"Let's stick together," the half-dwarf suggests. "I don't think splitting up was really that helpful. In fact, it just made things more dangerous, didn't it?" He looks around, not helping himself, and he briefly locks eyes with the woman he attempted to befriend before sheepishly turning back and hanging his head. "The cult knows us and knows we're up to something. I don't think there's a way for us to infiltrate them, as much as I tried."
When Jamna asks who would like to join her in getting more drinks, Rogram jumps to his feet. "I'll go. I'm ready for another."
He walks over to the "kitchen" with the gnome and stands awkwardly, not know what to do with his hands since there's no bar to lean against. Smiling, he says, "Barkeep! We'd like some drinks, if you have the time."
Karib sighs heavily at the first sip of ale. "It's been too long," he says with a smile, wiping the back of his arm across his mouth.
"I'm not one for grand strategy, but we have to expect more attempts on our lives and .we have to expect that we are in turn being watched." He glances aquickly around the room for prying eyes. "I'll ask..." he was about to say the name but catches himself in time, "...our contact...how long the journey was from the roadhouse. I think we just have to be ready to leave without much notice."
Turning to Merric he says, "The spell is new to me, but with it I can find a thing that I know within 1000 feet. Not much, every little bit helps."
"Barkeep! We'd like some drinks, if you have the time."
"Ain't no barkeep. Gristle Pete," the man grunts an introduction, spitting to accentuate his point. He nods toward the cabinets full of half used liquor bottles and barrels of tapped ale. "Get your own," he says, "Unless you're wantin' food."
CARLON, KARIB & MERRIC:
"I'm not one for grand strategy, but we have to expect more attempts on our lives and we have to expect that we are in turn being watched."
"That gal's been eyeing Rogram this whole time," Carlon says. "And we know they recognized us on the convoy here. You're right, any action we take is gonna have to be in the dead of night, and even then we'll need to be careful. They may not know exactly how we're onto them, but they know we're not here to rebuild the road to Neverwinter, that's for sure."
As Akira and Jamna move toward the bottles, Rogram smiles at Gristle Pete. "Nice place you've got here considering it's in the middle of nowhere. My friends and I arrived last night, but they wouldn't let us in. I guess it's because of the orcs and ogres. We ran into some coming north from Waterdeep. Do you get a lot raids? I might be looking for guard work."
If he comments with surprise that we survived or something similar, Rogram comments with a shrug, "They were tough, but we were tougher."
Then ...
"Have you been here long? It looks like progress is being made on the road to Neverwinter, but not very quickly. Any idea when it will be passable?"
Then ...
"So, what's your specialty? After days of rations, I could use something warm and soft."
"Nice place you've got here considering it's in the middle of nowhere. My friends and I arrived last night, but they wouldn't let us in. I guess it's because of the orcs and ogres. We ran into some coming north from Waterdeep. Do you get a lot raids? I might be looking for guard work."
"Nice? Ha," Gristle Pete snorts. "Don't get no sleep from all the critters in the floors banging and knocking and hissing and whispering at allhours." He doesn't look up to respond about the raids, and only shrugs when Rogram asks about the progress on the road.
"So, what's your specialty? After days of rations, I could use something warm and soft."
"Meat," he says unenthused, slapping a greasy slab of unseasoned beef onto a plate and handing it to Rogram. He sniffs, itches the inside of his nose, and then turns back to the stove, tossing another couple of meat slabs onto it.
OOC: Don't mind me fast forwarding time a little bit. Let me know if you want to rewind at all and have more conversation earlier in the day.
As the evening sets in, the "tavern" grows a bit more lively. It's clear that there's little else to do in the way of entertainment. The table of cultists in the opposite corner has grown a little rowdy, clearly in their cups. As more and more of the roadworkers return for the day, the tables fill, with Gristle Pete still grumbling and serving up food. He seems to be preparing for the following morning as well, cutting and peeling root vegetables to add them into a large simmering pot.
After one bite of the meat, Rogram says a quick incantation, casting prestidigitation on the dish to give it a pleasing flavor. After that, he woofs it down with a smile.
As the night wears on, the half-dwarf can't help but look at the woman cultist every now and then. He wonders how he might procure her name. He still feels the sting of her pointing out that he had never asked her for it.
How is it that the cult determined they are their enemy? How did they give themselves away? Was it their curiosity? Did they in fact recognize him and Karib?
His last conversation with the woman, she seemed to be ribbing him playfully, and yet here she is glowering at him. Did she believe those who accused him of being a murderer?
He wishes he could get her alone to question her. Instead, he stares into his empty mug.
"Useful magic, that," says Karib as the odours rising from Rogram's plate change noticeably.
"My parents used it all the time." He pauses then shrugs his shoulders and draws in a deep breath. "I was never a fussy eater, but they both were."
He then goes to the counter in search of meat and when he returns, nods to the others. "I can also see into distant places -- ones I have been to or ones I can imagine, like the room behind a door. If you can a place worthy of greater attention, perhaps I can help. As to sneaking around..." he shrugs. "I'm better at being found than at hiding."
(Later that night)
He occasionally scans the room, but is most interested in the cultists and how they behave towards Gristle Pete -- wondering if he is just a worshipper, or part of their grander plans.
"We need a plan", he says eyeing Merric, Rogram and Akira specifically. "Mine don't do so well."
The cultists seem to largely be ignoring Gristle Pete. Earlier in the night, some of them approached to grab some food, but for the most part they are treating themselves to the ale and liquor in the kitchen and have not conversed with the cook.
Merric watches the other tables in the makeshift tavern fill up, but keeps one eye on the cultists, careful not to call attention to themselves. “Well, now might be a good time to check out the warehouse. Everyone seems in their cups, we could slip away and see what we can find.” He looks over at the others. “What do you think?”
"Your spell can see what is on the other side of the door, or at least confirm the ring is in there. But I don't want to waste your gifts if we don't need too." He nods to Karib.
Rogram smiles but then frowns. Looking around again, he leans in toward Merric. "Is everyone up here? I guess we won't know until we go back down the stairs." He stands up and rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. "Shall we?"
OOC: It's been a couple of days, so I'll assume there are no objections to going downstairs.
Agreeing with Rogram's sentiment, Carlon and Jamna join you in pushing back your chairs, standing, and walking to the door, swinging it open to descend the stars into the courtyard below. The warehouse stands in front of you, its door closed. The courtyard is largely empty at this hour, with only a couple of workers wandering near the doors that line the far wall, and the noise from the tavern dampens the sound of your footsteps. It is dark, but just as Carlon opens his mouth to speak, light floods down into the corridor briefly and another voice disrupts the silence.
"Hey!" a feminine voice rings out sharply, preceding the angry footsteps of the woman that had been glaring at Rogram throughout the night. Her step falters, wobbling from the obvious effects from alcohol, as she reaches the bottom step. She draws one of her swords, leveling it toward the half-dwarf, as if he is the only other one in the room. "I've had enough of you! Edelhart was my friend. He is dead by your hand, and you have seen no justice!" Her words slur as she wobbles a bit, steadying herself.
Her companions, many of the cultist faces you've seen throughout the last several months, stand behind her, but give her a wide berth. The commotion draws in a few other onlookers. "Draw your weapon, coward!" she calls out to Rogram.
Unwisely (as always), Rogram actually smiles. "That's why you've been glaring at me?" He puts his hands on his hips and looks at his friends — almost chuckling — before looking back at her. "Here I was wracking my brain, trying to figure out what I did besides not ask you your name to make you so mad, and it's because you thought I killed that guy last tenday?" He leans a little closer to her, dropping his voice. "I would love to learn your name, by the way."
In response to whatever she does, which is most likely violent:
Rogram takes a step back and raises his hands. "Ho, ho, wait a minute. I did not murder anyone in the caravan. I'm not lying about this. I don't know why they say I did." He looks around, finally settling his alarmed gaze on Karib. "Do you know some kind of magic that can convince her I'm not lying?"
@DM: Maybe a persuasion check? At advantage because she's drunk?
“My dear companion is not the sort to kill someone im the way you assert. He is loyal, fierce, and steadfast. I would urge you to exercise caution when making such claims with no proof.”, she states in an intellectual and matronly voice.
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Halsen - Human Monk - Winter Splendor Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Barty's Blade Bizarre Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Betrayal at Devilsfall Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Barty's "The Hidden War" (Doom Portals Part 4A) Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter -Barty's "The Whispered Word (Doom Portals Part 5) Garu - Tabaxi Paladin - Barty's "Beyond Twilight" (Rikirta Part 3)
The woman cackles, a haunting laughter that is echoed by a few of her companions behind her. "Proof? You saw him fight the hogboblins! Do you think a man who can turn indivisible would leave proof, when he can just murder a man in his sleep and walk away unseen?" She spits on the ground, her eyes misting as she shouts.
More men and women filter out of the tavern, eager to witness the entertainment of a fight. In the shadows of the courtyard, Ardred Briferhew has emerged from a room, and the half-orc supervisor of the camp emerges from another, drawn by the shouting.
"You want to know my name?" She shouts. "I will tell you my name, right after my sword pierces your heart! No more tricks. No moreinvidisbilty," she stammers out. "No more cowardice. No more questions. You fight me like a man, and let the gods decide whether it was you who killed Edelhart or not!"
A chorus of oohs and some cheers flitter through the open space, the growing crowd quickly becoming captivated by the spectacle playing out before them. Ardred looks on, his brow furrowed. The half-orc leans back against a stack of barrels, his arms crossed. Neither makes a move to disrupt the scene.
"I didn't kill your friend," Rogram argues, still holding his hands up. "We barely said two words to each other the whole trip to Waterdeep. Why would I want to kill him?"
He looks around at the growing group of onlookers. "I don't want to fight her. She's drunk! Even if the fight was justified, it wouldn't be fair."
@DM: If she lunges at Rogram, he's prepared to dodge.
Hearing the voices from outside and seeing the steady flow of customers, Karib's heart sinks.What's the lad done now? He hurries to the courtyard, expecting the worst just as the words "I didn't kill your friend..." ring out. Despite the obvious tension, he sighs with relief. Just another cultist provocation.
Offering a brief prayer for Rogram, he glowers at the assembled masses before focusing on the woman.
"I will not see one unjust murder punished with another. Your friend died by another hand, and any who tell you otherwise are lying."
(intention: Assist Rogram to provide advantage and guidance in his persuasion attempt)
Voices raise from the woman and from behind her, a growing cacophony of shouts, counter-points, and accusations. The half-orc moves toward the circle of bodies that has slowly grown.
"You only know you can't handle me in a fair fight!" the woman is shouting at Rogram as the half-orc pushes through the crowd.
"Back up," he tells the cultists behind her gruffly, then Rogram's companions behind him. "Let the two of them settle this. We want entertainment, not distraction." His tusks increase the intensity of his grin, as if they are a part of the edge of the smile. His words bring a cheer from the other workers that have joined to witness the fracas.
Across from Rogram, his would-be opponent's eyes never move from his. Her longsword remains pointed in his direction, her other hand hovering above the hilt of her second sword, twitching in anticipation. "You want me to believe you? Prove it. Beat me in a fair fight," she spits.
"As long your friends aren't helping you, I don't even care anymore!" she shouts, slurring the words at the end of her sentence. She turns to her companions behind her. "If any of them so much as lift a finger, you all jump in. Otherwise, you stay the hells out of it."
"Now come on!" she shouts to Rogram. A chorus of cheers follow her, the audience obviously enjoying the spectacle.
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Rogram nods as Merric speaks.
"Let's stick together," the half-dwarf suggests. "I don't think splitting up was really that helpful. In fact, it just made things more dangerous, didn't it?" He looks around, not helping himself, and he briefly locks eyes with the woman he attempted to befriend before sheepishly turning back and hanging his head. "The cult knows us and knows we're up to something. I don't think there's a way for us to infiltrate them, as much as I tried."
When Jamna asks who would like to join her in getting more drinks, Rogram jumps to his feet. "I'll go. I'm ready for another."
He walks over to the "kitchen" with the gnome and stands awkwardly, not know what to do with his hands since there's no bar to lean against. Smiling, he says, "Barkeep! We'd like some drinks, if you have the time."
Akira, deep in thought, looks up at the mention of a drink. “Why that sounds lovely. I could use a drink as well.”
Halsen - Human Monk - Winter Splendor
Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Barty's Blade Bizarre
Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Betrayal at Devilsfall
Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Barty's "The Hidden War" (Doom Portals Part 4A)
Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Barty's "The Whispered Word (Doom Portals Part 5)
Garu - Tabaxi Paladin - Barty's "Beyond Twilight" (Rikirta Part 3)
Karib sighs heavily at the first sip of ale. "It's been too long," he says with a smile, wiping the back of his arm across his mouth.
"I'm not one for grand strategy, but we have to expect more attempts on our lives and .we have to expect that we are in turn being watched." He glances aquickly around the room for prying eyes. "I'll ask..." he was about to say the name but catches himself in time, "...our contact...how long the journey was from the roadhouse. I think we just have to be ready to leave without much notice."
Turning to Merric he says, "The spell is new to me, but with it I can find a thing that I know within 1000 feet. Not much, every little bit helps."
AKIRA, JAMNA & ROGRAM:
"Ain't no barkeep. Gristle Pete," the man grunts an introduction, spitting to accentuate his point. He nods toward the cabinets full of half used liquor bottles and barrels of tapped ale. "Get your own," he says, "Unless you're wantin' food."
CARLON, KARIB & MERRIC:
"That gal's been eyeing Rogram this whole time," Carlon says. "And we know they recognized us on the convoy here. You're right, any action we take is gonna have to be in the dead of night, and even then we'll need to be careful. They may not know exactly how we're onto them, but they know we're not here to rebuild the road to Neverwinter, that's for sure."
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As Akira and Jamna move toward the bottles, Rogram smiles at Gristle Pete. "Nice place you've got here considering it's in the middle of nowhere. My friends and I arrived last night, but they wouldn't let us in. I guess it's because of the orcs and ogres. We ran into some coming north from Waterdeep. Do you get a lot raids? I might be looking for guard work."
If he comments with surprise that we survived or something similar, Rogram comments with a shrug, "They were tough, but we were tougher."
Then ...
"Have you been here long? It looks like progress is being made on the road to Neverwinter, but not very quickly. Any idea when it will be passable?"
Then ...
"So, what's your specialty? After days of rations, I could use something warm and soft."
"Nice? Ha," Gristle Pete snorts. "Don't get no sleep from all the critters in the floors banging and knocking and hissing and whispering at all hours." He doesn't look up to respond about the raids, and only shrugs when Rogram asks about the progress on the road.
"Meat," he says unenthused, slapping a greasy slab of unseasoned beef onto a plate and handing it to Rogram. He sniffs, itches the inside of his nose, and then turns back to the stove, tossing another couple of meat slabs onto it.
OOC: Don't mind me fast forwarding time a little bit. Let me know if you want to rewind at all and have more conversation earlier in the day.
As the evening sets in, the "tavern" grows a bit more lively. It's clear that there's little else to do in the way of entertainment. The table of cultists in the opposite corner has grown a little rowdy, clearly in their cups. As more and more of the roadworkers return for the day, the tables fill, with Gristle Pete still grumbling and serving up food. He seems to be preparing for the following morning as well, cutting and peeling root vegetables to add them into a large simmering pot.
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After one bite of the meat, Rogram says a quick incantation, casting prestidigitation on the dish to give it a pleasing flavor. After that, he woofs it down with a smile.
As the night wears on, the half-dwarf can't help but look at the woman cultist every now and then. He wonders how he might procure her name. He still feels the sting of her pointing out that he had never asked her for it.
How is it that the cult determined they are their enemy? How did they give themselves away? Was it their curiosity? Did they in fact recognize him and Karib?
His last conversation with the woman, she seemed to be ribbing him playfully, and yet here she is glowering at him. Did she believe those who accused him of being a murderer?
He wishes he could get her alone to question her. Instead, he stares into his empty mug.
"Useful magic, that," says Karib as the odours rising from Rogram's plate change noticeably.
"My parents used it all the time." He pauses then shrugs his shoulders and draws in a deep breath. "I was never a fussy eater, but they both were."
He then goes to the counter in search of meat and when he returns, nods to the others. "I can also see into distant places -- ones I have been to or ones I can imagine, like the room behind a door. If you can a place worthy of greater attention, perhaps I can help. As to sneaking around..." he shrugs. "I'm better at being found than at hiding."
(Later that night)
He occasionally scans the room, but is most interested in the cultists and how they behave towards Gristle Pete -- wondering if he is just a worshipper, or part of their grander plans.
"We need a plan", he says eyeing Merric, Rogram and Akira specifically. "Mine don't do so well."
The cultists seem to largely be ignoring Gristle Pete. Earlier in the night, some of them approached to grab some food, but for the most part they are treating themselves to the ale and liquor in the kitchen and have not conversed with the cook.
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Merric watches the other tables in the makeshift tavern fill up, but keeps one eye on the cultists, careful not to call attention to themselves. “Well, now might be a good time to check out the warehouse. Everyone seems in their cups, we could slip away and see what we can find.” He looks over at the others. “What do you think?”
"Your spell can see what is on the other side of the door, or at least confirm the ring is in there. But I don't want to waste your gifts if we don't need too." He nods to Karib.
Rogram smiles but then frowns. Looking around again, he leans in toward Merric. "Is everyone up here? I guess we won't know until we go back down the stairs." He stands up and rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. "Shall we?"
OOC: It's been a couple of days, so I'll assume there are no objections to going downstairs.
Agreeing with Rogram's sentiment, Carlon and Jamna join you in pushing back your chairs, standing, and walking to the door, swinging it open to descend the stars into the courtyard below. The warehouse stands in front of you, its door closed. The courtyard is largely empty at this hour, with only a couple of workers wandering near the doors that line the far wall, and the noise from the tavern dampens the sound of your footsteps. It is dark, but just as Carlon opens his mouth to speak, light floods down into the corridor briefly and another voice disrupts the silence.
"Hey!" a feminine voice rings out sharply, preceding the angry footsteps of the woman that had been glaring at Rogram throughout the night. Her step falters, wobbling from the obvious effects from alcohol, as she reaches the bottom step. She draws one of her swords, leveling it toward the half-dwarf, as if he is the only other one in the room. "I've had enough of you! Edelhart was my friend. He is dead by your hand, and you have seen no justice!" Her words slur as she wobbles a bit, steadying herself.
Her companions, many of the cultist faces you've seen throughout the last several months, stand behind her, but give her a wide berth. The commotion draws in a few other onlookers. "Draw your weapon, coward!" she calls out to Rogram.
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Unwisely (as always), Rogram actually smiles. "That's why you've been glaring at me?" He puts his hands on his hips and looks at his friends — almost chuckling — before looking back at her. "Here I was wracking my brain, trying to figure out what I did besides not ask you your name to make you so mad, and it's because you thought I killed that guy last tenday?" He leans a little closer to her, dropping his voice. "I would love to learn your name, by the way."
In response to whatever she does, which is most likely violent:
Rogram takes a step back and raises his hands. "Ho, ho, wait a minute. I did not murder anyone in the caravan. I'm not lying about this. I don't know why they say I did." He looks around, finally settling his alarmed gaze on Karib. "Do you know some kind of magic that can convince her I'm not lying?"
@DM: Maybe a persuasion check? At advantage because she's drunk?
Akira clears her throat for effect.
“My dear companion is not the sort to kill someone im the way you assert. He is loyal, fierce, and steadfast. I would urge you to exercise caution when making such claims with no proof.”, she states in an intellectual and matronly voice.
Halsen - Human Monk - Winter Splendor
Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Barty's Blade Bizarre
Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Betrayal at Devilsfall
Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Barty's "The Hidden War" (Doom Portals Part 4A)
Aradurk - Half-Orc Fighter - Barty's "The Whispered Word (Doom Portals Part 5)
Garu - Tabaxi Paladin - Barty's "Beyond Twilight" (Rikirta Part 3)
The woman cackles, a haunting laughter that is echoed by a few of her companions behind her. "Proof? You saw him fight the hogboblins! Do you think a man who can turn indivisible would leave proof, when he can just murder a man in his sleep and walk away unseen?" She spits on the ground, her eyes misting as she shouts.
More men and women filter out of the tavern, eager to witness the entertainment of a fight. In the shadows of the courtyard, Ardred Briferhew has emerged from a room, and the half-orc supervisor of the camp emerges from another, drawn by the shouting.
"You want to know my name?" She shouts. "I will tell you my name, right after my sword pierces your heart! No more tricks. No more invidisbilty," she stammers out. "No more cowardice. No more questions. You fight me like a man, and let the gods decide whether it was you who killed Edelhart or not!"
A chorus of oohs and some cheers flitter through the open space, the growing crowd quickly becoming captivated by the spectacle playing out before them. Ardred looks on, his brow furrowed. The half-orc leans back against a stack of barrels, his arms crossed. Neither makes a move to disrupt the scene.
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"I didn't kill your friend," Rogram argues, still holding his hands up. "We barely said two words to each other the whole trip to Waterdeep. Why would I want to kill him?"
He looks around at the growing group of onlookers. "I don't want to fight her. She's drunk! Even if the fight was justified, it wouldn't be fair."
@DM: If she lunges at Rogram, he's prepared to dodge.
Hearing the voices from outside and seeing the steady flow of customers, Karib's heart sinks. What's the lad done now? He hurries to the courtyard, expecting the worst just as the words "I didn't kill your friend..." ring out. Despite the obvious tension, he sighs with relief. Just another cultist provocation.
Offering a brief prayer for Rogram, he glowers at the assembled masses before focusing on the woman.
"I will not see one unjust murder punished with another. Your friend died by another hand, and any who tell you otherwise are lying."
(intention: Assist Rogram to provide advantage and guidance in his persuasion attempt)
Voices raise from the woman and from behind her, a growing cacophony of shouts, counter-points, and accusations. The half-orc moves toward the circle of bodies that has slowly grown.
"You only know you can't handle me in a fair fight!" the woman is shouting at Rogram as the half-orc pushes through the crowd.
"Back up," he tells the cultists behind her gruffly, then Rogram's companions behind him. "Let the two of them settle this. We want entertainment, not distraction." His tusks increase the intensity of his grin, as if they are a part of the edge of the smile. His words bring a cheer from the other workers that have joined to witness the fracas.
Across from Rogram, his would-be opponent's eyes never move from his. Her longsword remains pointed in his direction, her other hand hovering above the hilt of her second sword, twitching in anticipation. "You want me to believe you? Prove it. Beat me in a fair fight," she spits.
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"You want me to believe you? Prove it. Beat me in a fair fight."
After a second of thought, Rogram's eyes twinkle as he starts to grin. He does not lower his hands.
"What is your definition of 'fair'? Can I use magic? You already complained that I became invisible when ambushing the hobgoblins."
OOC: Rogram is still prepared to dodge if she comes at him.
OOC2: Sorry to leave this hanging. I'll back back on the 19th.
"As long your friends aren't helping you, I don't even care anymore!" she shouts, slurring the words at the end of her sentence. She turns to her companions behind her. "If any of them so much as lift a finger, you all jump in. Otherwise, you stay the hells out of it."
"Now come on!" she shouts to Rogram. A chorus of cheers follow her, the audience obviously enjoying the spectacle.
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