Marcon lets out a mix of groan and a growl as he pushed himself into at least a seated position, and glared at Garet. "Not sure if yer bein' willfully forgetful, or just don't pay much attention... 'n quite frankly right now, I don't care if we're either or, since that green punk had to die as far as I'm concerned... but... As a reminder... 'n if it'll make you feel better, that... oversized lizard tried to EAT. US. The first time.. we encountered it." He states firmly in-between ragged breaths.
"No warning. No threats... No nothing. It straight up ate... my charge... 'n would've ate us too had it not wisened up... 'n realized... we're more trouble than we're worth back then." Marcon then forced himself to stand once more, and at least started to march up to Garet. And while the Firbolg had the height on him, the now scaley farmhand might stagger a bit from freshly healed muscles, but not falter in his staring down the mini-giant. "Smart enough to know... we were sentient.... smart enough... to... to have put up some kind of... sign for those entering its s'pose territory... which it didn't..."He paused there as much to catch his breath as it was to let the words sink in.
"But still tried eat ya... eat us... ATE oen of us... and accord'n to Mr. Rediroth, it was still young... What'cha think was gonna happen when it got older, huh? Bigger, huh? Phandalin is only a few flaps away... and far enough out of the way from big cities 'nd all that that... ain't noone was gonna really be able stop it... 'till it was too late.... 'nd unlike ya'll maybe-" He looks to the rest of the party before staring back up at the Firbolg.
"I don't got the years in me to watch 'n wait 'n 'pretend' the scaled punk would've gotten 'kinder' on its own."He states firmly. Unrepentant and just angry enough to ignore lingering aches and pains, Marcon called over in goblin for Stopit and Spit, so he could have a look at them; making sure there weren't no lasting injuries and what not.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
'It d..does w..what dragons do' Garet answers slowly looking straight into Marcon eyes. 'There are not m.many of h..his kind. Because of us.. One l..less'
He knees close to head of the monster and says short prayer ' Goddess of forest please lead soul of this powerful being to his ancestors '.
As he stands up'..s..so .. w..who wants a tooth ? '
Rigel pats Garret in empathy. "I understand your pain. It brings me no pleasure to have to kill another living being but I agree that some beasts, by their very nature, can not be allowed to remain. Especially if just being them selves causes danger and harm. Hopefully one day you'll be able to find a way to peacefully co- exist and then you can teach the rest of us and I would absolutely take a tooth. So dhould we see if there are any other trophies lying around?"
Rigel spots the beginings of what could have become a rather large dragon's hoard, had the wyrm been allowed to live. In the northeast corner of the tower, he finds a small chest standing open atop a pile of silver and gold coins. Inside the chest, he finds four silver goblets set with moonstones lying on their sides, nestled among more coins and a couple of arcane spell scrolls. Poking out from underneath one corner of the chest is the tip of an old rusty battle axe with dwarven runes incribed on the axe head.
TREASURE HOARD: 800 sp 150 gp 4 silver goblets set with moonstones 2 unidentified spell scrolls 1 unidentified battleaxe
After the ranger rifles through the contents of the chest in the tower, he begins to sort through the attached cottage. In the corner by the stove, sits a deep cooking pot containing a collection of ladles and stirring spoons, a rolling pin made out of obsidian, a cutting board (that has been broken in two to fit inside the large pot) a matching pair of quart and half-quart sauce pans, and a metal cook fire frame.
ITEM: a set of cook's utensils
Finally, Rigel peruses the scattered assortment of books and papers strew about the cottage. Most fall apart as soon as he picks them up, having become so faded that their script (which appears to be Common) is completely illegible. However, he does find four leather-bound volumes of damaged but readable quality:
BOOKS: "Stop Screaming At Me: How to Converse With Banshees" "Great Aracnidian Porrage" (a recipie) "Candlekeep: A Visitor's Guide" "Osteroth's Oratory: The Spoken-Word Poetry of an Unlikely Bard"
Vanzaren helps Rigel, and looks over her shoulder at the books. "Well, those are interesting," he says. It's clear once the shock wore off he's having great fun.
Garet's words fall on deaf ears in the case of the barbarian. As he draws out no look of sympathy or regret from the man prior to his eventual departure to check on the goblins. If close enough to overhear Rigel's comment however, he just mutters darkly under breath in some unknown tongue while finishing up checking over the goblins. Once secure in the knowledge that no last harming had been done to the pair, a touch of relief enters the farmhand's face as he pats -- tries to pat the pair on the shoulder and say, "Can't say I saw all ya'll did. Things are.. kind of hazy for me, but.. I think I saw enough to say ya'll did... very good fer yerselfs. So much so, I'm figure'n... ya'll deserve a reward."He grins, then rises and looks about at the devastation.
After eventually joining Rigel in searching the site, Marcon brushes off taking anything but coin, as nothing else appeared to hold his interest. Even the battleaxe, which he had for some time in secret wanting one the most, but finding now the thought of wielding any weapon... strangely repulsive. Even to the point of turning his nose up at the axe. Inevitably he wanders back over to the Dragon corpse, rubbing his chin.
"... Would probably be somehow ironic... if we ate... this green punk."He says to noone in particular. "Hey Rigel? Ya got a good carving knife on ya?" He calls over, ignoring any looks from the Firbolg.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Rigel pulls the battle axe from the shiny pile of coins. Turning it over in his hands he admires the craftsmanship and decoration. "You should go take a look," He says to Vanzaren without his gaze leaving the axe. He attempts to read the dwaven runes.
"If nobody objects I'd like to hold on to this." Gripping the haft solidly he tests the weight and balance by slowly twirling the axe head over and across his body, scooping it down past his left hip only to bring it up past the left shoulder and back across in front. A deft twist of the wrist and the blade cuts back down to past his right side and up past his right shoulder. At the apex of the battle axes swing he uses his free hand to snatch a hand axe from its place on his be!t. Working the axes over and under each other in repeating figure 8's he turns and approaches the fallen dragon. He snaps off several strikes at the carcass assessing the indexing and sharpness of the blade.
Dice check: 13 (to see if he can process some scales)
Once satisfied he finishes counting out the coins into equal piles, placing one of the piles in his own purse.
Ronk, Vanzaren, Rigel and Garet buzz with excitement as they examine the small hoard left behind by the dragon, though most of what was in the tower is partially (if not completely) covered in dragon blood and bits of entrails:
Rigel attempts to harvest some of the dragon's hide, but just as he had experienced as a clutch of rot grubs only minutes earlier, the dragon's carcass is simply to tough for him to punch through with his knife. He then turns his attention to the dwarvish axe in his hand...
Garet examines the set of cooking utensils, which appear dusty, rusty and dented but otherwise completely serviceable. His instincts tell him that even though there is enough dragon meat to feed them for days or even weeks, it is likely not safe to eat on account of this particular breed's poisonous nature.
Ronk finds a small tri-fold pamphlet stuck among the pages of his new poetry book. The flyer seems to be a short guide about the famed library at Candlekeep and how the common Faerunian can go about gaining access to the vast knowledge that is curated there.
Vanzaren's eyes sparkle as he examines the arcane scrolls found inside the small chest. He is not able to immediately identify the specific power they possess, but he is sure that with a little time he will be able to decrypt their magical ciphers and include these spells in his spellbook.
Marcon is too busy shaking off the fog and examining his new scars to pay much mind to the others as they converse with one another about the interesting new things they found in the dragon's keep. He looks out the window, and to his shock he sees a unicorn striding slowly up the path towards the tower. The celestial creature beams with radiance - grass spontaneously grows underfoot, wilting flowers immediately blossom and turn to face the creature as they would the sun. A small cluster of actual woodland animals accompanies the unicorn as it proceeds towards the party.
As he finish saying this plants roots from the ground and cover body of the dead beast. In few seconds roses that mimics colors of dragons sprouts from the roots
Rigel pauses his testing to consider Marcon's request but realizes its sarcastic nature and instead watches Garets ritual in silence and respect. Then collects his own tooth and, after rinsing off any poison residue, places it on the leather thong around his neck that holds his wolf incisor.
Uninterested in any of the other remains he steps outside for a moment to get some air. Any gore left unconverted by Garets ritual already starting to give off a putrid odor. He runs a hand over the head of the new axe. His fingers trace the dwarven runes etched into the weapon. "Hew" his lips whisper their meaning. Not all the rust seen upon first discovery belongs to the axe and seems superficial as it brushes off easily. It is as if it was possibly deposited there by other weapons in battles from long ago or items of lesser quality stored along side but outlasted. Testing the blades edge with his thumb results in a cut so fine it doesn't even bleed for a moment. As he walks around the perimeter of the small home marveling at the craftsmanship of the axe he can help but feel a little anxious. Not sure what might be causing his unease he closes his eyes and calms his breathing. Tapping into his primal awareness he tries to sense if anything has changed in the area since the last time. Especially now that the dragon had been defeated.
Primeval Awareness (PHB, pg. 92)
As an action, you can expend one ranger spell slot (1 minute per level of spell slot) to sense whether any aberrations, celestials, dragons, elementals, fey, fiends, or undead are present within 1 mile of you (or within up to 6 miles if you are in your favored terrain). This feature doesn’t reveal the creatures’ location or number.
(For now, I'll assume Marcon -at least- spoke to Garet before apparently not bothering with anything else.)
Marcon had to have rubbed his eyes at least twice over at the sight. When that fails to change anything about the sight, he looks to the ground in thought, then back to the approaching unicorn, and then over to the dragon corpse. After a good few moments of silence, Marcon just shakes his head and goes to find a spot far away from any windows to sit down. Along the way he mutters, "First the scales and visions and now this bull crap... I need to lay down."
Eventually, he sits down, back to the tower wall, and with his arms folded uncomfortably over his chest, closed his eyes for the beginings of a short rest. Or at least, until someone went out of their way to bother him about one thing or another.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Seeing everyone else start to do their own thing, Ronk sits on the floor and opens the pamphlet, making soft , grumbly thinking sounds as he starts to read.
A Brief History. Standing atop a rocky crag overlooking the Sea of Swords, the massive citadel of Candlekeep has endured the elements for centuries and defied the degradations of time. Visible for miles around, Candlekeep has an eye-catching silhouette: a high wall interspersed with towers. This wall encloses a large space from which more towers rise. Those who behold the edifice say it looks like nothing so much as a cake decorated with an overabundance of candles.
The entrance to Candlekeep is a double gate that stands at the end of the Way of the Lion, the only road that provides access to and from the outside world. The route follows a lonely path across the peninsula where Candlekeep stands. Those who gain entry discover a cloistered community of scholars milling around inside Candlekeep’s walls, a place of enlightened conversation and friendly debate. No better place in the Realms exists for those who have a love for or a need of knowledge and who want to pursue such interests alongside fellow seekers.
Candlekeep has the largest repository of written lore in Faerûn, including the collected prophecies of an ancient sage named Alaundo the Seer. Those compiled divinations make up a tiny fraction of the accumulated knowledge and secrets contained in the library’s vast collection. Not all knowledge preserved in Candlekeep is of historical importance. The library holds thousands upon thousands of lost recipes, old songs, collections of folklore, and journals written by folks whose time has long since passed. The abundance of these ancillary works makes finding notable tomes an exercise in patience and perseverance. Fortunately, a legion of scholars and sages called the Avowed look after the library and remain vigilant in the care and cataloging of all the knowledge it holds.
Gaining Entry.The required entrance fee for admission into Candlekeep is a work of writing not already collected therein. Those who show up at the gates without such a gift are kindly but firmly turned away. The enormous double gates of Candlekeep are three times the height of a human and wrought of black metal magically warded to foil attempts to damage them. Both doors are emblazoned with the sigil of Candlekeep. One of the two gates stands open far enough to admit visitors during the day, and the other is kept shut.
Bedecked in purple vestments, five Avowed priests of Deneir (god of writing) oversee the front gates, examining and discussing written works presented by hopefuls trying to gain entrance. If a question arises, the Avowed send a runner to consult with a sage in the library. The runner eventually returns bearing a missive of acceptance or denial. Visiting scholars experienced in this procedure often bring a selection of possible donations to ensure admittance. Despite the stringent entrance requirements, the Avowed do accept rare editions of tomes already in the collection, journals of those who recount unique or insightful experiences, or the odd work that has been annotated by a prominent scholar outside the library. Once granted admission, visitors quickly discover that it’s wise to assemble a “wish list” of works that members of the senior staff are interested in collecting, potentially reducing the guesswork of readmission on future visits.
Those admitted to Candlekeep, referred to as seekers, can request the assistance of an Avowed adjutant who acts as a guide and research assistant for the duration of their visit. This guide has access to all the resources of the library, with the exception of the vaults that contain the rarest and most dangerous works. Seekers can appeal to higher-ranking Avowed for permission to peruse these off-limits works.
Orders of Accordance. All who enter Candlekeep must agree to the Orders of Accordance, rules set forth by the senior staff to prevent misconduct. Violating one or more of these orders results in banishment from Candlekeep, and the banished are seldom allowed to return. The rules are simple:
No fighting. All arguments must follow the rules of cordial debate and discussion. Violent altercations are not tolerated.
No stealing. This rule applies to all objects in the keep, not just the library’s works.
No copying. Visitors are permitted to take notes while studying the library’s works, but anyone who wants to make a full copy of a work must pay to have the manuscript created by scribes at the House of the Binder.
No damaging, marking, or otherwise modifying the works. This rule doesn’t apply to privately owned books, scrolls, and other documents that aren’t part of Candlekeep’s collection.
Vanzaren doesn't seem very interested in the dragon's teeth, instead sitting down to start trying to decipher the spell scrolls. Hearing Ronk grumble he looks up. "Wanna trade?" he asks, holding up the spell scrolls and laughing.
"I have determined that the runes etched on this axe have dubbed it "Hew". Not only is it of fine craftsmanship but I feel its magical nature as well. It draws me to strike hard at items composed of wood and i feel a bit anxious as I near the forest. I think it shall serve me well. I thank you all for allowing me the honor of carrying it and I shall see that it serves us all well in the end. Now that the dragon has been vanquished what shall we do next? Should we head back to Phandelin with our spoils, Check on Gundren and be off to the cave see what we've nearly died for on multiple occasions or shall we direct our attention elsewhere?"
"Uh... ugh... well, to be honest, I don't feel comfortable seeking out the cave just yet. Don't feel like there's much of a point when the guy, er, dwarf most interested in it is down fer the count. 'sides, we still kinda still owe Mr. Rediroth over there for going out of his way. Ya'll trade what'cha did fer of course, but... bringing someone back is kind of back deal." Marcon expresses. "Besides, Mr. Rediroth already told us he's gonna be safe. But if ya wanna, we can check up on him once we leave... Which on that note, we should see to those culty fellas mentioned before." He said as he climbed back to his feet.
"Don't know if they had or plan to have any dealings with the dragon, this place, or the little shrubbery fellas we dealt with last. But the job here ain't quite done 'till they're seen to too, at the very least. Especially if we're gonna be leaving Gundren here for safety's sake." He added, getting in some last minute stretches. "Now, hopefully they'll see reason, or they ain't as shady as suspected. But if not-..." He trails off cracking his knuckles.
Marcon lets out a mix of groan and a growl as he pushed himself into at least a seated position, and glared at Garet. "Not sure if yer bein' willfully forgetful, or just don't pay much attention... 'n quite frankly right now, I don't care if we're either or, since that green punk had to die as far as I'm concerned... but... As a reminder... 'n if it'll make you feel better, that... oversized lizard tried to EAT. US. The first time.. we encountered it." He states firmly in-between ragged breaths.
"No warning. No threats... No nothing. It straight up ate... my charge... 'n would've ate us too had it not wisened up... 'n realized... we're more trouble than we're worth back then." Marcon then forced himself to stand once more, and at least started to march up to Garet. And while the Firbolg had the height on him, the now scaley farmhand might stagger a bit from freshly healed muscles, but not falter in his staring down the mini-giant. "Smart enough to know... we were sentient.... smart enough... to... to have put up some kind of... sign for those entering its s'pose territory... which it didn't..." He paused there as much to catch his breath as it was to let the words sink in.
"But still tried eat ya... eat us... ATE oen of us... and accord'n to Mr. Rediroth, it was still young... What'cha think was gonna happen when it got older, huh? Bigger, huh? Phandalin is only a few flaps away... and far enough out of the way from big cities 'nd all that that... ain't noone was gonna really be able stop it... 'till it was too late.... 'nd unlike ya'll maybe-" He looks to the rest of the party before staring back up at the Firbolg.
"I don't got the years in me to watch 'n wait 'n 'pretend' the scaled punk would've gotten 'kinder' on its own." He states firmly. Unrepentant and just angry enough to ignore lingering aches and pains, Marcon called over in goblin for Stopit and Spit, so he could have a look at them; making sure there weren't no lasting injuries and what not.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
'It d..does w..what dragons do' Garet answers slowly looking straight into Marcon eyes. 'There are not m.many of h..his kind. Because of us.. One l..less'
He knees close to head of the monster and says short prayer ' Goddess of forest please lead soul of this powerful being to his ancestors '.
As he stands up '..s..so .. w..who wants a tooth ? '
Rigel pats Garret in empathy. "I understand your pain. It brings me no pleasure to have to kill another living being but I agree that some beasts, by their very nature, can not be allowed to remain. Especially if just being them selves causes danger and harm. Hopefully one day you'll be able to find a way to peacefully co- exist and then you can teach the rest of us and I would absolutely take a tooth. So dhould we see if there are any other trophies lying around?"
Rigel will start searching the lair.
Perception: 13
**This Space for Rent**
Rigel spots the beginings of what could have become a rather large dragon's hoard, had the wyrm been allowed to live. In the northeast corner of the tower, he finds a small chest standing open atop a pile of silver and gold coins. Inside the chest, he finds four silver goblets set with moonstones lying on their sides, nestled among more coins and a couple of arcane spell scrolls. Poking out from underneath one corner of the chest is the tip of an old rusty battle axe with dwarven runes incribed on the axe head.
TREASURE HOARD:
800 sp
150 gp
4 silver goblets set with moonstones
2 unidentified spell scrolls
1 unidentified battleaxe
After the ranger rifles through the contents of the chest in the tower, he begins to sort through the attached cottage. In the corner by the stove, sits a deep cooking pot containing a collection of ladles and stirring spoons, a rolling pin made out of obsidian, a cutting board (that has been broken in two to fit inside the large pot) a matching pair of quart and half-quart sauce pans, and a metal cook fire frame.
ITEM:
a set of cook's utensils
Finally, Rigel peruses the scattered assortment of books and papers strew about the cottage. Most fall apart as soon as he picks them up, having become so faded that their script (which appears to be Common) is completely illegible. However, he does find four leather-bound volumes of damaged but readable quality:
BOOKS:
"Stop Screaming At Me: How to Converse With Banshees"
"Great Aracnidian Porrage" (a recipie)
"Candlekeep: A Visitor's Guide"
"Osteroth's Oratory: The Spoken-Word Poetry of an Unlikely Bard"
Vanzaren helps Rigel, and looks over her shoulder at the books. "Well, those are interesting," he says. It's clear once the shock wore off he's having great fun.
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
Garet's words fall on deaf ears in the case of the barbarian. As he draws out no look of sympathy or regret from the man prior to his eventual departure to check on the goblins. If close enough to overhear Rigel's comment however, he just mutters darkly under breath in some unknown tongue while finishing up checking over the goblins. Once secure in the knowledge that no last harming had been done to the pair, a touch of relief enters the farmhand's face as he pats -- tries to pat the pair on the shoulder and say, "Can't say I saw all ya'll did. Things are.. kind of hazy for me, but.. I think I saw enough to say ya'll did... very good fer yerselfs. So much so, I'm figure'n... ya'll deserve a reward." He grins, then rises and looks about at the devastation.
After eventually joining Rigel in searching the site, Marcon brushes off taking anything but coin, as nothing else appeared to hold his interest. Even the battleaxe, which he had for some time in secret wanting one the most, but finding now the thought of wielding any weapon... strangely repulsive. Even to the point of turning his nose up at the axe. Inevitably he wanders back over to the Dragon corpse, rubbing his chin.
"... Would probably be somehow ironic... if we ate... this green punk." He says to noone in particular. "Hey Rigel? Ya got a good carving knife on ya?" He calls over, ignoring any looks from the Firbolg.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Rigel pulls the battle axe from the shiny pile of coins. Turning it over in his hands he admires the craftsmanship and decoration. "You should go take a look," He says to Vanzaren without his gaze leaving the axe. He attempts to read the dwaven runes.
"If nobody objects I'd like to hold on to this." Gripping the haft solidly he tests the weight and balance by slowly twirling the axe head over and across his body, scooping it down past his left hip only to bring it up past the left shoulder and back across in front. A deft twist of the wrist and the blade cuts back down to past his right side and up past his right shoulder. At the apex of the battle axes swing he uses his free hand to snatch a hand axe from its place on his be!t. Working the axes over and under each other in repeating figure 8's he turns and approaches the fallen dragon. He snaps off several strikes at the carcass assessing the indexing and sharpness of the blade.
Dice check: 13 (to see if he can process some scales)
Once satisfied he finishes counting out the coins into equal piles, placing one of the piles in his own purse.
**This Space for Rent**
While Garet collects cooking utensils he stops for a second to think if it is safe to eat 'poison' animal and how to do it
Nature: 11 if Survival applies +7
Ronk leans over Rigel and Vanzaren. "Can I have a book? I'll share it."
Ronk, Vanzaren, Rigel and Garet buzz with excitement as they examine the small hoard left behind by the dragon, though most of what was in the tower is partially (if not completely) covered in dragon blood and bits of entrails:
Rigel attempts to harvest some of the dragon's hide, but just as he had experienced as a clutch of rot grubs only minutes earlier, the dragon's carcass is simply to tough for him to punch through with his knife. He then turns his attention to the dwarvish axe in his hand...
Garet examines the set of cooking utensils, which appear dusty, rusty and dented but otherwise completely serviceable. His instincts tell him that even though there is enough dragon meat to feed them for days or even weeks, it is likely not safe to eat on account of this particular breed's poisonous nature.
Ronk finds a small tri-fold pamphlet stuck among the pages of his new poetry book. The flyer seems to be a short guide about the famed library at Candlekeep and how the common Faerunian can go about gaining access to the vast knowledge that is curated there.
Vanzaren's eyes sparkle as he examines the arcane scrolls found inside the small chest. He is not able to immediately identify the specific power they possess, but he is sure that with a little time he will be able to decrypt their magical ciphers and include these spells in his spellbook.
Marcon is too busy shaking off the fog and examining his new scars to pay much mind to the others as they converse with one another about the interesting new things they found in the dragon's keep. He looks out the window, and to his shock he sees a unicorn striding slowly up the path towards the tower. The celestial creature beams with radiance - grass spontaneously grows underfoot, wilting flowers immediately blossom and turn to face the creature as they would the sun. A small cluster of actual woodland animals accompanies the unicorn as it proceeds towards the party.
Garet goes back to dragons body and carefully fallows veins and muscles of the beast. After pulling out few teeth
"S..sorry m..Marcon.. it..t is p..p..poisoned. We c..can't eat it"
He pulls his amulet of Mielikki and makes a circle in the air over body of the dragon "It is your my queen"
Plant Growth
As he finish saying this plants roots from the ground and cover body of the dead beast. In few seconds roses that mimics colors of dragons sprouts from the roots
"g...good bye dragon"
He tosses teeth to goblins
"y...your t..trophy boys"
Rigel pauses his testing to consider Marcon's request but realizes its sarcastic nature and instead watches Garets ritual in silence and respect. Then collects his own tooth and, after rinsing off any poison residue, places it on the leather thong around his neck that holds his wolf incisor.
Uninterested in any of the other remains he steps outside for a moment to get some air. Any gore left unconverted by Garets ritual already starting to give off a putrid odor. He runs a hand over the head of the new axe. His fingers trace the dwarven runes etched into the weapon. "Hew" his lips whisper their meaning. Not all the rust seen upon first discovery belongs to the axe and seems superficial as it brushes off easily. It is as if it was possibly deposited there by other weapons in battles from long ago or items of lesser quality stored along side but outlasted. Testing the blades edge with his thumb results in a cut so fine it doesn't even bleed for a moment. As he walks around the perimeter of the small home marveling at the craftsmanship of the axe he can help but feel a little anxious. Not sure what might be causing his unease he closes his eyes and calms his breathing. Tapping into his primal awareness he tries to sense if anything has changed in the area since the last time. Especially now that the dragon had been defeated.
As an action, you can expend one ranger spell slot (1 minute per level of spell slot) to sense whether any aberrations, celestials, dragons, elementals, fey, fiends, or undead are present within 1 mile of you (or within up to 6 miles if you are in your favored terrain). This feature doesn’t reveal the creatures’ location or number.
.
**This Space for Rent**
(For now, I'll assume Marcon -at least- spoke to Garet before apparently not bothering with anything else.)
Marcon had to have rubbed his eyes at least twice over at the sight. When that fails to change anything about the sight, he looks to the ground in thought, then back to the approaching unicorn, and then over to the dragon corpse. After a good few moments of silence, Marcon just shakes his head and goes to find a spot far away from any windows to sit down. Along the way he mutters, "First the scales and visions and now this bull crap... I need to lay down."
Eventually, he sits down, back to the tower wall, and with his arms folded uncomfortably over his chest, closed his eyes for the beginings of a short rest. Or at least, until someone went out of their way to bother him about one thing or another.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Seeing everyone else start to do their own thing, Ronk sits on the floor and opens the pamphlet, making soft , grumbly thinking sounds as he starts to read.
CONTENTS OF RONK'S PHAMPHLET:
CANDLEKEEP: A VISITOR'S GUIDE
A Brief History. Standing atop a rocky crag overlooking the Sea of Swords, the massive citadel of Candlekeep has endured the elements for centuries and defied the degradations of time. Visible for miles around, Candlekeep has an eye-catching silhouette: a high wall interspersed with towers. This wall encloses a large space from which more towers rise. Those who behold the edifice say it looks like nothing so much as a cake decorated with an overabundance of candles.
The entrance to Candlekeep is a double gate that stands at the end of the Way of the Lion, the only road that provides access to and from the outside world. The route follows a lonely path across the peninsula where Candlekeep stands. Those who gain entry discover a cloistered community of scholars milling around inside Candlekeep’s walls, a place of enlightened conversation and friendly debate. No better place in the Realms exists for those who have a love for or a need of knowledge and who want to pursue such interests alongside fellow seekers.
Candlekeep has the largest repository of written lore in Faerûn, including the collected prophecies of an ancient sage named Alaundo the Seer. Those compiled divinations make up a tiny fraction of the accumulated knowledge and secrets contained in the library’s vast collection. Not all knowledge preserved in Candlekeep is of historical importance. The library holds thousands upon thousands of lost recipes, old songs, collections of folklore, and journals written by folks whose time has long since passed. The abundance of these ancillary works makes finding notable tomes an exercise in patience and perseverance. Fortunately, a legion of scholars and sages called the Avowed look after the library and remain vigilant in the care and cataloging of all the knowledge it holds.
Gaining Entry. The required entrance fee for admission into Candlekeep is a work of writing not already collected therein. Those who show up at the gates without such a gift are kindly but firmly turned away. The enormous double gates of Candlekeep are three times the height of a human and wrought of black metal magically warded to foil attempts to damage them. Both doors are emblazoned with the sigil of Candlekeep. One of the two gates stands open far enough to admit visitors during the day, and the other is kept shut.
Bedecked in purple vestments, five Avowed priests of Deneir (god of writing) oversee the front gates, examining and discussing written works presented by hopefuls trying to gain entrance. If a question arises, the Avowed send a runner to consult with a sage in the library. The runner eventually returns bearing a missive of acceptance or denial. Visiting scholars experienced in this procedure often bring a selection of possible donations to ensure admittance. Despite the stringent entrance requirements, the Avowed do accept rare editions of tomes already in the collection, journals of those who recount unique or insightful experiences, or the odd work that has been annotated by a prominent scholar outside the library. Once granted admission, visitors quickly discover that it’s wise to assemble a “wish list” of works that members of the senior staff are interested in collecting, potentially reducing the guesswork of readmission on future visits.
Those admitted to Candlekeep, referred to as seekers, can request the assistance of an Avowed adjutant who acts as a guide and research assistant for the duration of their visit. This guide has access to all the resources of the library, with the exception of the vaults that contain the rarest and most dangerous works. Seekers can appeal to higher-ranking Avowed for permission to peruse these off-limits works.
Orders of Accordance. All who enter Candlekeep must agree to the Orders of Accordance, rules set forth by the senior staff to prevent misconduct. Violating one or more of these orders results in banishment from Candlekeep, and the banished are seldom allowed to return. The rules are simple:
No fighting. All arguments must follow the rules of cordial debate and discussion. Violent altercations are not tolerated.
No stealing. This rule applies to all objects in the keep, not just the library’s works.
No copying. Visitors are permitted to take notes while studying the library’s works, but anyone who wants to make a full copy of a work must pay to have the manuscript created by scribes at the House of the Binder.
No damaging, marking, or otherwise modifying the works. This rule doesn’t apply to privately owned books, scrolls, and other documents that aren’t part of Candlekeep’s collection.
Vanzaren doesn't seem very interested in the dragon's teeth, instead sitting down to start trying to decipher the spell scrolls. Hearing Ronk grumble he looks up. "Wanna trade?" he asks, holding up the spell scrolls and laughing.
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
THE PARTY TAKES A SHORT REST (2 HOURS)
Vanzaren identifies the spells scrolls as misty step and lightning bolt
Rigel identifies the axe as Hew
Marcon's:
--> Short Rest Healing(2): 12 HP regained.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Rigel comes back inside with a smile on his face.
"I have determined that the runes etched on this axe have dubbed it "Hew". Not only is it of fine craftsmanship but I feel its magical nature as well. It draws me to strike hard at items composed of wood and i feel a bit anxious as I near the forest. I think it shall serve me well. I thank you all for allowing me the honor of carrying it and I shall see that it serves us all well in the end. Now that the dragon has been vanquished what shall we do next? Should we head back to Phandelin with our spoils, Check on Gundren and be off to the cave see what we've nearly died for on multiple occasions or shall we direct our attention elsewhere?"
**This Space for Rent**
"Uh... ugh... well, to be honest, I don't feel comfortable seeking out the cave just yet. Don't feel like there's much of a point when the guy, er, dwarf most interested in it is down fer the count. 'sides, we still kinda still owe Mr. Rediroth over there for going out of his way. Ya'll trade what'cha did fer of course, but... bringing someone back is kind of back deal." Marcon expresses. "Besides, Mr. Rediroth already told us he's gonna be safe. But if ya wanna, we can check up on him once we leave... Which on that note, we should see to those culty fellas mentioned before." He said as he climbed back to his feet.
"Don't know if they had or plan to have any dealings with the dragon, this place, or the little shrubbery fellas we dealt with last. But the job here ain't quite done 'till they're seen to too, at the very least. Especially if we're gonna be leaving Gundren here for safety's sake." He added, getting in some last minute stretches. "Now, hopefully they'll see reason, or they ain't as shady as suspected. But if not-..." He trails off cracking his knuckles.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.