Monstrous Compendium Vol. 1: Spelljammer Creatures
Frozen Sick
D&D Beyond Basic Rules
Basic Rules (2014)
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Draylin
With a nod of agreement to Montar, Draylin gives the sky another nervous glance and picks up his pace a little.
For I am Death and I won't break. I got a life I've got to take. When will it end, this sufferin' of late? It was nice to know you. __The Pretty Reckless
Animal Handling: 8
Try as he might, Thistlewick could not deter Oats from plodding to the marketplace. The ingrained habit of decades of deliveries overriding 'Wick's efforts to head toward the keep. "I'm afraid Oats is set in his ways. He is dead set on going to the markeplace and reuniting with his master. Perhaps everyone should climb out and head for the keep while I get Oats and the wagon to his owner, Adam. I can meet you up at the keep."
Persuasion: 12
"Now, if anyone wants to come with me, we can deliver the nag and the wagon to Adam and then warn the city guard down on this level before we rejoin the rest at the keep. Figure if we can spread the warning, we may have time to prepare for what comes next."
Tam nods and jumps out of the wagon. She hits the ground and does a deft roll and pops back up to her feet.
"Who's with me?" she asks, setting off at a dead run toward the keep.
[20 acrobatics roll.]
Author of Kid Comet and the Sixth Grade Shadow and other Middle Grade Novels
Draylin
The slender half-elf couldn't win a weight lifting contest in a pixie village, and he had come to accept this. Try as he might, he just couldn't pack on muscle. But, he was wiry and quick.
Tam managed to say, "Who's wi.." Before Draylin answered by action. He took about three gazelle-like strides before slamming on the breaks, boots leaving short skid marks on the dusty road. Whipping his head quickly he looks at Leosin. "Brother, will you be OK? Can I aid you in finding healing?"
He looked like a racing horse, locked in a gate at the start line. What muscle he had was coiled.like a spring ready to launch.
For I am Death and I won't break. I got a life I've got to take. When will it end, this sufferin' of late? It was nice to know you. __The Pretty Reckless
Leosin nods at Draylin. "Don't worry, brother, I will make my way to the keep too, albeit at a slower pace. Don't let me slow you down. I will be okay."
So Thistlewick is headed for the market, Tam and Draylin to the keep, where are Montar and Amadeus going?
DM: Hoard of the Dragon Queen Adventure, Dragons of Stormwreck Isle and even more dragons
The sorcerer hops down, tutting softly as the others speed off. Not a moments' pause with this bunch... oh well. We are on a timetable, I suppose... His train of thought trails off as he weighs his next move. He notices his Dwarven compatriot lingering about. The gnome ponders for a moment, then sighs.
"Montar, correct? If you have no greater business here that the others aren't already attending to, I have a small business proposal for you. It's nothing underhanded and I offer a 20% cut, if you can be discreet." The singsong squeak is gone from his voice, leaving only a jarringly deep tone.
Draylin
Glancing to Tam, who now has a 60 ft head start, then back to Leosin, the young monk flashes an almost childlike grin before darting after her.
***OoC: my minds eye sees the spinning feet with dirt flying like the Roadrunner***
For I am Death and I won't break. I got a life I've got to take. When will it end, this sufferin' of late? It was nice to know you. __The Pretty Reckless
Montar looks suspiciously at Amadeus, but he gives him the benefit of the doubt due to his actions in the camp. "I was goin' ta the marketplace ta help Thistlewick 'n case there was trouble," he says. "Does yer business relate ta the defense o' the town?"
The gnome considers it, before simply shrugging.
"Alas, no. However, I fear if siege comes to this place, the business may not remain here. It's a simple manner of some... paperwork that requires acquisition. I am an attorney of trade, after all. Rest assured, my operation will in no way impede our defense of this town." He strokes his chin, the words tumbling from his mouth as quickly as his mind conjures them. "Hmmm. If nothing else, I think it would be a motivator to protect this town all the more. After all, it's a positive investment." He nods, as if his own words were just as directed at himself as Montar. "In any case, I too was concerned of meeting trouble in this bustling settlement - I've yet to recover fully you see-" his voice drops off and he winces slightly as his hand brushes the slowly closing wound he'd sustained earlier. "I would be much appreciative if your oversight, and am if course willing to offer a portion of my commission as thanks."
In a much lower voice, he adds: "The, er, discretion pertains more to the second half of my business, and only the sense that I would rather not involve any others lest the need arise. Again, tis not a question of viability. Merely... personal in nature. I'm afraid that's all I can say at this moment." He pauses only long enough to let the warm squeak of his otherwise deep voice return. "So. Can I count on your assistance?"
If Thistlewick requests aid, Montar will apologize to Amadeus and go with the druid. Otherwise, Montar accompanies Amadeus with a nod.
Thistlewick waves a hand in a 'this way or that' manner. "Your choice, Montar. In a pinch, I can get Oats to the marketplace. It might be nice to have an extra set of eyes looking for his owner though."
People openly stare at the unusual display of hurriedness as Tam and Draylin set off toward the hill. The townspeople, still out and about to enjoy the market day, look on with confusion and muttered jests as the two adventurers sprint past.
The keep is a massive stone fortress that serves as the town’s highest point and final defence. As the path winds up the hill and reaches the outer curtain wall, the Draylin and Tam find their way blocked. Two guards, dressed in the livery of Greenest, stand stationed at the massive heavy timber doors of the gatehouse.
Seeing two armed strangers charging up the hill at full speed, the guards' relaxed posture vanishes instantly. They drop their spears into a defensive position, the iron tips levelled at the newcomers' chests.
“Wait! Wait!” one yells. “Halt where you are!” They look more startled than aggressive, clearly unaccustomed to seeing anyone move with such desperation on a peaceful day like this.
Meanwhile, back in the streets, Oats seems to be finished with being a patient horse. Despite Thistlewick’s attempts to halt him, the animal simply keeps plodding toward the market, completely oblivious to Montar’s uncertainty of whether to join the druid or the sorcerer for the next part.
The street soon widens into a large square busy with activity. Ale-maids rush between outdoor tavern tables with trays of food and drink, while the rest of the marketplace is a maze of temporary stalls raised by traveling merchants – farmers, tailors, and smiths all vying for attention. Children dart through the crowd, laughing as they dodge the scolding shouts of the annoyed vendors.
Thistlewick, please roll a Perception check.
From his previous correspondence and research, Amadeus is aware that his contact has an office, tucked away in a side street somewhere near the marketplace.
DM: Hoard of the Dragon Queen Adventure, Dragons of Stormwreck Isle and even more dragons
Draylin
The monk, hair flying out wildly behind him, begins to throttle down as they reach the upslope to the keep. He made a feeble attempt to catch his breath, still panting as he skidded to a halt before the guards. He holds out one finger in a decidedly 'one sec' manner, before moving his hands away from his weapons (ha! He thought to himself; my weapons are built in.) and took a few more deep breaths, steadying both body and mind.
We come in haste born of necessity. Greenest is in eminent danger. A large force of raiders will attack this very night. My companion, and several others, escaped from their encampment. He must speak with your leaders; time is short and Greenest must prepare, or risk being overrun.
Draylin looks to Tam, My friend, Tam, is a reporter with a mind for details. Your mayor and watch commander will want to hear what she has to say. As a Brother of the Endless Sleep, the weight of my order speaks to my truth.
For I am Death and I won't break. I got a life I've got to take. When will it end, this sufferin' of late? It was nice to know you. __The Pretty Reckless
"Indeed," Tam says, catching her breath. "The rumors of the dragon cult are real. We were captured by a group of raiders, narrowly escaped with our lives, and came to warn you of an attack. We overheard their plans to come here in force. They have hundreds of armed men, goblins, and kobolds. And they ride on drake mounts. Please! Your safety is at stake! They must nearly be here!"
Author of Kid Comet and the Sixth Grade Shadow and other Middle Grade Novels
and.. keeping up Thistlewick's amazing run of rolls >>> Perception: 9
Amadeus simply puts up his hands and shrugs, in a small show of futility. "I understand, of course. Duty and honor, and all the like. I can relate, sort of." He cups his hand to the breast pocket of his black coat, now clean from his magical efforts on the cart ride over, and prestidigitates a small but intricate design across the pockets, stitching. A golden trident pointed down, with a gout of silver welling around it. A symbol of his company, in place of his badge lost among his other luggage in the raid. He frowns, mind adrift. Along with a rather expensive wedge of smoked cheese, a lovely sourdough, and my favorite brand of red sherry to boot! Ah- focus. There will be enough time to recoup on losses at a later date. "Well, whatever you decide, I still need to make my appointment. Montar, if you are interested in our agreement, I will be quite visible for so long as it takes me to reach the crowd. Use that time to decide. And, of course, I will understand if you opt to aid our druidic... ahh, compatriot elsewhere." With that, the sorcerer begins to lazily stroll forth, perhaps taking his time for the Dwarves' sake or perhaps because he simply enjoys the heat of the sun on his aching shoulders.
Either way, he is on the path to the first of two important meetings.
Montar nods at Amadeus, but takes off after Thistlewick. While he appreciates commerce, he's pretty focused on the imminent raid. He looks around for dwarves in the marketplace and will preferentially warn them if there are.
Draylin and Tam
The two guards' expressions shift from disbelief to growing concern. At the mention of the Brotherhood, they exchange a knowing look as if in an unspoken conversation is passing between them in a second.
The first guard clears his throat. "Ahem. Please follow me, then. It’s best if you talk to the Castellan about this directly."
He turns and begins walking briskly towards the keep's main entrance, nodding to the sentries at the gatehouse as he leads Draylin and Tam inside. The interior of the keep is a cool, stone labyrinth of vaulted ceilings and narrow arrow-slits. It feels sturdy and imposing, although the stone lacks the blackened soot or repaired cracks of a fortress that has actually seen war. In its long history, Greenest has remained a peaceful place, its walls more of a statement of status than a necessity of survival.
The guard leads them up a winding spiral staircase that eventually opens onto the roof. Out on the parapet, the wind whips across the stone, offering a staggering view of the town and the surrounding hills. Two men are engaged in deep conversation near the battlements. One is a Shield Dwarf with a tangled, shockingly bright red hair and beard and an enormous ring of iron and brass keys hanging from his belt. Beside him stands a human male in his sixties, dressed in a fine light blue tunic, carrying himself with the unmistakable gravitas of leadership.
"Governor Nighthill. Castellan," the guard says, bowing his head slightly. "These two have just arrived. They claim the town is in immediate danger."
"What? How can that be?" the dwarf asks incredulously. He looks out over the peaceful, thriving town with a defensive frown. "Greenest has never been attacked, and I don't see how that’s about to change now. Have you checked if these two are not some scoundrels making up rumours to cause fear and panic among the townsfolk?"
"Calm down, Castellan Escobert," Governor Nighthill interrupts smoothly. He appraises the two adventurers with a curious, steady gaze, looking for any sign of madness or deception. "Tell me then. How did you come by this information? And are you quite certain of what you're saying? Tell me everything."
Thistlewick
From his high vantage point on the driver's bench, Thistlewick's eyes catch a flicker of blindingly-bright crimson amidst the earthy tones of the marketplace. As Oats brings the cart closer, the druid spots the most ridiculous headwear he has ever seen.
The hat is a bizarre, tall felt construction, somewhat like a top hat, but squashed as if someone had accidentally sat on it before handing it back. It sits atop a very bald, very shiny head. It is certainly not the practical attire of a farmer, but it is unmistakable.
The man beneath the hat is a stout fellow with a round belly and cheerful disposition, tending to a small stall laden with colourful balls of yarn, skeins of wool, knitted socks and scarves, and a single basket of fresh eggs. He has just finished a transaction, waving a friendly goodbye to a customer before turning back to the crowd, his arms open wide as he beckons others to come and inspect his stock. He looks like a man having a very successful, very ordinary market day.
Montar
The market is packed with people of various races. It's actually a little weird seeing this many different people in one place after just leaving that raider camp. But unlike the camp, everyone here is actually smiling. The fighter passes by halflings, elves, humans, and even a few dragonborn mixed into the crowd, all of them totally distracted by the noise and the shopping.
Montar starts scanning the crowd for his own people. It doesn't take him long to find them. Right near the center of the square is a heavy-duty wagon with iron-rimmed wheels. Two dwarves who look like they could be twins are unloading crates of masterwork tools and stone chisels. A third dwarf is just a few feet away, currently in the middle of a loud argument with a human merchant over the price of some whetstones.
A little further down the street, an older dwarf is leaning against a tavern pillar. He is wearing a stained apron and smoking a long pipe, watching the ale-maids rush around with the look of a man who has owned the place for forty years and seen it all.
Amadeus
Amadeus is quickly swallowed by the bustling market. Left and right, vendors shout and smile, beckoning him to inspect their goods. To most, these are fine wares, but to someone adopted into the noble House Laxer, the quality isn't quite what he's used to. Still, it's hard not to be impressed by the sheer volume of trade – Greenest is clearly a hotspot, and the amount of coin changing hands today would make any merchant's heart flutter.
He takes his time, perhaps pausing to appraise a piece of lace or a bottle of wine that doesn't quite look and smell quite like vinegar, before moving on. The first two side streets don't offer much, but on the third, tucked away right next to a cramped little bookstore, he finds a small office. The sign out front reads "Pendergast & Co."
Through the window, Amadeus spots a male halfling perched on a high stool, dressed in flamboyant yellow three-piece suit. The clerk is wearing tiny spectacles and is deep in concentration, scribbling into a massive ledger with a quill that has a feather nearly a foot long.
DM: Hoard of the Dragon Queen Adventure, Dragons of Stormwreck Isle and even more dragons
Draylin
Tam he says, pausing to place a slender hand on her shoulder, is a reporter. I will paint with broad strokes, her astute nature and meticulous attention to detail will complete the grim picture. We, along with many others were captured by the dragon cult while traveling the Uldoon Trail a day or two outside of Greenest. Their encampment lies beyond the sea of grass in a protected area between plateaus. We escaped, freed several other prisoners, Brother Leosin among them, and were eventually run down by goblins and a guard drake. We slew the beasts and made haste here with dire warning. As we speak a sizeable force of men and monsters move against your fair town.
For I am Death and I won't break. I got a life I've got to take. When will it end, this sufferin' of late? It was nice to know you. __The Pretty Reckless
Thistlewick stood on the wagon's seat to gain what little extra height he could... hoping to see 'a red hat' in the sea of heads that stretched before him. 'This is hopeless,' he thought just before catching a flash of brilliant red out of the corner of his eye. Readjusting his stance, 'Wick got a full on view of the most ridiculous head gear he had ever seen.
The brilliant red hat was not 'just a hat' -- indeed, 'hat' might be a very loose description. What passed for a 'hat' was a bizarre, tall felt construction, somewhat like a top hat but, squashed as if someone had accidentally sat on it before handing it back to the owner. This crimson 'art piece' sat atop a very bald, very shiny head.
The old woman, Mara, had described her husband and she had done a fine job.
The man beneath the hat is a stout fellow with a round belly and cheerful disposition, tending to a small stall laden with colourful balls of yarn, skeins of wool, knitted socks and scarves, and a single basket of fresh eggs. It looked as if he had just finished a transaction, waving a friendly goodbye to a customer before turning back to the crowd, his arms open wide as he beckons others to come and inspect his stock.
Thistlewick felt a bit of guilt. He was about to spoil what appeared to be a very good 'market day' for Mara's man, Adam.