oh ok

(@Fallion, @Scab, Grunhilda)

At this moment, a stoic half-elf enters the tavern. Savile locks eyes with Fallion and points at an empty booth in the corner, a hint of a smile on his face.

Meanwhile, Scab considers what he knows about the Howling Wood. While he’s spent plenty of time in the Corrupted Forest surrounding town, lurking in the shadows of the ancient trees and learning how to find sustenance even in the hostile environment, the Howling Wood is a completely different story. Kobolds dare not stray close to the region, which is full of dead trees and little wildlife. Yet, if it was only an empty wasteland, why do those who venture there come back howling in madness, spending the rest of their lives in the sanitarium? Something insidious must inhabit the area...

Meanwhile, the bartender whispers to Gunhilda. “You wanna find more about the Howling Woods?”

"I am Sister Maeve Willowroot." She punctuated the words with a bow of her head, speaking a bit even while her head was down. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Fallion. And I would be happy to work alongside you, Gunhilda. This town needs good people to help ensure it's long term safety and success."

Fallion nods at Maeve and cuts his own response short as he spots the half-elf walking in. He places his unfinished tankard on the table and stands up with a brief, "Excuse me Sister. Private matters, I won't be long."

He walks to meet Savile at the corner booth, sitting down after him. "I'm glad to see you so soon. I trust your stroll through town went smoothly?"

(Saville is part of the reason why Fallion had a good reputation in the house. He helped Fallion avoid being on the receiving end of petty political schemes many times, basically indirectly protecting his blind spots that he can't see from his high station. For this reason, Fallion values him as both a retainer and a somewhat distant friendly colleague.)

Gunhilda nods as turns her attention to the bartender “Aye, but I’ve heard those woods could turn a sane mad mad for the rest of his life, they’re called The Howling Woods but one would think that they’re connected to werewolves.” She explained, fighting such evils as this was part of her daily life now, she had some description of a normal childhood but as normal as one could have when your father brought back a minotaurs head or your mother worked tirelessly on her latest rifle, even the house they lived in was filled with oddities. Rooms leading to rooms, stair cases leading nowhere, windows facing nowhere. It was a complete maze.  

@Fallion

Saville simply grabs a unattended mug of ale off a table before heading to the empty booth with Fallion. He chuckles as he speaks

“Oh yes, I’ve learned a lot during my stroll. A strange place, this...Trishdale is.”

After sipping his ale, he sighs a little. 

“The guards have this place locked down like crazy. I haven’t been able to find any organized underbelly whatsoever, but...”

He points at the bartender, who’s currently talking with Grunhilda.

“I’ve heard he’s involved in a thing or two around here. But, the big fish in Trishdale has got to be Tanye, the mayor’s deputy. Rumors say she’s involved with the Guilds overseas, though she uses her connections for good. She just went missing the other day, kidnapped by bandits, but I’ve heard a group has already assembled to rescue her. If she comes back alive, she might be an interesting person to talk to.”

He leans back, treating a Fallion like a good friend rather than a superior.

”So, uh, now that you’re here...what are you going to do?”

(what does the bartender tell Gunhilda?)

(Spiderwrangler is taking care of that, since the Howling Wood is his zone. @Spiderwrangler.)

(Okay, thank you for letting me know)

Fallion sighs and leans back against his chair. "I will find out why I've been sent here. Father and Mother knew this place was far beneath my station and rife with unknown danger. If all they wanted was to punish me, they would have sent me to another duchy. Why here, specifically? For now, I will make like a knight errant and do what I can to improve this town's position."

"I'm not complaining, by the way. Making myself useful is much better than withering away in the company of ignorant, aristocratic twats that I call cousins."

   The voices had swollen to a desperate, miasmic crescendo as Thrakk journeyed along the Old Road. And where the spirits swirled thickest, there stood his foes. He passed through the gate and into the tavern in a disgruntled frame of mind- it was his custom to pursue his enemies alone, but the violence of the Old Road suggested he find companions or die in his struggle. 

   He pushed back the hood of his cloak as he took in the patrons, looking past the ghostly figures of lingering souls he knew only his cursed vision could see. Striding to the bar, he fixed the bar keep with the flat-eyed gaze of one who had seen his share and more of horrors. 

"I'm hunting freaks," he announced in a deep, hollow sounding voice, "the living dead, demons, devils. They're likely to gather under this symbol," he tapped the brand marring his face, "but if not I'll kill 'em anyway. Have you any news of such creatures?" 

“I’ve see many of those creatures before in my time, why are you interested in them stranger?” Gunhilda inquired as she picked up her tanker and sipped from it, her ocean blue eyes gazing at the strangers tattoo in curiosity as she tried to recall where she saw it and what it meant “Rumour has it these parts are swarming with such creatures.” 

Scab turns around on his stool, snatching a rag that falls off him in the process. “Hunting freaks? Scab thinks you came to the right place,” he snarls, harshly cackling all the while.

"Good news for me. Bad for them." Thrakk said bleakly, turning to the two who had spoken up. "My interest is revenge. Revenge and slaughter." He leaned in toward Gunhilda, that she may better see the unholy brand seared into his flesh. "Their kind gave me this," he growled, face contorting with fury at the memory, "me and all the others in the clan. They were devoured, right before my eyes! Everyone! All my friends, my family, my home." The half-orc's eyes blazed with rage, and he grated the words from between clenched teeth. "I'll kill 'em! All of 'em! Three years I've been hunting the Undying Order and cutting down any unnatural horror I come across." 

(@Razordawn89 boop for Saville and Fallion's conversation)

(@spiderwrangler boop for Gunhilda's questions regarding the Howling Woods)

(are we ready to begin yet DM?)

The bartender looks across at Gunhilda, "Might've been at one point, can't rightly say, but them dead forests are a creepy place, some say the sounds are just the wind, some say it's spirits, heck, might be werewolves. I've enough sense to stay behind this bar."

((As mentioned before, each DM is currently running a game within this world, I won't fully speak for the others, but right now I don't feel that I'd be able to start a second one. That may change, but I want to be cautious about biting off more than I can feasibly run at once.))

(before I respond to this in character, are we set as a group? Plum pie, Armoured Gull, Armina and Skyfire if they wish to join for the Howling Woods? just asking out of pure curiosity)

 (I the player would be willing but it needs a confirmation in character as well.)

((Yeah man, I'm all in.))