A group of simple townsfolk are gathered around the town notice board, chatting loudly about a new posting. An elderly human farmer remarks, "Oh now her grace is worried 'bout the foul beats now that they're clawin' at her door. What about when they was slaughterin' our sheep and terrorizin' our town?" A plump dwarven woman scoffs and says, "It weren't werewolves that carried off yer sheep Caul, 'twas plain ol' wolves!" A young man turns to a friend and boasts, "I'm signin' up! I bet I'll kill a dozen or more and earn a commission in the Daggerford City Watch!" They group continues to chatter as you approach and read the notice.
Heroes needed! Werewolf hunt! Her grace, Lady Morwen Daggerford requests the aid of any who would stand against the foul beasts terrorizing Daggerford. Any who would answer this call should report to Sergeant Arnith at the Lady Luck tavern in Daggerford.
Act 1 - Wolves At The Door
It's been roughly two ten-days since you read the notice and began your journey to Daggerford and now you've finally arrived. You enter through the Caravan Gate and soon find the Lady Luck tavern. It appears to be rather busy this evening, not surprising for a tavern, but what is surprising is the lack of revelry and merriment usually found within. There are a large number of well armed people hanging around the outside of the establishment and the door seems to be in constant motion as patrons enter and exit one after another. As you wait your turn in line you overhear some of the folks standing nearby talking about the upcoming werewolf hunt. Rumors, boasting, and jesting mostly, but it all seems a little forced. When you finally make it inside you find the taproom full to bursting. Every table is full and every person is armed. There are genders and races of all types to be found. You reach the bar where you find a middle aged human woman with greying brown hair gathered into a simple bun atop her head. She wears the uniform and armor of the Daggerford City Watch and doesn't bother to look up from her paperwork as you approach, "Sign your name and the name of someone to whom we can send your remains and pay if you die." She slides a piece of paper to you and continues, "If you can't read or write, please step aside and someone will assist you at a later time. Otherwise, please be aware that you are being hired as a mercenary, not in any way affiliated with nor sponsored by the Daggerford City Watch. You will be assigned to a squad and will obey the commands of your Sergeant." She reaches into a canvas bag next to her and draws a colored stone from it, "Black. You're assigned to Sergeant Gribz. He's over there in the corner. Big half-orc, with a big axe, and hair all dreaded and gathered in a bundle. Next." Before you can react, someone pushes past you and begins filling out their paperwork. You wend your way across the crowded taproom toward Sgt. Gribz. You see he sits opposite a shifty looking human man that fidgets nervously. Neither is speaking when you approach. When you introduce yourself, Sgt. Gribz looks you over appraisingly before responding, "Hail, welcome to black squad. Have a seat." It isn't long before other members of black squad begin to arrive and also take a seat around the table.
All - You all arrive in the order you post to this thread. Whoever arrives/posts first can speak to Sgt. Gribz or the other gentleman at the table if they'd like or wait for other party members to arrive/post and speak with them. We will use this time to introduce and role-play our characters a bit before moving the narrative along.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Zindarik weaves his way through the crowd and toward the leader of black squad. Beneath his faded grey cloak, the dragonborn's chain mail clinks rhythmically with each step he takes. With a slight bow of his head, he introduces himself. "Greetings, Sergeant. I am Zindarik Grimshard."
Zindarik then turns his gaze upon the human sitting across from Gribz. "And good day to you. You are part of black squad, I assume?"
The seeming nervousness of the human compels Zindarik to make a study of him if, or when, he responds. (Insight: 4)
Zindarik - The man looks to you and looks away, then back to you, his gaze never staying in one spot. He is middle-aged and has thin dark blonde hair that hangs limply across his forehead above dark brown eyes. He is dressed in worn travelling clothes and when he speaks you can see that he is missing a few teeth, "Aye, name's Alvor. Yer a big fella, glad yer in our squad." His nervous laughter dies quickly under the unamused glare of Sgt. Gribz. Alvor swallows and looks around before continuing, "I don't suppose they're servin' drinks tonight what with all the commotion... Could use a sip meself..." Sgt. Gribz growls low in his throat before responding, "No drinkin' on duty..." He gives a hard glare and adds, "...and you're always on duty." Alvor replies, "Right, right. Uh... Sergeant. S-Sir."
Insight check results:
It is hard to get a good read on Alvor in the busy tavern, but from his body language you certainly get the feeling he's nervous. Just what exactly he's nervous about remains a mystery to you.
At 7 feet tall, Ankita towers over most everyone in the tavern. She looks over and sees her squadron leader and makes her way there. She is dressed her her leather armor, red wild hair piled on top of her head, showing off her blue skin. Her eyes are shifting from person to person taking it all in - she isn't used to being in crowded places and it is making her feel nervous. Once she reaches her area, Ankita says, "Sergeant Gribz, I am Ankita, druid from the Lost Peaks." She takes a seat next to Zindarik and looking at both Zindarik and the human says "Looks like we're in for a werewolf hunt. Either of you ever seen one before?" She tries to seem conversational, but is obviously out of her element.
Ankita - The human man's eyes go wide when he sees you, "Gods, they jus' keep gettin' bigger an' bigger! Lady Luck indeed, my luck is finally turnin' around, Tymora be praised. We'll bag the most werewolves by far with you lot on our squad, fer sure." He smiles wide, showing missing and yellowed teeth, "Name's Alvor." He offers his hand and if you shake it you find it sweaty and the grip limp. Sgt. Gribz smiles when he sees you and motions to an empty chair next to Zindarik, "Welcome to black squad Ankita." He seems genuinely pleased to have you, but his smile sours as Alvor prattles on.
Summer - Sgt. Gribz nods to you and says, "Welcome to black squad." After you take your seat he adds, "Our strategy is to send everything we've got left after 'em and pray it's enough." Alvor looks around and leans in as he whispers conspiratorially, "I heard the good Lady Morwen's been makin' infernal dealings with Asmodeus himself! She's offerin' up the souls of her people fer unholy power and immortality... I heard when the moon's full she bathes in the blood of virgins and cavorts with..." Avlor is cut off by a loud SMACK as Sgt. Gribz slams his fist on to the table, "Enough! Lady Morwen is not in league with devils! She's paying yer sorry arse good coin, her own coin, to protect her people. It doesn't matter why they're here, it only matters that they're defeated!" Sgt. Gribz then crosses his arms and glares at Alvor as he mutters under his breath.
Unable to decipher the cause of Alvor's unease, Zindarik turns his focus to Ankita, greeting her as warmly as he can. "Greetings, druid! I've no familiarity with werewolves. They're the stuff of frightening hatchling stories among my clan, however."
After greeting Summer and taking notice of her rather direct approach, Zindarik waits to hear a response to the elf's question. Alvor's theory startles Zindarik slightly but the dragonborn says nothing.
Indirectly addressing Gribz's remark, Zindarik muses, "Possibly in defeating them we may learn the answer to why they have come. We shall see..."
Ankita takes Alvor's hand in greeting and instantly regrets it. Wonders about social protocol on wiping her hand off on her armor? Does it quickly and hopes no one notices.
Something Sgt. Gribz says makes Ankita pause, "I'm sorry, but what do you mean by everything you've got left? Has this battle been going on long? What can you tell us about what has happened so far?" She turns to Zindarik, "It's nice to meet you, can't say I've ever spoken to a dragonborn before" giving him a smile.
All - Alvor stands and says, "I-I'm going to find a privy and get some fresh air, all this noise and excitement's givin' me a headache." He leaves without waiting for a response. Sgt. Gribz sighs and says, "If the wolves don't get that one, I probably will by the time we're done." He rubs his face with a meaty hand then continues, "I'm sorry about my sour mood. I've lost more than a few good friends to the beasts and I don't have very many left." Sgt. Gribz looks to you all and says, "I won't honey my words with you, we've sent our best to put an end to these beasts and they slaughtered them all like untrained farm hands. We're all that's left. Us and that impudent cur we're stuck with." He motions dismissively in the direction Avlor went. Sgt. Gribz looks to Ankita and continues, "The attacks began a few months ago. Started out as rumors coming from the farmsteads between here and the Misty Forest. Figured it was the usual yokel glimpsing a wolf carry off his ewe and crying werewolf. Then the rumors stopped. So did the produce. When we sent City Watch to investigate, they found whole families butchered along with their livestock. Soon enough folks in Daggerford started seeing werewolves too. Every full moon since, a pile of 'em comes pouring out of the Misty Forest to claw at our gates and slay any unfortunate souls caught outside them. After a while the attacks started coming even when the moon wasn't full. It isn't every night they come, but more often than not. We don't know why, they only seem interested in killing."
"Wow. Its a good thing we are all here. I hope there is to be more of us though." Looking around she sees many groups of all different sizes. Werewolves. It is just so unnatural. Even though she feels out of place in such a crowded area, she knows this is the right place to be. Looking at Sgt. Gribz and Summer, "I am so sorry for those that you have lost. Hopefully, what we can do here will help prevent such tragic tales." Just addressing the Sgt now, "Speaking of tales, what can you tell us of our friend that you call Avlor? He seems quite nervous about something"
Ankita - Sgt. Gribz shrugs and says, "Not much other than the fact that I don't trust him. I've seen a lot of combat and I know a coward when I see one." He looks past you toward the line of potential recruits that extends to and out the door, "They're taking anyone with a pulse and we're the unlucky squad that got stuck with him. You lot seem decent enough, just don't expect our friend," the word drips with sarcasm, "to watch your back in a fight."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As if in answer to Ankita’s thought ("Wow. Its a good thing we are all here. I hope there is to be more of us though."), a half-orc somewhere north of 6 feet tall rises from the recruiting table, surveys the taproom and begins to walk toward black squad. He is clad in chainmail and carries a warhammer and shield at his back. The observant will see the mark of Tyr on both; as well as on the amulet at his wrist. Oddly he also has a near transparent gauze across his eyes, tied behind his head where his dark hair is scrapped into a short pony tail. He approaches the group looking at each member in turn seemingly betraying little emotion. He approaches the sergeant saying “I am Hofaen. I am a cleric of Tyr and I am at you service”. As he says this he kneels putting his fist to his chest “I will bring justice where there is none”. He appears entirely unconcerned that this formality may seem awkward or even backwards. As he has only just arrived he begins to ask many of the same questions as other members of the party have already covered. As/if party members answer his questions he will observe them for signs of religious affiliation mostly aiming to understand what these are but especially if there are an other adherents to Tyr.
Baldwin enters the pub, and after being rather unceremoniously hurried through the signup line, seeks the black squad. His talons rap against the wooden floors as he maneuvers across the room, clearly annoyed that he must tuck his wings so as to not bump anyone in the crowded tavern. Finally locating the group, he lets out in a voice that is at times both melodious and shrill, "Good evening, I am Baldwin von Kastanie *trill*. I have descended from the mountains to aid in your fight. Surely these happenings are the beginning of the great conflict which Aerdrie sent me forth for *chirp chirp*. Who am I in the presence of?" Cocking his head to one side as he finishes speaking.
Hofaen - Sgt. Gribz returns your salute, placing his fist to his chest, "A Cleric of The Maimed God is always welcome among black squad, welcome Hofaen."
Religion check results:
It appears Sgt. Gribz is familiar with Tyr though probably not a follower himself. Alvor displays no religious iconography nor does he seem to react when you mention Tyr. As for the others that are present, I will leave it up to them to say whether or not they are displaying symbols, icons, or amulets pertaining to any specific deity.
Baldwin - Sgt. Gribz raises an eyebrow when he sees you, but nods as you introduce yourself, "Welcome to black squad Baldwin. I have fought alongside others of your race and I have found them to be noble warriors."
All - Alvor returns, eyeing the newcomers. He slips into his seat across from Sgt. Gribz and offers his sweaty, limp grip to any who would take it. He looks to everyone, then leans back in his chair and surveys the room, "Are we all here?" Sgt. Gribz shakes his head and says, "Waiting on one more. Once we're all here I'll brief you all on the upcoming mission."
“Good to meet you Hofaen, I am Ankita, a Druid from the Lost Peaks, welcome to our squad. And yes justice does help bring balance to all things, especially nature.” As Ankita talks to Hofaen, you notice the oak leaf that she has engraved on her quarterstaff, and you recall that symbol references Sylvanus - god of wild nature.
”An Aaracokra! I had a best friend back where I came from that was an aaracokra. Well met, Baldwin, welcome to our crew. The name is Ankita and I am a Druid from the Lost Peaks - have you heard of it?”
Excited to hear of another Aarakocra, Baldwin lets out an excited, buzzy call. "I have flown over many places. I have perched on the highest treetops and tallest mountains. I rarely know them by name *chip chip* for to me they are but short resting places before returning to the sky. I should like to formally visit some day though and meet your friend *trill*."
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Prelude
A group of simple townsfolk are gathered around the town notice board, chatting loudly about a new posting. An elderly human farmer remarks, "Oh now her grace is worried 'bout the foul beats now that they're clawin' at her door. What about when they was slaughterin' our sheep and terrorizin' our town?" A plump dwarven woman scoffs and says, "It weren't werewolves that carried off yer sheep Caul, 'twas plain ol' wolves!" A young man turns to a friend and boasts, "I'm signin' up! I bet I'll kill a dozen or more and earn a commission in the Daggerford City Watch!" They group continues to chatter as you approach and read the notice.
Heroes needed! Werewolf hunt! Her grace, Lady Morwen Daggerford requests the aid of any who would stand against the foul beasts terrorizing Daggerford. Any who would answer this call should report to Sergeant Arnith at the Lady Luck tavern in Daggerford.
Act 1 - Wolves At The Door
It's been roughly two ten-days since you read the notice and began your journey to Daggerford and now you've finally arrived. You enter through the Caravan Gate and soon find the Lady Luck tavern. It appears to be rather busy this evening, not surprising for a tavern, but what is surprising is the lack of revelry and merriment usually found within. There are a large number of well armed people hanging around the outside of the establishment and the door seems to be in constant motion as patrons enter and exit one after another. As you wait your turn in line you overhear some of the folks standing nearby talking about the upcoming werewolf hunt. Rumors, boasting, and jesting mostly, but it all seems a little forced. When you finally make it inside you find the taproom full to bursting. Every table is full and every person is armed. There are genders and races of all types to be found. You reach the bar where you find a middle aged human woman with greying brown hair gathered into a simple bun atop her head. She wears the uniform and armor of the Daggerford City Watch and doesn't bother to look up from her paperwork as you approach, "Sign your name and the name of someone to whom we can send your remains and pay if you die." She slides a piece of paper to you and continues, "If you can't read or write, please step aside and someone will assist you at a later time. Otherwise, please be aware that you are being hired as a mercenary, not in any way affiliated with nor sponsored by the Daggerford City Watch. You will be assigned to a squad and will obey the commands of your Sergeant." She reaches into a canvas bag next to her and draws a colored stone from it, "Black. You're assigned to Sergeant Gribz. He's over there in the corner. Big half-orc, with a big axe, and hair all dreaded and gathered in a bundle. Next." Before you can react, someone pushes past you and begins filling out their paperwork. You wend your way across the crowded taproom toward Sgt. Gribz. You see he sits opposite a shifty looking human man that fidgets nervously. Neither is speaking when you approach. When you introduce yourself, Sgt. Gribz looks you over appraisingly before responding, "Hail, welcome to black squad. Have a seat." It isn't long before other members of black squad begin to arrive and also take a seat around the table.
All - You all arrive in the order you post to this thread. Whoever arrives/posts first can speak to Sgt. Gribz or the other gentleman at the table if they'd like or wait for other party members to arrive/post and speak with them. We will use this time to introduce and role-play our characters a bit before moving the narrative along.
Zindarik weaves his way through the crowd and toward the leader of black squad. Beneath his faded grey cloak, the dragonborn's chain mail clinks rhythmically with each step he takes. With a slight bow of his head, he introduces himself. "Greetings, Sergeant. I am Zindarik Grimshard."
Zindarik then turns his gaze upon the human sitting across from Gribz. "And good day to you. You are part of black squad, I assume?"
The seeming nervousness of the human compels Zindarik to make a study of him if, or when, he responds. (Insight: 4)
Zindarik - The man looks to you and looks away, then back to you, his gaze never staying in one spot. He is middle-aged and has thin dark blonde hair that hangs limply across his forehead above dark brown eyes. He is dressed in worn travelling clothes and when he speaks you can see that he is missing a few teeth, "Aye, name's Alvor. Yer a big fella, glad yer in our squad." His nervous laughter dies quickly under the unamused glare of Sgt. Gribz. Alvor swallows and looks around before continuing, "I don't suppose they're servin' drinks tonight what with all the commotion... Could use a sip meself..." Sgt. Gribz growls low in his throat before responding, "No drinkin' on duty..." He gives a hard glare and adds, "...and you're always on duty." Alvor replies, "Right, right. Uh... Sergeant. S-Sir."
Insight check results:
It is hard to get a good read on Alvor in the busy tavern, but from his body language you certainly get the feeling he's nervous. Just what exactly he's nervous about remains a mystery to you.
At 7 feet tall, Ankita towers over most everyone in the tavern. She looks over and sees her squadron leader and makes her way there. She is dressed her her leather armor, red wild hair piled on top of her head, showing off her blue skin. Her eyes are shifting from person to person taking it all in - she isn't used to being in crowded places and it is making her feel nervous. Once she reaches her area, Ankita says, "Sergeant Gribz, I am Ankita, druid from the Lost Peaks." She takes a seat next to Zindarik and looking at both Zindarik and the human says "Looks like we're in for a werewolf hunt. Either of you ever seen one before?" She tries to seem conversational, but is obviously out of her element.
Ankita - The human man's eyes go wide when he sees you, "Gods, they jus' keep gettin' bigger an' bigger! Lady Luck indeed, my luck is finally turnin' around, Tymora be praised. We'll bag the most werewolves by far with you lot on our squad, fer sure." He smiles wide, showing missing and yellowed teeth, "Name's Alvor." He offers his hand and if you shake it you find it sweaty and the grip limp. Sgt. Gribz smiles when he sees you and motions to an empty chair next to Zindarik, "Welcome to black squad Ankita." He seems genuinely pleased to have you, but his smile sours as Alvor prattles on.
Summer - Sgt. Gribz nods to you and says, "Welcome to black squad." After you take your seat he adds, "Our strategy is to send everything we've got left after 'em and pray it's enough." Alvor looks around and leans in as he whispers conspiratorially, "I heard the good Lady Morwen's been makin' infernal dealings with Asmodeus himself! She's offerin' up the souls of her people fer unholy power and immortality... I heard when the moon's full she bathes in the blood of virgins and cavorts with..." Avlor is cut off by a loud SMACK as Sgt. Gribz slams his fist on to the table, "Enough! Lady Morwen is not in league with devils! She's paying yer sorry arse good coin, her own coin, to protect her people. It doesn't matter why they're here, it only matters that they're defeated!" Sgt. Gribz then crosses his arms and glares at Alvor as he mutters under his breath.
Unable to decipher the cause of Alvor's unease, Zindarik turns his focus to Ankita, greeting her as warmly as he can. "Greetings, druid! I've no familiarity with werewolves. They're the stuff of frightening hatchling stories among my clan, however."
After greeting Summer and taking notice of her rather direct approach, Zindarik waits to hear a response to the elf's question. Alvor's theory startles Zindarik slightly but the dragonborn says nothing.
Indirectly addressing Gribz's remark, Zindarik muses, "Possibly in defeating them we may learn the answer to why they have come. We shall see..."
Ankita takes Alvor's hand in greeting and instantly regrets it. Wonders about social protocol on wiping her hand off on her armor? Does it quickly and hopes no one notices.
Something Sgt. Gribz says makes Ankita pause, "I'm sorry, but what do you mean by everything you've got left? Has this battle been going on long? What can you tell us about what has happened so far?" She turns to Zindarik, "It's nice to meet you, can't say I've ever spoken to a dragonborn before" giving him a smile.
All - Alvor stands and says, "I-I'm going to find a privy and get some fresh air, all this noise and excitement's givin' me a headache." He leaves without waiting for a response. Sgt. Gribz sighs and says, "If the wolves don't get that one, I probably will by the time we're done." He rubs his face with a meaty hand then continues, "I'm sorry about my sour mood. I've lost more than a few good friends to the beasts and I don't have very many left." Sgt. Gribz looks to you all and says, "I won't honey my words with you, we've sent our best to put an end to these beasts and they slaughtered them all like untrained farm hands. We're all that's left. Us and that impudent cur we're stuck with." He motions dismissively in the direction Avlor went. Sgt. Gribz looks to Ankita and continues, "The attacks began a few months ago. Started out as rumors coming from the farmsteads between here and the Misty Forest. Figured it was the usual yokel glimpsing a wolf carry off his ewe and crying werewolf. Then the rumors stopped. So did the produce. When we sent City Watch to investigate, they found whole families butchered along with their livestock. Soon enough folks in Daggerford started seeing werewolves too. Every full moon since, a pile of 'em comes pouring out of the Misty Forest to claw at our gates and slay any unfortunate souls caught outside them. After a while the attacks started coming even when the moon wasn't full. It isn't every night they come, but more often than not. We don't know why, they only seem interested in killing."
"Wow. Its a good thing we are all here. I hope there is to be more of us though." Looking around she sees many groups of all different sizes. Werewolves. It is just so unnatural. Even though she feels out of place in such a crowded area, she knows this is the right place to be. Looking at Sgt. Gribz and Summer, "I am so sorry for those that you have lost. Hopefully, what we can do here will help prevent such tragic tales." Just addressing the Sgt now, "Speaking of tales, what can you tell us of our friend that you call Avlor? He seems quite nervous about something"
Ankita - Sgt. Gribz shrugs and says, "Not much other than the fact that I don't trust him. I've seen a lot of combat and I know a coward when I see one." He looks past you toward the line of potential recruits that extends to and out the door, "They're taking anyone with a pulse and we're the unlucky squad that got stuck with him. You lot seem decent enough, just don't expect our friend," the word drips with sarcasm, "to watch your back in a fight."
As if in answer to Ankita’s thought ("Wow. Its a good thing we are all here. I hope there is to be more of us though."), a half-orc somewhere north of 6 feet tall rises from the recruiting table, surveys the taproom and begins to walk toward black squad. He is clad in chainmail and carries a warhammer and shield at his back. The observant will see the mark of Tyr on both; as well as on the amulet at his wrist. Oddly he also has a near transparent gauze across his eyes, tied behind his head where his dark hair is scrapped into a short pony tail. He approaches the group looking at each member in turn seemingly betraying little emotion. He approaches the sergeant saying “I am Hofaen. I am a cleric of Tyr and I am at you service”. As he says this he kneels putting his fist to his chest “I will bring justice where there is none”. He appears entirely unconcerned that this formality may seem awkward or even backwards. As he has only just arrived he begins to ask many of the same questions as other members of the party have already covered. As/if party members answer his questions he will observe them for signs of religious affiliation mostly aiming to understand what these are but especially if there are an other adherents to Tyr.
Religion check: 14
PC | Hofaen - Curse of Strahd by Dylanthalas
Baldwin enters the pub, and after being rather unceremoniously hurried through the signup line, seeks the black squad. His talons rap against the wooden floors as he maneuvers across the room, clearly annoyed that he must tuck his wings so as to not bump anyone in the crowded tavern. Finally locating the group, he lets out in a voice that is at times both melodious and shrill, "Good evening, I am Baldwin von Kastanie *trill*. I have descended from the mountains to aid in your fight. Surely these happenings are the beginning of the great conflict which Aerdrie sent me forth for *chirp chirp*. Who am I in the presence of?" Cocking his head to one side as he finishes speaking.
"Greetings, Hofaen. We welcome you," offers Zindarik. "As one loyal to Bahamut, it is fitting and good for me to fight alongside a cleric of Tyr."
With a noticeable tone of curiosity in his voice, Zindarik then greets Baldwin, "I am Zindarik of Clan Grimshard. Welcome!"
Hofaen - Sgt. Gribz returns your salute, placing his fist to his chest, "A Cleric of The Maimed God is always welcome among black squad, welcome Hofaen."
Religion check results:
It appears Sgt. Gribz is familiar with Tyr though probably not a follower himself. Alvor displays no religious iconography nor does he seem to react when you mention Tyr. As for the others that are present, I will leave it up to them to say whether or not they are displaying symbols, icons, or amulets pertaining to any specific deity.
Baldwin - Sgt. Gribz raises an eyebrow when he sees you, but nods as you introduce yourself, "Welcome to black squad Baldwin. I have fought alongside others of your race and I have found them to be noble warriors."
All - Alvor returns, eyeing the newcomers. He slips into his seat across from Sgt. Gribz and offers his sweaty, limp grip to any who would take it. He looks to everyone, then leans back in his chair and surveys the room, "Are we all here?" Sgt. Gribz shakes his head and says, "Waiting on one more. Once we're all here I'll brief you all on the upcoming mission."
“Good to meet you Hofaen, I am Ankita, a Druid from the Lost Peaks, welcome to our squad. And yes justice does help bring balance to all things, especially nature.” As Ankita talks to Hofaen, you notice the oak leaf that she has engraved on her quarterstaff, and you recall that symbol references Sylvanus - god of wild nature.
”An Aaracokra! I had a best friend back where I came from that was an aaracokra. Well met, Baldwin, welcome to our crew. The name is Ankita and I am a Druid from the Lost Peaks - have you heard of it?”
Excited to hear of another Aarakocra, Baldwin lets out an excited, buzzy call. "I have flown over many places. I have perched on the highest treetops and tallest mountains. I rarely know them by name *chip chip* for to me they are but short resting places before returning to the sky. I should like to formally visit some day though and meet your friend *trill*."