Eerie's eyebrows raise at Virjor's scrutiny looking quite like she'd just eaten a bird in her attempt at looking innocent, the scene on his gear fading by the time he returns to facing towards Northlook. She pulls a vine that's been twisted into her hair for decoration, blooms a little flower bud on then considers tucking it into an opening of the Elf's pack but thinks better of it and tucks it back into her hair.
As they slow for the BlackIron Blades, she too peeks in the window wondering if they left any staff to tend the place or are completely out of supplies.
The cold outside is absolutely bitter; you doubt someone could stand to be out in this for more than an hour without losing parts of their body.
Shuffling through the streets of Bryn Shander, you cross the town square and slow down as you pass Blackiron Blades, a combination of shop and smithy just north of the main square. Through the window you see two dwarves inside; a male working the forge and a female stood at a counter, behind which are hung various pieces of survival equipment like snow shoes and ice picks.
You reach the Northlook at the edge of town, a standard-looking tavern apart from the ice that has formed in the eaves of the roof and across many of the surfaces.
Stepping inside you pick up an immediate vibe from the place. Depending upon your world view it is either welcomingly honest or dangerously rough. A well-weathered human male stands behind the bar, pouring a drink with one hand while cuffing a patron around the ear with the other. As soon as he sees you he does a double-take and says “Well now, this is a group of fortune seekers if ever I saw one! The name’s Scramsax, come up here and tell me a story”
Eerie wanders in behind Virjor admiring the energy and climbs onto a seat at the bar. "Yes! I'm Eerie. Scramsax is it? We have stories but what I'd really like to hear about is Mead. Does it truly taste like Honey? Do you serve it here?" She says with a hopeful look of someone anxious to try something obviously new to her.
As they travel on the road, Max looks to Eerie after Virjor's stern expression to whisper, "You were only keeping an eye on him to see if he dropped anything!"
Once they make it to the shelter inside the shop, Max's ears perk up with Eerie's question and says, "I have had mead from all over, and I hear some folks add a special spice to it to represent their town; what is your secret ingredient my dear proprietor?" He grins and says, "For a story, I have lots of ones about the great halfling heroes; have you ever heard about Notington Swiftfoot? He once bravely entered a wizard's lair to help a knight down on his luck..." Max hops up on the chair, smooths his hair back, and squares his shoulders to go into story mode but then, at the last second, looks at Virjor to make sure it is okay.
Carric moves silently and gracefully, eventually gliding past Virjor, using his uncanny speed to take the lead, eyes darting about (under his mask) to get a sense of the place and the dangers it may present.
He steps back for a moment when they enter the rough and tumble tavern, smiling under his mask as Max steps forward to speak. The halfling may be the most naturally likable of their motley crew. He pushes his mask off his face and atop his head, waiting to see if there is interest in Max's story.
Virjor is surprised and amused by the way Eerie, Max & Carric all excitedly enter the Inn ahead of him.
This looks like a frightfully dangerous place and their simple innocence is a little worrying - he doesn't want to see anything perilous happen, as despite himself, he is already enjoying their company.
Taking a deep breath he strides to the bar; "Greetings Scramsax, I am Virjor Emberbreeze and I'd be delighted if you could serve a warmed mulled cider for me and my friends here? It seems Max has a story for you, perhaps we may trade this no doubt, thrilling, adventure for some information..." he nods to Max to continue.
The little gnome grins at Max's comment and nods complicitly. Then hearing of the habit of personalizing the mead to the region with spices is even more excited to try one. As Virjor orders though, she ponders the order of Cider for them and reminds herself the time of the day. Perhaps Cider would present a better image of them so early. Besides the one that orders pays right? Seemingly satisfied having sorted it out in an internal dialogue she nods at the bartender should they question the choice of beverage and goes with the Cider. Then looks to Max to hear his story.
Scramsax smiles at Eerie’s enthusiasm and replies “You may well catch a taste of honey, little one, although it is closer to a medium white wine on most people’s palettes”
When Max mentions extra ingredients, Scramsax winks and says “I do indeed fella, but I’ll let you guess that or else I’ll lose my edge in this competitive marketplace”
When Virjor orders a round, Scramsax nods to the tall elf and lines up five mugs, topping each one up with flat, orange liquid. As Max starts to tell the tale of Notington Swiftfoot, the weathered barman interjects “Well now, fairy tales are nice enough, and a good one will earn you this round on me, but what my ears crave is a first-hand tale of adventure. Demons found in dark dungeons, orc hordes battled atop rocky ridges…aquatic assailants ambushed at sea; you have anything like that?”
Max is pleased as the story goes over well. He even tries to do voices as he tells tale of a halfling who dared take on a wizard, befriended a knight, and found his village’s precious enchanted stone to bring back as a hero.
Hearing the response, he says, “I haven’t seen any orcs or demons lately, but I have been having quite the adventure with my companions! We had to fight living twigs as they came out of the ground! And a giant frog! And misguided druids!”
"There was this thing I heard about a ship called the Remorhazz taking a group to find a cure for some Freezing disease that were attacked enroute by Sahuagin. I liked it because there was a gnome and well...me. I mean not me, but like me." Shrugging she stops talking thinking of how to explain what she means, then continues "Anyways, they scaled the netting and rained crossbow bolts from that thingy that goes up to the um round spot where they watch, I think?" Realizing that she doesn't know as much of the story as she thought being from a traveler trading on the road, "Well there was a gnome, so it sounded interesting." She stops and glances at Max. "Maybe the story about the Living Twigs and the Druids would be better?" She takes a firm hold of the mug with the orange liquid and a gentle sip.
Eyes lighting, "This is good!" Grinning at Virjor. "Cider was definitely a great choice!"
Scramsax listens intently as Max relays his tale, slapping the bar as the halfling finishes and declaring “Excellent stuff, that’s your first round paid for! Twigs, frogs and druids sounds like a fascinating one, was that an adventure shared with these good people?”
Hearing Eerie’s summary of her tale, he cocks an eyebrow and says “Well that sounds interesting, and a noble quest too, looking for a cure for a horrible disease. If you recall the details then I would be interested to hear it, but yes, I really do crave a first-hand account of adventure; it has been so long since I delved through a dungeon, torch in one hand and blade in the other”
Eerie smiles back and takes a bigger swig of her cider gazing around the room at its occupants unsure of what to say next, hoping one of her companions will take the lead.
Carric silenty engages in some inner debate. It may be difficult to tell their own tale without sounding like braggarts, he supposes. He takes a long slow drink of cider and enjoys the flavor. He then clears his throat.
"Have you heard of a place called the Sunless Citadel, not far from Neverwinter?" he says in his calm, quiet voice, looking at the one called Scramsax. "It was there we freed a captive dragon, avenged the death of a bold kobold warrior, fought the twigs and druids, and found magic apples with great curative powers."
The old adventurer's eyes gain a new shine as Carric gives the details of the Sunless Citadel. He looks around you all with a wan smile and says "Now that is a story that I would like to hear over a full bottle of fire water one day. Well my new friends, you have told me more than one story, so I shall tell you one a little closer to home"
He turns to pour another set of drinks and lines them up on the bar, nodding to a patron in the corner of the room to indicate that their drinks are ready - it seems he is watching everyone's drinks for sign that they need a freshen-up.
"We have a group of dwarves recovering in a room upstairs, looking for an able set of adventurers to locate and retrieve their payload. You're welcome to drop by and sound them out for the job - second door on the left when you get upstairs.
Oh and the town of Bremen is having trouble with its fishing - the lake seems to have produced or gained a new occupant. It's eating the fish and even some of the fishers; Bremen's food supplies will be badly affected until it's dealt with"
Scramsax has finished the other group's drinks by now and looks around your tankards in case anyone needs a refill.
Virjor says; "Thank you Scramsax, we will indeed speak to the stricken dwarves, however we were also hoping to hear of any magical goings-on...particularly around the perpetual winter? Is there any local wizards or sorcerers who may know more?"
Realising he rather railroaded the gnome's own drinks order he lays down a couple of gold pieces; "Now be a good man, and pour my friends here some local mead, while you tell us all you know." Virjor tries to smile charmingly...
Max smiles at the thought of some mead. Storytelling is thirsty work! He cheerfully says, “I would love to help these dwarves find something they have lost!”
Eerie grins up at Virjor, she likes this one. "Thank you Virjor!" Quickly finishing up her Mulled Cider, she pushes her cup forward again for the Mead anxious to give it a try too. The conversation progresses well, and the little druid is happy to see it continue to do so. She keeps to her beverage and watches the interactions.
Thirteen spends his time pondering on the regular sacrifice being made to the Winter, and the fear that the townfolk must have at each lottery. This can't be a good way to live. Families destroyed, skilled tradesmen being removed from the town and being made to take the long walk into the wilderness. It's not right, And his fists ball up, anger seething.....
He simmers slowly, at the back of the group, as they walk towards Northlook.
When the rest of party enter the inn, Thirteen finds a shadow to hover in, but sticks close by the group in case he's needed.
He hears the story being told of the Sunless Citadel. Glancing down at the apple he had engraved he immediately thinks of Meepo. He didn't know him for long but he can't help himself with blurting out loud, "let's not forget those that we lost along the way!" He pauses for a moment. "Stories do not all have happy endings. At least not for everyone involved."
He looks down at the floor and up again at the innkeep. "Scramsax. I fear that the story of this town is taking a downward turn as well. And we are all here to try and turn the heat up a little bit. Any help you can give would be most welcome. We've come into this cold and dark place with little information."
Scramsax seems taken aback by Thirteen’s interjection, his smile dropping. He is quiet for a moment before he answers the figure in shadows in the corner.
“Yes, those we lose along the way should never be forgotten. Please do not think of me as some wide-eyed glory junky, metal man. I have buried too many of my own friends to be blind to the cost of such a career, and know I have been lucky to enjoy this retirement.
And yes, Bryn Shander and all of Ten Towns is under a shroud, ‘tis true. Some say that Auril the Frostmaiden rides out every night to curse the land from the sky – if you look up at night you might see the lights dancing as she banishes the next sunrise”
Scramsax is looking down at the bar now, solemn.
“Nobody around here has much of a grasp of such things as to hazard a guess how she does it. Some say Auril is a god, either minor or fallen, but that still carries power beyond anything we could muster. Some wizard types showed up briefly, stayed one night, then had some barny and left in different directions. One went north toward Caer-Konig, two went west – one chasing the other for some reason. The third went east I think”
He wipes the bar, realising he has been leaning on it motionless. He looks up and cracks a regretful smile, edging back towards the cheerful persona you met on entering.
“So. That’s all I know about that, and I can see why you’re here. It’s a noble quest my friends, I wish you every success, but it’s a big endeavour. My advice is to start by helping the people you can help right now. Those dwarfs upstairs, the fishers of Bremen; they can be helped right now. And maybe on your journey you will find clues about where to find the Frostmaiden, how to take her on”
He scoops up Virjor’s coins and pours the drinks before continuing:
“Because fighting a god? No offence friends, that will take some preparation”
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Sensing Eerie staring at him Virjor turns around with pursed lips, confused by Eerie's beatific expression, he continues on towards the Northlook.
He slows and peers in the window of the Blackiron Blades as they pass.
He ponders if casting a Fire Bolt along the stretch of road they are travelling may cause damage...it would certainly keep them warm...
Eerie's eyebrows raise at Virjor's scrutiny looking quite like she'd just eaten a bird in her attempt at looking innocent, the scene on his gear fading by the time he returns to facing towards Northlook. She pulls a vine that's been twisted into her hair for decoration, blooms a little flower bud on then considers tucking it into an opening of the Elf's pack but thinks better of it and tucks it back into her hair.
As they slow for the BlackIron Blades, she too peeks in the window wondering if they left any staff to tend the place or are completely out of supplies.
The cold outside is absolutely bitter; you doubt someone could stand to be out in this for more than an hour without losing parts of their body.
Shuffling through the streets of Bryn Shander, you cross the town square and slow down as you pass Blackiron Blades, a combination of shop and smithy just north of the main square. Through the window you see two dwarves inside; a male working the forge and a female stood at a counter, behind which are hung various pieces of survival equipment like snow shoes and ice picks.
You reach the Northlook at the edge of town, a standard-looking tavern apart from the ice that has formed in the eaves of the roof and across many of the surfaces.
Stepping inside you pick up an immediate vibe from the place. Depending upon your world view it is either welcomingly honest or dangerously rough. A well-weathered human male stands behind the bar, pouring a drink with one hand while cuffing a patron around the ear with the other. As soon as he sees you he does a double-take and says “Well now, this is a group of fortune seekers if ever I saw one! The name’s Scramsax, come up here and tell me a story”
Eerie wanders in behind Virjor admiring the energy and climbs onto a seat at the bar. "Yes! I'm Eerie. Scramsax is it? We have stories but what I'd really like to hear about is Mead. Does it truly taste like Honey? Do you serve it here?" She says with a hopeful look of someone anxious to try something obviously new to her.
As they travel on the road, Max looks to Eerie after Virjor's stern expression to whisper, "You were only keeping an eye on him to see if he dropped anything!"
Once they make it to the shelter inside the shop, Max's ears perk up with Eerie's question and says, "I have had mead from all over, and I hear some folks add a special spice to it to represent their town; what is your secret ingredient my dear proprietor?" He grins and says, "For a story, I have lots of ones about the great halfling heroes; have you ever heard about Notington Swiftfoot? He once bravely entered a wizard's lair to help a knight down on his luck..." Max hops up on the chair, smooths his hair back, and squares his shoulders to go into story mode but then, at the last second, looks at Virjor to make sure it is okay.
Carric moves silently and gracefully, eventually gliding past Virjor, using his uncanny speed to take the lead, eyes darting about (under his mask) to get a sense of the place and the dangers it may present.
He steps back for a moment when they enter the rough and tumble tavern, smiling under his mask as Max steps forward to speak. The halfling may be the most naturally likable of their motley crew. He pushes his mask off his face and atop his head, waiting to see if there is interest in Max's story.
Virjor is surprised and amused by the way Eerie, Max & Carric all excitedly enter the Inn ahead of him.
This looks like a frightfully dangerous place and their simple innocence is a little worrying - he doesn't want to see anything perilous happen, as despite himself, he is already enjoying their company.
Taking a deep breath he strides to the bar; "Greetings Scramsax, I am Virjor Emberbreeze and I'd be delighted if you could serve a warmed mulled cider for me and my friends here? It seems Max has a story for you, perhaps we may trade this no doubt, thrilling, adventure for some information..." he nods to Max to continue.
The little gnome grins at Max's comment and nods complicitly. Then hearing of the habit of personalizing the mead to the region with spices is even more excited to try one. As Virjor orders though, she ponders the order of Cider for them and reminds herself the time of the day. Perhaps Cider would present a better image of them so early. Besides the one that orders pays right? Seemingly satisfied having sorted it out in an internal dialogue she nods at the bartender should they question the choice of beverage and goes with the Cider. Then looks to Max to hear his story.
Scramsax smiles at Eerie’s enthusiasm and replies “You may well catch a taste of honey, little one, although it is closer to a medium white wine on most people’s palettes”
When Max mentions extra ingredients, Scramsax winks and says “I do indeed fella, but I’ll let you guess that or else I’ll lose my edge in this competitive marketplace”
When Virjor orders a round, Scramsax nods to the tall elf and lines up five mugs, topping each one up with flat, orange liquid. As Max starts to tell the tale of Notington Swiftfoot, the weathered barman interjects “Well now, fairy tales are nice enough, and a good one will earn you this round on me, but what my ears crave is a first-hand tale of adventure. Demons found in dark dungeons, orc hordes battled atop rocky ridges…aquatic assailants ambushed at sea; you have anything like that?”
Max is pleased as the story goes over well. He even tries to do voices as he tells tale of a halfling who dared take on a wizard, befriended a knight, and found his village’s precious enchanted stone to bring back as a hero.
Hearing the response, he says, “I haven’t seen any orcs or demons lately, but I have been having quite the adventure with my companions! We had to fight living twigs as they came out of the ground! And a giant frog! And misguided druids!”
"There was this thing I heard about a ship called the Remorhazz taking a group to find a cure for some Freezing disease that were attacked enroute by Sahuagin. I liked it because there was a gnome and well...me. I mean not me, but like me." Shrugging she stops talking thinking of how to explain what she means, then continues "Anyways, they scaled the netting and rained crossbow bolts from that thingy that goes up to the um round spot where they watch, I think?" Realizing that she doesn't know as much of the story as she thought being from a traveler trading on the road, "Well there was a gnome, so it sounded interesting." She stops and glances at Max. "Maybe the story about the Living Twigs and the Druids would be better?" She takes a firm hold of the mug with the orange liquid and a gentle sip.
Eyes lighting, "This is good!" Grinning at Virjor. "Cider was definitely a great choice!"
Scramsax listens intently as Max relays his tale, slapping the bar as the halfling finishes and declaring “Excellent stuff, that’s your first round paid for! Twigs, frogs and druids sounds like a fascinating one, was that an adventure shared with these good people?”
Hearing Eerie’s summary of her tale, he cocks an eyebrow and says “Well that sounds interesting, and a noble quest too, looking for a cure for a horrible disease. If you recall the details then I would be interested to hear it, but yes, I really do crave a first-hand account of adventure; it has been so long since I delved through a dungeon, torch in one hand and blade in the other”
Eerie smiles back and takes a bigger swig of her cider gazing around the room at its occupants unsure of what to say next, hoping one of her companions will take the lead.
Carric silenty engages in some inner debate. It may be difficult to tell their own tale without sounding like braggarts, he supposes. He takes a long slow drink of cider and enjoys the flavor. He then clears his throat.
"Have you heard of a place called the Sunless Citadel, not far from Neverwinter?" he says in his calm, quiet voice, looking at the one called Scramsax. "It was there we freed a captive dragon, avenged the death of a bold kobold warrior, fought the twigs and druids, and found magic apples with great curative powers."
The old adventurer's eyes gain a new shine as Carric gives the details of the Sunless Citadel. He looks around you all with a wan smile and says "Now that is a story that I would like to hear over a full bottle of fire water one day. Well my new friends, you have told me more than one story, so I shall tell you one a little closer to home"
He turns to pour another set of drinks and lines them up on the bar, nodding to a patron in the corner of the room to indicate that their drinks are ready - it seems he is watching everyone's drinks for sign that they need a freshen-up.
"We have a group of dwarves recovering in a room upstairs, looking for an able set of adventurers to locate and retrieve their payload. You're welcome to drop by and sound them out for the job - second door on the left when you get upstairs.
Oh and the town of Bremen is having trouble with its fishing - the lake seems to have produced or gained a new occupant. It's eating the fish and even some of the fishers; Bremen's food supplies will be badly affected until it's dealt with"
Scramsax has finished the other group's drinks by now and looks around your tankards in case anyone needs a refill.
Virjor says; "Thank you Scramsax, we will indeed speak to the stricken dwarves, however we were also hoping to hear of any magical goings-on...particularly around the perpetual winter? Is there any local wizards or sorcerers who may know more?"
Realising he rather railroaded the gnome's own drinks order he lays down a couple of gold pieces; "Now be a good man, and pour my friends here some local mead, while you tell us all you know." Virjor tries to smile charmingly...
Max smiles at the thought of some mead. Storytelling is thirsty work! He cheerfully says, “I would love to help these dwarves find something they have lost!”
Eerie grins up at Virjor, she likes this one. "Thank you Virjor!" Quickly finishing up her Mulled Cider, she pushes her cup forward again for the Mead anxious to give it a try too. The conversation progresses well, and the little druid is happy to see it continue to do so. She keeps to her beverage and watches the interactions.
Thirteen spends his time pondering on the regular sacrifice being made to the Winter, and the fear that the townfolk must have at each lottery. This can't be a good way to live. Families destroyed, skilled tradesmen being removed from the town and being made to take the long walk into the wilderness. It's not right, And his fists ball up, anger seething.....
He simmers slowly, at the back of the group, as they walk towards Northlook.
When the rest of party enter the inn, Thirteen finds a shadow to hover in, but sticks close by the group in case he's needed.
He hears the story being told of the Sunless Citadel. Glancing down at the apple he had engraved he immediately thinks of Meepo. He didn't know him for long but he can't help himself with blurting out loud, "let's not forget those that we lost along the way!" He pauses for a moment. "Stories do not all have happy endings. At least not for everyone involved."
He looks down at the floor and up again at the innkeep. "Scramsax. I fear that the story of this town is taking a downward turn as well. And we are all here to try and turn the heat up a little bit. Any help you can give would be most welcome. We've come into this cold and dark place with little information."
Scramsax seems taken aback by Thirteen’s interjection, his smile dropping. He is quiet for a moment before he answers the figure in shadows in the corner.
“Yes, those we lose along the way should never be forgotten. Please do not think of me as some wide-eyed glory junky, metal man. I have buried too many of my own friends to be blind to the cost of such a career, and know I have been lucky to enjoy this retirement.
And yes, Bryn Shander and all of Ten Towns is under a shroud, ‘tis true. Some say that Auril the Frostmaiden rides out every night to curse the land from the sky – if you look up at night you might see the lights dancing as she banishes the next sunrise”
Scramsax is looking down at the bar now, solemn.
“Nobody around here has much of a grasp of such things as to hazard a guess how she does it. Some say Auril is a god, either minor or fallen, but that still carries power beyond anything we could muster. Some wizard types showed up briefly, stayed one night, then had some barny and left in different directions. One went north toward Caer-Konig, two went west – one chasing the other for some reason. The third went east I think”
He wipes the bar, realising he has been leaning on it motionless. He looks up and cracks a regretful smile, edging back towards the cheerful persona you met on entering.
“So. That’s all I know about that, and I can see why you’re here. It’s a noble quest my friends, I wish you every success, but it’s a big endeavour. My advice is to start by helping the people you can help right now. Those dwarfs upstairs, the fishers of Bremen; they can be helped right now. And maybe on your journey you will find clues about where to find the Frostmaiden, how to take her on”
He scoops up Virjor’s coins and pours the drinks before continuing:
“Because fighting a god? No offence friends, that will take some preparation”