"Ah, three gold pieces for that exquisite beauty," Helvur says, clasping his hands in wait.
"Send them up!" his wife's voice calls from the second story after the sound of padding footsteps hastily cleaning up has died down, and Helvur frowns, waiting for Rylan's response before following through on those instructions.
ALDRIC:
"If I have to question everyone in this town, I will. Something is going on in the Valley. For about six months I've been watching the number of bandit attacks, kidnappings, murders, and raids rise. It needs to stop." He takes a swig of his ale, then continues. "I was able to get a little information out of some bandits, and that's what I have to go on. I need to cut off the head so that the rest of the snake dies as well."
"You're right, somethin' sure is," Kaylessa responds. "I told that lady you came in with earlier about a couple hunches I had. Gave her an offer of some pay, too. She seemed interested in helpin', so if you're interested while you're in the area, I'm sure she wouldn't mind splittin' the pay. Investigatin' Lance Rock isn't exactly a one-person job."
ARKUN, RUMBLE & SYLRA:
A sign set on two posts in a scrap of weedy lawn out front of the small house on the northern edge of Red Larch reads "Mellikho Stoneworks". A quarry pit begins just behind the house. Inside, the house is arranged as a small business office, in an orderly sort of disorder, with a desk cluttered with papers and shelves of ledgers dusty from the surrounding environment.
A pot-bellied and fair-skinned human woman in her thirties, with dusty black hair tied back in a messy ponytail, whirls toward the door at your entrance. "Well, you're not myworkers," she says jovially, "Which means you're either in the wrong place, or you're lookin' for work. What can I do you for?"
Rylan, snaps his fingers, quickly handing the hat back... "Oh, blast. I just realized I left my coin purse at the..."He twirls his wrist as if struggling to remember the name of the place. "I'll just run and get it after the, um..."He indicates the stairs. "Beautiful work though. Beautiful work.... We'll talk later."
He eagerly follows Helvur once he's led up the stairs.
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DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Aldric's chewing slows as he thinks about Kaylessa's reply. Telling her that he and the genasi had not come in together does not even cross his mind. What he immediately begins to consider is adding her to his posse. If she is asking similar questions to his, perhaps they should work together. That would make five. Five is a good number. He wonders what her talents might be. She was certainly dressed for combat.
The half-orc swallows the last of the chicken and then polishes off his ale. He stands and takes a moment to fish around in his small purse before dropping the appropriate number of coins on the table for payment and a small tip.
Looking at Kaylessa, he manages a smile. "Thank you for the meal." He considers adding something more — It was good, perhaps — but the words stall. After so long in Westbridge, where keeping a professional distance and projecting authority were part of his job (and survival), even a small courtesy feels unnatural. Politeness, once second nature, now feels like stepping out of character. The teachings of his upbringing echo in his mind, however. He can still hear his mother's gentle words urging him to be polite.
After a brief pause, the half-orc gives a curt nod and turns to leave. One big hand settles his helm back on his round head.
Sir Aldric steps outside and looks around, squinting against the glare. Turning north, he spots the trio that includes the novice and ... the other genasi? Did they come to Red Larch together? he wonders. He knows so little about the unusual folk. Do they travel in packs? Is she also a novice? He hadn't noticed any of Tyr's signs on her, but perhaps he just missed it.
He considers marching up to them to inquire about the novice's progress on the assignment he was given. Thinking about the time, however, he judges it unlikely he has been able to visit the other two locations prior to going north. It appears he's been dragging his feet.
Aldric pokes his head back into the inn and addresses Kaylessa. "If that novice comes looking for me, tell him I went south to question the others. He'll know what that means."
Closing the door again, he hitches up his sack of belongings, and heads for the Wagonworks.
Rumbles smirks at the question, then shook his head. "Can't say we're lookin' for work, so much as we're sorta on the job in a matter of speaking. But, uhh, well met! Name's Rumble. Rumble Siltskin, a novice under the Knights of Samular." He takes half a step back only to go into sweeping bow with his shield arm. Once he comes out of the bow, his smirk falters into a weak smile, and then falls away altogether as look of concern seeps into his visage. Yet, he held his tongue at least long enough for the others to introduce themselves and even cede the floor to them entirely if they were more apt to follow up with answering the woman's question.
But if the latter hadn't occurred, Rumble clears his throat. "Just to be sure, you are Ms. Mellikho? A silly question perhaps, but, uhh, ya know what they say 'bout assuming, even if evidence to the obvious is there." He pauses for a beat, long enough for her to answer, before nodding and continuing on: "Well, the thing is, our reason, or s'pose more accurately, my own reason is two fold. Though, a part of that happens to fall in line with these two fine folks own. So, I'll speak of the latter first... We heard there's been some concerns of late with the mines, and of mind to render aid if such seems possible. The second thing is, uhh... honestly unrelated, I hope. But, ya wouldn't happen to know anything about an, uhh, Riverguard Keep, I think its called? Or some bandits recently causing a kerfuffle along the rivers?"
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When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Rylan leaves Helvur disappointed and holding a hat like a soggy newspaper as he walks up the steps to the top floor of the clothier. It is furnished comfortably, with two sofas surrounding a circular table on an ornate rug, and an open kitchenette to the side. A human woman stands with quiet confidence next to the wood stove, pouring tea into a pair of mugs. Her deep bronze skin pairs well with the elegant blue gown she wears, and her intricate jewelry and styled hair seem at odds with the dusty nature of Red Larch.
"You'll have to excuse my husband," she says as she motions Rylan to sit on the couch across from her, setting his tea in front of him. "Business is slow, and he gets so eager when nobility enters our store. You are here regarding Lords' Alliance matters?"
ALDRIC:
The wagonworks across the intersection is easy to find thanks to the dozens of wagons shrouded in worn canvas tarpaulins that surround the workshop. The workshop itself appears to be a cluttered, untidy shed, and a crudely hand-lettered sign over the wide main door proclaims it to be "Waelvur's Wagonworks". Inside, half a dozen wagons stand in various stages of assembly, surrounded by stools, ladders, and benches. Wooden pillars support a loft that is an open latticework of boards, serving as home to some birds and storage for scores of wooden wagon wheels. Half a dozen laborers are working when Aldric enters, the smell of booze just as strong as sawdust and wood.
A sullen human man, looking to be cresting his fifties, saunters over to Aldric. "What'll you have?" he grunts.
ARKUN, RUMBLE & SYLRA:
"Aye, Ms. Mellikho I be!" the woman says, turning from the party to ruffle through some papers. She speaks mostly with her back turned, intent on her task, but certainly doesn't ignore the questions. "Rivergard Keep? Ain't heard of it, unless you're talking about one of them Haunted Keeps you adventurin' types always come here trying to find. As for the mines, there ain't no concern exceptin' the fact that orders for our stone are backed up right now and some of my stonecutters have had to work night shifts by torchlight."
She pauses her frenetic activity long enough to look again at the visitors in her office. "You are adventurin' types, right? I can't help you find your keep but I do know of somethin' that might test your mettle," she says.
Rylan bows deep, summoning a lifetime of training in etiquette, extending his most sincere gesture of respect for Maegla Tarnlar. "Madame, you honor me with your time and attention. I am Rylan of House Belabranta, son of Korvar, sworn deputy of the Lord's Alliance and devoted servant of Lliira, Mistress of Revels."
He stands, straightening himself. "I was drawn to this frontier over a family affair, which may, perhaps, have broader ramifications that would interest our fair Council of Lords..."
He holds for a moment, for emphasis. "The Feathergale Society... Do you know of them? They are a fraternity of Waterdavian gentry with a shared interest in the sport of aerial riding. They recently honored my dear sister Savra with a knighthood in their ranks. Yet.... When I attended her accolade to lend my support and celebration... Well... something... did not sit right with me..." He pauses, searching for the words.
"Forgive me. Perhaps these are just the paranoid wonderings of an overprotective brother, but Savra seemed... Unlike herself... Her devotion to this... association went far beyond a sporting interest... It was as if she had joined something more than an aristocratic brotherhood... It was as if she'd just been welcomed into a kind of sacred order..."
He shakes his head, averting his eyes.
"...Hearing the words myself, I realize I sound mad, but... My prayers to The Everchanging Goddess awoke in me a sense of unease whenever I reflect on the matter... and the Lady of Joy has never steered me wrong about such things." He locks eyes again with Maegla as he continues. "This leader of theirs, a respected Waterdavian named Thurl Merosska, invited me to join their ranks... but told me I needed to travel to their base of operations in the Dessarin Valley in order to do so... So, here I am... Prepared to face the unknown to either stand beside my sister as a member of the league... or convince her to break ties and return to her homeland for her own wellbeing."
His shoulders relax a bit now that his tale is told, but he seems no more at ease. "My contacts in Waterdeep suggested that very little passes beneath your notice in these parts. So, I've come to you for your knowledge and guidance."He bows again. "And to serve the council as honor dictates, of course... So, can you tell me anything about these so-called Feathergale Knights? Are they a legitimate and Gods-fearing enterprise?"
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DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Sylra stood just inside the door, her posture composed as she watched the woman whirl toward them, her movements quick and precise despite the scattered clutter of the room. Sylra let Rumble speak first, noting the slight shift in his voice as his smirk gave way to something more serious. His words struck the right balance, respectful without pretense, and when he stepped back to let the rest speak, Sylra gave a quiet nod of thanks before stepping forward with a calm breath.
“Your guess is correct. We’re not here looking for work in the usual sense,” she said, her voice quiet but clear, carrying through the room with practiced ease. “But we are here to help—if help is what’s needed.” She glanced once at the cluttered desk and ledgers, then met Mellikho’s gaze as the woman turned to look at them again.
“My name is Sylra Galeheart. I’m here on behalf of the Emerald Enclave, and we’ve been keeping a close watch on the changes sweeping through this valley. I’ve spoken to a few locals—some of whom seem to think your workers have been more unsettled than usual, and not just because of backed-up orders or long shifts.” She left the suggestion hanging just long enough to measure the woman’s response before continuing.
“I understand if you’ve not seen anything out of the ordinary yourself. But fear doesn’t always speak aloud, especially among those who’ve got a job to do and little time for questions. Still, if there’s anything you’ve noticed—odd behavior, superstitions returning, strange lights or sounds near the quarry, even if it seems foolish—I’d appreciate hearing it.”
She didn’t press the matter, her tone remaining even and professional, but her gaze remained steady. There was no sign of impatience in her voice, only the quiet insistence of someone used to listening for truths that others overlooked.
“And as for your offer,” she added after a moment, “if there’s something nearby that’s troubling enough for you to mention it, I’m listening. We didn’t come to Red Larch looking for coin, but if trouble is stirring, it might be best to know where the test lies before the danger deepens.”
She fell silent then, allowing both Rumble and Arkun space to add what they would, her posture still and composed as she waited for Mellikho’s reply.
Aldric removes his helm and tucks it under his shield arm. Drops of sweat, previously held suspended beneath, roll to freedom down the various plains of the half-orc's shaved head.
The knight wishes he'd removed his gauntlets so he could at least wipe his face with his open palm. It would probably be okay to suspend the pomp and ceremony now that he's seen the sheriff.
He smiles at the approaching human, assuming him to be Mellikho. He's beginning to get used to this town's unexpected acceptance where a green-skinned, tusked mammoth is concerned.
"Sir Aldric Harthstone of the Knights of Samular and marshal of Westbridge," he rattles off, hoping to not sound too self-important. Slowing down, he explains, "I am investigating the uptick in criminal activity in the valley over the last six months. Specifically, I'm looking for a place called Rivergard Keep, but I'd also like to hear any other observations you might have. I spoke with Sheriff Harburk, and he said you might know something."
“Hi ma’am, my name is Arkun… I’ve come here from the Kryptgarden forest, I was under the impression that there are some strange things happening around Red Larch, I, like Sylra, am here to help. Are their any of your employees that *ahem* may have heard rumors, or seen anything strange around here? I would be curious to hear of this that would "test our mettle".. do tell us more, please....". Arkun turns and looks down at some of the weeds, finds a small flower that is getting choked out from surrounding weeds and struggling to grow out from the stone, he clicks his head to the side as he gives a slight smile and points at it with his hand, delighted to see the little flower grow forth, then he looks back up, back to seriousness, listening for her reply.
There's a slight twitch towards a frown at the mention of other haunted locals, but otherwise Rumble held his tongue and listened without interruption. Though had Millokah rejected the soft doubling down on Sylra's part on inquiring into the condition of the mines and its miners, it's only then the earth genasi more closely began watching Millokah, gauging her reactions for any signs that might point duplicity or nervousness.
Memories arise unbidden by conscious thought in Rumble over the next few moments, distracting at first; and yet, the more he listened, the more he began to draw parallels to the moment at hand. Soon enough, the memories began to feel like someone whispering advice over his shoulders, sharpening his focus on details he might've easily missed on any other day.
Did she just glance away there? Was there a slight trembling to her voice here? That pause there... too long? Or did she hardly stopped to breathe? Wait! Did her hands just twitch towards something, or...?
Whether something he sees warrants concern or not, Rumble at least pretends to relax his posture as the conversation continued, and remained quiet, if but for no other reason than from either having already said his piece or the others more eloquently putting to words any idle thought that came to mind.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, masterBelabranta," Maegla says with a courteous bow of her head.She listens to his words intently, her gaze not leaving his even as she takes a couple sips of her tea. Only when he concludes his explanation does she speak.
"The Feathergale Society..." she mutters, looking past Rylan at nothing in particular as she ruminates, then shakes her head conclusively, returning her eyes to his. "I'm sorry to hear about your sister. Your concern is touching. I'm more sorry to say I don't know of this Society you speak of. However, I assure you I will reach out to the Waterbaron of Yartar with your report. It may take some time, but she is a member of the Lords' Alliance with some standing, and likely has resources at her disposal that I do not. We will find this Feathergale Society for you, master Belabranta, if they do truly operate within the region."
Rylan notices two sets of eyes peering into the conversation, seeing that two young children around 7-10 years of age are apparently interested in Maegla's company. When they see his eyes meet theirs, they dart back into the room they had been peeking out from.
ARKUN, RUMBLE & SYLRA:
Still, if there’s anything you’ve noticed—odd behavior, superstitions returning, strange lights or sounds near the quarry, even if it seems foolish—I’d appreciate hearing it.”
Are their any of your employees that *ahem* may have heard rumors, or seen anything strange around here?
Albaeri Mellikho waves the concern away again, finally finding the leaflet she had been looking for. She carries it to a separate desk, reaching into a drawer and fumbling for a writing implement. "It's hot out and my workers are pulling twelve, fourteen hour shifts into the late night, working by torchlight. It's not fun, and their bodies and their minds are tired. I've heard the rumors, and I'm tellin' you they're overblown. I get them wantin' to get out of their work, but if we're gonna get caught up on orders, we gotta push through it," she says.
“And as for your offer,” she added after a moment, “if there’s something nearby that’s troubling enough for you to mention it, I’m listening. We didn’t come to Red Larch looking for coin, but if trouble is stirring, it might be best to know where the test lies before the danger deepens.”
I would be curious to hear of this that would "test our mettle".. do tell us more, please....
"The place I got in mind is called Tricklerock Cave by us locals," she says. "It's just off the Larch Path to the northeast, at the base of the hills. There's a local legend there, apparently some legendary treasure - one of those places we don't dare go but folks like you come here to find."
For Rumble:
Mellikho is trying to rush you out of here. She doesn't want anything to do with these questions and is trying to be done with this conversation as quickly as possible without physically shooing you out. Her eyes tell you that she's upset that you brought up rumors that her workers are spreading.
ALDRIC:
"Criminal activity?" the man repeats, sighing and wiping sweat off of his brow. He sits back on a workbench, looking toward the ceiling as he speaks. "I can't say I have an inkling. I see a lot of folks roll through here to fix up their wagons, so usually I might have some good gossip for you, but it's been real dry of late. We haven't had much travelers this season. That might change soon though, supposed to be seein' a caravan out of Mirabar, that's what we got these parts ready for, for the repairs they're sure to be needin'."
"Ain't heard of no criminal activity though, least not anything the sheriff hasn't taken care of, drunken brawls and the like."
Aldric nods as the man speaks, frustrated that his initial inquiry isn't reaping any rewards, but hiding his frustration behind what he hopes is seen as encouragement.
"Nothing out of the ordinary?" the knight asks. "Missing people or things? Suspicious individuals?" He gives a quick jerk of the head toward the laborers in the workshop. "What about the others? Do you think they have any information?" He would love to question them as well, but he knows better than to speak out of turn.
If Waelvur is amenable, Aldric introduces himself and says to the others — individually or in groups as needed — the same information, attempting to learn what they might know.
Rylan hides his disappointment as he nods his head in appreciation. "I am in your debt... And if there is anything I can do to assist you or the alliance, I'll be seeking accommodations at the Swinging Sword Inn."
It's at this point that the paladin notices the pair of eyes peering out to watch him. He smiles unselfconsciously, any and all officiousness overshadowed by the joy of seeing the curious youths. He inclines his head in their direction as the bolt. "Prudence and discretion may be the watchwords of our craft as servants to the realm... but surely no conversation was ever fully secured from the ears of a curious child."
He locks smiling eyes with Maegela as he makes a religious gesture. "Llira's blessing to them and to your household... Though I'm sure there's no blessing the Godess could deliver that's greater than that brought by those two moppets.... I thank you once again and bid you good evening."
At Maegela's leave, he makes his exit with a final appreciative bow, doing his best to hastily avoid Helvur on his way out the door.
From there, he'll attempt to rejoin with Akrun, Rumble and Syrla at the quarry.
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DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
”Oh, okay then. Some workers just getting jumpy then. Tricklerock cave, at the base of the hills… tell me more about this legend, could you? You would like us to have a look there?” Arkun scratches his head, looking around to see if there are any of these jumpy workers walking about, feeling everything is above board, he looks to his companions.
History as to whether he has heard of Tricklerock cave, or this legend, from his travels around the Kryptgarden Forest and the Sumber HIlls : (Nat 20)
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Sylra remained still as Albaeri spoke, her expression calm and attentive, though her gaze followed the woman closely—not just her words, but the rhythm of her movements and the ease with which she waved away the concern. She didn’t interrupt, allowing the quarrymaster’s explanation to unfold in its own cadence, from tired workers and long hours to the rumors dismissed as exaggeration. At the mention of Tricklerock Cave, Sylra’s head tilted slightly, not in doubt but in quiet consideration.
“I appreciate the direction,” Sylra said, her voice even and steady. “If there’s something worth looking into out that way, we’ll find it.”
She let her words settle gently, without pressure or challenge, but her eyes lingered on Albaeri a moment longer than was strictly necessary. There was no accusation in her gaze, only quiet curiosity—an invitation, perhaps, for something unspoken to rise. But she asked no follow-up. For now, she had what she needed.
“We’ll take a look,” she said finally. “And if it leads nowhere, we’ll return with that truth in hand. Either way, thank you for your time.”
She stepped slightly back to give space for Arkun or Rumble to follow up, her posture still relaxed, though the focus in her eyes hadn’t faded.
OOC: Sylra makes an Insight check to get a sense of Albaeri’s sincerity and whether anything she said feels deflective or incomplete. Insight: 22 (Passive is 15)
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RYLAN:
"Ah, three gold pieces for that exquisite beauty," Helvur says, clasping his hands in wait.
"Send them up!" his wife's voice calls from the second story after the sound of padding footsteps hastily cleaning up has died down, and Helvur frowns, waiting for Rylan's response before following through on those instructions.
ALDRIC:
"You're right, somethin' sure is," Kaylessa responds. "I told that lady you came in with earlier about a couple hunches I had. Gave her an offer of some pay, too. She seemed interested in helpin', so if you're interested while you're in the area, I'm sure she wouldn't mind splittin' the pay. Investigatin' Lance Rock isn't exactly a one-person job."
ARKUN, RUMBLE & SYLRA:
A sign set on two posts in a scrap of weedy lawn out front of the small house on the northern edge of Red Larch reads "Mellikho Stoneworks". A quarry pit begins just behind the house. Inside, the house is arranged as a small business office, in an orderly sort of disorder, with a desk cluttered with papers and shelves of ledgers dusty from the surrounding environment.
A pot-bellied and fair-skinned human woman in her thirties, with dusty black hair tied back in a messy ponytail, whirls toward the door at your entrance. "Well, you're not my workers," she says jovially, "Which means you're either in the wrong place, or you're lookin' for work. What can I do you for?"
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Rylan, snaps his fingers, quickly handing the hat back... "Oh, blast. I just realized I left my coin purse at the..." He twirls his wrist as if struggling to remember the name of the place. "I'll just run and get it after the, um..." He indicates the stairs. "Beautiful work though. Beautiful work.... We'll talk later."
He eagerly follows Helvur once he's led up the stairs.
DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Aldric's chewing slows as he thinks about Kaylessa's reply. Telling her that he and the genasi had not come in together does not even cross his mind. What he immediately begins to consider is adding her to his posse. If she is asking similar questions to his, perhaps they should work together. That would make five. Five is a good number. He wonders what her talents might be. She was certainly dressed for combat.
The half-orc swallows the last of the chicken and then polishes off his ale. He stands and takes a moment to fish around in his small purse before dropping the appropriate number of coins on the table for payment and a small tip.
Looking at Kaylessa, he manages a smile. "Thank you for the meal." He considers adding something more — It was good, perhaps — but the words stall. After so long in Westbridge, where keeping a professional distance and projecting authority were part of his job (and survival), even a small courtesy feels unnatural. Politeness, once second nature, now feels like stepping out of character. The teachings of his upbringing echo in his mind, however. He can still hear his mother's gentle words urging him to be polite.
After a brief pause, the half-orc gives a curt nod and turns to leave. One big hand settles his helm back on his round head.
Sir Aldric steps outside and looks around, squinting against the glare. Turning north, he spots the trio that includes the novice and ... the other genasi? Did they come to Red Larch together? he wonders. He knows so little about the unusual folk. Do they travel in packs? Is she also a novice? He hadn't noticed any of Tyr's signs on her, but perhaps he just missed it.
He considers marching up to them to inquire about the novice's progress on the assignment he was given. Thinking about the time, however, he judges it unlikely he has been able to visit the other two locations prior to going north. It appears he's been dragging his feet.
Aldric pokes his head back into the inn and addresses Kaylessa. "If that novice comes looking for me, tell him I went south to question the others. He'll know what that means."
Closing the door again, he hitches up his sack of belongings, and heads for the Wagonworks.
Rumbles smirks at the question, then shook his head. "Can't say we're lookin' for work, so much as we're sorta on the job in a matter of speaking. But, uhh, well met! Name's Rumble. Rumble Siltskin, a novice under the Knights of Samular." He takes half a step back only to go into sweeping bow with his shield arm. Once he comes out of the bow, his smirk falters into a weak smile, and then falls away altogether as look of concern seeps into his visage. Yet, he held his tongue at least long enough for the others to introduce themselves and even cede the floor to them entirely if they were more apt to follow up with answering the woman's question.
But if the latter hadn't occurred, Rumble clears his throat. "Just to be sure, you are Ms. Mellikho? A silly question perhaps, but, uhh, ya know what they say 'bout assuming, even if evidence to the obvious is there." He pauses for a beat, long enough for her to answer, before nodding and continuing on: "Well, the thing is, our reason, or s'pose more accurately, my own reason is two fold. Though, a part of that happens to fall in line with these two fine folks own. So, I'll speak of the latter first... We heard there's been some concerns of late with the mines, and of mind to render aid if such seems possible. The second thing is, uhh... honestly unrelated, I hope. But, ya wouldn't happen to know anything about an, uhh, Riverguard Keep, I think its called? Or some bandits recently causing a kerfuffle along the rivers?"
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
RYLAN:
Rylan leaves Helvur disappointed and holding a hat like a soggy newspaper as he walks up the steps to the top floor of the clothier. It is furnished comfortably, with two sofas surrounding a circular table on an ornate rug, and an open kitchenette to the side. A human woman stands with quiet confidence next to the wood stove, pouring tea into a pair of mugs. Her deep bronze skin pairs well with the elegant blue gown she wears, and her intricate jewelry and styled hair seem at odds with the dusty nature of Red Larch.
"You'll have to excuse my husband," she says as she motions Rylan to sit on the couch across from her, setting his tea in front of him. "Business is slow, and he gets so eager when nobility enters our store. You are here regarding Lords' Alliance matters?"
ALDRIC:
The wagonworks across the intersection is easy to find thanks to the dozens of wagons shrouded in worn canvas tarpaulins that surround the workshop. The workshop itself appears to be a cluttered, untidy shed, and a crudely hand-lettered sign over the wide main door proclaims it to be "Waelvur's Wagonworks". Inside, half a dozen wagons stand in various stages of assembly, surrounded by stools, ladders, and benches. Wooden pillars support a loft that is an open latticework of boards, serving as home to some birds and storage for scores of wooden wagon wheels. Half a dozen laborers are working when Aldric enters, the smell of booze just as strong as sawdust and wood.
A sullen human man, looking to be cresting his fifties, saunters over to Aldric. "What'll you have?" he grunts.
ARKUN, RUMBLE & SYLRA:
"Aye, Ms. Mellikho I be!" the woman says, turning from the party to ruffle through some papers. She speaks mostly with her back turned, intent on her task, but certainly doesn't ignore the questions. "Rivergard Keep? Ain't heard of it, unless you're talking about one of them Haunted Keeps you adventurin' types always come here trying to find. As for the mines, there ain't no concern exceptin' the fact that orders for our stone are backed up right now and some of my stonecutters have had to work night shifts by torchlight."
She pauses her frenetic activity long enough to look again at the visitors in her office. "You are adventurin' types, right? I can't help you find your keep but I do know of somethin' that might test your mettle," she says.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Rylan bows deep, summoning a lifetime of training in etiquette, extending his most sincere gesture of respect for Maegla Tarnlar. "Madame, you honor me with your time and attention. I am Rylan of House Belabranta, son of Korvar, sworn deputy of the Lord's Alliance and devoted servant of Lliira, Mistress of Revels."
He stands, straightening himself. "I was drawn to this frontier over a family affair, which may, perhaps, have broader ramifications that would interest our fair Council of Lords..."
He holds for a moment, for emphasis. "The Feathergale Society... Do you know of them? They are a fraternity of Waterdavian gentry with a shared interest in the sport of aerial riding. They recently honored my dear sister Savra with a knighthood in their ranks. Yet.... When I attended her accolade to lend my support and celebration... Well... something... did not sit right with me..." He pauses, searching for the words.
"Forgive me. Perhaps these are just the paranoid wonderings of an overprotective brother, but Savra seemed... Unlike herself... Her devotion to this... association went far beyond a sporting interest... It was as if she had joined something more than an aristocratic brotherhood... It was as if she'd just been welcomed into a kind of sacred order..."
He shakes his head, averting his eyes.
"...Hearing the words myself, I realize I sound mad, but... My prayers to The Everchanging Goddess awoke in me a sense of unease whenever I reflect on the matter... and the Lady of Joy has never steered me wrong about such things." He locks eyes again with Maegla as he continues. "This leader of theirs, a respected Waterdavian named Thurl Merosska, invited me to join their ranks... but told me I needed to travel to their base of operations in the Dessarin Valley in order to do so... So, here I am... Prepared to face the unknown to either stand beside my sister as a member of the league... or convince her to break ties and return to her homeland for her own wellbeing."
His shoulders relax a bit now that his tale is told, but he seems no more at ease. "My contacts in Waterdeep suggested that very little passes beneath your notice in these parts. So, I've come to you for your knowledge and guidance." He bows again. "And to serve the council as honor dictates, of course... So, can you tell me anything about these so-called Feathergale Knights? Are they a legitimate and Gods-fearing enterprise?"
DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Sylra Galeheart – Speaking with Mellikho
Sylra Galeheart – Speaking with Mellikho
Sylra stood just inside the door, her posture composed as she watched the woman whirl toward them, her movements quick and precise despite the scattered clutter of the room. Sylra let Rumble speak first, noting the slight shift in his voice as his smirk gave way to something more serious. His words struck the right balance, respectful without pretense, and when he stepped back to let the rest speak, Sylra gave a quiet nod of thanks before stepping forward with a calm breath.
“Your guess is correct. We’re not here looking for work in the usual sense,” she said, her voice quiet but clear, carrying through the room with practiced ease. “But we are here to help—if help is what’s needed.” She glanced once at the cluttered desk and ledgers, then met Mellikho’s gaze as the woman turned to look at them again.
“My name is Sylra Galeheart. I’m here on behalf of the Emerald Enclave, and we’ve been keeping a close watch on the changes sweeping through this valley. I’ve spoken to a few locals—some of whom seem to think your workers have been more unsettled than usual, and not just because of backed-up orders or long shifts.” She left the suggestion hanging just long enough to measure the woman’s response before continuing.
“I understand if you’ve not seen anything out of the ordinary yourself. But fear doesn’t always speak aloud, especially among those who’ve got a job to do and little time for questions. Still, if there’s anything you’ve noticed—odd behavior, superstitions returning, strange lights or sounds near the quarry, even if it seems foolish—I’d appreciate hearing it.”
She didn’t press the matter, her tone remaining even and professional, but her gaze remained steady. There was no sign of impatience in her voice, only the quiet insistence of someone used to listening for truths that others overlooked.
“And as for your offer,” she added after a moment, “if there’s something nearby that’s troubling enough for you to mention it, I’m listening. We didn’t come to Red Larch looking for coin, but if trouble is stirring, it might be best to know where the test lies before the danger deepens.”
She fell silent then, allowing both Rumble and Arkun space to add what they would, her posture still and composed as she waited for Mellikho’s reply.
Aldric removes his helm and tucks it under his shield arm. Drops of sweat, previously held suspended beneath, roll to freedom down the various plains of the half-orc's shaved head.
The knight wishes he'd removed his gauntlets so he could at least wipe his face with his open palm. It would probably be okay to suspend the pomp and ceremony now that he's seen the sheriff.
He smiles at the approaching human, assuming him to be Mellikho. He's beginning to get used to this town's unexpected acceptance where a green-skinned, tusked mammoth is concerned.
"Sir Aldric Harthstone of the Knights of Samular and marshal of Westbridge," he rattles off, hoping to not sound too self-important. Slowing down, he explains, "I am investigating the uptick in criminal activity in the valley over the last six months. Specifically, I'm looking for a place called Rivergard Keep, but I'd also like to hear any other observations you might have. I spoke with Sheriff Harburk, and he said you might know something."
“Hi ma’am, my name is Arkun… I’ve come here from the Kryptgarden forest, I was under the impression that there are some strange things happening around Red Larch, I, like Sylra, am here to help. Are their any of your employees that *ahem* may have heard rumors, or seen anything strange around here? I would be curious to hear of this that would "test our mettle".. do tell us more, please....". Arkun turns and looks down at some of the weeds, finds a small flower that is getting choked out from surrounding weeds and struggling to grow out from the stone, he clicks his head to the side as he gives a slight smile and points at it with his hand, delighted to see the little flower grow forth, then he looks back up, back to seriousness, listening for her reply.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
There's a slight twitch towards a frown at the mention of other haunted locals, but otherwise Rumble held his tongue and listened without interruption. Though had Millokah rejected the soft doubling down on Sylra's part on inquiring into the condition of the mines and its miners, it's only then the earth genasi more closely began watching Millokah, gauging her reactions for any signs that might point duplicity or nervousness.
-Insight: Natural 20!
Memories arise unbidden by conscious thought in Rumble over the next few moments, distracting at first; and yet, the more he listened, the more he began to draw parallels to the moment at hand. Soon enough, the memories began to feel like someone whispering advice over his shoulders, sharpening his focus on details he might've easily missed on any other day.
Did she just glance away there?
Was there a slight trembling to her voice here?
That pause there... too long? Or did she hardly stopped to breathe?
Wait! Did her hands just twitch towards something, or...?
Whether something he sees warrants concern or not, Rumble at least pretends to relax his posture as the conversation continued, and remained quiet, if but for no other reason than from either having already said his piece or the others more eloquently putting to words any idle thought that came to mind.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
RYLAN:
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, master Belabranta," Maegla says with a courteous bow of her head. She listens to his words intently, her gaze not leaving his even as she takes a couple sips of her tea. Only when he concludes his explanation does she speak.
"The Feathergale Society..." she mutters, looking past Rylan at nothing in particular as she ruminates, then shakes her head conclusively, returning her eyes to his. "I'm sorry to hear about your sister. Your concern is touching. I'm more sorry to say I don't know of this Society you speak of. However, I assure you I will reach out to the Waterbaron of Yartar with your report. It may take some time, but she is a member of the Lords' Alliance with some standing, and likely has resources at her disposal that I do not. We will find this Feathergale Society for you, master Belabranta, if they do truly operate within the region."
Rylan notices two sets of eyes peering into the conversation, seeing that two young children around 7-10 years of age are apparently interested in Maegla's company. When they see his eyes meet theirs, they dart back into the room they had been peeking out from.
ARKUN, RUMBLE & SYLRA:
Albaeri Mellikho waves the concern away again, finally finding the leaflet she had been looking for. She carries it to a separate desk, reaching into a drawer and fumbling for a writing implement. "It's hot out and my workers are pulling twelve, fourteen hour shifts into the late night, working by torchlight. It's not fun, and their bodies and their minds are tired. I've heard the rumors, and I'm tellin' you they're overblown. I get them wantin' to get out of their work, but if we're gonna get caught up on orders, we gotta push through it," she says.
"The place I got in mind is called Tricklerock Cave by us locals," she says. "It's just off the Larch Path to the northeast, at the base of the hills. There's a local legend there, apparently some legendary treasure - one of those places we don't dare go but folks like you come here to find."
For Rumble:
ALDRIC:
"Criminal activity?" the man repeats, sighing and wiping sweat off of his brow. He sits back on a workbench, looking toward the ceiling as he speaks. "I can't say I have an inkling. I see a lot of folks roll through here to fix up their wagons, so usually I might have some good gossip for you, but it's been real dry of late. We haven't had much travelers this season. That might change soon though, supposed to be seein' a caravan out of Mirabar, that's what we got these parts ready for, for the repairs they're sure to be needin'."
"Ain't heard of no criminal activity though, least not anything the sheriff hasn't taken care of, drunken brawls and the like."
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Aldric nods as the man speaks, frustrated that his initial inquiry isn't reaping any rewards, but hiding his frustration behind what he hopes is seen as encouragement.
"Nothing out of the ordinary?" the knight asks. "Missing people or things? Suspicious individuals?" He gives a quick jerk of the head toward the laborers in the workshop. "What about the others? Do you think they have any information?" He would love to question them as well, but he knows better than to speak out of turn.
If Waelvur is amenable, Aldric introduces himself and says to the others — individually or in groups as needed — the same information, attempting to learn what they might know.
Rylan hides his disappointment as he nods his head in appreciation. "I am in your debt... And if there is anything I can do to assist you or the alliance, I'll be seeking accommodations at the Swinging Sword Inn."
It's at this point that the paladin notices the pair of eyes peering out to watch him. He smiles unselfconsciously, any and all officiousness overshadowed by the joy of seeing the curious youths. He inclines his head in their direction as the bolt. "Prudence and discretion may be the watchwords of our craft as servants to the realm... but surely no conversation was ever fully secured from the ears of a curious child."
He locks smiling eyes with Maegela as he makes a religious gesture. "Llira's blessing to them and to your household... Though I'm sure there's no blessing the Godess could deliver that's greater than that brought by those two moppets.... I thank you once again and bid you good evening."
At Maegela's leave, he makes his exit with a final appreciative bow, doing his best to hastily avoid Helvur on his way out the door.
From there, he'll attempt to rejoin with Akrun, Rumble and Syrla at the quarry.
DM - Classic Adventures Reborn
Rylan - L1 Human Paladin - Barty's "Princes of the Apocalypse"
Insight check (Nat 1) : 4
”Oh, okay then. Some workers just getting jumpy then. Tricklerock cave, at the base of the hills… tell me more about this legend, could you? You would like us to have a look there?” Arkun scratches his head, looking around to see if there are any of these jumpy workers walking about, feeling everything is above board, he looks to his companions.
History as to whether he has heard of Tricklerock cave, or this legend, from his travels around the Kryptgarden Forest and the Sumber HIlls : (Nat 20)
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Sylra remained still as Albaeri spoke, her expression calm and attentive, though her gaze followed the woman closely—not just her words, but the rhythm of her movements and the ease with which she waved away the concern. She didn’t interrupt, allowing the quarrymaster’s explanation to unfold in its own cadence, from tired workers and long hours to the rumors dismissed as exaggeration. At the mention of Tricklerock Cave, Sylra’s head tilted slightly, not in doubt but in quiet consideration.
“I appreciate the direction,” Sylra said, her voice even and steady. “If there’s something worth looking into out that way, we’ll find it.”
She let her words settle gently, without pressure or challenge, but her eyes lingered on Albaeri a moment longer than was strictly necessary. There was no accusation in her gaze, only quiet curiosity—an invitation, perhaps, for something unspoken to rise. But she asked no follow-up. For now, she had what she needed.
“We’ll take a look,” she said finally. “And if it leads nowhere, we’ll return with that truth in hand. Either way, thank you for your time.”
She stepped slightly back to give space for Arkun or Rumble to follow up, her posture still relaxed, though the focus in her eyes hadn’t faded.
OOC: Sylra makes an Insight check to get a sense of Albaeri’s sincerity and whether anything she said feels deflective or incomplete.
Insight: 22 (Passive is 15)