translation : Here. Hunting. Gather and meet.
Small, but notable. He rubs it such that it nearly blends into the table, one could mistake it for a knot in the wood, a natural occurrence. He hides this behind his plate until he’s done, he lets Rylan and Rumble finish their meals and then stands to leave with them. “Maybe we look for your leads first, Rylan, then we can look forHaeleeya Hanadroum, if that works. I think we can cover more ground if we work together..”. You get the sense that this is a feat for Arkun, that there were a couple of uneasy pauses and gulps as he gets this last out. The elf doesn’t seem to be used to working together as a team, but the rational side of him knows better and overcomes his tendencies.
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Sylra stood quietly as Kaylessa spoke, her steady gray eyes never leaving the woman’s face. There was an earnest weight in the innkeeper’s words, a kind of quiet desperation shaped into concern, and Sylra listened to it all without interruption. She could hear the faint strain in her voice when she spoke of the danger of going alone, and the way her tone shifted when she offered a room to return to, as though she feared the worst but still hoped for the best. The advice was sound. The roads beyond a place like this often lulled the unwary into thinking the wild was tamed, but the moment one stepped off those roads, the truth of the land revealed itself quickly enough. Sylra already knew that, but the reminder carried an honesty that she could not dismiss.
When the words trailed off and the woman began shuffling papers, Sylra finally spoke, her voice even but carrying the faintest note of warmth. She inclined her head slightly, the faintest hint of a smile ghosting across her otherwise still expression. “You’re not wrong,” she said, her tone calm and measured. “I’ve no intention of stepping into the wild unprepared, and I’ll take your counsel to heart. You’ve trusted me with what you know, and I’ll see that your trust is not misplaced.” The words were quiet but firm, and as she straightened her posture, there was no doubt that she carried every syllable with intent.
Her gaze softened slightly as Kaylessa spoke of the inn’s rooms, her description of warm hearths and running water underscoring her wish to see her guests return whole. Sylra allowed herself to meet the moment with a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “It’s good to know there’s a place here worth coming back to,” she replied evenly. “If the road sees me through, perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer when the time comes.” Her eyes held on Kaylessa’s for just a heartbeat longer, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between them that neither gratitude nor resolve needed more words than they had already shared.
Turning then, Sylra adjusted the weight of her pack on her shoulders, the leather creaking faintly as she settled it more comfortably against her frame. Without hesitation or fanfare, she stepped toward the door, her boots striking the wooden floorboards with soft, deliberate rhythm. The directions Kaylessa had given her earlier still rang clear in her mind—three buildings north, on the left, marked by flowers out front—and there was no reason to delay what came next. As she pushed open the door and stepped into the dry afternoon air, the faint scent of sun-warmed earth and stone washed over her, mingling with the lightest trace of something floral drifting faintly on the breeze.
She set her stride northward, her pace steady and purposeful as she followed the road toward the next piece of this quiet mystery. There would be time enough to weigh Kaylessa’s warning and consider the need for allies once she knew more, but for now, the path forward was clear. Haeleeya would have answers, and Sylra would see to it that she heard them without further delay. Each measured step carried the same quiet determination that had brought her here, her resolve unshaken as she disappeared into the gentle hum of the town around her.
Seeing Rylan at very least needed a moment to digest his words, Rumble happily saw to devouring much of his own meal during the intervening time. Though he ate with the sort of haste and grace one might expect out of a hungry urchin. Still, he seemed to have been listening well, as there are times the genasi appeared to nod in agreement or even paused and looked thoughtfully for a moment or two over something said before returning to his meal.
Rumble raises a brow as he's polishing off his stew, noting Arkun's carving. But after a bit of squinting and seeing hardly real harm done, it's quietly shrugged off as he leaned back and patted his belly. "Mn, I'd say fine by me. But as a knight should be prompt, and this goes doubly so for a novice, I'd be remiss in not visiting the shrine first since its right next door." He said alongside an apologetic grin. "So, yaw'll go on ahead and I'll meet'cha at that there clotheir place aforelong, if not that intersection in between. But do ask yer friends 'bout dem missing folk on my behalf while yer at it if'n ya be so kind, and I'll be sure to do the same 'bout dem flying knights of yers. Oh! And, uhh, maaaybe keep an eye out for others that might join us in these endeavors. Not that I don't figure we could manage all this on our own, but have'n a few extra hands don't hurt either."
With that, Rumble gets up from his seat, puts back on his helm, and after taking up his greataxe gestures for the pair to lead the way outside. Though he'd look mildly surprised if either voted to pay the shrine a visit first along with him, he'd only grin and happily take point. Otherwise, once the group was outside, he'd give them one last nod before heading on his way to what at least looked the most shrine like. But if none of the nearby buildings 'screamed' shrine, Rumble awkwardly makes his way back inside to ask what the shrine looks like before hurrying along to it.
Harburk frowns as he listens to you. He leans against the counter, idly scratching the back of his head once you're done. "Bandits...always more bandits," he says. "Sure, we've had our fair share o' trouble. Not sure about this Keep o' yours, but most our reports o' banditry are happ'nin on the Cairn Road south o' town. Can't get out there to investigate 'em all, so I could point you to one or two likely spots. Wouldn't recommend goin' alone, but I'm 'fraid I can't give you any help, neither. We got our hands full here. Me and four trusties are all that keep this place together, if I lend you half we'll be overrun in half a tenday, especially with a market day comin' up."
He sighs deeply when he mentions having his hands full. "You know anyone else that could help? Been a lot o' rumors floatin' around, and they can't all be false. Any help investigatin' where I can't get to would be a godsend," he says.
ARKUN, RUMBLE & RYLAN:
OOC: Letting the RP continue here until it's confirmed whether you're all traveling together or splitting up further.
SYLRA:
Kaylessa offers a nod and a smile, and then the dusty air of the outside greets you. A few buildings north, you come back to the structure decorated with flower-filled window boxes. Half-barrels planted with aromatic herbs and more flowers flank the entrance. Inside, the door opens to a tidy room. The scent hits first, the clean and cool smell of mint and lavender, a stark contrast to the dusty tang of the outside.
The front room is modest but elegant. Bolts of linen, wool, and a few rarer fabrics are rolled and stacked neatly along one wall. Patterns are pinned to a board near a tidy table, where lengths of thread hang in perfect order and a set of sharp shears gleam in the light. Mannequins stand to one side, draped in half-finished dresses.
A set of double doors in the back of the shop lies closed as you enter, but tittering laughter filters out of it along with some steam when they open moments later at the hands of a human woman in her twenties with fine, pale skin and a fancy hairdo pinned by a pair of white and blue flowers. "Oh, I'm sorry my dear, I can usually tell from the back when someone's in the shop but the ladies today are in such a fine mood, can't hear much over their gossipin'!" she says, offering with a curtsy, "The name's Haeleeya. You got a special occasion you're wantin' a dress for, or have you come to relax in the baths?" She sits in a nearby chair, picking up some thread to continue a pattern in progress while she listens to your answer.
Aldric tries half-heartedly to argue the sheriff into changing his mind, but as quickly as it becomes apparent it's a losing battle, he breathes out a long breath.
"I suppose I could try Beliard," he says, feeling a little pang in his chest. Beliard is close to Summit Hall. He has no desire to get that close to Summit Hall.
"Or maybe Womford." Again, too close to Summit Hall for his comfort.
He sighs another long breath and puts on his helm. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I think I need a warm meal before I leave town. That tavern I passed have good food?"
After picking up his bag, he looks at the butcher and his wife one last time. "Anyone in town you think might know this Rivergard Keep?"
After getting their answer, he heads north to the Helm at Highsun.
Rylan takes no notice of Arkun's carving as he says his farewells Rumble, never losing the slight glint of amusement in his eye. "On my honor, Sir Rumble, I will indeed inquire about the missing folk. May you find what you seek. I look forward to our next meeting."
He then turns to Arkun with a jovial smile. "Come then, master elf. I must first attend to my steed, but then, lets get about our business. I want to hear all about these moon worshipers of yours and the powers you've heard they possess."
With that, he flags down Garlen to ask about food and boarding for ol' Brandy before they hit the road, insisting that she be accommodated in the manner to which she is accustomed, even if it means sacrificing his own comfort to offset the cost.
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DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
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"Actually, I was about to..." Rylan starts to say as the rock man trudges toward a meal table, expecting Rylan to join him without question.
The noble human sighs, but an amused grin remains on his face... "Well, I suppose a crust of bread and some cheese would do." He says, mostly to himself.
Looking over at Arkun and adds, "You're not going to force me to sup with him alone, are you?" He stands, continuing as he beckons Arkun over. "Come. It's my very first meal with a rock man. We might as well make a proper party out of it."
In response to Rumble's question about the Dao, Rylan nods, immediately. "Indeed." He replies "When I was a child, my governess was a native of Zakhara. She used to weave bedtime tales about the Land of Fate. The Grand Calif, the desert riders... Wonderful stuff... Genies, if I'm correct, were powerful spirits born from the elements... And the Dao was, if I recall correctly, an earth spirit... Am I getting that right?"
Rylan leans forward, not entirely skeptical when he asks, "Is that what you are, friend? A genie of the earth?"
DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Arkun packs his wooden badger carving away in his pocket, then walks over and pulls up a chair, looking back and forth between the two. "Rock man.. very interesting." He looks carefully at his hands, but does not touch. "I've not had the honor of meeting one such as you. Rumble... seems appropriate. I have never heard of a Dao, or seen one. A genie you say?" He turns to Rylan, appraising him. "I've never heard these stories, you must tell us one sometime. A spirit being made of elements? Now that does sound like a bedtime story."
He takes a long slurp of his ale, then extends a tattooed hand, saying "Name's Arkun. Arkun Iridae.. where are you fellows from? Have you traveled far to get here? Seen anything interesting, on your journeys? Any genies that you have encountered, handing out wishes? That's something I'd like to see..." He holds up his hand, interested in breaking bread with these new folks. They're just as damn odd as me, makes me feel a little better, somehow. Arkun visibly relaxes in the seat, his arms and legs almost going limp as he seems to be enjoying himself.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Sylra remained where she stood, her hands resting lightly on the worn leather straps of her pack as Kaylessa’s words filled the quiet of the inn. The murmured conversations of the few other patrons faded into an indistinct hum, a backdrop against which the innkeeper’s voice rose clearly, each word carrying weight and purpose. Sylra listened intently, hearing not only the content of what was said, but the cadence and texture of it—steady, yet edged with frustration, like wind whistling through a narrowing pass. The descriptions struck her with their raw familiarity: fog that clung stubbornly to the Sumber Hills even under the bright sun, sudden gusts of hot wind where only cool breezes should run, and lightning thrusting upward into empty sky. These were not the kinds of tales told idly. They bore the shape of something observed and remembered, unsettling precisely because they did not fit what anyone here expected from the world around them.
The scents of the inn hung thick around her as she listened, a blend of wood smoke and yeast, faint traces of sweat and oil on polished wood and worn leather. Beneath it all lingered a dryness in the air that reminded her, faintly, of a field left too long without rain. The floorboards beneath her boots creaked softly as she adjusted her stance, the sound swallowed quickly by the hush of the room, where even those not paying direct attention seemed to feel the weight of what was being discussed. Kaylessa’s voice carried a kind of quiet urgency, tempered by long patience but underpinned with a determination that caught Sylra’s ear more than the words themselves. She recognized it immediately—the tone of someone who had been dismissed too many times by people too comfortable in their denial to act.
When the woman’s account finally trailed off into silence, Sylra allowed the moment to stretch just long enough to show she was considering it fully. Her breath came slow and measured, the faint sound of fabric shifting as she straightened her shoulders and turned slightly toward Kaylessa, her gray eyes steady and clear. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the same deliberate calm that it always did, but now with a subtle undertone of resolve that matched the heaviness of the air between them. She chose her words carefully, knowing the weight they carried in a place where most would rather avoid saying too much.
“I would hear your theory,” she said, her tone even, low, but carrying clearly to the innkeeper’s ears. There was no judgment there, no hint of doubt—only the quiet assurance of someone who knew how to listen and was willing to do so. “You’ve paid attention when others looked away. You’ve given voice to what they’ve left unspoken. If there is sense to be made of what’s happening here, I would rather hear it from someone brave enough to name it than from those who would bury it in silence.”
She held Kaylessa’s gaze without pressing further, her posture relaxed yet purposeful. The faint scent of rain still clung to her cloak despite the dry afternoon outside, mingling with the heavier smells of the room as she waited. There was no need to offer promises just yet—her presence and her words made her intentions clear enough. Sylra had come to this town to find what others would not, and if Kaylessa truly had insight into what lay beneath the surface, she would not leave before hearing it.
The more Rylan rattled off about his knowledge of Genies, the more Rumble's eyes gradually widen in both surprise and awe. Yet while under normal circumstances he'd have been struck speechless by the end, the question to cap it all off with is one the genasi cannot help but let out a hearty chuckle. One that almost turned into a full-blown laughing fit!
But between Arkun finally joining in and some self displine finally returning to the surface, Rumble eventually calmed down. Though it was with a grin in his voice that he replied to Rylan after shaking Arkun's hand. "A pleasure Mr. Iridae. 'fore I get to that-" He looks to Rylan. "You're right about what the Dao are -- or mostly are to those less inclined to be drawn in their high-minded nonsense. But what I am is what'chu might call the byproduct of a Dao who was very big into fraternizing with her slaves to put things politely; especially when they prove themselves to be as industrious as my father back in the day." Rumble crossed his arms and started to lean back in his seat, but quickly caught himself to instead inspect the chair as much he could without leaving it.
But seeing as it hadn't groaned or creaked, or didn't do so too noticable to his ears, he sighed in relief as he turned again to the others. "To be clear, not all Genasi like myself are so... mmm... fortunately misfortunate as I, 'specially those born of Djinni lines, if not simply having been born of two Genasi." He further explained, before regarding Arkun once more. "Now ta answer yer earlier question, I'm still but a humble novice, but I yet count myself a Knight of Samular. Thems them, uhh, knightly order a fair ways east of here, I wanna say? But as my route here to Red Larch was on the cir-que-tua-tus side I'd have easier time pointing it out on a map than describing how to get there." He said with a chuckle. "And I can't say I've seen anything interesting on the road, but I've 'heard' some things I... I think it'll be alright to share with ya if interested. Both of ya. BUT, as Tyr as my witness, if ya come across a genie promising wishes it's a straight up scam. And if ya see one, then whatever you do -- don't ask for one! Trust me, only pain and misery lies down them roads."
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Rylan hides his amused smile behind his beverage as he replies, "I'll very much keep that in mind, Sir Rumble. Much obliged."
His eyes shift to the door, still feeling a sense of urgency despite the novelty of this conversation. Glancing at the two travelers he asks in a slighly hushed voice, "If I may ask... What know ye of this region? I'm not much traveled in the area and still very much getting my bearings."
Once he gets going, he can't quite stop himself. He continues, leaning forward, a bit over-eager. "In particular, I'm quite curious to learn more about the Feathergale Knights. Perhaps you've heard of them? They are a chivalric order devoted to the preserving the tradition of mounted aerial combat..." With a cocky smiles he "casually" adjusts his tunic to ensure the heraldic seal of House Belabranta is proudly visible, assuming everyone who gazes upon it would understand its significance. "...something my family has a keen interest in..."
Suddenly aware of his own boorishness, he wipes the cocky grin off his face, settles back on earnest curiosity and continues. "Anyway, I'm told they have a stronghold in this region and I am most interested to learn what reputation they might have among the common folk..."
He searches the eyes of both his meal companions for some sign of recognition. "Do you know of them?"
DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Aldric pauses for a moment, considering what to do next. With nothing to indicate where Sheriff Harburk might be, he has no choice but to trust the innkeeper's word that this is the right place. It isn't unusual for a settlement's lawman to also have another job. Aldric may be supported by Summit Hill, but his deputy, Grasel, raises cattle.
After taking another look around at the various buildings and the dusty road, the knight decides to stop in at the first building — the one with the sign of a ham being carved by a cleaver.
OOC: Aldric will walk up to the building and will look in a window if one is available. I'm not sure if it looks like a building you should just walk into (like a shop) or more like a house where you should knock. Aldric will make that determination and follow his gut.
SYLRA:
Kaylessa leans forward, her elbows on the front desk as she eagerly answers Sylra. "There's a place not far from town, it's hard to miss. There's a big ole rock just hangin' out in the middle o' nowhere, like it grew up out the earth itself. We locals call it Lance Rock, and I'm tellin' you there's an evil presence there. First time you walk past it you'll know exactly what I mean. Now I talked to the sheriff and some o' the town elders about it, but folks are too busy around here and nobody's for helpin'. That's why I was hopin' maybe you and that other big fella might be willin' to help me out and investigate. If there's trouble brewin' that's bad for business, so I'd be willin' to put the money where my mouth is. I've got fifty gold pieces reserved for the first group o' folks that can go investigate and make sure there ain't no sinister forces lurkin' there," she explains, growing more animated the further she gets into her tale.
ALDRIC:
After peeking into the window to verify that this was in fact a place of business, Aldric steps into a small and quaint butcher shop. A short human woman around thirty years, with fine black hair pulled back into a ponytail, is in the midst of chopping meat in a bloodied apron behind the front desk, and to the other side of the room is a tall, lean, and muscle-bound human man. Looking around ten years her senior, he has wiry brown hair and a thick mustache, both flaked with gray. He looks to be in the process of packaging meat, while the woman looks up to your entrance, not skipping a beat at the sight of a large half-orc entering her store.
"Hey, stranger, always nice to see a new face. Take a look at the cuts, let me know what you're interested in. There's a couple more slabs hangin' in the smokehouse if nothing here is to your liking," she says.
RYLAN, ARKUN & RUMBLE:
"Here you are," a server says, distributing a cheese wheel and knife alongside some warm, doughy bread and a bowl of stew for each of you as you talk, along with the second mug of ale for Rylan and Arkun.
OOC: Removed 1 sp from each of your inventories for the meal.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Arkun looks out of sorts what with all the talk about Djinn, knights, and aerial mounted combat. His eyes go wide and he takes a deep drought of ale, dipping into the stew and dabbing the bread into the stew. "I'm afraid you both have me there. I know nothing about the Feathergale knights, it does sound very interesting, perhaps to watch, but that's not my thing. I'm here for information as well - I'm looking for someone named Haeleeya Hanadroum, have you heard of them? I've been sent to find this person here at Red Larch. They have knowledge, supposedly, about some group of druids that have unusual powers, a group called the Circle of the Scarlet Moon. Have you ever heard of them, or anything about them? Apparently they have rituals, connections to nature that we've never even dreamed of.. I ..uh.. live in the woods, you see. I have a .. connection .. to nature, things that most folk around here have probably never heard of. They think I'm strange here. Well, they're right. I travel on different paths than most city folk. Sorry I'm no help to you on your jousting feather knights or your Knights of Samular. But... perhaps we could help one another?" He looks over at Rylan and says, "Perhaps the people in this town wouldn't shrink away from you, or flail their arms about (he takes a hard look at the handling at the far end of the bar with this) if you approached them for information." Arkun takes a big slurping spoon of stew, with juice dribbling down his chin. He uses a piece of bread to arrest the errant drips and redirect them towards his mouth. He looks up at Rylan and Rumble in curiosity.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Rumble nodded and puffed out his chest, clearly feeling rather proud of himself for aiding a fellow knight, or at least a noble warrior in his eyes. Though, he wouldn't bask for long in the emotion, as the smell of food approaching the table immediately captures his attention!
Only deeply ingrained discipline kept him from immediately stuffing his face once the spread is put out. At least not without first thanking the server and paying his due. But while under normal circumstances he'd have gone a step further in offering to pay for everyone else and tipping generously, his patience for pleasantries could only hold out so long against the onslaught of more angry gurgles of a stomach in need of sustenance!
Still, his ears remained wide open as he turned a few chunks of read into stew-soaked appetizers. Though for all the relief the food brought him, the seriousness behind Rylan's tone and hushed voice made it impossible for Rumble to not look at the man with brows furrowed in growing concern. He even found himself leaning forward a bit just as Rylan had, only to reel back moments later and stare wide-eyed at the man.
There is.... no immediate reply from Rumble. Instead, he just sat there staring and processing for close to a minute, before following a blink and shudder, awakens from his stupor. Now it was his turn to lean, glance to Rylan and Arkun each in turn, and then speak in hushed tones. "Fellas, I... don't know nuthin' 'bout no Feathergale Knights or Circle of Scarlet. But-" He waggles his fingers. "It is funny ya mentioned'em. The Knights, at least, though I'd imagine we could help each other out fer the other thing. B-but listen! I can't say exactly how long its been going on, but I want to say relatively recently, the Knights of Samular did get reports of homesteaders and the like going missing, and big ass feathers being left behind on the scene. Even got some s'pose eyewitness accounts of folk seeing big birds or some such flying away from the scene of the disappearances." He said, expression serious, but almost comically, stoney hand absentmindedly patted around until it found the soup spoon of his stew.
"Now, I ain't no strangers to big ass monsters of any kind popping up out of the blue and running off with a two-legged meal or two. Nor am I the sort to make too many presumptions about folk I don't--*sluuuurrp*... *lip smack*... Mm, that's good -- *ahem* -- folk I don't know too well. But consider'n their vocation, could be they might know somethin'. Also-" He looks to Arkun. "-this could be a stretch. But maybe they'd be even have a better idea on where we might find this circle of yours, or help in the search with getting a bird's eye view, 'ssuming things don't quite pan out with this Haeleelee fella of yers. Eitha way, I think we honestly can help each other." He glances down to his meal. "But uhh... a-after lunch, yea? 'cause according rule twenty-two of my order, if'n it can be helped, never go out on an empty stomach least your mind's eye become blinded or... s-someting like that."
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Aldric drops his sack and removes his helm, sliding it under his shield arm once again. Several beads of sweat run down the side of his green-skinned head.
Looking at the woman, but addressing the man around his tusks, he says, "Sir Aldric Harthstone of the Knights of Samular and marshal of Westbridge. I'm looking for Sheriff Harburk." He then turns to look at the man. "It's a matter of some importance. Are you Sheriff Harburk?"
Rylan considers Arkun and Rumble's words carefully before he replies.
"Does seems to be a hive of strange activity in this region. Truth be told, I've not much experience adventuring, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's some link to be found between each of the concerns that brought us here."
He looks to Arkun, "I would be pleased to assist you in your search for information, but I must first speak with my appointed contacts here. They're trusted agents of Lords' Alliance. I'm certain they're more than knowledgable about the goings on about town. Perhaps they could be of service if you wanted to accompany me."
He looks to Rumble. "They may be interested to hear your tales of harried homesteaders as well."
He takes a bite of food and gestures welcomingly to his new acquaintances. "Would you like to come along?"
DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Sylra stood in silence as Kaylessa spoke, her gray eyes fixed steadily on the woman as she leaned forward against the desk. The innkeeper’s words tumbled out with growing urgency, each detail painting the shape of something that had clearly weighed on her for some time. Sylra listened closely, noting the way her voice rose as she described Lance Rock, and how her tone shifted from frustration to determination when she spoke of the gold she had set aside. There was a sharp edge of conviction in her words, and it cut through any lingering doubt that this was simply a superstition or idle tale. The picture she painted was clear enough: a place that carried a presence too heavy to ignore, yet one that others in the town chose to turn away from rather than confront.
When Kaylessa finished, her elbows still resting on the desk and her eyes bright with the force of her appeal, Sylra allowed the silence between them to stretch for a breath. She let the weight of what had been said settle fully before she moved, her shoulders straightening as she shifted her stance and let her fingers brush lightly across the leather strap of her pack. She inclined her head faintly, a quiet acknowledgment of what the woman had shared, and the faintest suggestion of approval at the courage it had taken to name the thing out loud when no one else would.
“You’ve done more than most would,” Sylra said at last, her voice low and even, but with a quiet resonance that carried through the room. “You saw what others refused to see, and you found your voice when theirs failed them. That is no small thing, and it’s worth more than most here would admit.” She let her words linger for a moment before continuing, her tone shifting slightly as she set her resolve into them. “This place you describe… if there is something wrong there, I will know it when I stand before it. And if there is something to be done, then it will be done.”
She met Kaylessa’s gaze and held it, her expression calm but firm, her gray eyes steady and unflinching as though she had already committed herself to the path ahead. There was no need to bluster or make grand promises; her presence alone spoke to the depth of her intent. “Keep your gold ready,” she continued, her voice as level as before, but carrying a weight that left no question of her sincerity. “If there is something at Lance Rock that should not be, you will have your answer.”
With that, she allowed her posture to settle back into stillness, though she did not yet turn to leave. Her hands remained lightly at her pack, her head still inclined slightly toward Kaylessa as she waited. If the woman had more to say, Sylra would hear it, because she understood well enough that sometimes the most important truths came only after someone felt they were finally being listened to. Patience and resolve had carried her this far, and she would not abandon them now, not when the first real thread in this tangled knot had at last begun to show itself.
ARKUN, RUMBLE & RYLAN:
The Helm at Highsun begins to clear out as you finish with your meal, the afternoon traffic giving way to only a few sleepy regulars. The food and ale are surprisingly delectable for an establishment in a frontier town like this, and the servers clean the table with a sharp attentiveness.
ALDRIC:
The woman behind the counter smiles. "Jalessa Ornra," she introduces herself. "And yep, you're lookin' for my man over there." The man brushes his hands against his apron to dry them, then steps out with an outstretched hand, looking Aldric up and down. "So you're the fella that keeps Westbridge in line," he says gruffly with a thick drawl, shaking Aldric's hand with the firmness of a frontier lawman. "Always good to meet another man of the law. Sheriff Harburk Tuthmarillar," he introduces himself, "Heard good things about your town. I'd get out there someday if my own town weren't keepin' me so busy." His look is stern, his eyes inquisitive, but his words extend a harsh but warm kindness that his face does not offer. "Now to what do I owe the pleasure?"
SYLRA:
Kaylessa exhales a grateful, but troubled, sigh. She leans forward, gazing intently at Sylra. "Now don't get me wrong, your words make me giddier than a grandpa in a corn maze, but you be careful. This ain't somethin' you should be doin' on your own," she warns. "Lance Rock is only a few miles west o' the Long Road but 'round these parts, if you're not on the road you're askin' for trouble. And now I can't be payin' you if you ain't comin' back, so if you ask me? I'm mighty grateful you're for listenin' to my hunches but you'll want to find yourself some help if you're for investigatin'."
She leans back, shuffling some papers on the desk. "And you just let me know if you're wantin' a room at any time. We got rooms for all, you can sleep cheap or get yourself a nice room with a hearth and runnin' water. That's right, we got cisterns up top o' this place that run your water right down to your room," she says.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Aldric glances at Jalessa, and deeming her safe, decides to cut to the chase. He locks his gaze on the butcher.
"My deputy and I were able to successfully capture a group of bandits recently. And from them, we learned they report to someone named Grimjaw in a place called Rivergard Keep. I've been noticing over the past six months that banditry, kidnappings, murders, and raids have increased in the Valley. I'm sure you've been seeing similar trends around Red Larch. I'm trying to get to the root of this and cut it out before it can get out of hand."
The half-orc adjusts his footing and continues. "I can't do it alone, and I'm hoping you and some of your men will help. I have no idea where this Rivergard Keep is, but I'm sure with your help, we'll be able to find it quickly."
Arkun looks to Rylan and then to Rumble as he finishes his stew, nodding in the affirmative. He pulls out a small carving knife and when Garlen and Kaylessa appear distracted or in another room, he makes a small carving on the table where they are seated, a symbol (Druidic) that looks like an acorn on the table.
Druidic translation : Here. Hunting. Gather and meet.
Small, but notable. He rubs it such that it nearly blends into the table, one could mistake it for a knot in the wood, a natural occurrence. He hides this behind his plate until he’s done, he lets Rylan and Rumble finish their meals and then stands to leave with them. “Maybe we look for your leads first, Rylan, then we can look for Haeleeya Hanadroum, if that works. I think we can cover more ground if we work together..”. You get the sense that this is a feat for Arkun, that there were a couple of uneasy pauses and gulps as he gets this last out. The elf doesn’t seem to be used to working together as a team, but the rational side of him knows better and overcomes his tendencies.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Sylra stood quietly as Kaylessa spoke, her steady gray eyes never leaving the woman’s face. There was an earnest weight in the innkeeper’s words, a kind of quiet desperation shaped into concern, and Sylra listened to it all without interruption. She could hear the faint strain in her voice when she spoke of the danger of going alone, and the way her tone shifted when she offered a room to return to, as though she feared the worst but still hoped for the best. The advice was sound. The roads beyond a place like this often lulled the unwary into thinking the wild was tamed, but the moment one stepped off those roads, the truth of the land revealed itself quickly enough. Sylra already knew that, but the reminder carried an honesty that she could not dismiss.
When the words trailed off and the woman began shuffling papers, Sylra finally spoke, her voice even but carrying the faintest note of warmth. She inclined her head slightly, the faintest hint of a smile ghosting across her otherwise still expression. “You’re not wrong,” she said, her tone calm and measured. “I’ve no intention of stepping into the wild unprepared, and I’ll take your counsel to heart. You’ve trusted me with what you know, and I’ll see that your trust is not misplaced.” The words were quiet but firm, and as she straightened her posture, there was no doubt that she carried every syllable with intent.
Her gaze softened slightly as Kaylessa spoke of the inn’s rooms, her description of warm hearths and running water underscoring her wish to see her guests return whole. Sylra allowed herself to meet the moment with a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “It’s good to know there’s a place here worth coming back to,” she replied evenly. “If the road sees me through, perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer when the time comes.” Her eyes held on Kaylessa’s for just a heartbeat longer, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between them that neither gratitude nor resolve needed more words than they had already shared.
Turning then, Sylra adjusted the weight of her pack on her shoulders, the leather creaking faintly as she settled it more comfortably against her frame. Without hesitation or fanfare, she stepped toward the door, her boots striking the wooden floorboards with soft, deliberate rhythm. The directions Kaylessa had given her earlier still rang clear in her mind—three buildings north, on the left, marked by flowers out front—and there was no reason to delay what came next. As she pushed open the door and stepped into the dry afternoon air, the faint scent of sun-warmed earth and stone washed over her, mingling with the lightest trace of something floral drifting faintly on the breeze.
She set her stride northward, her pace steady and purposeful as she followed the road toward the next piece of this quiet mystery. There would be time enough to weigh Kaylessa’s warning and consider the need for allies once she knew more, but for now, the path forward was clear. Haeleeya would have answers, and Sylra would see to it that she heard them without further delay. Each measured step carried the same quiet determination that had brought her here, her resolve unshaken as she disappeared into the gentle hum of the town around her.
Seeing Rylan at very least needed a moment to digest his words, Rumble happily saw to devouring much of his own meal during the intervening time. Though he ate with the sort of haste and grace one might expect out of a hungry urchin. Still, he seemed to have been listening well, as there are times the genasi appeared to nod in agreement or even paused and looked thoughtfully for a moment or two over something said before returning to his meal.
Rumble raises a brow as he's polishing off his stew, noting Arkun's carving. But after a bit of squinting and seeing hardly real harm done, it's quietly shrugged off as he leaned back and patted his belly. "Mn, I'd say fine by me. But as a knight should be prompt, and this goes doubly so for a novice, I'd be remiss in not visiting the shrine first since its right next door." He said alongside an apologetic grin. "So, yaw'll go on ahead and I'll meet'cha at that there clotheir place aforelong, if not that intersection in between. But do ask yer friends 'bout dem missing folk on my behalf while yer at it if'n ya be so kind, and I'll be sure to do the same 'bout dem flying knights of yers. Oh! And, uhh, maaaybe keep an eye out for others that might join us in these endeavors. Not that I don't figure we could manage all this on our own, but have'n a few extra hands don't hurt either."
With that, Rumble gets up from his seat, puts back on his helm, and after taking up his greataxe gestures for the pair to lead the way outside. Though he'd look mildly surprised if either voted to pay the shrine a visit first along with him, he'd only grin and happily take point. Otherwise, once the group was outside, he'd give them one last nod before heading on his way to what at least looked the most shrine like. But if none of the nearby buildings 'screamed' shrine, Rumble awkwardly makes his way back inside to ask what the shrine looks like before hurrying along to it.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
ALDRIC:
Harburk frowns as he listens to you. He leans against the counter, idly scratching the back of his head once you're done. "Bandits...always more bandits," he says. "Sure, we've had our fair share o' trouble. Not sure about this Keep o' yours, but most our reports o' banditry are happ'nin on the Cairn Road south o' town. Can't get out there to investigate 'em all, so I could point you to one or two likely spots. Wouldn't recommend goin' alone, but I'm 'fraid I can't give you any help, neither. We got our hands full here. Me and four trusties are all that keep this place together, if I lend you half we'll be overrun in half a tenday, especially with a market day comin' up."
He sighs deeply when he mentions having his hands full. "You know anyone else that could help? Been a lot o' rumors floatin' around, and they can't all be false. Any help investigatin' where I can't get to would be a godsend," he says.
ARKUN, RUMBLE & RYLAN:
OOC: Letting the RP continue here until it's confirmed whether you're all traveling together or splitting up further.
SYLRA:
Kaylessa offers a nod and a smile, and then the dusty air of the outside greets you. A few buildings north, you come back to the structure decorated with flower-filled window boxes. Half-barrels planted with aromatic herbs and more flowers flank the entrance. Inside, the door opens to a tidy room. The scent hits first, the clean and cool smell of mint and lavender, a stark contrast to the dusty tang of the outside.
The front room is modest but elegant. Bolts of linen, wool, and a few rarer fabrics are rolled and stacked neatly along one wall. Patterns are pinned to a board near a tidy table, where lengths of thread hang in perfect order and a set of sharp shears gleam in the light. Mannequins stand to one side, draped in half-finished dresses.
A set of double doors in the back of the shop lies closed as you enter, but tittering laughter filters out of it along with some steam when they open moments later at the hands of a human woman in her twenties with fine, pale skin and a fancy hairdo pinned by a pair of white and blue flowers. "Oh, I'm sorry my dear, I can usually tell from the back when someone's in the shop but the ladies today are in such a fine mood, can't hear much over their gossipin'!" she says, offering with a curtsy, "The name's Haeleeya. You got a special occasion you're wantin' a dress for, or have you come to relax in the baths?" She sits in a nearby chair, picking up some thread to continue a pattern in progress while she listens to your answer.
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Aldric tries half-heartedly to argue the sheriff into changing his mind, but as quickly as it becomes apparent it's a losing battle, he breathes out a long breath.
"I suppose I could try Beliard," he says, feeling a little pang in his chest. Beliard is close to Summit Hall. He has no desire to get that close to Summit Hall.
"Or maybe Womford." Again, too close to Summit Hall for his comfort.
He sighs another long breath and puts on his helm. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I think I need a warm meal before I leave town. That tavern I passed have good food?"
After picking up his bag, he looks at the butcher and his wife one last time. "Anyone in town you think might know this Rivergard Keep?"
After getting their answer, he heads north to the Helm at Highsun.
Rylan takes no notice of Arkun's carving as he says his farewells Rumble, never losing the slight glint of amusement in his eye. "On my honor, Sir Rumble, I will indeed inquire about the missing folk. May you find what you seek. I look forward to our next meeting."
He then turns to Arkun with a jovial smile. "Come then, master elf. I must first attend to my steed, but then, lets get about our business. I want to hear all about these moon worshipers of yours and the powers you've heard they possess."
With that, he flags down Garlen to ask about food and boarding for ol' Brandy before they hit the road, insisting that she be accommodated in the manner to which she is accustomed, even if it means sacrificing his own comfort to offset the cost.
DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"