Kaelthor moved through the streets with a steady, watchful pace, his eyes rarely lingering on the buildings or the gaudy trappings of trade. Instead, his attention slipped over the people themselves—their patterns of movement, how they clustered and dispersed like starlings wheeling in the sky, or ants flowing in lines toward food. He noted how a merchant’s booming call gathered a crowd much like the howl of a wolf draws a pack, or how a group of children at play tumbled together with the chaotic energy of river fish scattering at a shadow. To him, these were the true marvels of Vogler, echoes of the wild wearing the mask of civilization.
He compared, weighed, measured—where bipeds showed unity like wolves, or cunning webs like spiders, and where their behaviors diverged from the natural order, too eager to claim dominion where none was rightfully theirs. All the while he kept an ear on his companions’ chatter, eyes flicking toward them, and voicing the occasional, "Let's keep going," to make sure none strayed or let the festival’s trappings pull them too far afield. They had a duty yet before them, and Kaelthor’s staff tapped softly against the ground as a reminder to himself and others, '... not to lose sight of why we came'.
Vexi's mouth drops open as she catches sight of what Berthan is gifting her. She ignores Vardok and gives the man a deep bow. "It was my pleasure and I hope to ride with you again. I will definitely see you on my way back home to pick up those mittens!" She lets her friend look the medallion over and she beams when she finally gets hold of it. She turns it over and over in her hands, feeling it warm up from her body heat and traces the horse figure with her fingers.
As they get close to the market and the smells hit her, first she pokes Vardok in the ribs and shouts out, "Ooh, bread!" and she darts to the tent selling that, yelling over her shoulder towards Cassian, "Just this one stop then to the Brass Crab!"
The paladin gives a proud smile as Vexi is presented with the medallion. Though they have their differences, she and Vardok seem to have good hearts. It is no wonder Ispen chose to befriend them.
"Alright, but just one," he responds, giving a chuckle as she runs off. He gives a small shake of his head, noticing Kaelthor's waning patience as his staff taps the ground. "I...believe Ispen wanted us to meet and get to know each other, not just mourn him. That's how he was."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
| Kaelen - Shadar-kai Gloom Stalker Ranger - Old Keep| Lira - Half-elf Thief Rogue/Druid - Allansia| Teryn - High Elf Archfey Warlock - Runewarren| Zoveldra - Kalashtar Open Hand Monk - Eberron| Mavilius - Tiefling Eloquence Bard - Golden Vault| Vannithos - Shadar-kai Astral Self Monk - Von Nichts | Cassian - Human Paladin - Dragonlance |
Levna was just ahead of Cassian, her armour roll and bedroll on her back. For some reason she was seeking the calm a few hours alone could give her. To be honest she was worried about these Draconians. She'd heard about them but the rumours didn't mention the turning to stone. Did it depend on the colour of their scales? What was the best way to fight them, and how many were wandering around the outlying homes and farms. She needed to speak to Becklin.
You all enter the Village circle en route to the Brass Crab.
The homes and shops in Vogler cluster around a grassy patch shaded by an ancient tree. This green is encircled by a dirt road that branches off into streets leading north out of the village and south to the ferry across the Vingaard, and others radiating out into the town. The village circle serves as a public space, meeting spot, and festival ground. An iron bell hangs atop a tall pole near the mayor's house. In times of need, anyone who vigorously rings the bell summons the mayor and volunteer militia members (guards) who arrive in about 5 minutes. The local militia is largely composed of retired farmers and fishers who exhibit more zeal than skill in the village's defense, but they all take the bell's sounding very seriously.
You can smell tarts the scent coming from an outside oven as you wait for Vexi, berries and apple with cinnamon. It makes your mouth water. Two bakers here for the festival.
The gnome moves along with the group, barely noticing any one specific thing but rather simply taking it all in stride. Perhaps he is a little lost in his own thoughts. He casually peruses the wares of tables already set up and makes a mental note if anything piques his interest. That interest, mainly looking for odds and ends that he might incorporate into his next contraption...whatever that may be. If given the chance, he drops a couple of copper here and there (a few silvers in total) for witch-a-ma-call-its and thing-a-ma-bobs.
He takes in the sights and feels a strong pull to meander until he finds a courier office of some kind to send a letter but duty tells him to go to the Brass Crab first and so he continues walking taking in the sights of Vogler. The alluring smells of fresh baked tarts has him putting a hand on his stomach. Though once again tempted he keeps on walking towards the Brass Crab
The knight manages to resist the allure of baked goods, focusing on getting the lay of the land and the town's meager defences. If only that old keep was still intact and manned by properly trained knights...He gives a small shake of his head, returning his focus to why they are here in the first place: Ispen. He moves with purpose towards the Brass Crab.
Vardok has a little more difficulty keeping focus, wandering through the center of town with eyes wide, taking in all of the sights. He walks up to booths with baked goods and picks them up, looks at them, smells them, and sets them back down. He is a germophobe’s nightmare, picking up everything, considering it, handling it, then setting it back down as he is distracted by the next thing. Any communicable diseases by fomites are happy as a clam as they are transferred from one foodstuff to the next. If there are any sharp eyes toward him, proprietors gaze that affixes him, he will flush slightly and move on, hurrying his little feet to follow everyone else. Only after seeing the looks on Cassian and Kaelthor's face is he reminded of why they are there, straightening his clothing and hurrying along, putting his hands into his pockets where they won't get into trouble.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
The kender takes note of the tall pole and large bell atop of it, but doesn't pay it much heed. She makes her beeline towards the scent that attracts her the most. Coming upon the booth that is selling the warm, delicious bread she grins up at the proprietor. "Your largest loaf please! Ooh.. of one that just finished baking, if you don't mind? Your scents drew me in from across the town! Oh and I'm in a bit of a rush. But if it's real good, I'll be back for more!"
She digs in her pouch to pay if the cost is reasonable. As soon as she has it in her possession, she'll dash back towards the Brass Crab, happy no one stopped her.
The Brass Crab is a modest single-story inn on the village wharf, and its exterior vaguely resembles its namesake. Its proprietor, an Ergothian woman named Yalme , has an odd love of bad storytellers and inept musicians. One wall of the circular common room features a faded mural of two enormous crabs locked in combat, inlaid with brass details. The mural's origins are lost to time, but if asked, Yalme says she named the crabs Fancy and Gorgeous George. Four short halls branch off the common room, each lined with rooms for rent.
A woman dresed as a Knight of the Crown stands in the bar talking to Levna, she looks up as you straggle in through the door. Well met she says and smiles at them, my name is Becklin, I'm glad you could all make it!
(Apologies, I had to meet a deadline for work and couldn't post for a few days.)
Kaelthor let out a slow sigh at Cassian’s words, the staff in his hand tapping once against the ground as if to mark his reluctant agreement. After a moment, he turned his head slightly toward the knight. “That… would be just like him,” he admitted quietly, his voice low and spare. The words were less about surrendering the point than acknowledging Ispin’s way of shaping people together, however unwilling.
As they passed through the village circle, Kaelthor’s gaze lingered on the old tree rising from the green. He tried to sift through memory—snatches of half-remembered tales, whispers of roots older than the village itself, perhaps even older than the Cataclysm. His eyes narrowed in thought, the sight pulling him for a breath away from the bustle of market and festival. (History 8)
When they reached the Brass Crab, Kaelthor stepped in last, his presence quieter but no less firm. He dipped his head once to Becklin, meeting her smile with a more reserved regard. “Kaelthor,” he said simply, touching his staff in brief greeting. “I was summoned, for Ispin’s final service.” After that, he fell silent again, letting the others speak while he observed.
Vardok walks up saying, "Hullo Becklin! Vardok Nimbleshadow, at your service. I'm here to pay honor to Ispin, we loved his visits so much! He.. he inspired me. Coming here to pay last respects seemed to be the least I could do. It won't bring him back though, his stories, his laugh, his way of making the big world seem so alive! Anyway, I'm pleased to be here. This is Vexi, she knew him as well as I did, frequently he'd visit us together. I'm glad you invited us here..." Vardok gives a low, awkward bow that he imagines people would do.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
The knight holds her hand out to you to grasp your own. I hoped that you'd make it here in time. Levna tells me you have quite the tale to tell about your journey and the enemies that turned to stone. Three good men dead. Are you all well? No lingering wounds? She asks
I have arranged your accomodation here for three days full board. Ispins wake will start tonight, I hope you are all familiar with sin eating we have a feast planned and drinks to celebrate his life. Do you have maps of the town? If you like oddments try the real Market just to the west near the docks. There's a kender there selling bone puppets, great skill. Tomorrow is the Kingfisher Festival so feel free to join in the celebrations.
He tells Becklin the details of the encounter they had and how distressing that the draconians are so close to Vogler "I know you are more knowledgeable than me in this area, but I recommend extra vigilance. I know the town militia may not be much, but early detection could make a difference."
"Yes, a map would be lovely, and I am glad there is such a festival happening as we celebrate Ispin's grand life. By any chance does Vogler have a courier service or a way to send letters?"
Vexi nods as Vardok introduces her, her mouth full of the bread she just purchased. As her friend bows, she does the same next to him, still not believing her luck to meet another female knight! She looks around as the woman talks and also nods as Liwen retells their tale of the draconians.
As the human asks for a map, she looks at him, eyes raised. She swallows what was in her mouth and lifts one of the tourist maps they had received when they arrived into town. "Liwen, didn't you get one of these?"
"Ah where is my head. I did but forgot. Though the extra vigilance is still warranted. The map has a few notable locations though I hope there is some form of mail service in Vogler"
Accompanying the group through the stalls and to the Brass Crab, the tinker likewise gives a solemn, polite greeting to their host. He listens to her words without much more to add, and silently nods along as Liwen tells of the Draconians.
"Greetings upon you Ser Beklin. How your note found me I may never know. Yet, I am pleased to be counted among those Ispin relayed to you."Quietly he adds the question, "Is there any etiquette that we should be aware of so as not to embarrass myself?"
The paladin becomes lost in thought for a bit as they enter the warmth of the Brass Crab. He can practically see Ispen here, right at home in the eccentric surroundings.
"Ah--Cassian Uth Beaumont," he introduces belatedly, reaching out to shake Becklin's hand, "I have the deceased mens' orders here." He retrieves the scroll from his pack and hands it over with a salute. "I will echo Liwen's recommendation for caution. Draconians appearing so close to town can only bode ill, and I'd hate for Ispen's send off to be disrupted."
Kaelthor inclined his head in a small gesture of acknowledgment as Becklin spoke, his staff resting against his shoulder. “Your hall is welcome,” he said simply. “And the board, more than I require.” His eyes swept once over his companions as they voiced their concerns, and he gave a slight nod. “The knights were already beyond help when we arrived. Only a horse yet lived, and the cart-driver. The rest of their killers scattered before us.” He paused, a faint narrowing of his eyes suggesting that the uncertainty of their purpose still gnawed at him. “Whether they struck for coin, cruelty, or command, I cannot yet say. But they were too near your walls.”
His voice dropped a little, more measured. “Tell me—does Vogler keep shrines? To Chislev, perhaps. I would offer thanks for the aid granted on the road.” His words carried the faintest edge of expectation, as though the answer mattered more to him than any feast or board could. After that, he fell silent again, his gaze returning to the wood grain of the inn as if listening for some whisper in it.
Kaelthor recognises the great tree it is a vallenwood, centuries old, it's inner heart forming a room naturally, it would make a fine home. Once it must have been surrounded by its kin to rival the Town of Solace, where people live in the trees.
Liwen isn't it? Yes you can send a letter, Find Arthur the Bargemaster of Ladies Laughter, he'll take it to Kalaman to the mail coach that services the city.
You have a good point, I'll send a crow messenger to the fort in Kalaman. We'll send the bodies on for a proper Solamnic funeral. It seems the rumours brought in by tourists may be real. I'll also talk to the mayor before the festival tomorrow. Here take this tourists map, if you need better go to the market and ask the cartographer there, tell him I asked.
And you sir, you must be Salty? No there's nothing formal about the wake, eat and drink to honour the life of the dead, and share tales of him. We believe that a mans sins can be forgiven through his friends eating of soulcakes. Ispin fulfilled his lifes work, so his soul can go to rest. His wife died of the fever a year ago, and he wasn't the same afterwards, no children.
Vexi did you find the fancy baker? He's been setting up the stall for tomorrow. He makes delicious sweet bread.
Thank you for the orders Cassian, my you've grown since I last saw you as Levnas young squire! I'll ask for backup from the fort, we can't let these monsters terrorize the farms and outlying villages. Liwen said that you thought one of them was a mage?
A druid set up a small altar to Chislev in the great Vallenwood tree in the towns circle Kaelthor, will that do? I think it is still there.
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Kaelthor moved through the streets with a steady, watchful pace, his eyes rarely lingering on the buildings or the gaudy trappings of trade. Instead, his attention slipped over the people themselves—their patterns of movement, how they clustered and dispersed like starlings wheeling in the sky, or ants flowing in lines toward food. He noted how a merchant’s booming call gathered a crowd much like the howl of a wolf draws a pack, or how a group of children at play tumbled together with the chaotic energy of river fish scattering at a shadow. To him, these were the true marvels of Vogler, echoes of the wild wearing the mask of civilization.
He compared, weighed, measured—where bipeds showed unity like wolves, or cunning webs like spiders, and where their behaviors diverged from the natural order, too eager to claim dominion where none was rightfully theirs. All the while he kept an ear on his companions’ chatter, eyes flicking toward them, and voicing the occasional, "Let's keep going," to make sure none strayed or let the festival’s trappings pull them too far afield. They had a duty yet before them, and Kaelthor’s staff tapped softly against the ground as a reminder to himself and others, '... not to lose sight of why we came'.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Yawning Portal || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan Shi - Liquid Swords || Syed - Drakkenheim || Kaelthor - Dragonlance ||
Vexi
Vexi's mouth drops open as she catches sight of what Berthan is gifting her. She ignores Vardok and gives the man a deep bow. "It was my pleasure and I hope to ride with you again. I will definitely see you on my way back home to pick up those mittens!" She lets her friend look the medallion over and she beams when she finally gets hold of it. She turns it over and over in her hands, feeling it warm up from her body heat and traces the horse figure with her fingers.
As they get close to the market and the smells hit her, first she pokes Vardok in the ribs and shouts out, "Ooh, bread!" and she darts to the tent selling that, yelling over her shoulder towards Cassian, "Just this one stop then to the Brass Crab!"
Cassian
The paladin gives a proud smile as Vexi is presented with the medallion. Though they have their differences, she and Vardok seem to have good hearts. It is no wonder Ispen chose to befriend them.
"Alright, but just one," he responds, giving a chuckle as she runs off. He gives a small shake of his head, noticing Kaelthor's waning patience as his staff taps the ground. "I...believe Ispen wanted us to meet and get to know each other, not just mourn him. That's how he was."
| Kaelen - Shadar-kai Gloom Stalker Ranger - Old Keep | Lira - Half-elf Thief Rogue/Druid - Allansia | Teryn - High Elf Archfey Warlock - Runewarren | Zoveldra - Kalashtar Open Hand Monk - Eberron | Mavilius - Tiefling Eloquence Bard - Golden Vault | Vannithos - Shadar-kai Astral Self Monk - Von Nichts | Cassian - Human Paladin - Dragonlance |
DM
Levna was just ahead of Cassian, her armour roll and bedroll on her back. For some reason she was seeking the calm a few hours alone could give her. To be honest she was worried about these Draconians. She'd heard about them but the rumours didn't mention the turning to stone. Did it depend on the colour of their scales? What was the best way to fight them, and how many were wandering around the outlying homes and farms. She needed to speak to Becklin.
You all enter the Village circle en route to the Brass Crab.
The homes and shops in Vogler cluster around a grassy patch shaded by an ancient tree. This green is encircled by a dirt road that branches off into streets leading north out of the village and south to the ferry across the Vingaard, and others radiating out into the town. The village circle serves as a public space, meeting spot, and festival ground. An iron bell hangs atop a tall pole near the mayor's house. In times of need, anyone who vigorously rings the bell summons the mayor and volunteer militia members (guards) who arrive in about 5 minutes. The local militia is largely composed of retired farmers and fishers who exhibit more zeal than skill in the village's defense, but they all take the bell's sounding very seriously.
You can smell tarts the scent coming from an outside oven as you wait for Vexi, berries and apple with cinnamon. It makes your mouth water. Two bakers here for the festival.
Salty
The gnome moves along with the group, barely noticing any one specific thing but rather simply taking it all in stride. Perhaps he is a little lost in his own thoughts. He casually peruses the wares of tables already set up and makes a mental note if anything piques his interest. That interest, mainly looking for odds and ends that he might incorporate into his next contraption...whatever that may be. If given the chance, he drops a couple of copper here and there (a few silvers in total) for witch-a-ma-call-its and thing-a-ma-bobs.
Liwen
He takes in the sights and feels a strong pull to meander until he finds a courier office of some kind to send a letter but duty tells him to go to the Brass Crab first and so he continues walking taking in the sights of Vogler. The alluring smells of fresh baked tarts has him putting a hand on his stomach. Though once again tempted he keeps on walking towards the Brass Crab
Cassian
The knight manages to resist the allure of baked goods, focusing on getting the lay of the land and the town's meager defences. If only that old keep was still intact and manned by properly trained knights...He gives a small shake of his head, returning his focus to why they are here in the first place: Ispen. He moves with purpose towards the Brass Crab.
| Kaelen - Shadar-kai Gloom Stalker Ranger - Old Keep | Lira - Half-elf Thief Rogue/Druid - Allansia | Teryn - High Elf Archfey Warlock - Runewarren | Zoveldra - Kalashtar Open Hand Monk - Eberron | Mavilius - Tiefling Eloquence Bard - Golden Vault | Vannithos - Shadar-kai Astral Self Monk - Von Nichts | Cassian - Human Paladin - Dragonlance |
Vardok
Vardok has a little more difficulty keeping focus, wandering through the center of town with eyes wide, taking in all of the sights. He walks up to booths with baked goods and picks them up, looks at them, smells them, and sets them back down. He is a germophobe’s nightmare, picking up everything, considering it, handling it, then setting it back down as he is distracted by the next thing. Any communicable diseases by fomites are happy as a clam as they are transferred from one foodstuff to the next. If there are any sharp eyes toward him, proprietors gaze that affixes him, he will flush slightly and move on, hurrying his little feet to follow everyone else. Only after seeing the looks on Cassian and Kaelthor's face is he reminded of why they are there, straightening his clothing and hurrying along, putting his hands into his pockets where they won't get into trouble.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Vexi
The kender takes note of the tall pole and large bell atop of it, but doesn't pay it much heed. She makes her beeline towards the scent that attracts her the most. Coming upon the booth that is selling the warm, delicious bread she grins up at the proprietor. "Your largest loaf please! Ooh.. of one that just finished baking, if you don't mind? Your scents drew me in from across the town! Oh and I'm in a bit of a rush. But if it's real good, I'll be back for more!"
She digs in her pouch to pay if the cost is reasonable. As soon as she has it in her possession, she'll dash back towards the Brass Crab, happy no one stopped her.
The Brass Crab is a modest single-story inn on the village wharf, and its exterior vaguely resembles its namesake. Its proprietor, an Ergothian woman named Yalme , has an odd love of bad storytellers and inept musicians. One wall of the circular common room features a faded mural of two enormous crabs locked in combat, inlaid with brass details. The mural's origins are lost to time, but if asked, Yalme says she named the crabs Fancy and Gorgeous George. Four short halls branch off the common room, each lined with rooms for rent.
A woman dresed as a Knight of the Crown stands in the bar talking to Levna, she looks up as you straggle in through the door. Well met she says and smiles at them, my name is Becklin, I'm glad you could all make it!
(Apologies, I had to meet a deadline for work and couldn't post for a few days.)
Kaelthor let out a slow sigh at Cassian’s words, the staff in his hand tapping once against the ground as if to mark his reluctant agreement. After a moment, he turned his head slightly toward the knight. “That… would be just like him,” he admitted quietly, his voice low and spare. The words were less about surrendering the point than acknowledging Ispin’s way of shaping people together, however unwilling.
As they passed through the village circle, Kaelthor’s gaze lingered on the old tree rising from the green. He tried to sift through memory—snatches of half-remembered tales, whispers of roots older than the village itself, perhaps even older than the Cataclysm. His eyes narrowed in thought, the sight pulling him for a breath away from the bustle of market and festival. (History 8)
When they reached the Brass Crab, Kaelthor stepped in last, his presence quieter but no less firm. He dipped his head once to Becklin, meeting her smile with a more reserved regard. “Kaelthor,” he said simply, touching his staff in brief greeting. “I was summoned, for Ispin’s final service.” After that, he fell silent again, letting the others speak while he observed.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Yawning Portal || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan Shi - Liquid Swords || Syed - Drakkenheim || Kaelthor - Dragonlance ||
Vardok
Vardok walks up saying, "Hullo Becklin! Vardok Nimbleshadow, at your service. I'm here to pay honor to Ispin, we loved his visits so much! He.. he inspired me. Coming here to pay last respects seemed to be the least I could do. It won't bring him back though, his stories, his laugh, his way of making the big world seem so alive! Anyway, I'm pleased to be here. This is Vexi, she knew him as well as I did, frequently he'd visit us together. I'm glad you invited us here... " Vardok gives a low, awkward bow that he imagines people would do.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
DM
The knight holds her hand out to you to grasp your own. I hoped that you'd make it here in time. Levna tells me you have quite the tale to tell about your journey and the enemies that turned to stone. Three good men dead. Are you all well? No lingering wounds? She asks
I have arranged your accomodation here for three days full board. Ispins wake will start tonight, I hope you are all familiar with sin eating we have a feast planned and drinks to celebrate his life. Do you have maps of the town? If you like oddments try the real Market just to the west near the docks. There's a kender there selling bone puppets, great skill. Tomorrow is the Kingfisher Festival so feel free to join in the celebrations.
Liwen
He tells Becklin the details of the encounter they had and how distressing that the draconians are so close to Vogler "I know you are more knowledgeable than me in this area, but I recommend extra vigilance. I know the town militia may not be much, but early detection could make a difference."
"Yes, a map would be lovely, and I am glad there is such a festival happening as we celebrate Ispin's grand life. By any chance does Vogler have a courier service or a way to send letters?"
Vexi
Vexi nods as Vardok introduces her, her mouth full of the bread she just purchased. As her friend bows, she does the same next to him, still not believing her luck to meet another female knight! She looks around as the woman talks and also nods as Liwen retells their tale of the draconians.
As the human asks for a map, she looks at him, eyes raised. She swallows what was in her mouth and lifts one of the tourist maps they had received when they arrived into town. "Liwen, didn't you get one of these?"
Liwen
"Ah where is my head. I did but forgot. Though the extra vigilance is still warranted. The map has a few notable locations though I hope there is some form of mail service in Vogler"
Salty,
Accompanying the group through the stalls and to the Brass Crab, the tinker likewise gives a solemn, polite greeting to their host. He listens to her words without much more to add, and silently nods along as Liwen tells of the Draconians.
"Greetings upon you Ser Beklin. How your note found me I may never know. Yet, I am pleased to be counted among those Ispin relayed to you." Quietly he adds the question, "Is there any etiquette that we should be aware of so as not to embarrass myself?"
Cassian
The paladin becomes lost in thought for a bit as they enter the warmth of the Brass Crab. He can practically see Ispen here, right at home in the eccentric surroundings.
"Ah--Cassian Uth Beaumont," he introduces belatedly, reaching out to shake Becklin's hand, "I have the deceased mens' orders here." He retrieves the scroll from his pack and hands it over with a salute. "I will echo Liwen's recommendation for caution. Draconians appearing so close to town can only bode ill, and I'd hate for Ispen's send off to be disrupted."
| Kaelen - Shadar-kai Gloom Stalker Ranger - Old Keep | Lira - Half-elf Thief Rogue/Druid - Allansia | Teryn - High Elf Archfey Warlock - Runewarren | Zoveldra - Kalashtar Open Hand Monk - Eberron | Mavilius - Tiefling Eloquence Bard - Golden Vault | Vannithos - Shadar-kai Astral Self Monk - Von Nichts | Cassian - Human Paladin - Dragonlance |
Kaelthor
Kaelthor inclined his head in a small gesture of acknowledgment as Becklin spoke, his staff resting against his shoulder. “Your hall is welcome,” he said simply. “And the board, more than I require.” His eyes swept once over his companions as they voiced their concerns, and he gave a slight nod. “The knights were already beyond help when we arrived. Only a horse yet lived, and the cart-driver. The rest of their killers scattered before us.” He paused, a faint narrowing of his eyes suggesting that the uncertainty of their purpose still gnawed at him. “Whether they struck for coin, cruelty, or command, I cannot yet say. But they were too near your walls.”
His voice dropped a little, more measured. “Tell me—does Vogler keep shrines? To Chislev, perhaps. I would offer thanks for the aid granted on the road.” His words carried the faintest edge of expectation, as though the answer mattered more to him than any feast or board could. After that, he fell silent again, his gaze returning to the wood grain of the inn as if listening for some whisper in it.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Yawning Portal || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan Shi - Liquid Swords || Syed - Drakkenheim || Kaelthor - Dragonlance ||
DM
Kaelthor recognises the great tree it is a vallenwood, centuries old, it's inner heart forming a room naturally, it would make a fine home. Once it must have been surrounded by its kin to rival the Town of Solace, where people live in the trees.
*******************************************************************************
Becklin
Liwen isn't it? Yes you can send a letter, Find Arthur the Bargemaster of Ladies Laughter, he'll take it to Kalaman to the mail coach that services the city.
You have a good point, I'll send a crow messenger to the fort in Kalaman. We'll send the bodies on for a proper Solamnic funeral. It seems the rumours brought in by tourists may be real. I'll also talk to the mayor before the festival tomorrow. Here take this tourists map, if you need better go to the market and ask the cartographer there, tell him I asked.
And you sir, you must be Salty? No there's nothing formal about the wake, eat and drink to honour the life of the dead, and share tales of him. We believe that a mans sins can be forgiven through his friends eating of soulcakes. Ispin fulfilled his lifes work, so his soul can go to rest. His wife died of the fever a year ago, and he wasn't the same afterwards, no children.
Vexi did you find the fancy baker? He's been setting up the stall for tomorrow. He makes delicious sweet bread.
Thank you for the orders Cassian, my you've grown since I last saw you as Levnas young squire! I'll ask for backup from the fort, we can't let these monsters terrorize the farms and outlying villages. Liwen said that you thought one of them was a mage?
A druid set up a small altar to Chislev in the great Vallenwood tree in the towns circle Kaelthor, will that do? I think it is still there.