Thariv examines the scrolls and the tiara. "I cannot make heads nor tails of this writing," he says. "But perhaps they have some value." He puts the tiara on his head (looking quite silly, he's quite sure) and closes his eyes. This may come in handy, don't you think? He only thinks the words, and yet Luther hears them in his head!
"I do agree that if we are to forge ahead with more adventures, we should add to our little company. I know all too well what can happen out there!"
((EDIT: So I added Witch Bolt (going for a stormy thunder and lightning theme here and upped my Eldritch Blast with Agonzing Blast and Repelling Blast invocations. Combined with Luther's arcane archery, we definitely have some good long-range capabilities growing here.))
"Then it's agreed - beer now, new companions later! I may need to discuss a group investment in some reinforced armour for our archer, but that can wait until the fifth round of ales..."
Thariv and Luther stay in town for a couple extra nights, but there doesn't seem to be any extra work other than tending the crops in the fields. Asking Thaddee again, the townmaster thinks for a minute before replying "we usually trade with people from Stonedock, but we haven't seen any merchants in a while. It may be that the phantomorph drove them away, but if they are in trouble I'm sure they would appreciate your help."
"Thank you Thaddee, we shall move up the road and see if the good people of Stonedock require any help. Phantomorph or not, I fear it won't be long before we find a soul in need of help"
Smoothing down his new armour while trying to disguise his pride at his new acquisition, Luther turns to Thariv and tries to judge which of them has the worse hangover. Sailors could drink.
"Sound good? We can get some extra hands there, or on the way"
Leaving Selpt safer than it was when they found it, Luther and Thariv start the road north towards Stonedock. The first couple days pass almost unnoticed, except for a wanderer travelling in the other direction that offered to tell them about the area ahead in exchange for something to eat.
There was a time when the legions of undead swarmed over the hills. When death and life held no meaning. When a horror stalked the souls of the people of Damara, and a few brave heroes fought back the tide at the Bloodstone Pass. In that time, the Witch King fell, and his armies were scattered to the winds, returned to their graves, and those that followed him and drew from his power were diminished.
Aetherglen stands on these crossroads of the Ilinver Trail and the North Glister pass, far from the lands of Vaasa and Damara, and yet, many people who now call this place home can trace their family trees back to refugees of that unholy war. Though the great protective Gulthias trees of Glumpen forest overlook the crossroads, the people of this small town still speak of the great King Gareth Dragonsbane and his defeat of the Witch King. When the Mists stole into Glumpen Swamp and the Quivering Forest, these people were naturally suspicious, and the Mist took far fewer of them away to the cold lands of Barovia. Visitors are welcome at Aetherglen, but they’re met with a watchful eye and a suspicious disposition.
Following the road they find the village of Aetherglen the next day near midday, as dark clouds gather above. As soon as the pass the first building, the sky opened and blessed the land with loud thunder and bright lightning. The inn, however, was quiet inside. All eyes turned to the newly admitted strangers in their midst. As luck would have it, a couple chairs were open near the bar. Trying not to drip on too many of the townsfolk, both made their way over. Talk began again, as folks seemed to determine the newcomers mean them no immediate harm.
At the end of the bar, reclining with her back against the wall, a slender human gazes at the newly arrived with interest. Silvery braids are pulled back by a blue band of cloth over her forehead securing them from her face. She wears a neat wool shirt and breeches colored in blues and greys, topped with leather armor. A long hooded cloak drapes over her shoulders, hood down at the present. Leather gloves are tucked at a swordbelt which holds a scimitar and dagger at her waist. A tall yew quarterstaff, well used, leans against the wall. Not considered attractive by most standards, rough weather has worn a still young and delicate complexion, but her steel blue eyes seem to reach across the room in contrast.
On the bar next to her is a small assortment of plants, mushrooms and various root vegetables on top of a cloth wrap as if displayed to be seen by a cook behind the bar somewhere. Watching as the new-comers move towards the bar, she wraps them back up and tucks them to one side watching but not saying anything.
Ufeza sat at a table wistfully counting his meager tips for the night. Barely enough to cover the roast pork and vegetables he had for dinner, the scraps of which was getting cold beside him. He took a moment to smooth his black and gray mottled fur before sliding the pieces of copper into his pouch. It was time to move on, he knew. The innkeeper had only paid him for the first couple of nights he was here, and the locals weren’t willing to tip more than pocket change to the same bard for the same songs, same stories. He had slung his leather coat, covered in metal disks to help distract his patrons during sleight of hand tricks, over the back of his chair, and the laces at the neck of his linen shirt hung loose. He was always hot after performing for so long.
The door opened as two newcomers entered. Ufeza leaned his chair back against the wall and rested his booted feet on the tables as he watched the strangers with curiosity, absentmindedly mulling over where he would go next.
Luther takes one of the seats at the bar and orders an ale each for himself and Thariv. Uncomfortable with his back exposed to the room, he tries turning so that his back is to the bar. But then he gets a nagging feeling about the barman and so returns to his original position but with occasional looks over each shoulder.
The human at the end of the bar was interesting; something about her look didn't match her apparent age, and she carried herself as if confident with that staff. Bards he could take or leave; he'd had mixed experiences with their kind before. Those that chose to serve had proven to be capable soldiers and useful allies, but the lazy lotharios who clogged up the taverns had a tendency to kill the mood, start a fight, or both. There was maybe one other individual who stood out, but otherwise a room full of honest townfolk it seemed.
Knowing that Thariv was the better talker of the two of them, Luther left it to the sailor to engage the locals for business.
As they near the inn and the storm breaks out, Thariv lingers outside a bit, perhaps longer than Luther might think prudent. The half-elf gazes into the sky, a faint smile on his lips as the flickers of lighnting illuminate his features. He truly seems to be enjoying the storm.
A moment passes, Luther enters the inn, and Thariv lets out a quiet sigh before heading inside just a moment later. Those in the inn see a tall, bearded half-elf dressed in leathers and the clothing of a sailor. He shakes a little water from his long blond hair.
He follows Luther over to the bar, eyeing the clientele, interested by the cat-like bard and the human woman, who, like him, looked like she'd spent a good deal of her time out in the elements.
He clinks his glass to Luther's and looks to the barkeep. He smiles at the man. "Good day, sir. So, we've come from Selpt. A sleepy place, but not without surprises. What's new and interesting in these parts?"
A huge tabaxi sits next to a table not built for someone his size, an equally useless chair next to him, unoccupied, as he sits cross-legged on the floor. A plate with a few scraps lies in front of him, as does a mug of water, which he drinks infrequently. His fur is a mix of oranges, blacks and whites, running up his body to a face that looks like it frowns more than it smiles. The tabaxi is unarmed, lightly clothed and likely not a local, as he doesn't look up when the tavern turns quiet. Instead, he rummages through a small backpack that looks quite empty, producing a chunk of wood and a knife, which he begins to use to carve something, letting the shavings fall into the bag in between his legs.
The human watches the Bard count his coins for a moment. His music was good, he just needed more material. She hadn't seen a Tabaxi before and feared what he'd sound like as he sang, unfondly remembering an old cat that used to howl endlessly near her family farm - nothing wrong with it, just a cranky sort of animal. Ufeza was amazingly good, and she had quickly checked herself for judging. She hoped he'd do his tricks again too, she'd almost figured that last one out. Seeing his attention turn to the door, she too looked in that direction.
Her eyes widened to see a large Half Orc stroll in. Noting his assorted weapons and studded leather, this one had seen some fighting. She could tell he was uncomfortable, as he shifted direction in his seat twice within a few minutes of sitting down, glancing dismissively at the Bard as he did so. Maybe like the old cat, he just didn't like getting caught in the rain she ponders hearing thunder boom outside.
The door opens again, letting in a bit of that fresh rain air as the half elf lingers, seeming to dread having to come inside. She knew the feeling and was thinking of going outside to enjoy the rain herself. She grins to herself as he shows off, which she is sure that is what he's doing, his golden hair as he shakes it loose and drier from the rain. Was that a tiara? Interesting. An older woman she's used to seeing in the Inn mid-days looks up quickly in irritation as it sprinkles her a little, but her expression turns to delight as she sees the offender and under the glower of her husband, fixes her face back to irritation and turns back to her meal.
Then there was the other Tabaxi who also came in the other day for the first time looking like an adult sitting on the floor at a child's table. The pile of shavings growing gradually larger and the wood in his hand formed into an interesting shape. Looking at her worn staff, she calls over to the cook, "I'll leave these here for you! Pleasant seeing you again!" leaving the cloth of mushrooms, plants, and root vegetables on the bar. She stands, grabs her staff and walks over to this large Tabaxi.
"May I?" She asks him, gesturing at the chair nearby. (speaking to Blossoms in Summer - though she wouldn't know his name yet)
He clinks his glass to Luther's and looks to the barkeep. He smiles at the man. "Good day, sir. So, we've come from Selpt. A sleepy place, but not without surprises. What's new and interesting in these parts?"
The barkeep looks sternly at Luther "I hope you don't plan to cause trouble around, disturbing things have been happening lately." He takes a rag and starts to clean an empty mug left nearby "Someone has been disturbing the graves of two of the churches in town. Markers have been knocked down, and signs of graverobbing have been found. A temple of Waukeen was broken into, and the tombs were disturbed."
During your short time here, you have been able to gather some information.
The bartender, grateful for the herbs and roots that Zephira has brought, told herthat a farmer named Anderson has had problems with his onion fields. The weeds are so massive and intrusive that he’s been unable to fight back the overgrowth. He’s had to abandon two entire fields, and his livelihood among the visiting merchants has been suffering.
Blossoms, sitting quietly overheard a patron loudly telling his neighbour that the giant trees surrounding the village have decided that Aetherglen is no longer welcome, and they’re actively trying to kill the residents. He’s heard that people have died because the trees have attacked them in some way. He doesn’t have any details, and he can’t tell the characters who those people that died were, but he’s heard these things from reputable sources.
After performing for the first time, a woman approached Ufeza to share stories. She claims that monsters don't come near their village because the trees have always protected it. She claims that hostile armies have been diverted in the forest, and that the trees have even protected them from harsh weather and natural and supernatural disasters. Something has changed, however, and it’s been a gradual thing: Harsh weather has been getting through the canopy, and no one can prove it, but more and more disreputable people have been coming to town.
OOC: please roll for investigation if you want to learn more about the current state of things.
The tabaxi glances up for a split second, and replies “Sure. Help yourself”, before returning to his work.
Despite the attention on the task at hand, he listens to the barkeep’s new story, adding it to his knowledge of other unusual happenings in the area. “Nearly time to move on...”, he mumbled to himself.
Zephyra sits down in a nearby chair. "That's nice work there. Do you ever do work for others?" She continues to listen to conversation in the tavern but lays her staff in view of the Tabaxi.
@DM and Blossoms
The staff is of Yew wood, a young sapling, likely turned into a staff. Typically this would is used for bows and oak preferred for staves, so he might fight this odd. The staff is battered and even has small carvings as if a small child were trying to detail it at some point. He could tell that she's used it likely for most of her young life as its seen more than a decade of use from the aging of the wood. I add this in case he has woodworking skill.
"I never do work for myself", the tabaxi replies, hoping that this would be explanation enough for the nosy human. He stares at the lump of wood in his hands, barely recognisable yet as the animal he intends to create, and decides she is buttering him up.
Luther tries to reassure the barkeep "That does indeed sound worrying, I think we should take a look at this temple and see if we find any clues. Thariv, what do you think? See off some grave robbers? We still need some backup though" returning his attention to the barkeep he says "I notice some lively characters in here, has anyone else been looking for work of an, erm, adventurous nature?"
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Thariv examines the scrolls and the tiara. "I cannot make heads nor tails of this writing," he says. "But perhaps they have some value." He puts the tiara on his head (looking quite silly, he's quite sure) and closes his eyes. This may come in handy, don't you think? He only thinks the words, and yet Luther hears them in his head!
"I do agree that if we are to forge ahead with more adventures, we should add to our little company. I know all too well what can happen out there!"
((EDIT: So I added Witch Bolt (going for a stormy thunder and lightning theme here and upped my Eldritch Blast with Agonzing Blast and Repelling Blast invocations. Combined with Luther's arcane archery, we definitely have some good long-range capabilities growing here.))
"Then it's agreed - beer now, new companions later! I may need to discuss a group investment in some reinforced armour for our archer, but that can wait until the fifth round of ales..."
Thariv and Luther stay in town for a couple extra nights, but there doesn't seem to be any extra work other than tending the crops in the fields. Asking Thaddee again, the townmaster thinks for a minute before replying "we usually trade with people from Stonedock, but we haven't seen any merchants in a while. It may be that the phantomorph drove them away, but if they are in trouble I'm sure they would appreciate your help."
"Thank you Thaddee, we shall move up the road and see if the good people of Stonedock require any help. Phantomorph or not, I fear it won't be long before we find a soul in need of help"
Smoothing down his new armour while trying to disguise his pride at his new acquisition, Luther turns to Thariv and tries to judge which of them has the worse hangover. Sailors could drink.
"Sound good? We can get some extra hands there, or on the way"
Leaving Selpt safer than it was when they found it, Luther and Thariv start the road north towards Stonedock. The first couple days pass almost unnoticed, except for a wanderer travelling in the other direction that offered to tell them about the area ahead in exchange for something to eat.
Following the road they find the village of Aetherglen the next day near midday, as dark clouds gather above. As soon as the pass the first building, the sky opened and blessed the land with loud thunder and bright lightning. The inn, however, was quiet inside. All eyes turned to the newly admitted strangers in their midst. As luck would have it, a couple chairs were open near the bar. Trying not to drip on too many of the townsfolk, both made their way over. Talk began again, as folks seemed to determine the newcomers mean them no immediate harm.
At the end of the bar, reclining with her back against the wall, a slender human gazes at the newly arrived with interest. Silvery braids are pulled back by a blue band of cloth over her forehead securing them from her face. She wears a neat wool shirt and breeches colored in blues and greys, topped with leather armor. A long hooded cloak drapes over her shoulders, hood down at the present. Leather gloves are tucked at a swordbelt which holds a scimitar and dagger at her waist. A tall yew quarterstaff, well used, leans against the wall. Not considered attractive by most standards, rough weather has worn a still young and delicate complexion, but her steel blue eyes seem to reach across the room in contrast.
On the bar next to her is a small assortment of plants, mushrooms and various root vegetables on top of a cloth wrap as if displayed to be seen by a cook behind the bar somewhere. Watching as the new-comers move towards the bar, she wraps them back up and tucks them to one side watching but not saying anything.
Ufeza sat at a table wistfully counting his meager tips for the night. Barely enough to cover the roast pork and vegetables he had for dinner, the scraps of which was getting cold beside him. He took a moment to smooth his black and gray mottled fur before sliding the pieces of copper into his pouch. It was time to move on, he knew. The innkeeper had only paid him for the first couple of nights he was here, and the locals weren’t willing to tip more than pocket change to the same bard for the same songs, same stories. He had slung his leather coat, covered in metal disks to help distract his patrons during sleight of hand tricks, over the back of his chair, and the laces at the neck of his linen shirt hung loose. He was always hot after performing for so long.
The door opened as two newcomers entered. Ufeza leaned his chair back against the wall and rested his booted feet on the tables as he watched the strangers with curiosity, absentmindedly mulling over where he would go next.
Luther takes one of the seats at the bar and orders an ale each for himself and Thariv. Uncomfortable with his back exposed to the room, he tries turning so that his back is to the bar. But then he gets a nagging feeling about the barman and so returns to his original position but with occasional looks over each shoulder.
The human at the end of the bar was interesting; something about her look didn't match her apparent age, and she carried herself as if confident with that staff. Bards he could take or leave; he'd had mixed experiences with their kind before. Those that chose to serve had proven to be capable soldiers and useful allies, but the lazy lotharios who clogged up the taverns had a tendency to kill the mood, start a fight, or both. There was maybe one other individual who stood out, but otherwise a room full of honest townfolk it seemed.
Knowing that Thariv was the better talker of the two of them, Luther left it to the sailor to engage the locals for business.
As they near the inn and the storm breaks out, Thariv lingers outside a bit, perhaps longer than Luther might think prudent. The half-elf gazes into the sky, a faint smile on his lips as the flickers of lighnting illuminate his features. He truly seems to be enjoying the storm.
A moment passes, Luther enters the inn, and Thariv lets out a quiet sigh before heading inside just a moment later. Those in the inn see a tall, bearded half-elf dressed in leathers and the clothing of a sailor. He shakes a little water from his long blond hair.
He follows Luther over to the bar, eyeing the clientele, interested by the cat-like bard and the human woman, who, like him, looked like she'd spent a good deal of her time out in the elements.
He clinks his glass to Luther's and looks to the barkeep. He smiles at the man. "Good day, sir. So, we've come from Selpt. A sleepy place, but not without surprises. What's new and interesting in these parts?"
A huge tabaxi sits next to a table not built for someone his size, an equally useless chair next to him, unoccupied, as he sits cross-legged on the floor. A plate with a few scraps lies in front of him, as does a mug of water, which he drinks infrequently. His fur is a mix of oranges, blacks and whites, running up his body to a face that looks like it frowns more than it smiles. The tabaxi is unarmed, lightly clothed and likely not a local, as he doesn't look up when the tavern turns quiet. Instead, he rummages through a small backpack that looks quite empty, producing a chunk of wood and a knife, which he begins to use to carve something, letting the shavings fall into the bag in between his legs.
The human watches the Bard count his coins for a moment. His music was good, he just needed more material. She hadn't seen a Tabaxi before and feared what he'd sound like as he sang, unfondly remembering an old cat that used to howl endlessly near her family farm - nothing wrong with it, just a cranky sort of animal. Ufeza was amazingly good, and she had quickly checked herself for judging. She hoped he'd do his tricks again too, she'd almost figured that last one out. Seeing his attention turn to the door, she too looked in that direction.
Her eyes widened to see a large Half Orc stroll in. Noting his assorted weapons and studded leather, this one had seen some fighting. She could tell he was uncomfortable, as he shifted direction in his seat twice within a few minutes of sitting down, glancing dismissively at the Bard as he did so. Maybe like the old cat, he just didn't like getting caught in the rain she ponders hearing thunder boom outside.
The door opens again, letting in a bit of that fresh rain air as the half elf lingers, seeming to dread having to come inside. She knew the feeling and was thinking of going outside to enjoy the rain herself. She grins to herself as he shows off, which she is sure that is what he's doing, his golden hair as he shakes it loose and drier from the rain. Was that a tiara? Interesting. An older woman she's used to seeing in the Inn mid-days looks up quickly in irritation as it sprinkles her a little, but her expression turns to delight as she sees the offender and under the glower of her husband, fixes her face back to irritation and turns back to her meal.
Then there was the other Tabaxi who also came in the other day for the first time looking like an adult sitting on the floor at a child's table. The pile of shavings growing gradually larger and the wood in his hand formed into an interesting shape. Looking at her worn staff, she calls over to the cook, "I'll leave these here for you! Pleasant seeing you again!" leaving the cloth of mushrooms, plants, and root vegetables on the bar. She stands, grabs her staff and walks over to this large Tabaxi.
"May I?" She asks him, gesturing at the chair nearby. (speaking to Blossoms in Summer - though she wouldn't know his name yet)
Most people continue eating after the door closes. The pouring rain outside makes them stretch over their lunch more than usual.
The barkeep looks sternly at Luther "I hope you don't plan to cause trouble around, disturbing things have been happening lately." He takes a rag and starts to clean an empty mug left nearby "Someone has been disturbing the graves of two of the churches in town. Markers have been knocked down, and signs of graverobbing have been found. A temple of Waukeen was broken into, and the tombs were disturbed."
During your short time here, you have been able to gather some information.
The bartender, grateful for the herbs and roots that Zephira has brought, told herthat a farmer named Anderson has had problems with his onion fields. The weeds are so massive and intrusive that he’s been unable to fight back the overgrowth. He’s had to abandon two entire fields, and his livelihood among the visiting merchants has been suffering.
Blossoms, sitting quietly overheard a patron loudly telling his neighbour that the giant trees surrounding the village have decided that Aetherglen is no longer welcome, and they’re actively trying to kill the residents. He’s heard that people have died because the trees have attacked them in some way. He doesn’t have any details, and he can’t tell the characters who those people that died were, but he’s heard these things from reputable sources.
After performing for the first time, a woman approached Ufeza to share stories. She claims that monsters don't come near their village because the trees have always protected it. She claims that hostile armies have been diverted in the forest, and that the trees have even protected them from harsh weather and natural and supernatural disasters. Something has changed, however, and it’s been a gradual thing: Harsh weather has been getting through the canopy, and no one can prove it, but more and more disreputable people have been coming to town.
OOC: please roll for investigation if you want to learn more about the current state of things.
Zephyra's investigation roll 19
The tabaxi glances up for a split second, and replies “Sure. Help yourself”, before returning to his work.
Despite the attention on the task at hand, he listens to the barkeep’s new story, adding it to his knowledge of other unusual happenings in the area. “Nearly time to move on...”, he mumbled to himself.
Investigation: 13
Ufeza’s investigation check: 4
Luther investigation 5
Thariv makes a little small talk with nearby bar patrons.
Investigation 1
Zephyra sits down in a nearby chair. "That's nice work there. Do you ever do work for others?" She continues to listen to conversation in the tavern but lays her staff in view of the Tabaxi.
@DM and Blossoms
The staff is of Yew wood, a young sapling, likely turned into a staff. Typically this would is used for bows and oak preferred for staves, so he might fight this odd. The staff is battered and even has small carvings as if a small child were trying to detail it at some point. He could tell that she's used it likely for most of her young life as its seen more than a decade of use from the aging of the wood. I add this in case he has woodworking skill.
"I never do work for myself", the tabaxi replies, hoping that this would be explanation enough for the nosy human. He stares at the lump of wood in his hands, barely recognisable yet as the animal he intends to create, and decides she is buttering him up.
Luther tries to reassure the barkeep "That does indeed sound worrying, I think we should take a look at this temple and see if we find any clues. Thariv, what do you think? See off some grave robbers? We still need some backup though" returning his attention to the barkeep he says "I notice some lively characters in here, has anyone else been looking for work of an, erm, adventurous nature?"