Your group finds themselves in a grey and rainy roadside town in a damp and dreary tavern called the Iron Light Inn. The clientele is typical for a mountain stop like this: traders on their way from town to town, miners spending their earnings on a night of drinks, gamblers trying to make a quick profit, and adventurers looking for a new job, like ourselves. You find a table and settle yourselves down for the evening as the constant drone of rain of the old wood roof fills the relative silence.
Uri keeps the hood of his cloak up, a discretion born from necessity rather than comfort. Nevertheless, his 7' stature and bulk is not inobvious in the small room. As usual he defers to his liege, the knight Sir Gadston, before sitting himself. He produces a small knife - tiny in his large, hairy hands - and a piece of wood and begins to whittle at it. Surreptitiously, he whisks a crumb from the table into an inside pocket, whispering "Somat fer Muss".
Walking in, Sir Gadston will remove his wet cloak and shake it out a little. He will then place it close to whatever fire there is if any. Other than that he will find a place to hang it be it hook or the back of a chair. With a trained eye he will look around the room taking in what information there may be. He will sit with the party, giving a smile to each of them.
"Grand soft evening." he says as he looks around. seeing Uri's apparent apprehension he will say "It will be fine my friend. These fine folk are just here to drink and gamble and maybe even get a story they can share among themselves for the next few days." he says with a smile.
Gadston will look around for a bar maid or the tavern server and ask for something warm and maybe spicy to drink to "shake off the wet of the day."
Gadston will then look around the room, smile and nod at whomever looks his way and just take in the ambiance of the room.
Outwardly, Uri relaxes as it seems - for now at least - his bestial appearance has not attracted untoward attention. "Ay, m'lud" he acknowledges deferentially. It would be a foolhardy soul indeed to create trouble in front of Sir Gadston Grandspear and his companions.
Inside, he is ever a coiled serpent; a wary yellow eye casts about the other patrons.
Dench Thokk shakes the rain and chill off as he enters the inn. His colleagues are easy to spot, and he moves towards them, only vaguely aware of the traders and miners around him.
"Uri," he says as he sit across the table. "Gadston." Drops of water swim down his face and around his tusks. He wipes them off as best he can, sighs. Like Gadston, he orders something warm. "Tea if you have it," he says to the server.
He holds the holy symbol chained close around his neck for moment. It looks bit like a scared unblinking eye, a bit like a road traveling into a sunrise. "Lathander, Lord of Beginnings, bless us," he says to himself. "What have we heard then? Any news of work?" he says to the others.
Your table is close to the fireplace, the only stone structure in the Iron Light Inn, and the low crackling fire begins to slowly dry your garb. A young dwarf with a patchy beard hustles over to your table after delivering a tray of frothy ales to a couple bleak looking humans playing a card game. He takes Sir Gadston's order and waits timidly for an order from Uri. Dench catches the waiter with his order just before he leaves to fetch drinks.
Your toddy and tea are fairly bland but warm and refreshing. The night precedes uneventfully with strangers coming and going but all of little interest. Until a frail human woman with stingy white hair and a dark grey cloak approaches your table. She stares across the table, looking toward the fireplace when she begins to speak in a low soft voice.
"Are you folk adventurers? Capable, brave, pious? Willing to help an old woman who is willing to pay?" She produces a small silver-lined jewelry box from her cloak, opening it briefly to reveal a small assortment of glittering treasures. "Tell me, what do you know of death noble adventures?"
Gadston smiles mildly at the old woman gets up and offers her his seat "Sit old mother, you must be tired from life's journey." he says as he beckons her to sit down. "Piety and nobility were never my strong points though I feel I am capable enough, as are my companions. Tell us your tale and why you would sell your treasures to strangers on the road." he pauses then continues, What would you have us do?" he asks.
Having been wary at Master Thokk's invocation to Lathander, lest the Gods feel bothered enough by mortals to start paying them attention, Uri winces at the mention of piety. Not least because the shinies in the jewelry box had caught his eye. Were they just glass, or were those real gems? It would be a simple matter to distract the elderly woman and take a sample to examine later, but Uri knows that would displease the knight and the cleric. Maybe the Gods too, if truly they were watching, and they mightn't be so easy to fool.
Instead, he sips on the small mead he had availed of the dwarven barkeep and awaits the woman's tale.
Dench carefully sets his cup back on its saucer. "Yes," he says to the elderly woman, "tells us you name and what ails you. Begin your story and we will see how we can add to it."
"As far as death," he says and lays one hand flat on the table next to his tea. He looks at it, then up at her. "Death is the night before Lathander's dawn. I've given the gift of that darkness. We know it. How does it worry you?"
Uri's eyes narrow to slits, the back of his head resting against the wall behind the chair. The occasional feral twitch of an ear is all that shows he is still alert, taking in everything that happens in the inn with his other senses.
His mind wanders to adventures past. The first time he had seen Master Thokk drain the corrupted life-blood of a cultist, intent upon unleashing Tiamat upon the realm. Or when the cleric had decimated a walking wall of death incarnate, scattering their desiccated bones so as to never rise again. Verily, it did not pay to annoy Gods, nor those who channel their power. And Sir Gadston himself, who fought with both fire and steel imbued with unnatural wrath; a nobleman by birth who spoke the language of goblins, his own native tongue. He, Uri, was strong, but also far nimbler than his looks gave rise to expect. Mostly, his skills lay in not being seen or heard at all - until it was too late. Indeed, his liege had employed him for exactly the kind of tasks that a noble would not wish to be caught doing. Not that Uri would ever be caught - not again. There was no going back to that life, whatever the cost.
Gavyn sits in the dark, only the glow of his pipe lighting up his face every time he puffs. He sits back away from the others, but listens intently to the woman as she talks.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
Kellen Rivian(Level 12 Lore Bard)- Ghosts of Saltmarsh (cbaer8)
Ruven Gilrel (Level 4 Bladesinger)- The Shattered Obelisk
Direcris curses under his breath as he finally reaches the inn. He would not blame the others if they were to leave him behind. He should not have stayed so long with...
He enters the inn and finds the others. He is surprised to see a stranger with them, but is more intent on reaching the fire. He gives a short bow to the woman and nods to the others. He takes a moment to check that his spellbook has not suffered before signaling for the barkeep. He ignores any curious glances that are sent his way. Let them linger on the fact he is Dragonborn. He could give them more to be ill at ease with.
As the Dragonborn enters, Uri ponders how a species so alien in appearance to humans attracts merely curious glances, whereas he himself might attract a pitchfork-wielding mob. Best to stay unnoticed, like Gavyn. Though without the foul-smelling pipe. Uri wonders if the man realises how far the scent carries, or how bright the glow is to those whose eyes are more accustomed to darkness.
The woman gladly takes the seat offered to her by Gadston and eases herself to the table. She gives a wry smile to the incoming dragonborn then pauses to collect her thoughts. "May name is Idina, and you are right my orcish friend. Death is a gift for some. Others are cursed to live without it. Some choose this curse and others are simply victims of fate." She again digs into the folds of her cloak this time to retrieve a black crystal ball. It glows ever so faintly from pinpricks of light within it, a miniature constellation.
"In the mountains there is a river, and on that river a tower. This tower is a place of history, of stars, and of books. That is what I need from you." She taps the crystal ball and a faint line lights around six of the stars, forming a sickle. "The book with this symbol, is the gift I ask of you."
She makes eye contact with each of you for the first time, and you feel the chill of the rain briefly return before her face takes on a more pleasant countenance "No need to hurry though, it'll be there in the daylight as well. After all life is a gift too, and it has been awhile since this old woman has smoked a pipe or had some mead."
Gadston takes a drink while mulling over what the old woman has said. "Theft?" he finally says. "You wish us to steal a book?" he asks, his right eyebrow raised a bit as he does.
Gadston places his hand over his mouth and large mustache and combs his mustache with his hand. He clears his throat.
"Does this book then give the curse of an undying life you mentioned?" his voice a bit uneasy. "And what claim do you have on this book and this curse of an undying life?" he asks bluntly.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Dench sits up, focused. Did the woman imply she was undying? Uri would have sensed decay, wouldn't he? Gadston's questions were good ones. "Or does the book take the curse of deathlessness away?" Dench asks her. If she is this brazen, here at night in the inn, she must be powerful.
He touches his holy symbol and checks his own perceptions of the woman: 10
Gavyn makes no move, but his interest is piqued. It had been a while since he'd been involved in a good heist...though this seemed more a delve into a dangerous tower. Nonetheless, he'd made his decision. The only outward sign was an increase in pipe smoke.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
Kellen Rivian(Level 12 Lore Bard)- Ghosts of Saltmarsh (cbaer8)
Ruven Gilrel (Level 4 Bladesinger)- The Shattered Obelisk
The affable dwarf takes Direcris's order and returns swiftly with the mead. Idina takes a sip and smiles slightly before responding, "Do not speak of theft dear knight. The book and the tower have long since been abandoned by its true owners. And rest easy, the book does not grant this curse." Turning to Dench she continues, "It seems your god has granted you some degree of wisdom, or prescience perhaps. For some this book is certainly the key to a real death."
Watching her, Dench doesn't see clear signs of undeath on Idina. Her skin is corpse like but flushes with blood as she drinks; she rarely seems to blink but her eyes are clear and focused. Something is strange about her, but it's hard to say on which side of the mortal coil she stands.
She again stares into the fire. "The creatures of the tower now have no right to the book, though they would claim it. They are beings of night, shadow, and ether. Dead and cruel things. They stalk the place, posing as researchers and wardens of knowledge, but they evil imitations. I implore you adventurers, retrieve this item for me." She leaves the black crystal ball in the center of the table. "Please take this trinket, it can lead you."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"You haven't quite explained your claim on the book, dear lady," Dench says. "Though I am inclined to seek it, if for no other reason than to discover its relation to the Dawn." It cannot, for example, be allowed to interfere with the Dawn Lord's work, he thinks. "You can be found here, should we take this task upon us?"
He watches her carefully, hoping for insight into her motives: 28.
Dench also looks to his colleagues, Direcris, Gavyn, Gadston, and Uri. He trusts them and their collective judgement, especially where tasks like this one are concerned.
Your group finds themselves in a grey and rainy roadside town in a damp and dreary tavern called the Iron Light Inn. The clientele is typical for a mountain stop like this: traders on their way from town to town, miners spending their earnings on a night of drinks, gamblers trying to make a quick profit, and adventurers looking for a new job, like ourselves. You find a table and settle yourselves down for the evening as the constant drone of rain of the old wood roof fills the relative silence.
Uri keeps the hood of his cloak up, a discretion born from necessity rather than comfort. Nevertheless, his 7' stature and bulk is not inobvious in the small room. As usual he defers to his liege, the knight Sir Gadston, before sitting himself. He produces a small knife - tiny in his large, hairy hands - and a piece of wood and begins to whittle at it. Surreptitiously, he whisks a crumb from the table into an inside pocket, whispering "Somat fer Muss".
Sir Gadston
Walking in, Sir Gadston will remove his wet cloak and shake it out a little. He will then place it close to whatever fire there is if any. Other than that he will find a place to hang it be it hook or the back of a chair. With a trained eye he will look around the room taking in what information there may be. He will sit with the party, giving a smile to each of them.
"Grand soft evening." he says as he looks around. seeing Uri's apparent apprehension he will say "It will be fine my friend. These fine folk are just here to drink and gamble and maybe even get a story they can share among themselves for the next few days." he says with a smile.
Gadston will look around for a bar maid or the tavern server and ask for something warm and maybe spicy to drink to "shake off the wet of the day."
Gadston will then look around the room, smile and nod at whomever looks his way and just take in the ambiance of the room.
Outwardly, Uri relaxes as it seems - for now at least - his bestial appearance has not attracted untoward attention. "Ay, m'lud" he acknowledges deferentially. It would be a foolhardy soul indeed to create trouble in front of Sir Gadston Grandspear and his companions.
Inside, he is ever a coiled serpent; a wary yellow eye casts about the other patrons.
Dench Thokk shakes the rain and chill off as he enters the inn. His colleagues are easy to spot, and he moves towards them, only vaguely aware of the traders and miners around him.
"Uri," he says as he sit across the table. "Gadston." Drops of water swim down his face and around his tusks. He wipes them off as best he can, sighs. Like Gadston, he orders something warm. "Tea if you have it," he says to the server.
He holds the holy symbol chained close around his neck for moment. It looks bit like a scared unblinking eye, a bit like a road traveling into a sunrise. "Lathander, Lord of Beginnings, bless us," he says to himself. "What have we heard then? Any news of work?" he says to the others.
Death on the Water and Baldur's Gate Bodyguard
Your table is close to the fireplace, the only stone structure in the Iron Light Inn, and the low crackling fire begins to slowly dry your garb. A young dwarf with a patchy beard hustles over to your table after delivering a tray of frothy ales to a couple bleak looking humans playing a card game. He takes Sir Gadston's order and waits timidly for an order from Uri. Dench catches the waiter with his order just before he leaves to fetch drinks.
Your toddy and tea are fairly bland but warm and refreshing. The night precedes uneventfully with strangers coming and going but all of little interest. Until a frail human woman with stingy white hair and a dark grey cloak approaches your table. She stares across the table, looking toward the fireplace when she begins to speak in a low soft voice.
"Are you folk adventurers? Capable, brave, pious? Willing to help an old woman who is willing to pay?" She produces a small silver-lined jewelry box from her cloak, opening it briefly to reveal a small assortment of glittering treasures. "Tell me, what do you know of death noble adventures?"
Gadston
Gadston smiles mildly at the old woman gets up and offers her his seat "Sit old mother, you must be tired from life's journey." he says as he beckons her to sit down.
"Piety and nobility were never my strong points though I feel I am capable enough, as are my companions. Tell us your tale and why you would sell your treasures to strangers on the road." he pauses then continues, What would you have us do?" he asks.
Having been wary at Master Thokk's invocation to Lathander, lest the Gods feel bothered enough by mortals to start paying them attention, Uri winces at the mention of piety. Not least because the shinies in the jewelry box had caught his eye. Were they just glass, or were those real gems? It would be a simple matter to distract the elderly woman and take a sample to examine later, but Uri knows that would displease the knight and the cleric. Maybe the Gods too, if truly they were watching, and they mightn't be so easy to fool.
Instead, he sips on the small mead he had availed of the dwarven barkeep and awaits the woman's tale.
Dench carefully sets his cup back on its saucer. "Yes," he says to the elderly woman, "tells us you name and what ails you. Begin your story and we will see how we can add to it."
"As far as death," he says and lays one hand flat on the table next to his tea. He looks at it, then up at her. "Death is the night before Lathander's dawn. I've given the gift of that darkness. We know it. How does it worry you?"
Death on the Water and Baldur's Gate Bodyguard
Uri's eyes narrow to slits, the back of his head resting against the wall behind the chair. The occasional feral twitch of an ear is all that shows he is still alert, taking in everything that happens in the inn with his other senses.
His mind wanders to adventures past. The first time he had seen Master Thokk drain the corrupted life-blood of a cultist, intent upon unleashing Tiamat upon the realm. Or when the cleric had decimated a walking wall of death incarnate, scattering their desiccated bones so as to never rise again. Verily, it did not pay to annoy Gods, nor those who channel their power. And Sir Gadston himself, who fought with both fire and steel imbued with unnatural wrath; a nobleman by birth who spoke the language of goblins, his own native tongue. He, Uri, was strong, but also far nimbler than his looks gave rise to expect. Mostly, his skills lay in not being seen or heard at all - until it was too late. Indeed, his liege had employed him for exactly the kind of tasks that a noble would not wish to be caught doing. Not that Uri would ever be caught - not again. There was no going back to that life, whatever the cost.
Gavyn sits in the dark, only the glow of his pipe lighting up his face every time he puffs. He sits back away from the others, but listens intently to the woman as she talks.
Ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
Kellen Rivian (Level 12 Lore Bard)- Ghosts of Saltmarsh (cbaer8)
Ruven Gilrel (Level 4 Bladesinger)- The Shattered Obelisk
Direcris curses under his breath as he finally reaches the inn. He would not blame the others if they were to leave him behind. He should not have stayed so long with...
He enters the inn and finds the others. He is surprised to see a stranger with them, but is more intent on reaching the fire. He gives a short bow to the woman and nods to the others. He takes a moment to check that his spellbook has not suffered before signaling for the barkeep. He ignores any curious glances that are sent his way. Let them linger on the fact he is Dragonborn. He could give them more to be ill at ease with.
As the Dragonborn enters, Uri ponders how a species so alien in appearance to humans attracts merely curious glances, whereas he himself might attract a pitchfork-wielding mob. Best to stay unnoticed, like Gavyn. Though without the foul-smelling pipe. Uri wonders if the man realises how far the scent carries, or how bright the glow is to those whose eyes are more accustomed to darkness.
The woman gladly takes the seat offered to her by Gadston and eases herself to the table. She gives a wry smile to the incoming dragonborn then pauses to collect her thoughts. "May name is Idina, and you are right my orcish friend. Death is a gift for some. Others are cursed to live without it. Some choose this curse and others are simply victims of fate." She again digs into the folds of her cloak this time to retrieve a black crystal ball. It glows ever so faintly from pinpricks of light within it, a miniature constellation.
"In the mountains there is a river, and on that river a tower. This tower is a place of history, of stars, and of books. That is what I need from you." She taps the crystal ball and a faint line lights around six of the stars, forming a sickle. "The book with this symbol, is the gift I ask of you."
She makes eye contact with each of you for the first time, and you feel the chill of the rain briefly return before her face takes on a more pleasant countenance "No need to hurry though, it'll be there in the daylight as well. After all life is a gift too, and it has been awhile since this old woman has smoked a pipe or had some mead."
Gadston
Gadston takes a drink while mulling over what the old woman has said. "Theft?" he finally says. "You wish us to steal a book?" he asks, his right eyebrow raised a bit as he does.
Gadston places his hand over his mouth and large mustache and combs his mustache with his hand. He clears his throat.
"Does this book then give the curse of an undying life you mentioned?" his voice a bit uneasy. "And what claim do you have on this book and this curse of an undying life?" he asks bluntly.
Dench sits up, focused. Did the woman imply she was undying? Uri would have sensed decay, wouldn't he? Gadston's questions were good ones. "Or does the book take the curse of deathlessness away?" Dench asks her. If she is this brazen, here at night in the inn, she must be powerful.
He touches his holy symbol and checks his own perceptions of the woman: 10
Death on the Water and Baldur's Gate Bodyguard
Gavyn makes no move, but his interest is piqued. It had been a while since he'd been involved in a good heist...though this seemed more a delve into a dangerous tower. Nonetheless, he'd made his decision. The only outward sign was an increase in pipe smoke.
Ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
Kellen Rivian (Level 12 Lore Bard)- Ghosts of Saltmarsh (cbaer8)
Ruven Gilrel (Level 4 Bladesinger)- The Shattered Obelisk
"An equal question is who, or what, has this book now and what is their claim on it?"
The server comes after the woman speaks, so Direcris orders mead for both him and her. He regards her, wondering how much is not being revealed.
The affable dwarf takes Direcris's order and returns swiftly with the mead. Idina takes a sip and smiles slightly before responding, "Do not speak of theft dear knight. The book and the tower have long since been abandoned by its true owners. And rest easy, the book does not grant this curse." Turning to Dench she continues, "It seems your god has granted you some degree of wisdom, or prescience perhaps. For some this book is certainly the key to a real death."
Watching her, Dench doesn't see clear signs of undeath on Idina. Her skin is corpse like but flushes with blood as she drinks; she rarely seems to blink but her eyes are clear and focused. Something is strange about her, but it's hard to say on which side of the mortal coil she stands.
She again stares into the fire. "The creatures of the tower now have no right to the book, though they would claim it. They are beings of night, shadow, and ether. Dead and cruel things. They stalk the place, posing as researchers and wardens of knowledge, but they evil imitations. I implore you adventurers, retrieve this item for me." She leaves the black crystal ball in the center of the table. "Please take this trinket, it can lead you."
"You haven't quite explained your claim on the book, dear lady," Dench says. "Though I am inclined to seek it, if for no other reason than to discover its relation to the Dawn." It cannot, for example, be allowed to interfere with the Dawn Lord's work, he thinks. "You can be found here, should we take this task upon us?"
He watches her carefully, hoping for insight into her motives: 28.
Dench also looks to his colleagues, Direcris, Gavyn, Gadston, and Uri. He trusts them and their collective judgement, especially where tasks like this one are concerned.
Death on the Water and Baldur's Gate Bodyguard