Rigor ponders the scroll as the company comes together. His mind still seeks harmony with the mystic energy of the ki newly accessible within him.
”I’m not having any revelation, but what if the claw on the bottom line refers to the evil smoke magic that rose into the sky earlier? The other symbols could mean that after witnessing it, he followed us from the sewer gate to the Blade and Stars, which would explain the delivery of this message here. The top line could mean he intends to meet us at the Elf Song Tavern. Others?”
Casta greets Fimrold with a smile when he wakes her from slumber. She feels warm and filled and radiates a scent of fine soaps, like she has been someplace glorious. As the night present enters her eyes, though, the reality of the current situation crowds out her slumbering peace. Remembering crashes in like an unwelcome tide.
"Thank you serenely Sorore. By your practiced hand, I may now stand fully and respond to the Vigilant's call. Ecce ancilla Deo."
She swings her feet to the floor and realizes the disarray her armor is in, haphazardly scattered about on the floor. Uttering a slight curse under her breath, she moves the boots to the foot of the bed in a pair then brings a vigorous wet cloth to bear on the blood soiled rings of the chain mail. Once cleaned to the ability of the cloth and dried, she sets the chain mail over the boots so the armor remains in a semi-upright position over the erect boots before attending to the helm and its plumage. She trims the feather to reduce obvious damage, but is crestfallen that she feels this pruning is but one of many to come. Where will her steps bring her? Will she follow in the path of the delicate feather? Will she be reduced by each coming sacrifice? She doesn't even have the strength to ask what this vision of a beckoning magical sword hovering over a blasted expanse may even mean.
Placing the tended helm atop the mail, Casta turns to the shield for a deliberate wash to the best the remaining water before placing it to the front of the mail leaning over the now organized kit. Then she brings up her spear collection and looks for the one bloodied in the first encounter with the night blade, then purses her lips as she remembers that particular spear lies abandoned in the sewers. Is she sad she has to leave this fight's first blood in the muck? Her soul is surprised in the satisfaction she was about to take in the blood of her foe.
Her careful gear maintenance ritual complete, she departs deliberate introspection and rejoins the activity of the party.
Once Rigor is finished with the parchment, Casta examines it for a moment, squinting perfect eyelids under perfect eyebrows. Head tilted in a way that would be otherwise alluring if she were not a paladin. . . and already married.
She steps back after a moment and looks over Cuspide Corona.
"Yokai is a man of few words, even less when a few words would do well. Elf ear. Music note. Mug. Elf Song Tavern has the peace. The second line, hey. Looks like a holy weapon to me at the end, sword gathered unto by a heavenly host. Blade and Stars here where we sleep is named after a scimitar. Yokai wouldn't draw a short sword when he meant a scimitar. Mahap invoking the Power for our twice dead but yet alive Halfling. That would be a magical sword." Casta catches herself as if remembering a key detail. "Hold. The sign's been stolen. Yokai might not know she's named for a stlarning scimitar from Amn. If that be troth, then mayap the last line is a warning. The hand of Myrkul's minions. Moving back inside the sewers. Leaving through the gate we locked. Heading here to Blade and Stars. On the hunt for a Paladin?!"
"If that is be truth, then we best get to the Elfsong well before deepnight. If a dead three kill team should visit the Blade and Stars, these keghands and hardjaws would fall to the man under the Lord of Murder's scythe. We've only a chance ourselves if we press them and retreat as needed. If we get pinned in like this, it may be our last day to breathe Sword Coast salt."
Murdoch takes some time to read Yokai's note during his watch. Elf ear, sixteenth note, tankard... that must indicate the Elfsong Tavern. Is that a bear claw? No, a hand; the symbol of our enemies. He tracked them under a gate... perhaps Baldur's Gate? And that's clearly the Blade and Stars.
"We need to head to the Elfsong Tavern and find the spy. I don't think the note we received has changed that." Murdoch says as he buckles his sword belt. "Is there anything we need to do to prepare?"
"Would you look at that....huh....it does appear to be the elf song and the Sword in Stars. Guess I missed that being sleepy and underfed. so the only thing I want to verify is whether the tracking leads to an assault here or not."
Feldinor will go inquire downstairs as to any underground access points in or near by the Sword and Stars.
"You're very welcome, Casta. The Broken God's mercy rests well upon you."
"I'm very concerned about the message that each of you are seeing in the second line. If any hidden way exists into the Blade and Stars, which is an ancient old building, we could be in danger even within its walls. If there's any truth to that, we should attempt to stay together more, and minimize the little excursions when possible."
Sorore steps away a moment over to her gear, and pulls out the battle axe leaning up against the wall behind her pack.
"Let's discuss what we know about the Elfsong Tavern before we head off. Some small insight might best inform our approach or tactics, perchance."
"Regardless, I think you'll want to keep better track of this on our next little journey, Belmort," Sorore says casually as she daintily holds out the large bladed weapon to him.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Casta watches Murdoch quickly lace his arming belt, ready in a flash. She gazes down at the 30 lb pile of metal she is proud to wear in battle. Such contrasts.
She carefully attaches her breeches to her belt and meticulously buckles on her greaves then laces tight her boots. She longingly thinks about sabatons and how they better protect the feet, especially when astride a valiant steed and ridding the wastes of goblins and kobolds in a thundering cloud of divine vengeance. Those are good days. Tonight is filled with shadow and deception and murder and desperation. The world is so much cleaner when all what is needed is a dozen rolling goblin ears.
After the lower half, comes the padded gambison and the chainmail hauberk followed by a still mostly clean acolyte's tabard. The hauberk is not a curiass, but at her rank in the Order, she doesn't exactly rate a cuirass and great helm. Even so, the Order rank gear draw traditions assume one will be fighting alongside fellow acolytes and principles in the field and not mucking about after sewer eaters with a vagabond band of well-meaning survivors. Alas, a Paladin cannot choose the time or situation of sacrifice, only to decide to enter in or step away. She chooses to enter in. ... ... again. The air begins to smell faintly of persimmon with a note of hydrangea. She finishes the practiced ritual by adjusting her necklace to outside her tabard with holy symbol of helm displayed prominently over her breast and a last polish of the other holy symbol on her shield.
Once properly adorned, Casta takes a moment to write out a small note and passes it to Feldinor with a coin. That complete, she dons her chainmail gauntlets and finally reaches for her array of weapons. She lingers on her longsword for a long moment beyond what is practical, almost caressing it.
"What do we know of the Elfsong? How about this? ... Its a joke, mayhap 'u've heard it before. (breath) A Paladin and a spy walk into a bar. (pause)Nothing happens. Not funny, but true anyway. Me thinks if we all just walk into a bar all at once near deepnight any spy there will hide under a table. I'm not about to hide my calling and I don't 'spec a spy to up and lay over for us. Like as not Feldinor go in first and find a corner stool and the nark and then lead us to another back room or alley or whatever a spy wants to talk in."
OOC: At last; I was getting worried that my response to all of the previous rolls before Feldinor's was going to amount to a foggy-minded debate as to whether it was the Elfsong or Elf Song Tavern, and if that uncertainty meant the company might end up in the wrong place... Details forthcoming!
OOC: At last; I was getting worried that my response to all of the previous rolls before Feldinor's was going to amount to a foggy-minded debate as to whether it was the Elfsong or Elf Song Tavern, and if that uncertainty meant the company might end up in the wrong place... Details forthcoming!
OOC: I secretly hope that "forthcoming" means at least by the fourth day of posting? Otherwise Feldinor has been in the state of a coma like trance for 4 days thinking hard about the Elf Song Tavern. almost mumbling to himself and drooling at the mouth. But I'm sure the insights will be well worth the wait!! ;)
OOC: Alas, “forthcoming” was entirely overstated! In less than an hour after publishing those fateful words (on a Sunday), I ended up with both a late response from EHS that said I needed not just their but also Sector Head approval for exceeding Maryland COVID policy on room capacity limits for visiting DVs coming to the Laboratory the next day, AND a message from OSD(RRTO) that they had to observe the technicality of certain technical proposals submitted by midnight, which I worked until, vice the next day. Good times…ugh. In any event…
The members of A Cuspide Corona gathered at the Blade and Stars consider their own knowledge of the Elfsong Tavern with evening now fallen over the city, and share what they know among themselves, with Fimrold’s recollections of it considerable, and Feldinor’s indeed exceptional.
The Elfsong Tavern is somewhat well-known among certain types of patrons familiar with the gray areas of the law in the City of Baldur’s Gate. A large, two-story building that was elegantly built in its time well-over a century ago, and now becoming slightly dilapidated, it features a ground floor taproom with a long bar, a large number of tables, and anonymous booths separated by hanging tapestries, all of it lit only by the sapphire-glow of blue driftglobes floating about near the ceiling. The upper floor is filled with a great hall for eating and gambling, ringed by private meeting rooms, which can be rented either by the candle—the time it takes a short taper to burn down—or by the evening, as well as a small number of guest rooms, from plain to luxurious.
Its name derives from an unusual haunting, a ghostly female elven voice heard periodically throughout the establishment. The singing in Elvish is quiet, but can be heard quite clearly, and is thought both beautiful and mournful. The identity of the singer is unknown, but it’s clear that her song is a lament for an unnamed lover lost at sea. No other music is permitted inside the Elfsong, and patrons stop speaking when the song begins.
The Elfsong Tavern serves virtually every kind of alcohol known. Its provender specialties include fish cakes, crab cakes, variously spiced melted cheese sandwiches and pickles, fist-sized twists of dried herring, a certain thick stew of renown constantly kept at a simmer in a huge cauldron, and loaf pudding soaked in syrup and covered in almonds. Tavernmaster Alyth, a half-elven man, has run the tavern for many decades, after inheriting the establishment from his mother. Alyth is also known to run a moneylending business on the side, offering such services to customers who gain his trust, or a glass of elverquisst wine to those he holds in high regard.
Well-armed patrons come to the tavern in the hopes of hearing the Elfsong, as well as for drinking, gaming, gambling, and business of all sorts, some of it doubtlessly illicit. It seems more popular with adventurers and independent operators than with the organizations of the underworld, however, who instead tend to gather at the Blushing Mermaid in Baldur’s Gate. Beyond the clientele, the Elfsong Tavern and its staff are well-defended, by both a gruff half-ogress and a living suit of plate armor.
Casta slings her spear quiver over her shoulder, and shoulders her adorned shield.
"Well armed patrons, then? That's clear enough for me. Mount up company. Yokai is out there waiting for us while we've been dreamstalking. Stick together on the road and make trail for the Elfsong. Lets mate up with this Fist clevershanks and see what he knows. Then we plan our next move. We go."
Rigor sets aside the black bow he has spent further time maneuvering in various manners to attempt working into his own martial forms. He considers the discussion, then slowly speaks up.
”I share your sentiments, sisters and brothers. I also think we should engage once there in a studied, deliberate manner. Casta, I think that means that one other than you, one not burdened with Helm’s holy mandates, should speak for the company with this spy.”
OOC: Look at me, getting lucky with the 500th post! :)
Sorore nods her head in agreement.
"Wisdom in your words, Brother Rigor. Might we first find tables or booths that can take us together, and then send those knowledgeable in the ways of such dealings, just a shout away, to seek out our contact? Ilmater knows we don't want to spread conflict and suffering farther than they already exist and grow right now."
Sorore otherwise readies herself for the evening's journey out into the city.
If you ask that I betray my owths by or while remaining silent, that I shall not abide. If you are asking that I let the others lead the conversation with the Fist's longtongue, that is well and right. 'Twill be easier if I don't have to keep my soul on guard for their compromises.
Casta heads down the narrow stairs, shield before her, relaxed but ready.
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers! After allowing a couple days' real time for any further conversation to pass, I'll go ahead and prompt the necessary consideration that's not been raised: how to get to/approach the Elfsong Tavern, in terms of both the manner and the actual way. To that end, I'll follow with a map to encourage that discussion so that you can finally move out!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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Rigor ponders the scroll as the company comes together. His mind still seeks harmony with the mystic energy of the ki newly accessible within him.
”I’m not having any revelation, but what if the claw on the bottom line refers to the evil smoke magic that rose into the sky earlier? The other symbols could mean that after witnessing it, he followed us from the sewer gate to the Blade and Stars, which would explain the delivery of this message here. The top line could mean he intends to meet us at the Elf Song Tavern. Others?”
Casta greets Fimrold with a smile when he wakes her from slumber. She feels warm and filled and radiates a scent of fine soaps, like she has been someplace glorious. As the night present enters her eyes, though, the reality of the current situation crowds out her slumbering peace. Remembering crashes in like an unwelcome tide.
"Thank you serenely Sorore. By your practiced hand, I may now stand fully and respond to the Vigilant's call. Ecce ancilla Deo."
She swings her feet to the floor and realizes the disarray her armor is in, haphazardly scattered about on the floor. Uttering a slight curse under her breath, she moves the boots to the foot of the bed in a pair then brings a vigorous wet cloth to bear on the blood soiled rings of the chain mail. Once cleaned to the ability of the cloth and dried, she sets the chain mail over the boots so the armor remains in a semi-upright position over the erect boots before attending to the helm and its plumage. She trims the feather to reduce obvious damage, but is crestfallen that she feels this pruning is but one of many to come. Where will her steps bring her? Will she follow in the path of the delicate feather? Will she be reduced by each coming sacrifice? She doesn't even have the strength to ask what this vision of a beckoning magical sword hovering over a blasted expanse may even mean.
Placing the tended helm atop the mail, Casta turns to the shield for a deliberate wash to the best the remaining water before placing it to the front of the mail leaning over the now organized kit. Then she brings up her spear collection and looks for the one bloodied in the first encounter with the night blade, then purses her lips as she remembers that particular spear lies abandoned in the sewers. Is she sad she has to leave this fight's first blood in the muck? Her soul is surprised in the satisfaction she was about to take in the blood of her foe.
Her careful gear maintenance ritual complete, she departs deliberate introspection and rejoins the activity of the party.
Once Rigor is finished with the parchment, Casta examines it for a moment, squinting perfect eyelids under perfect eyebrows. Head tilted in a way that would be otherwise alluring if she were not a paladin. . . and already married.
She steps back after a moment and looks over Cuspide Corona.
"Yokai is a man of few words, even less when a few words would do well. Elf ear. Music note. Mug. Elf Song Tavern has the peace. The second line, hey. Looks like a holy weapon to me at the end, sword gathered unto by a heavenly host. Blade and Stars here where we sleep is named after a scimitar. Yokai wouldn't draw a short sword when he meant a scimitar. Mahap invoking the Power for our twice dead but yet alive Halfling. That would be a magical sword." Casta catches herself as if remembering a key detail. "Hold. The sign's been stolen. Yokai might not know she's named for a stlarning scimitar from Amn. If that be troth, then mayap the last line is a warning. The hand of Myrkul's minions. Moving back inside the sewers. Leaving through the gate we locked. Heading here to Blade and Stars. On the hunt for a Paladin?!"
"If that is be truth, then we best get to the Elfsong well before deepnight. If a dead three kill team should visit the Blade and Stars, these keghands and hardjaws would fall to the man under the Lord of Murder's scythe. We've only a chance ourselves if we press them and retreat as needed. If we get pinned in like this, it may be our last day to breathe Sword Coast salt."
------------
Any perception change from an Insight check?
Insight 10
Murdoch takes some time to read Yokai's note during his watch. Elf ear, sixteenth note, tankard... that must indicate the Elfsong Tavern. Is that a bear claw? No, a hand; the symbol of our enemies. He tracked them under a gate... perhaps Baldur's Gate? And that's clearly the Blade and Stars.
"We need to head to the Elfsong Tavern and find the spy. I don't think the note we received has changed that." Murdoch says as he buckles his sword belt. "Is there anything we need to do to prepare?"
"Would you look at that....huh....it does appear to be the elf song and the Sword in Stars. Guess I missed that being sleepy and underfed. so the only thing I want to verify is whether the tracking leads to an assault here or not."
Feldinor will go inquire downstairs as to any underground access points in or near by the Sword and Stars.
Investigation 7
EDIT: "well apparently my suspensions are unnecessary. shall we head off to the elf song?"
"You're very welcome, Casta. The Broken God's mercy rests well upon you."
"I'm very concerned about the message that each of you are seeing in the second line. If any hidden way exists into the Blade and Stars, which is an ancient old building, we could be in danger even within its walls. If there's any truth to that, we should attempt to stay together more, and minimize the little excursions when possible."
Sorore steps away a moment over to her gear, and pulls out the battle axe leaning up against the wall behind her pack.
"Let's discuss what we know about the Elfsong Tavern before we head off. Some small insight might best inform our approach or tactics, perchance."
History 6
"Regardless, I think you'll want to keep better track of this on our next little journey, Belmort," Sorore says casually as she daintily holds out the large bladed weapon to him.
Casta watches Murdoch quickly lace his arming belt, ready in a flash. She gazes down at the 30 lb pile of metal she is proud to wear in battle. Such contrasts.
She carefully attaches her breeches to her belt and meticulously buckles on her greaves then laces tight her boots. She longingly thinks about sabatons and how they better protect the feet, especially when astride a valiant steed and ridding the wastes of goblins and kobolds in a thundering cloud of divine vengeance. Those are good days. Tonight is filled with shadow and deception and murder and desperation. The world is so much cleaner when all what is needed is a dozen rolling goblin ears.
After the lower half, comes the padded gambison and the chainmail hauberk followed by a still mostly clean acolyte's tabard. The hauberk is not a curiass, but at her rank in the Order, she doesn't exactly rate a cuirass and great helm. Even so, the Order rank gear draw traditions assume one will be fighting alongside fellow acolytes and principles in the field and not mucking about after sewer eaters with a vagabond band of well-meaning survivors. Alas, a Paladin cannot choose the time or situation of sacrifice, only to decide to enter in or step away. She chooses to enter in. ... ... again. The air begins to smell faintly of persimmon with a note of hydrangea. She finishes the practiced ritual by adjusting her necklace to outside her tabard with holy symbol of helm displayed prominently over her breast and a last polish of the other holy symbol on her shield.
Once properly adorned, Casta takes a moment to write out a small note and passes it to Feldinor with a coin. That complete, she dons her chainmail gauntlets and finally reaches for her array of weapons. She lingers on her longsword for a long moment beyond what is practical, almost caressing it.
"What do we know of the Elfsong? How about this? ... Its a joke, mayhap 'u've heard it before. (breath) A Paladin and a spy walk into a bar. (pause) Nothing happens. Not funny, but true anyway. Me thinks if we all just walk into a bar all at once near deepnight any spy there will hide under a table. I'm not about to hide my calling and I don't 'spec a spy to up and lay over for us. Like as not Feldinor go in first and find a corner stool and the nark and then lead us to another back room or alley or whatever a spy wants to talk in."
---------------------------------
Does Casta know anything about the Elfsong?
History 0
Edit: AWESOME!! I was wondering when I'd roll a 0 on something!
History 5
Guess I will try does Belmort know anything about Elfsong?
History: 2
"oooh oooh are we playing trivia games about Elf Song Tavern?! let me try"
History 7
OOC: At last; I was getting worried that my response to all of the previous rolls before Feldinor's was going to amount to a foggy-minded debate as to whether it was the Elfsong or Elf Song Tavern, and if that uncertainty meant the company might end up in the wrong place... Details forthcoming!
Fimrold strokes his beard and lets out a low murmur as he thinks of the Elf Song Tavern.
History:
24
OOC: I secretly hope that "forthcoming" means at least by the fourth day of posting? Otherwise Feldinor has been in the state of a coma like trance for 4 days thinking hard about the Elf Song Tavern. almost mumbling to himself and drooling at the mouth. But I'm sure the insights will be well worth the wait!! ;)
OOC: Alas, “forthcoming” was entirely overstated! In less than an hour after publishing those fateful words (on a Sunday), I ended up with both a late response from EHS that said I needed not just their but also Sector Head approval for exceeding Maryland COVID policy on room capacity limits for visiting DVs coming to the Laboratory the next day, AND a message from OSD(RRTO) that they had to observe the technicality of certain technical proposals submitted by midnight, which I worked until, vice the next day. Good times…ugh. In any event…
The members of A Cuspide Corona gathered at the Blade and Stars consider their own knowledge of the Elfsong Tavern with evening now fallen over the city, and share what they know among themselves, with Fimrold’s recollections of it considerable, and Feldinor’s indeed exceptional.
The Elfsong Tavern is somewhat well-known among certain types of patrons familiar with the gray areas of the law in the City of Baldur’s Gate. A large, two-story building that was elegantly built in its time well-over a century ago, and now becoming slightly dilapidated, it features a ground floor taproom with a long bar, a large number of tables, and anonymous booths separated by hanging tapestries, all of it lit only by the sapphire-glow of blue driftglobes floating about near the ceiling. The upper floor is filled with a great hall for eating and gambling, ringed by private meeting rooms, which can be rented either by the candle—the time it takes a short taper to burn down—or by the evening, as well as a small number of guest rooms, from plain to luxurious.
Its name derives from an unusual haunting, a ghostly female elven voice heard periodically throughout the establishment. The singing in Elvish is quiet, but can be heard quite clearly, and is thought both beautiful and mournful. The identity of the singer is unknown, but it’s clear that her song is a lament for an unnamed lover lost at sea. No other music is permitted inside the Elfsong, and patrons stop speaking when the song begins.
The Elfsong Tavern serves virtually every kind of alcohol known. Its provender specialties include fish cakes, crab cakes, variously spiced melted cheese sandwiches and pickles, fist-sized twists of dried herring, a certain thick stew of renown constantly kept at a simmer in a huge cauldron, and loaf pudding soaked in syrup and covered in almonds. Tavernmaster Alyth, a half-elven man, has run the tavern for many decades, after inheriting the establishment from his mother. Alyth is also known to run a moneylending business on the side, offering such services to customers who gain his trust, or a glass of elverquisst wine to those he holds in high regard.
Well-armed patrons come to the tavern in the hopes of hearing the Elfsong, as well as for drinking, gaming, gambling, and business of all sorts, some of it doubtlessly illicit. It seems more popular with adventurers and independent operators than with the organizations of the underworld, however, who instead tend to gather at the Blushing Mermaid in Baldur’s Gate. Beyond the clientele, the Elfsong Tavern and its staff are well-defended, by both a gruff half-ogress and a living suit of plate armor.
Casta slings her spear quiver over her shoulder, and shoulders her adorned shield.
"Well armed patrons, then? That's clear enough for me. Mount up company. Yokai is out there waiting for us while we've been dreamstalking. Stick together on the road and make trail for the Elfsong. Lets mate up with this Fist clevershanks and see what he knows. Then we plan our next move. We go."
Feldinor pops up and gears up for a night on the streets.
"Sounds good. I can take scout point."
Rigor sets aside the black bow he has spent further time maneuvering in various manners to attempt working into his own martial forms. He considers the discussion, then slowly speaks up.
”I share your sentiments, sisters and brothers. I also think we should engage once there in a studied, deliberate manner. Casta, I think that means that one other than you, one not burdened with Helm’s holy mandates, should speak for the company with this spy.”
OOC: Look at me, getting lucky with the 500th post! :)
Sorore nods her head in agreement.
"Wisdom in your words, Brother Rigor. Might we first find tables or booths that can take us together, and then send those knowledgeable in the ways of such dealings, just a shout away, to seek out our contact? Ilmater knows we don't want to spread conflict and suffering farther than they already exist and grow right now."
Sorore otherwise readies herself for the evening's journey out into the city.
If you ask that I betray my owths by or while remaining silent, that I shall not abide. If you are asking that I let the others lead the conversation with the Fist's longtongue, that is well and right. 'Twill be easier if I don't have to keep my soul on guard for their compromises.
Casta heads down the narrow stairs, shield before her, relaxed but ready.
OOC: Good Evening, Adventurers! After allowing a couple days' real time for any further conversation to pass, I'll go ahead and prompt the necessary consideration that's not been raised: how to get to/approach the Elfsong Tavern, in terms of both the manner and the actual way. To that end, I'll follow with a map to encourage that discussion so that you can finally move out!