“A good reporter always verifies the rumor before printing the headline," Tam says to herself as she searches through the tent. There were a lot of things thrown out in the last few minutes, and as her adrenaline fades, she starts to process. Tiamat? Mother of Dragons? There certainly was more to this than just rumors. And this force of brigands. This was not some small cult -- it was a movement. A dangerous one. She needed evidence, though. Something to prove what she'd seen and heard. And maybe clues to lead deeper into the mystery.
When all are free, Draylin slinks along with the group. He always seems to be flittering in and out of sight, ever near the group, but darting in and out of the smoke.
He moved quickly to the dwarf. "A cloak and dragon mask may make this easier," he says, loud enough for all escapes to hear.
He then dips back into the shadows, eyes peeled for a medium sized raider with a dragon mask as he moves towards the supply tent.
***OoC: stealth: 18***
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Tam begins sifting through the bags and crates, letting her hands move quickly but her eyes catalogue everything with a reporter's sharp instinct. As the adrenaline fades, patterns begin to emerge.
Even though the piles are massive, most of it is junk or simply treated like junk. All coin, gems, and jewellery have been gathered into the half-full crate she saw earlier. Come to think of it, isn't it strange that so much coin would sit unguarded in a camp full of bandits? Inspecting it up close, she notices the crate is reinforced with iron bands, the kind merchants use to haul heavy, valuable cargo. Someone intends to move this out of camp… and soon. Every shiny trinket, no matter how cheap, has been collected as well. Every practical item - clothing, books, tools - tossed aside like garbage, even when Tam recognises its worth. Expensive fabrics lie torn or trampled. A few paintings are stacked face-down in the dirt, one stabbed through the canvas. She finds no weapons or food though, they've been sorted elsewhere.
Among the abandoned books, Tam finds a mostly empty leather journal. Only one entry sits on the first page:
“Attempt 26 27 to start journalling.”
She flips through it, but there are no more.
Then something catches Tam's eye: a sturdy wooden chest that looks like the one which the gruff merchant from the ambushed caravan had been guarding so fiercely. Next to it is a heap of backpacks, travel bundles, and bedrolls… including her own.
As she crouches beside them, the word Tiamat comes to the back of her mind. Mother of Dragons. A name she’s heard before but in what context... (you can roll a Religion check)
Draylin keeps to the edges of the path as the group moves, not hiding exactly, but choosing each step with quiet precision. He avoids open firelight where he can, drifting through the camp in a way that draws just a little less attention than the average tired bandit.
After about twenty or thirty feet, it becomes clear that no one here knows the four of you well enough to question why you're walking freely. Even Montar clutching that dagger doesn't get a second look from those you pass by. In this part of the camp, nearly everyone is a low-ranking hireling, mercenary, or fresh initiate.
As Draylin scans the area, he notices a raider dragging a woman with chains around her ankles towards the large hide-walled tent (the same supply tent Tam slipped into). “Sort it properly this time or you don't eat tonight either!” the man snarls, shoving her towards the flap before turning away and heading back toward the main footpath.
Montar barely stifles a snarl at the woman's poor treatment. He had come all this way seeking hints of draconic depredations and possible reasons behind his clan's destruction---now he's found an entire encampment full of cruel humanoids who apparently serve the foul beasts. Only his natural wisdom and two centuries of practice in employing it keep him from heading off after the nearest raider and exacting revenge.
Instead, the dwarf takes a moment and marches purposefully into the supply tent. His goal is to ask the woman gently to show him where his gear (including his smith's tools) might be, and then use those tools to help her out of those chains.
Tam takes the empty journal. Perhaps there are secrets within, hidden, but if not she could use the paper. She had a lot of writing to do.
After grabbing her own things, she found a scarf to cover her face. Her quick thinking with the kobolds had gotten her her freedom, but it also labeled her as noteworthy for the small minded creatures.
Then the thoughts of Tiamat flooded her brain. She recalled the teachings on draconic matters her mentor Vaeros had shared and wondered. [can I implement my associate dragon scholar feature? Rolled a 21 religion check]
The half-elf, making as much noise as a mouse in slippers, glides into the tent as well. He offers Tam a warm smile and nod of respect. "Well played," he said to her. His eyes begin to scan the piles even as he asks, "Does anyone know exactly where we are? I'll feel better with my gear, but we need need a direction to go, and we need to move quickly. Time is our greatest enemy right now, we'll, time and a few hundred hostiles..."
Turning to the woman he says, "Be calm and quiet. Do your duty as directed, we are not your enemy." Turning back to the assembled group he asks, "I may be able to help with her lock, but I lack the tools to do the job. Perhaps I can assist another?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Tam starts when Draylin comes in, but when she recognizes him she relaxes. “You as well,” she says. She points to the pile of their things. “I think our stuff is here. Mine was at least.”
Then looking to the woman, she digs into her satchel and pulls out some fine tools. “I think I can help.” She starts to pick the lock. “Just a little skill I picked up.”
One moment, it's a bind for the young man - literal moreso than figurative, given his bound ankles. The next, one the others - Montague? Gunthar? He would ask later, if they manage to escape - comes forth, slicing his final restraints asunder. He is freed. Not one to question fortune, the gnome instead simply nods his head in thanks. No words need pass between them whilst danger lies afoot! Looking around as, one by one, lights around them go out, Amadeus simply... slinks into the shadows of the camp. Should be easy enough. Between the clatter of the normal campground activities, the clambor of the "reporter's" dash about, the panick from his own well-set blaze and the glare of a burgeoning dawn, there are plenty of dim corners to slip into.
(Stealth: 15)
If there are no other immediate troubles, he begins his silent trek on perilous turf towards the supposed location of his supplies. Perhaps more opportunities lie ahead, to sow more discord or gather more intelligence. Whatever else, retrieving his gear, the missive, and beating feet in flight of this place is the forefront of the attorney's concerns.
[20 investigation check]
“A good reporter always verifies the rumor before printing the headline," Tam says to herself as she searches through the tent. There were a lot of things thrown out in the last few minutes, and as her adrenaline fades, she starts to process. Tiamat? Mother of Dragons? There certainly was more to this than just rumors. And this force of brigands. This was not some small cult -- it was a movement. A dangerous one. She needed evidence, though. Something to prove what she'd seen and heard. And maybe clues to lead deeper into the mystery.
Middle Grade Author
Draylin
When all are free, Draylin slinks along with the group. He always seems to be flittering in and out of sight, ever near the group, but darting in and out of the smoke.
He moved quickly to the dwarf. "A cloak and dragon mask may make this easier," he says, loud enough for all escapes to hear.
He then dips back into the shadows, eyes peeled for a medium sized raider with a dragon mask as he moves towards the supply tent.
***OoC: stealth: 18***
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Tam begins sifting through the bags and crates, letting her hands move quickly but her eyes catalogue everything with a reporter's sharp instinct. As the adrenaline fades, patterns begin to emerge.
Even though the piles are massive, most of it is junk or simply treated like junk.
All coin, gems, and jewellery have been gathered into the half-full crate she saw earlier. Come to think of it, isn't it strange that so much coin would sit unguarded in a camp full of bandits? Inspecting it up close, she notices the crate is reinforced with iron bands, the kind merchants use to haul heavy, valuable cargo. Someone intends to move this out of camp… and soon.
Every shiny trinket, no matter how cheap, has been collected as well. Every practical item - clothing, books, tools - tossed aside like garbage, even when Tam recognises its worth.
Expensive fabrics lie torn or trampled. A few paintings are stacked face-down in the dirt, one stabbed through the canvas. She finds no weapons or food though, they've been sorted elsewhere.
Among the abandoned books, Tam finds a mostly empty leather journal. Only one entry sits on the first page:
“Attempt
2627 to start journalling.”She flips through it, but there are no more.
Then something catches Tam's eye: a sturdy wooden chest that looks like the one which the gruff merchant from the ambushed caravan had been guarding so fiercely. Next to it is a heap of backpacks, travel bundles, and bedrolls… including her own.
As she crouches beside them, the word Tiamat comes to the back of her mind. Mother of Dragons. A name she’s heard before but in what context... (you can roll a Religion check)
Draylin keeps to the edges of the path as the group moves, not hiding exactly, but choosing each step with quiet precision. He avoids open firelight where he can, drifting through the camp in a way that draws just a little less attention than the average tired bandit.
After about twenty or thirty feet, it becomes clear that no one here knows the four of you well enough to question why you're walking freely. Even Montar clutching that dagger doesn't get a second look from those you pass by. In this part of the camp, nearly everyone is a low-ranking hireling, mercenary, or fresh initiate.
As Draylin scans the area, he notices a raider dragging a woman with chains around her ankles towards the large hide-walled tent (the same supply tent Tam slipped into).
“Sort it properly this time or you don't eat tonight either!” the man snarls, shoving her towards the flap before turning away and heading back toward the main footpath.
DM: Hoard of the Dragon Queen Adventure
Montar barely stifles a snarl at the woman's poor treatment. He had come all this way seeking hints of draconic depredations and possible reasons behind his clan's destruction---now he's found an entire encampment full of cruel humanoids who apparently serve the foul beasts. Only his natural wisdom and two centuries of practice in employing it keep him from heading off after the nearest raider and exacting revenge.
Instead, the dwarf takes a moment and marches purposefully into the supply tent. His goal is to ask the woman gently to show him where his gear (including his smith's tools) might be, and then use those tools to help her out of those chains.
Tam takes the empty journal. Perhaps there are secrets within, hidden, but if not she could use the paper. She had a lot of writing to do.
After grabbing her own things, she found a scarf to cover her face. Her quick thinking with the kobolds had gotten her her freedom, but it also labeled her as noteworthy for the small minded creatures.
Then the thoughts of Tiamat flooded her brain. She recalled the teachings on draconic matters her mentor Vaeros had shared and wondered.
[can I implement my associate dragon scholar feature? Rolled a 21 religion check]
Middle Grade Author
Draylin
The half-elf, making as much noise as a mouse in slippers, glides into the tent as well. He offers Tam a warm smile and nod of respect. "Well played," he said to her. His eyes begin to scan the piles even as he asks, "Does anyone know exactly where we are? I'll feel better with my gear, but we need need a direction to go, and we need to move quickly. Time is our greatest enemy right now, we'll, time and a few hundred hostiles..."
Turning to the woman he says, "Be calm and quiet. Do your duty as directed, we are not your enemy." Turning back to the assembled group he asks, "I may be able to help with her lock, but I lack the tools to do the job. Perhaps I can assist another?"
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Tam starts when Draylin comes in, but when she recognizes him she relaxes. “You as well,” she says. She points to the pile of their things. “I think our stuff is here. Mine was at least.”
Then looking to the woman, she digs into her satchel and pulls out some fine tools. “I think I can help.” She starts to pick the lock. “Just a little skill I picked up.”
[thieves tools check. Intelligence? 10]
Middle Grade Author
One moment, it's a bind for the young man - literal moreso than figurative, given his bound ankles. The next, one the others - Montague? Gunthar? He would ask later, if they manage to escape - comes forth, slicing his final restraints asunder. He is freed. Not one to question fortune, the gnome instead simply nods his head in thanks. No words need pass between them whilst danger lies afoot! Looking around as, one by one, lights around them go out, Amadeus simply... slinks into the shadows of the camp. Should be easy enough. Between the clatter of the normal campground activities, the clambor of the "reporter's" dash about, the panick from his own well-set blaze and the glare of a burgeoning dawn, there are plenty of dim corners to slip into.
(Stealth: 15)
If there are no other immediate troubles, he begins his silent trek on perilous turf towards the supposed location of his supplies. Perhaps more opportunities lie ahead, to sow more discord or gather more intelligence. Whatever else, retrieving his gear, the missive, and beating feet in flight of this place is the forefront of the attorney's concerns.
(Perception: 14, if applicable)