Ophelia is bringing up the rear using her darkvision to watch for threats behind. Once out in the teeth of winter, she is relatively lucid and vigilant even when murmuring to herself.
Dvu would lead of course, and he would have a strong opinion about returning to Bryn Shander. "Right, Ms. Graysteel. We need to show her our Chwinga! That comes first, and it can be on the way to Kelvin's Cairn. After concluding our business in Bryn Shander (much nicer to us there...) we can head along the eastway and then north to Caer Dineval and then Caer Konig. It is really not out of the way at all. Now everyone stay together now. Hopefully we can reach Bryn Shander soon, otherwise if any weather comes up, we would need to make a snow shelter. I'll show ya how to do it if it comes up."
Dvu trudges forward, hand on the knotted rope and periodically looking back, he carries a torch for light.
Survival : 14
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Dvu and Ellora lead the way followed by Drift and Marva and with Ophelia in the rear. Marva and Ophelia notice that Drift wandered off course and organize the others to search for him off of the road. He eventually sees the green light from the lantern, and everyone is reunited without any loss other than time. Once back on the road, you occasionally see the tracks made by the fishmonger going to Bryn Shander and every now and then a fish print, where one of her catch fell into a bank. You also see a single pair of footsteps that appear to have just been made, also heading to Bryn Shander.
Month: Hammer, Day: VII, Time: 2030
You arrive at the North Gate and are pleasantly surprised to find it open. The guards give you a cursory look before saying that they would soon close the gate for the night and returning to their fire. You soon enter the Northlook Inn and Tavern, the same one you previously stayed at, and knock off the snow and ice that has accumultated on you. You recognize Scramsax, who is minding the bar, Speaker Duvessa Shane, who is listening to a guard wearing the colors of Targos and still covered with snow and ice from his journey, and Hlin, the dwarf who clued you in to the murder mystery, but none recognize or react to your entry. You also see Dannika, the druid who sent you on the quest for the chwingas, and she definitely recognizes you. She comes bounding over, saying, "That was fast! You are already back. What happened? Did you succeed in finding them? Where were they? Tell me everything and hurry it up!"
The young white-haired woman gives the Targos guard a worried look. She hoped the town speaker of Bryn Shander would be more reasonable than the one in Targos. She then notices their client and moves over to meet her. "We were in luck, well regarding the Chwingas at least."She starts to explain, placing her backpack on a table to let the tiny frizzle-haired cutie out. "Found three of them just outside Targos actually, but this one simply decided to come along, they seem to be curious about trinkets of civilization, like cutlery for instance. I admit I would prefer if you wouldn't keep it locked up or anything but rather convinced it to stay while you study it by giving it a good reason to." She continues with a pleading look, frankly feeling a bit sad to be parting with this adorable creature. "By the way, anything you can share about the speaker of Bryn Shander? I have a feeling we will be talking to her soon and I hope we will make a good impression." She adds with a weak smile.
Perception to catch any of the conversation between the guard and Duvessa Shane: 24 History to recall what she might have heard or read about Duvessa Shane: 19
Moving to a table near the Speaker and guard from Targos, Marva collapses into a chair, more than ready to rest after their trek through the ice and snow. She tries to hear what the guard is saying, hoping that he isn’t smearing their good name in another town. (Perception: 9) Perhaps, she is a little distracted by Ellora's conversation with Graysteel about the chwinga. She's also thinking that she doesn't want to spend any money on food and drink until she knows whether they're going to be kicked out.
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Marva Stormavendrien - Level 1 Cleric - Rime of the Frostmaiden
The presence of Hlin jars Ophelia back into full lucidity and she approaches the gruff dwarven woman, lavender eyes focused, speaking quietly but clearly.
"When last we met, you spoke of seeking you out when we are ready to delve into a murder mystery. We have since been tasked with rescuing a party and their guide who ventured to Kelvin's Cairn, so that time has not yet come. Yet I wish to share with you what we have found in Targos."
Ophelia pauses, attempting to formulate her words, something she rarely ever accomplishes since tragedy befell her and her family, months back.
"Much of what I speak, you may know already know. I assume the murders you describe are the three in Bryn Shander, Targos and Easthaven, done with a blade of ice to the heart? We found that Alvin, the victim in Targos, was a skilled yet unpopular shipwright. Likely a well-to-do man given his profession and the need for boats and plentiful fishing there. Yet the guards seemed adamant about NOT investigating the obviously symbolic killing."
"Speaker Naerth of Targos, an apparently ambitious and manipulative man, spoke of a 'process' for their macabre lottery of sacrifice to the Frostmaiden. A practice which seems as barbaric as it is futile to me. We have a sense that Alvin may have interfered with this 'process' somehow."
"Yet we still know not the killer's identity. While seeking elemental spirits, a deep gnome disguised as an old woman tried to murder me when I was separated from the others. Not with an icy blade but with a mundane shortsword and chain shirt. By his own words, he was a cultist of Auril. After I survived and he lay unconscious upon the snow, the townsfolk, guards and Speaker himself accused me of murder, a crime of which I am innocent."
As she recounts the tale, Ophelia's fingers weave in the air gently, using Minor Illusion to cause still images to appear, shielded between herself and Hlin. Of the desperate fight, the gnome lying bloody in the snow, the surrounding guards and accusing townsfolk, Speaker Naerth's calculated words.
"Later, at the Luskan Arms where Naerth holds court, we witnessed the gnome's death, freezing solid of his own accord as the Frostmaiden took him. That is when the Speaker renewed his accusations and demanded we embark on the rescue mission or face what were implied to be deadly consequences. I believe a cult is at work here, though I doubt the gnome had the skill to be the ice blade murderer, and we do not know the true motive."
Ophelia stands facing Hlin, almost panting, unaccustomed to speaking at such length with clarity (albeit softly). It occurs to her that for all she knows, Hlin herself may be part of Auril's cult and her quest may be a ruse. Ophelia tries to gauge whether the dwarf is fully engaged or merely toying with her.
Drift moves to the bar. He’s said little since his brief wander out in the dark and the snow, after some madness possessed him to let go of the knotted rope. Some cartographer he was.
Quietly, he makes his way to Scramsax while the others head to their own persons of interest. “6 silver I owe you, I’ll pay now. How much for a drink that’s a little warmer, a hot toddy?”
Marva, As you move closer, you see the guard from Targos turn and point at your group. The hubbub of the tavern makes it impossible to hear the words, but you can tell the conversation is one-sided, with the Targos guard doing all of the talking and the Speaker just nodding. You do not perceive any anger or even concern by the Speaker, with her keeping the same poker face and relaxed posture throughout the briefing.
Ellora and Ophelia, you recognize the guard - it is Zar'Dan, the same one who had been guarding the gnome! He quickly concludes his conversation with the Speaker and walks over to your table. "I volunteered to run here, another guard was told to run to Termalaine. Our jobs were to tell the Speaker in each town what happened in Targos and I told her the same as what you heard me tell earlier today. Speaker Shane did not seem concerned, as if a death in Targos bothers her little. He continues in a lower voice. The Speaker and Captain Skath were mighty upset the gnome died while I was protecting him, so it was best to for me to get out of their sight for a short time. They can have a might large temper that is not pleasant to be near. Not all guards survive the night message run, but this one was uneventful. He resumes in a normal tone that conveys concern for your well-being. I must admit that I was surprised to see you leave the trail. That is not a good idea any time but particularly at night. Taking unnecessary risks like getting separated from each other will complicate your search for Garret at Kelvins's Cairn. While he is talking to you, the Speaker leaves with only an enigmatic grin and slight nod of the head toward you, although you are unclear if it was directed to the group or Zar'Dan.
Ellora, What little you have heard about the Speaker is that she is bold, tough but fair, and still popular with the people of Bryn Shander despite the obvious difficult times they are going through. Dannika keeps interrupting your thought process and prevents you from listening in because she is bubbling with excitement by your report. She gets even more animated when the chwinga emerges from your hood. Dannika ignores your questions while asking her own and immediately fishes out of her pockets a number of items from her pocket. Soon enough, the little guy is playing with one of them, a small pipe, by blowing into it, which results in a high-pitched squeak and the chwinga's hair standing temporarily straight from the effort. Whether it is her enthusiasm or the pipe, the chwinga accepts Dannika as safe space and climbs up her coat to see her hair up close. Dannika laughs and says, Oh this is so worth it. I will be happy to pay you. Of course, I do not carry piles of gold on me, and it is too late to go and return tonight. I will meet here tomorrow morning at 0800.
Ophelia, the old dwarf looks up at you and says, Sit, child. Ye have seen and sensed much but more be to learn. Auril has supporters that act in the open and those the act behind a mask. Both be deadly and good ye did to defend yourself against one. Know there be more. Targos be not the only town in Ten-Towns that sacrifices people to Auril. Bryn Shander and Easthaven do as well. She nods and her eyebrows go up before she continues. Yes, even right here in paradise. The lottery be before a new moon. The unlucky person gets sacrificed at night. Left outside. No clothes. Usually a fast death, but not how I plan to go.The eyebrows go up even further as her voice lowers to a whisper. Some believe the lottery be rigged. I be one. And none of the three Speakers seem to want to act on that. But I would guess that Auril would. Hrmph!Hlin's voice and eyebrows return to neutral as she continues, I be too old for this business. There was once a time that I would have resolved this me'self but that time be gone. But you and your group might investigate. I have some leads. Interested might you be? It is not without danger, she concludes with a laugh. Your Insight tells you that she is telling the truth, even as she is laughing at danger.
Drift, your visit to the bar is productive. Scramsax takes your silver with the eagerness of a drowning man reaching for driftwood and shortly after brings you a mug that has steam streaming forth and curls your toes. One piece o'silver. An' you lot need space tonight? You get the stables for 7cp (squalid), a sheet in the common room for 1sp (poor), or a mattress in a semi-private room for 5sp (modest).
There is a brief feeling of disappointment when the chwinga so quickly accepts it's new place with the scholarly half-elf, but Ellora is also glad to see they seem to get along well. "We will meet you here at breakfast then." The young white-haired woman says with a friendly smile, trusting their client to not leave Bryn Shander at this hour to avoid paying what she now owes them. Another brief but friendly smile is offered the speaker as she leaves.
Ellora then turns her attention to the kind-hearted guard from Targos. "Thanks Zar'Dan, we'll try to stay on the road henceforth. Hope your run back to Targos will be safe and that the worst has blown over once you get there. We're planning to head out for Kelvin's Cairn tomorrow after breakfast, hopefully we will see you within a tenday at least back at Targos with Garrett and the others. For now, please stay and eat and drink with us and share some more news about the dale to a newcomer." She says with a friendly smile, offering to pay for the man.
Persuasion if relevant to get to share the latest rumours about Auril and other things going on in the ten towns: 5 (6 if relevant and using heroic inspiration :-P )
Once it seems that they are still welcome at the Northlook, Marva is happy to order the same steaming drink as Drift and some dinner (as she didn’t get the chance to finish her food in Targos hours ago). She requests a mattress in a semi-private room as well, and settles in at their table to just rest for a while with hot food and drink. Her previous career at the library did not fully prepare her for all this hiking about from one town to another and back again. She didn’t get a chance to meet Zar’dan, so she’s glad to see that he seems friendly enough. She enjoys seeing Dannika’s pleasure in engaging the chwinga, again wondering if the charming creature will be of any help in ending the relentless winter. She’ll listen to any gossip or conversation. If nothing of import occurs, she’ll be ready to head to bed.
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Marva Stormavendrien - Level 1 Cleric - Rime of the Frostmaiden
Drift will pay for the drink and a semi-private room with the others too. Waiting until they’re all together in semi-privacy and (if they choose to share) he’s heard the outcome of the other conversations, he speaks.
Drift has been gruff, bearded, coarse. A perfect ten-tower, except for a soft vaguely coastal accent. For this moment, all that affectation slips away.
“I am perturbed,” he says, “and I’ll miss our strange little chwinga friend, about the only heart-warming thing to have happened to us in this last day or two. I know we signed on for a job, and that job is accomplished now, but, unusually for me, I’m not inclined to go alone again.”
He hesitates; looks up at the ceiling.
“Before I came here, I was a scholar, as I’ve said. I worked in a knives out academic institute in Neverwinter, where the backstabbing turned out to be more literal than figurative. Shortly before I came to realise that truth, I felt like this. Like I had a target on my back, like a chill spirit was dogging my footsteps. I do not think our troubles will cease if we go our separate ways. I do not think our troubles will cease even if we leave the frigid north. I fear we have… I fear the eyes of the…”
But so fantastical is the thought that a malign goddess should look to them that the erstwhile academic cannot bring himself to utter it and he trails off and gives up on what he was saying. He notices he has been tapping his foot more and more rapidly as he speaks and stills himself as he finishes speaking.
Ophelia, the old dwarf looks up at you and says, Sit, child. Ye have seen and sensed much but more be to learn. Auril has supporters that act in the open and those the act behind a mask. Both be deadly and good ye did to defend yourself against one. Know there be more. Targos be not the only town in Ten-Towns that sacrifices people to Auril. Bryn Shander and Easthaven do as well. She nods and her eyebrows go up before she continues. Yes, even right here in paradise. The lottery be before a new moon. The unlucky person gets sacrificed at night. Left outside. No clothes. Usually a fast death, but not how I plan to go.The eyebrows go up even further as her voice lowers to a whisper. Some believe the lottery be rigged. I be one. And none of the three Speakers seem to want to act on that. But I would guess that Auril would. Hrmph!Hlin's voice and eyebrows return to neutral as she continues, I be too old for this business. There was once a time that I would have resolved this me'self but that time be gone. But you and your group might investigate. I have some leads. Interested might you be? It is not without danger, she concludes with a laugh. Your Insight tells you that she is telling the truth, even as she is laughing at danger.
"Interested, aye," Ophelia murmurs, almost transfixed as she listens to the elder dwarven woman. "As a snow hare is interested in the lynx."
She struggles to comprehend what Hlin is suggesting, her lavender eyes wide. "Is it that the cult of Auril slays those who compromise these sacrificial lotteries? Speaker Naerth seemed all too eager to accuse me of murder and thereby use me as the next sacrifice. Skipping the lottery altogether seems one way for him to rig it. But you are hinting that Alvin and the other ice blade victims rigged the lottery to have one of their enemies slain? Or to avoid being chosen themselves? And in so doing, incurred the cold wrath of the Frostmaiden's faithful? Either way, we, or at least I, shall follow your leads."
The recent killings of Icewind Dale begin to mingle in her mind with those she experienced with overwhelming sorrow all those months ago. So many dead... so very many... and why? For what were they slain?Ophelia had thought she knew, once, but now she finds she cannot remember.
Ellora, Dannika departs and the guard takes her place. Zar'Dan enthusiastically accepts your offer for food and a meal and is on his second ale before you think about the wisdom of feeding and watering an unchaperoned guard who has already completed his task. With arms and partially eaten food flying, he will gladly share stories about his fellow guards and rumors he has heard, but none of those shed any light on the gnome, the adventurers at Kelvin's Cairn, or other three murders. He says that he has heard people talk about Auril appearing as the Cold Crone, which is a huge bipedal creature with cloven hooves that stalks Icewind Dale. To further emphasize his point, he also relays the instructions that Auril has given to her clergy:
Cover all the lands with ice. Quench fire wherever it is found. Let in the winds and the cold; cut down windbreaks and chop holes in walls and roofs that my breath may come in. Work darknesses to hide the cursed sun so that the chill I bring may slay. Take the life of an arctic creature only in great need, but slay all others at will. Make all Faerûn fear me.
After some time, Zar'Dan will have drunk and ate his fill and excuse himself to go to the local barracks to sleep. Seven gods be with you as you search for Garret, he says appreciatively as he departs. Scramsax appears as if by magic, with his hand out and saying, "Two golds and three silvers, that be.
Marva, you pay for your food and lodging and enjoy the relaxing evening until you call it an evening. Drift soon joins you in the room with a melancholy disposition but excellent elocution. Orphelia, Hlin accepts your offer to assist and then departs without sharing any more information, saying only "Ye had enough shock for one day, I can tell. More can wait.
All, After a while of listening to people complain about the size of the snowbanks, both the temperature and number of people in the Northlook drop precipitously. Scramsax is no longer delivering any orders and only collecting coins from the few remaining people, so you find your way to whatever level of bedding you paid for and tuck yourself in for an uneventful night.
Month: Hammer, Day: VIII, Time: 0730
You emerge from your respective places of rest and reunite downstairs in expectation of Dannika showing up with bags of gold. During your usual wake-up process, you find you have new abilities. (OOC - Congratulations, you are now level 2! Pease adjust your sheets and RP changes.)
Dvu sits down feeling exhausted from the trip, but nearby to hear Dannika and share in the excitement of the Chwinga reveal. He guffaws and chuckles at the sight of the little creature playing with the pipe and other trinkets. He looks up and catches the eye of the speaker, straightening up his posture and puffing out his chest to look respectable. He nods as well when she does, even if it wasn't meant for him. He looks over to check on Ophelia, counting her as his charge now, making sure she is safe and notes the conversation with Hlin, then turns back to the Chwinga antics.
Dvu looks over at what Drift has ordered and says "That looks good! I wonder if they have one of those for me.." He goes over to the bar and speaks to Scramsax, ordering a double hot toddy and a bowl of stew, then says "I'd like one of those mattresses in a semi-private room please. My back is a little sore after trudging through that last section of snow getting into town." After he's made his purchase, he lays his coin on the counter and returns to the table, carefully navigating and gently placing his bowl and drink down. (Removing 2 gold)
When Drift starts to speak, Dvu becomes locked in on what he is saying, turning his full attention to the artificer. "I... I think I know what you mean. Like, we have been marked? Like some, I don't know, evil eye is upon us? I wonder... maybe it is just a strange course of events, but I believe there is something to what you say." Then Zar'Dan begins, and Dvu begins to feel a tingling sensation up his spine to his neck. Thinking about prior observations, things said in an offhanded way, overheard comments at the bar... he listens with a keen interest.
That night he heads off to bed, finding the largest mattress that he can find, and he does not snore, just murmurs fitfully in his sleep, dreaming of a cloven hoofed creature, spraying solid ice and snow over every one of his clansmen in his village. He sees their faces frozen mid-scream, and then he wakes up, feeling warmer than he should for such a night.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
"Magical carpets?" The melodious lilt of a woman's voice drifts through the common room of the Northlook Inn the next morning. Her accent is foreign, at times throaty, other times musically sweet. She laughs affably, resplendent in diaphanous veils over a gown crafted from glorious cerulean and peacock blue silks. A large turban crowns her head, bedecked in gleaming pearls that cascade around her shoulders. An aquamarine jewel rests over her forehead, giving her the air of royalty or at least a station of considerable value. The only suggestion that she may have conceded to some degree of practicality, given the ever-present chill of Icewind Dale, lies in the subtle bulkiness of her voluminous apparel.
She addresses a young stable-hand bearing a broom, his eyes wide with wonder at this vision from a fairytale standing before him. And well might he gape - her exotic, luxurious attire, stands in stark contrast to the commoners that litter the streets of Bryn Shander, whose sartorial choices tend to favour function over form. A teasing smile curves her lips, and she gives him a wink. "No, no, no... we don't all ride about on them. Unless, of course, one is very important. And you seem quite the esteemable gentleman to me. I promise to take you for a ride on one the next time you visit Calimshan, my little rafayam."
He grins excitedly and waves at her to kneel down, whispering in her ear when she obliges. "A princess? Ah, this... this is a most, most complicated matter. How may Zuleikha explain? I am but a pasha's daughter. But through my oath, also a knight. A knight in the service of the great and noble Farnesslee, sultana of the ethereal city of Birun Bur. Long may she whirl through the skies!"
The stable-hand's eyes widen further.
"Yes, yes, my friend. A djawal, a knight. Do you doubt the truth of my words?"A playful grin forms on her olive-skinned face before it is replaced by feigned indignation. She smacks his broom sharply with the back of her hand, and snatches a large wooden ladle from a nearby table. "Raise your weapon, scoundrel. None may call Zuleikha yr Naqdissa yr Lahra el-Tarrashi a liar and live!"
She springs into action, her skirts whirling and spinning joyfully as she engages the boy in spirited combat. They trade blows, skipping over chairs, tumbling behind startled patrons clutching their breakfasts, until at last, she allows the boy to corner her by the stairs. He jabs her in the belly with his broom handle, and she gasps theatrically, a single glistening tear rolling down her cheek. "So it is... as the poets say... even the swiftest stallion may stumble upon a hidden knot of grass."
She staggers backwards melodramatically, without any notion of where she is going, or whom she might collide with. Scramsax, a patron, or perhaps even a member of a recently formed adventuring party coming downstairs for breakfast. "And thus... do I die." Zuleikha croaks, falling backwards into space.
Dvu at a table sits up with suddenly perfect posture, watching the goings on in the room. He elbows Ophelia and says “Getta load of this one! Never seen anyone like that! Where is she from?” Suddenly the morning coffee has become less interesting, he watches to see what will happen next. “Is this a play?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Ophelia had paid five silver for a semi-private mattress, only to offer it to Dvu so the goliath could double up on bed space. Because of course she herself does not require sleep. Only four hours of undisturbed elven trance. Which, as it happens, is not much different from her typical waking demeanor.
Unlike Dvu, however, Ophelia has been traumatized by far too much tragic death, both in her recent and more distant past, to be anything but horrified at the exotic woman's apparent demise, right here in the Northlook! All the more so because she had been gazing into the middle distance as she often does, lavender eyes unfocused and lips slightly parted, mumbling to herself about what lies hidden in the snows, not noticing that it was an act.
With an anguished cry, the she-elf rushes over to the seemingly fallen Calishite Knight and kneels before her, weeping softly and murmuring.
"To bear thee bare-faced on the bier, Though snow, not sun grace the sky above, And on your grave shed many a tear, So fare thee well my desert dove!"
She might appear to be riffing along with Zuleikha's act, but those who know Ophelia would guess that she has been fooled and her sorrow is sincere.
Even though the kind targosian townsguard hasn't too much to share, Ellora still appreciates listening to him and takes note of his warnings about Auril and her deranged followers. She wasn't particularly pious, but following someone like the frostmaiden and work towards your own eventual demise made absolutely no sense to her, so what could they be but deranged. A clear danger to civilization and as such they should all be put down.
"From Neverwinter huh, well I guess I'm not surprised that a learned man like yourself didn't grow up in the dale." The young white-haired woman says with a curios smile. "While I don't quite feel everyone is out to get me, I too would prefer if we stick together for now. And perhaps together we can somehow end the endless winter and put a stop to these non-sensical sacrifices."She says with a reassuring smile.
Eventually Ellora too would retire. She missed the privacy of her own chambers at the host tower, but for now she would have to endure sleeping in the presence of others. At least there was warmth at the Northlook, something she would most likely greatly miss on the tundra the coming nights. Before turning in for the night she would spend considerable time with her book of magical spells, sensing new insights into the weave, but also making meticulous notes in her journal about the first day's events.
Next morning
Ellora would rise early with the others, going for a large breakfast if available. She curiously studies the unlikely new arrival, dressed like a highborn from the desert lands to the far south. At least it was most unlikely that the calishite lady was a follower of the frostmaiden, but coming to the dark and icy north must be a huge challenge to her, making the luskan wizard almost pity her.
"Considering her beautiful but quite impractical attire I believe she is from Calimshan, question is what she is doing this far north. Perhaps she would be interested in doing some honourable knightly deeds like saving good people from the deathly cold grip of the frostmaiden." Ellora suggests to the massive golaith before walking over to the new arrival. <
"Yes, she's like that, but to her defense, she has moments of clarity too, although they have been rare so far."The young white-haired woman explains to the calishite knight. "I'm Ellora and this here is Ophelia, perhaps you would care to join us at our table? Together with the others over there we're just about to brave the cold and venture forth to find some lost souls on the tundra." She offers with a friendly smile.
Marva wakes from unsettling dreams and seeks out Ophelia at the breakfast table. “Good morning, I hope. I know other people’s dreams are of little interest generally, but I wonder if you would be willing to listen to mine. At first, I was overjoyed to find myself back in my library, looking through various books and scrolls. But before long a harsh wind blew through the room, scattering papers and scrolls into chaos. I turned and saw that through the door walked three ghoulish figures. I have never seen the victims, but I was sure it was them, and not just because they walked toward me with a dagger of ice in each one’s heart. It nearly froze my own when I saw Dannika Graysteel behind them with her own dagger piercing her chest! I stood, clasping my snowflake amulet and the one book I was able to keep hold of. I held them out before me. A great light burst from them and the victims quickly turned and moved from the room. Except Dannika who fell to the floor. I rushed over to try to help her, but then I woke. I wouldn’t normally put a lot of stock in dreams, but the events we have seen makes me wonder. I do hope that nothing has happened to Ms. Graysteel!” She listens to any response Ophelia or anyone else may give her.
After that conversation:
Marva shakes her head and stands to go ask Scramsax for more potatoes. She smiles to see the “battle” that has erupted and picks her way past it carefully. As the approaches the bar to speak to Scramsax, Zuleikha’s “death” causes her to stagger into Marva who quickly turns to catch her. When Ophelia rushes over in horror, Marva does her best to comfort her. “No, no, Ophelia, it is only an act. All is well. I hope. Ms. Zuleikha, please show her that you are well and only a wonderful actor!”
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Marva Stormavendrien - Level 1 Cleric - Rime of the Frostmaiden
The group responds in different ways to Zuleikha, with the end result of her being invited to join their group.
Marva, your approach to Scramsax results in the following response, Oh great, the Spuddies be back. Lemme gets ya' potatoes. The soon-to-be-but-not-yet-drunk town folks wandering in guffaw at his jest.
Oblivious to the truly splendiferously attired Zuleikas and unusually reserved, Dannika enters the common room precisely at 0800 and joins your group. She places a tote bag on the table and withdraws small sacks that each hold 25 gp. She hands one to each of you before frowning to ask, "Weren't there six of you? I have an extra." She shrugs upon learning that one did not stay with the group and returns that sack to her tote bag. In a businesslike tone that she has not previously used, she says, "Thank you for finding the chwinga. My research will be much more successful with its assistance. My patron is most pleased. Please keep the lantern as a token of our appreciation. It might assist you in your errands. Turning to Drift, Might I see your book. Possibly there is information I could translate for you that would assist you in your next quest. Only those who are about to depart physically or by way of alcohol are here so early in the morn, she adds as an explanation of her unsolicited offer.
Ophelia is bringing up the rear using her darkvision to watch for threats behind. Once out in the teeth of winter, she is relatively lucid and vigilant even when murmuring to herself.
Survival: 14
Barn(Paladin1): Damian_May's Ereworn Under the Shadow | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest | Nivi(Rogue5): Erik_Soong's Netherdeep
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Quyen(Adept1, ba5ic): ConstancePhokas' Nentir Vale (Discord) | Seri(Druid1): Hunter_Orien's Saltmarsh
Xarian(Fighter3): Luna_Dust's Marks on the Map | Ophelia(Sorcerer2): BillM's Icewind Dale | Shin(Wizard1): Culuril's Strixhaven
Dvu would lead of course, and he would have a strong opinion about returning to Bryn Shander. "Right, Ms. Graysteel. We need to show her our Chwinga! That comes first, and it can be on the way to Kelvin's Cairn. After concluding our business in Bryn Shander (much nicer to us there...) we can head along the eastway and then north to Caer Dineval and then Caer Konig. It is really not out of the way at all. Now everyone stay together now. Hopefully we can reach Bryn Shander soon, otherwise if any weather comes up, we would need to make a snow shelter. I'll show ya how to do it if it comes up."
Dvu trudges forward, hand on the knotted rope and periodically looking back, he carries a torch for light.
Survival : 14
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Dvu and Ellora lead the way followed by Drift and Marva and with Ophelia in the rear. Marva and Ophelia notice that Drift wandered off course and organize the others to search for him off of the road. He eventually sees the green light from the lantern, and everyone is reunited without any loss other than time. Once back on the road, you occasionally see the tracks made by the fishmonger going to Bryn Shander and every now and then a fish print, where one of her catch fell into a bank. You also see a single pair of footsteps that appear to have just been made, also heading to Bryn Shander.
Month: Hammer, Day: VII, Time: 2030
You arrive at the North Gate and are pleasantly surprised to find it open. The guards give you a cursory look before saying that they would soon close the gate for the night and returning to their fire. You soon enter the Northlook Inn and Tavern, the same one you previously stayed at, and knock off the snow and ice that has accumultated on you. You recognize Scramsax, who is minding the bar, Speaker Duvessa Shane, who is listening to a guard wearing the colors of Targos and still covered with snow and ice from his journey, and Hlin, the dwarf who clued you in to the murder mystery, but none recognize or react to your entry. You also see Dannika, the druid who sent you on the quest for the chwingas, and she definitely recognizes you. She comes bounding over, saying, "That was fast! You are already back. What happened? Did you succeed in finding them? Where were they? Tell me everything and hurry it up!"
The young white-haired woman gives the Targos guard a worried look. She hoped the town speaker of Bryn Shander would be more reasonable than the one in Targos. She then notices their client and moves over to meet her. "We were in luck, well regarding the Chwingas at least." She starts to explain, placing her backpack on a table to let the tiny frizzle-haired cutie out. "Found three of them just outside Targos actually, but this one simply decided to come along, they seem to be curious about trinkets of civilization, like cutlery for instance. I admit I would prefer if you wouldn't keep it locked up or anything but rather convinced it to stay while you study it by giving it a good reason to." She continues with a pleading look, frankly feeling a bit sad to be parting with this adorable creature. "By the way, anything you can share about the speaker of Bryn Shander? I have a feeling we will be talking to her soon and I hope we will make a good impression." She adds with a weak smile.
Perception to catch any of the conversation between the guard and Duvessa Shane: 24
History to recall what she might have heard or read about Duvessa Shane: 19
Moving to a table near the Speaker and guard from Targos, Marva collapses into a chair, more than ready to rest after their trek through the ice and snow. She tries to hear what the guard is saying, hoping that he isn’t smearing their good name in another town. (Perception: 9) Perhaps, she is a little distracted by Ellora's conversation with Graysteel about the chwinga. She's also thinking that she doesn't want to spend any money on food and drink until she knows whether they're going to be kicked out.
Marva Stormavendrien - Level 1 Cleric - Rime of the Frostmaiden
(Librarian/Gamer/Knitter)
The presence of Hlin jars Ophelia back into full lucidity and she approaches the gruff dwarven woman, lavender eyes focused, speaking quietly but clearly.
"When last we met, you spoke of seeking you out when we are ready to delve into a murder mystery. We have since been tasked with rescuing a party and their guide who ventured to Kelvin's Cairn, so that time has not yet come. Yet I wish to share with you what we have found in Targos."
Ophelia pauses, attempting to formulate her words, something she rarely ever accomplishes since tragedy befell her and her family, months back.
"Much of what I speak, you may know already know. I assume the murders you describe are the three in Bryn Shander, Targos and Easthaven, done with a blade of ice to the heart? We found that Alvin, the victim in Targos, was a skilled yet unpopular shipwright. Likely a well-to-do man given his profession and the need for boats and plentiful fishing there. Yet the guards seemed adamant about NOT investigating the obviously symbolic killing."
"Speaker Naerth of Targos, an apparently ambitious and manipulative man, spoke of a 'process' for their macabre lottery of sacrifice to the Frostmaiden. A practice which seems as barbaric as it is futile to me. We have a sense that Alvin may have interfered with this 'process' somehow."
"Yet we still know not the killer's identity. While seeking elemental spirits, a deep gnome disguised as an old woman tried to murder me when I was separated from the others. Not with an icy blade but with a mundane shortsword and chain shirt. By his own words, he was a cultist of Auril. After I survived and he lay unconscious upon the snow, the townsfolk, guards and Speaker himself accused me of murder, a crime of which I am innocent."
As she recounts the tale, Ophelia's fingers weave in the air gently, using Minor Illusion to cause still images to appear, shielded between herself and Hlin. Of the desperate fight, the gnome lying bloody in the snow, the surrounding guards and accusing townsfolk, Speaker Naerth's calculated words.
"Later, at the Luskan Arms where Naerth holds court, we witnessed the gnome's death, freezing solid of his own accord as the Frostmaiden took him. That is when the Speaker renewed his accusations and demanded we embark on the rescue mission or face what were implied to be deadly consequences. I believe a cult is at work here, though I doubt the gnome had the skill to be the ice blade murderer, and we do not know the true motive."
Ophelia stands facing Hlin, almost panting, unaccustomed to speaking at such length with clarity (albeit softly). It occurs to her that for all she knows, Hlin herself may be part of Auril's cult and her quest may be a ruse. Ophelia tries to gauge whether the dwarf is fully engaged or merely toying with her.
Ophelia's Insight: 18
Barn(Paladin1): Damian_May's Ereworn Under the Shadow | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest | Nivi(Rogue5): Erik_Soong's Netherdeep
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Quyen(Adept1, ba5ic): ConstancePhokas' Nentir Vale (Discord) | Seri(Druid1): Hunter_Orien's Saltmarsh
Xarian(Fighter3): Luna_Dust's Marks on the Map | Ophelia(Sorcerer2): BillM's Icewind Dale | Shin(Wizard1): Culuril's Strixhaven
Drift moves to the bar. He’s said little since his brief wander out in the dark and the snow, after some madness possessed him to let go of the knotted rope. Some cartographer he was.
Quietly, he makes his way to Scramsax while the others head to their own persons of interest. “6 silver I owe you, I’ll pay now. How much for a drink that’s a little warmer, a hot toddy?”
Marva, As you move closer, you see the guard from Targos turn and point at your group. The hubbub of the tavern makes it impossible to hear the words, but you can tell the conversation is one-sided, with the Targos guard doing all of the talking and the Speaker just nodding. You do not perceive any anger or even concern by the Speaker, with her keeping the same poker face and relaxed posture throughout the briefing.
Ellora and Ophelia, you recognize the guard - it is Zar'Dan, the same one who had been guarding the gnome! He quickly concludes his conversation with the Speaker and walks over to your table. "I volunteered to run here, another guard was told to run to Termalaine. Our jobs were to tell the Speaker in each town what happened in Targos and I told her the same as what you heard me tell earlier today. Speaker Shane did not seem concerned, as if a death in Targos bothers her little. He continues in a lower voice. The Speaker and Captain Skath were mighty upset the gnome died while I was protecting him, so it was best to for me to get out of their sight for a short time. They can have a might large temper that is not pleasant to be near. Not all guards survive the night message run, but this one was uneventful. He resumes in a normal tone that conveys concern for your well-being. I must admit that I was surprised to see you leave the trail. That is not a good idea any time but particularly at night. Taking unnecessary risks like getting separated from each other will complicate your search for Garret at Kelvins's Cairn. While he is talking to you, the Speaker leaves with only an enigmatic grin and slight nod of the head toward you, although you are unclear if it was directed to the group or Zar'Dan.
Ellora, What little you have heard about the Speaker is that she is bold, tough but fair, and still popular with the people of Bryn Shander despite the obvious difficult times they are going through. Dannika keeps interrupting your thought process and prevents you from listening in because she is bubbling with excitement by your report. She gets even more animated when the chwinga emerges from your hood. Dannika ignores your questions while asking her own and immediately fishes out of her pockets a number of items from her pocket. Soon enough, the little guy is playing with one of them, a small pipe, by blowing into it, which results in a high-pitched squeak and the chwinga's hair standing temporarily straight from the effort. Whether it is her enthusiasm or the pipe, the chwinga accepts Dannika as safe space and climbs up her coat to see her hair up close. Dannika laughs and says, Oh this is so worth it. I will be happy to pay you. Of course, I do not carry piles of gold on me, and it is too late to go and return tonight. I will meet here tomorrow morning at 0800.
Ophelia, the old dwarf looks up at you and says, Sit, child. Ye have seen and sensed much but more be to learn. Auril has supporters that act in the open and those the act behind a mask. Both be deadly and good ye did to defend yourself against one. Know there be more. Targos be not the only town in Ten-Towns that sacrifices people to Auril. Bryn Shander and Easthaven do as well. She nods and her eyebrows go up before she continues. Yes, even right here in paradise. The lottery be before a new moon. The unlucky person gets sacrificed at night. Left outside. No clothes. Usually a fast death, but not how I plan to go. The eyebrows go up even further as her voice lowers to a whisper. Some believe the lottery be rigged. I be one. And none of the three Speakers seem to want to act on that. But I would guess that Auril would. Hrmph! Hlin's voice and eyebrows return to neutral as she continues, I be too old for this business. There was once a time that I would have resolved this me'self but that time be gone. But you and your group might investigate. I have some leads. Interested might you be? It is not without danger, she concludes with a laugh. Your Insight tells you that she is telling the truth, even as she is laughing at danger.
Drift, your visit to the bar is productive. Scramsax takes your silver with the eagerness of a drowning man reaching for driftwood and shortly after brings you a mug that has steam streaming forth and curls your toes. One piece o'silver. An' you lot need space tonight? You get the stables for 7cp (squalid), a sheet in the common room for 1sp (poor), or a mattress in a semi-private room for 5sp (modest).
There is a brief feeling of disappointment when the chwinga so quickly accepts it's new place with the scholarly half-elf, but Ellora is also glad to see they seem to get along well. "We will meet you here at breakfast then." The young white-haired woman says with a friendly smile, trusting their client to not leave Bryn Shander at this hour to avoid paying what she now owes them. Another brief but friendly smile is offered the speaker as she leaves.
Ellora then turns her attention to the kind-hearted guard from Targos. "Thanks Zar'Dan, we'll try to stay on the road henceforth. Hope your run back to Targos will be safe and that the worst has blown over once you get there. We're planning to head out for Kelvin's Cairn tomorrow after breakfast, hopefully we will see you within a tenday at least back at Targos with Garrett and the others. For now, please stay and eat and drink with us and share some more news about the dale to a newcomer." She says with a friendly smile, offering to pay for the man.
Persuasion if relevant to get to share the latest rumours about Auril and other things going on in the ten towns: 5 (6 if relevant and using heroic inspiration :-P )
Once it seems that they are still welcome at the Northlook, Marva is happy to order the same steaming drink as Drift and some dinner (as she didn’t get the chance to finish her food in Targos hours ago). She requests a mattress in a semi-private room as well, and settles in at their table to just rest for a while with hot food and drink. Her previous career at the library did not fully prepare her for all this hiking about from one town to another and back again. She didn’t get a chance to meet Zar’dan, so she’s glad to see that he seems friendly enough. She enjoys seeing Dannika’s pleasure in engaging the chwinga, again wondering if the charming creature will be of any help in ending the relentless winter. She’ll listen to any gossip or conversation. If nothing of import occurs, she’ll be ready to head to bed.
Marva Stormavendrien - Level 1 Cleric - Rime of the Frostmaiden
(Librarian/Gamer/Knitter)
Drift will pay for the drink and a semi-private room with the others too. Waiting until they’re all together in semi-privacy and (if they choose to share) he’s heard the outcome of the other conversations, he speaks.
Drift has been gruff, bearded, coarse. A perfect ten-tower, except for a soft vaguely coastal accent. For this moment, all that affectation slips away.
“I am perturbed,” he says, “and I’ll miss our strange little chwinga friend, about the only heart-warming thing to have happened to us in this last day or two. I know we signed on for a job, and that job is accomplished now, but, unusually for me, I’m not inclined to go alone again.”
He hesitates; looks up at the ceiling.
“Before I came here, I was a scholar, as I’ve said. I worked in a knives out academic institute in Neverwinter, where the backstabbing turned out to be more literal than figurative. Shortly before I came to realise that truth, I felt like this. Like I had a target on my back, like a chill spirit was dogging my footsteps. I do not think our troubles will cease if we go our separate ways. I do not think our troubles will cease even if we leave the frigid north. I fear we have… I fear the eyes of the…”
But so fantastical is the thought that a malign goddess should look to them that the erstwhile academic cannot bring himself to utter it and he trails off and gives up on what he was saying. He notices he has been tapping his foot more and more rapidly as he speaks and stills himself as he finishes speaking.
"Interested, aye," Ophelia murmurs, almost transfixed as she listens to the elder dwarven woman. "As a snow hare is interested in the lynx."
She struggles to comprehend what Hlin is suggesting, her lavender eyes wide. "Is it that the cult of Auril slays those who compromise these sacrificial lotteries? Speaker Naerth seemed all too eager to accuse me of murder and thereby use me as the next sacrifice. Skipping the lottery altogether seems one way for him to rig it. But you are hinting that Alvin and the other ice blade victims rigged the lottery to have one of their enemies slain? Or to avoid being chosen themselves? And in so doing, incurred the cold wrath of the Frostmaiden's faithful? Either way, we, or at least I, shall follow your leads."
The recent killings of Icewind Dale begin to mingle in her mind with those she experienced with overwhelming sorrow all those months ago. So many dead... so very many... and why? For what were they slain? Ophelia had thought she knew, once, but now she finds she cannot remember.
Barn(Paladin1): Damian_May's Ereworn Under the Shadow | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest | Nivi(Rogue5): Erik_Soong's Netherdeep
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Quyen(Adept1, ba5ic): ConstancePhokas' Nentir Vale (Discord) | Seri(Druid1): Hunter_Orien's Saltmarsh
Xarian(Fighter3): Luna_Dust's Marks on the Map | Ophelia(Sorcerer2): BillM's Icewind Dale | Shin(Wizard1): Culuril's Strixhaven
Ellora, Dannika departs and the guard takes her place. Zar'Dan enthusiastically accepts your offer for food and a meal and is on his second ale before you think about the wisdom of feeding and watering an unchaperoned guard who has already completed his task. With arms and partially eaten food flying, he will gladly share stories about his fellow guards and rumors he has heard, but none of those shed any light on the gnome, the adventurers at Kelvin's Cairn, or other three murders. He says that he has heard people talk about Auril appearing as the Cold Crone, which is a huge bipedal creature with cloven hooves that stalks Icewind Dale. To further emphasize his point, he also relays the instructions that Auril has given to her clergy:
Cover all the lands with ice. Quench fire wherever it is found. Let in the winds and the cold; cut down windbreaks and chop holes in walls and roofs that my breath may come in. Work darknesses to hide the cursed sun so that the chill I bring may slay. Take the life of an arctic creature only in great need, but slay all others at will. Make all Faerûn fear me.
After some time, Zar'Dan will have drunk and ate his fill and excuse himself to go to the local barracks to sleep. Seven gods be with you as you search for Garret, he says appreciatively as he departs. Scramsax appears as if by magic, with his hand out and saying, "Two golds and three silvers, that be.
Marva, you pay for your food and lodging and enjoy the relaxing evening until you call it an evening. Drift soon joins you in the room with a melancholy disposition but excellent elocution. Orphelia, Hlin accepts your offer to assist and then departs without sharing any more information, saying only "Ye had enough shock for one day, I can tell. More can wait.
All, After a while of listening to people complain about the size of the snowbanks, both the temperature and number of people in the Northlook drop precipitously. Scramsax is no longer delivering any orders and only collecting coins from the few remaining people, so you find your way to whatever level of bedding you paid for and tuck yourself in for an uneventful night.
Month: Hammer, Day: VIII, Time: 0730
You emerge from your respective places of rest and reunite downstairs in expectation of Dannika showing up with bags of gold. During your usual wake-up process, you find you have new abilities. (OOC - Congratulations, you are now level 2! Pease adjust your sheets and RP changes.)
((Before))
Dvu sits down feeling exhausted from the trip, but nearby to hear Dannika and share in the excitement of the Chwinga reveal. He guffaws and chuckles at the sight of the little creature playing with the pipe and other trinkets. He looks up and catches the eye of the speaker, straightening up his posture and puffing out his chest to look respectable. He nods as well when she does, even if it wasn't meant for him. He looks over to check on Ophelia, counting her as his charge now, making sure she is safe and notes the conversation with Hlin, then turns back to the Chwinga antics.
Dvu looks over at what Drift has ordered and says "That looks good! I wonder if they have one of those for me.." He goes over to the bar and speaks to Scramsax, ordering a double hot toddy and a bowl of stew, then says "I'd like one of those mattresses in a semi-private room please. My back is a little sore after trudging through that last section of snow getting into town." After he's made his purchase, he lays his coin on the counter and returns to the table, carefully navigating and gently placing his bowl and drink down. (Removing 2 gold)
When Drift starts to speak, Dvu becomes locked in on what he is saying, turning his full attention to the artificer. "I... I think I know what you mean. Like, we have been marked? Like some, I don't know, evil eye is upon us? I wonder... maybe it is just a strange course of events, but I believe there is something to what you say." Then Zar'Dan begins, and Dvu begins to feel a tingling sensation up his spine to his neck. Thinking about prior observations, things said in an offhanded way, overheard comments at the bar... he listens with a keen interest.
That night he heads off to bed, finding the largest mattress that he can find, and he does not snore, just murmurs fitfully in his sleep, dreaming of a cloven hoofed creature, spraying solid ice and snow over every one of his clansmen in his village. He sees their faces frozen mid-scream, and then he wakes up, feeling warmer than he should for such a night.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
"Magical carpets?" The melodious lilt of a woman's voice drifts through the common room of the Northlook Inn the next morning. Her accent is foreign, at times throaty, other times musically sweet. She laughs affably, resplendent in diaphanous veils over a gown crafted from glorious cerulean and peacock blue silks. A large turban crowns her head, bedecked in gleaming pearls that cascade around her shoulders. An aquamarine jewel rests over her forehead, giving her the air of royalty or at least a station of considerable value. The only suggestion that she may have conceded to some degree of practicality, given the ever-present chill of Icewind Dale, lies in the subtle bulkiness of her voluminous apparel.
She addresses a young stable-hand bearing a broom, his eyes wide with wonder at this vision from a fairytale standing before him. And well might he gape - her exotic, luxurious attire, stands in stark contrast to the commoners that litter the streets of Bryn Shander, whose sartorial choices tend to favour function over form. A teasing smile curves her lips, and she gives him a wink. "No, no, no... we don't all ride about on them. Unless, of course, one is very important. And you seem quite the esteemable gentleman to me. I promise to take you for a ride on one the next time you visit Calimshan, my little rafayam."
He grins excitedly and waves at her to kneel down, whispering in her ear when she obliges. "A princess? Ah, this... this is a most, most complicated matter. How may Zuleikha explain? I am but a pasha's daughter. But through my oath, also a knight. A knight in the service of the great and noble Farnesslee, sultana of the ethereal city of Birun Bur. Long may she whirl through the skies!"
The stable-hand's eyes widen further.
"Yes, yes, my friend. A djawal, a knight. Do you doubt the truth of my words?" A playful grin forms on her olive-skinned face before it is replaced by feigned indignation. She smacks his broom sharply with the back of her hand, and snatches a large wooden ladle from a nearby table. "Raise your weapon, scoundrel. None may call Zuleikha yr Naqdissa yr Lahra el-Tarrashi a liar and live!"
She springs into action, her skirts whirling and spinning joyfully as she engages the boy in spirited combat. They trade blows, skipping over chairs, tumbling behind startled patrons clutching their breakfasts, until at last, she allows the boy to corner her by the stairs. He jabs her in the belly with his broom handle, and she gasps theatrically, a single glistening tear rolling down her cheek. "So it is... as the poets say... even the swiftest stallion may stumble upon a hidden knot of grass."
She staggers backwards melodramatically, without any notion of where she is going, or whom she might collide with. Scramsax, a patron, or perhaps even a member of a recently formed adventuring party coming downstairs for breakfast. "And thus... do I die." Zuleikha croaks, falling backwards into space.
Dvu at a table sits up with suddenly perfect posture, watching the goings on in the room. He elbows Ophelia and says “Getta load of this one! Never seen anyone like that! Where is she from?” Suddenly the morning coffee has become less interesting, he watches to see what will happen next. “Is this a play?”
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Ophelia had paid five silver for a semi-private mattress, only to offer it to Dvu so the goliath could double up on bed space. Because of course she herself does not require sleep. Only four hours of undisturbed elven trance. Which, as it happens, is not much different from her typical waking demeanor.
Unlike Dvu, however, Ophelia has been traumatized by far too much tragic death, both in her recent and more distant past, to be anything but horrified at the exotic woman's apparent demise, right here in the Northlook! All the more so because she had been gazing into the middle distance as she often does, lavender eyes unfocused and lips slightly parted, mumbling to herself about what lies hidden in the snows, not noticing that it was an act.
With an anguished cry, the she-elf rushes over to the seemingly fallen Calishite Knight and kneels before her, weeping softly and murmuring.
"To bear thee bare-faced on the bier,
Though snow, not sun grace the sky above,
And on your grave shed many a tear,
So fare thee well my desert dove!"
She might appear to be riffing along with Zuleikha's act, but those who know Ophelia would guess that she has been fooled and her sorrow is sincere.
Barn(Paladin1): Damian_May's Ereworn Under the Shadow | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest | Nivi(Rogue5): Erik_Soong's Netherdeep
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Quyen(Adept1, ba5ic): ConstancePhokas' Nentir Vale (Discord) | Seri(Druid1): Hunter_Orien's Saltmarsh
Xarian(Fighter3): Luna_Dust's Marks on the Map | Ophelia(Sorcerer2): BillM's Icewind Dale | Shin(Wizard1): Culuril's Strixhaven
Last night
Even though the kind targosian townsguard hasn't too much to share, Ellora still appreciates listening to him and takes note of his warnings about Auril and her deranged followers. She wasn't particularly pious, but following someone like the frostmaiden and work towards your own eventual demise made absolutely no sense to her, so what could they be but deranged. A clear danger to civilization and as such they should all be put down.
"From Neverwinter huh, well I guess I'm not surprised that a learned man like yourself didn't grow up in the dale." The young white-haired woman says with a curios smile. "While I don't quite feel everyone is out to get me, I too would prefer if we stick together for now. And perhaps together we can somehow end the endless winter and put a stop to these non-sensical sacrifices." She says with a reassuring smile.
Eventually Ellora too would retire. She missed the privacy of her own chambers at the host tower, but for now she would have to endure sleeping in the presence of others. At least there was warmth at the Northlook, something she would most likely greatly miss on the tundra the coming nights. Before turning in for the night she would spend considerable time with her book of magical spells, sensing new insights into the weave, but also making meticulous notes in her journal about the first day's events.
Next morning
Ellora would rise early with the others, going for a large breakfast if available. She curiously studies the unlikely new arrival, dressed like a highborn from the desert lands to the far south. At least it was most unlikely that the calishite lady was a follower of the frostmaiden, but coming to the dark and icy north must be a huge challenge to her, making the luskan wizard almost pity her.
"Considering her beautiful but quite impractical attire I believe she is from Calimshan, question is what she is doing this far north. Perhaps she would be interested in doing some honourable knightly deeds like saving good people from the deathly cold grip of the frostmaiden." Ellora suggests to the massive golaith before walking over to the new arrival. <
"Yes, she's like that, but to her defense, she has moments of clarity too, although they have been rare so far." The young white-haired woman explains to the calishite knight. "I'm Ellora and this here is Ophelia, perhaps you would care to join us at our table? Together with the others over there we're just about to brave the cold and venture forth to find some lost souls on the tundra." She offers with a friendly smile.
Before Zuleikha’s entrance:
Marva wakes from unsettling dreams and seeks out Ophelia at the breakfast table. “Good morning, I hope. I know other people’s dreams are of little interest generally, but I wonder if you would be willing to listen to mine. At first, I was overjoyed to find myself back in my library, looking through various books and scrolls. But before long a harsh wind blew through the room, scattering papers and scrolls into chaos. I turned and saw that through the door walked three ghoulish figures. I have never seen the victims, but I was sure it was them, and not just because they walked toward me with a dagger of ice in each one’s heart. It nearly froze my own when I saw Dannika Graysteel behind them with her own dagger piercing her chest! I stood, clasping my snowflake amulet and the one book I was able to keep hold of. I held them out before me. A great light burst from them and the victims quickly turned and moved from the room. Except Dannika who fell to the floor. I rushed over to try to help her, but then I woke. I wouldn’t normally put a lot of stock in dreams, but the events we have seen makes me wonder. I do hope that nothing has happened to Ms. Graysteel!” She listens to any response Ophelia or anyone else may give her.
After that conversation:
Marva shakes her head and stands to go ask Scramsax for more potatoes. She smiles to see the “battle” that has erupted and picks her way past it carefully. As the approaches the bar to speak to Scramsax, Zuleikha’s “death” causes her to stagger into Marva who quickly turns to catch her. When Ophelia rushes over in horror, Marva does her best to comfort her. “No, no, Ophelia, it is only an act. All is well. I hope. Ms. Zuleikha, please show her that you are well and only a wonderful actor!”
Marva Stormavendrien - Level 1 Cleric - Rime of the Frostmaiden
(Librarian/Gamer/Knitter)
The group responds in different ways to Zuleikha, with the end result of her being invited to join their group.
Marva, your approach to Scramsax results in the following response, Oh great, the Spuddies be back. Lemme gets ya' potatoes. The soon-to-be-but-not-yet-drunk town folks wandering in guffaw at his jest.
Oblivious to the truly splendiferously attired Zuleikas and unusually reserved, Dannika enters the common room precisely at 0800 and joins your group. She places a tote bag on the table and withdraws small sacks that each hold 25 gp. She hands one to each of you before frowning to ask, "Weren't there six of you? I have an extra." She shrugs upon learning that one did not stay with the group and returns that sack to her tote bag. In a businesslike tone that she has not previously used, she says, "Thank you for finding the chwinga. My research will be much more successful with its assistance. My patron is most pleased. Please keep the lantern as a token of our appreciation. It might assist you in your errands. Turning to Drift, Might I see your book. Possibly there is information I could translate for you that would assist you in your next quest. Only those who are about to depart physically or by way of alcohol are here so early in the morn, she adds as an explanation of her unsolicited offer.