Approaching the village on a cold winter night, Expecting the rapture of holiday delight. The buildings were covered by a fresh blanket of snow, But something was missing, the spirits seemed low. No children were playing, no lights had been hung, No trees decked with tinsel, no songs being sung. The silence was eerie, the mood was quite dire. The inn offered shelter, but no warmth by its fire.
The only building with any lights on is a large house that appears to be an inn. As you enter, you immediately notice that the mood in the inn is quite bleak. The flames in the fireplace have nearly gone out. A few candles and lanterns provide dim lighting. There are a dozen or so adults scattered around the main room, picking at cold food or drinking ale and wine. Few people seem to have noticed the party entering, and fewer seem to care.
Inside the feeling was in no way improved. The patrons were quiet, barely anyone moved. The group stepped up to the bar, asked, "What's going on?" The bartender frowned, "Our joy is all gone. The children have all been taken away By a being most foul, who loathes Christmas day." He looked ‘round the room and lowered his voice, "A lich has enslaved all our girls and our boys."
Approaching the village on a cold winter night, Expecting the rapture of holiday delight. The buildings were covered by a fresh blanket of snow, But something was missing, the spirits seemed low. No children were playing, no lights had been hung, No trees decked with tinsel, no songs being sung. The silence was eerie, the mood was quite dire. The inn offered shelter, but no warmth by its fire.
The only building with any lights on is a large house that appears to be an inn. As you enter, you immediately notice that the mood in the inn is quite bleak. The flames in the fireplace have nearly gone out. A few candles and lanterns provide dim lighting. There are a dozen or so adults scattered around the main room, picking at cold food or drinking ale and wine. Few people seem to have noticed the party entering, and fewer seem to care.
Inside the feeling was in no way improved. The patrons were quiet, barely anyone moved. The group stepped up to the bar, asked, "What's going on?" The bartender frowned, "Our joy is all gone. The children have all been taken away By a being most foul, who loathes Christmas day." He looked ‘round the room and lowered his voice, "A lich has enslaved all our girls and our boys."
(Nice post. I like the introduction, descriptive language, rhyming... very good.)
Batair, hardy and hardened, hops up onto a barstool, and thomps his finger a few times on the counter.
"Something stout." he orders in a gruff voice. "It seems tales of this town were rather embellished.."
Tall for a dwarf at just under 5ft, Batair is built much like one would imagine a stone wall. He hails from stout and stalky kin, with attitude less worse for wear than some accustomed to the tragedies of war.
He can have his jovial moments, but tends more toward the serious side. Oathsworn to protect all kinds of races from evil forces, Batair wears his role as a Paladin proudly.
"So, how many taken? When, where, and who noticed anything? ...and what can you tell me about this lich?" he balks at the bartender while pointing toward and awaiting his tankard.
An even smaller figure drifts through the air with a twinkling of snow trailing behind from ethereal wings. Fairies are uncommon in these parts, but not entirely unheard of; and in the glum attitude of the inn this ones presence does not rouse any attention to speak of.
His attire is a robe of light blue and silver, with a slight shimmer of frost covering his too-young-looking face and exposed hands. From a thong hanging around his neck is a wrapped vial of a light lilac liquid. His white hair shines brightly in the room, somehow managing to capture, reflect, and magnify all of the light that shines at it in a way evocative of a landscape of fresh fallen snow.
"A chilled peppermint cocktail for me, if you have it. If not, anything cold will do."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Lyra Ravenscale instinctively surveys the mood at the inn as she enters and lightly shakes stray snow from her dirty blond hair. The dying firelight of the inn casts an almost unearthly, fey light on her pretty, not quite beautiful, face with its deep blue eyes and dark lipstick. Lightly, subconsciously, she touches the dull black harmonica that she keeps about her slim neck her at all times, almost seeming to drink the light gleaming from her silvery half plate armor and shield with the symbol of an eye on it. Strange gear for a half-elven bard.
Not too long removed from being a child herself, she shivers slightly as she stifles the horrific thought of young tykes being abducted by a Lich and its foul minions. Unnatural creatures and often immune to her magic and charms. But she would find a way to help these people, particularly with a little luck and the right companions. Speaking of which...
Clearly there are questions to be asked, and she sees that her fellow adventurer, the doughty dwarf, has already made a start. She favors him with a nod and a little smile that she is fairly sure will not be returned.
Right to the point as most dwarves are. Just like his battleaxe one hopes. Lyra can appreciate that.
She smiles more widely to see the tiny fey creature in blue and silver nearby. A fellow spirit perhaps, she muses, fey-touched as she is. She indicates to the barkeep that she'll have what the fairy is having as she studies the long-faced patrons of the inn.
Right this very moment, she senses, the people of Hoovale need hope as much as they need questioning. Something to beat back the chill of despair.
As a bard, her best work is prose, not poetry, but naturally she appreciates a good rhyme more than most and decides to respond in kind. She plays a haunting, resonant chord on her harmonica, pitching her voice to respond to the bartender, but so that it carries for the entire inn to hear.
"When the hour grows late and Yuletide hopes fall dark, And those that you cherish are gone or in fear... A Lich you say? Unless I have missed my mark Let the cruel undead now witness our spark Of hope and soon, the return of your children dear."
After this, content for once to let others do the speaking, Lyra plays her harmonica in the background. Not a lively tune as that still does not seem fitting amidst the sadness and grief, but something invoking solidarity. What in another universe would be called The Blues. We are in this together, the cadence and melody seem to urge.
If necessary: Persuasion (+13 and Eloquence Bard's Silver Tongue gives her a min 10 dice roll on Persuasion and Deception, so minimum 23 if the result is lower than that): 22
Kosmos enters the quaint little village enjoying high hopes. Excited to go on another adventure and wondering what will await them here. It appears to be darker than he would have imagined on Christmas Day, but maybe they’ve all worn themselves out? He knows something doesn’t feel right as they make their way to the Inn, but at the same time he is trying to make reasonable explanations for the feeling of dread and emptiness that is washing over him. It is Christmas isn’t it? There is supposed to be a feeling of peace and hope in the air, not this.
They enter the Inn and as the barkeep answers them, it takes Kosmos a bit to let the information to sink in. All the children stolen? That can’t be right. As the dwarf, fairy and half-elf go up to the bar to order a drink, the harengon takes a seat near the dwindling fire trying to wrap his head around the situation. Tall for his race, around 6’ and slender, he has soft tan fur with white on his face. He wears a dark red monk’s robe with black edging, kept clean and neat. Black wraps around his wrists and quarterstaff; he leans back and attempts to appear lost in thought. He starts checking out the other patrons in the tavern to see if he can learn anything else.
Entering the village Donlas is a bit dreadful. He left the village only a couple of weeks a go after he stole some gold from some of the villagers. He was afraid someone had seen him so he decided to get away and stay low for a bit. However, when he heard about the missing children he had to come back; afraid of what happened to his own.
Walking into the bar he stays at the back. His armors command spoken to let it be a cloak that hides his face. People shouldn't know about his crimes, but one never can be to careful. For now he'll wait a bit to what happens and how people react etc. At the bar he mumbles for an ale, before he turns on his stool to look around.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war |Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Having ordered what the Fairy ordered, Lyra pauses her melody to take a brief sip and immediately starts shivering. Tymora's tits, that's cold!
She tries to cover her momentary discomfiture with an ascending riff and flourish on her harmonica as she resumes playing the blues, walking over to the fireplace, nodding a quick smile at the seemingly daydreaming Harengon seated nearby.
Casting Prestidigitation to get the fire going again and warm everyone up a bit, most of all herself.
Jack smiles at her visible discomfort playfully. "Sorry about that. Some people like their drinks to burn on the way down to the tummy, I prefer it cold. It certainly isn't for everyone, but the cold's never bothered me. Anyway," He turns the the crowd of forlorn adults. "...no children at Christmas is just entirely unacceptable. Where will we find this lich? Tell us what direction he went or where his lair resides and we will go forth to free the little ones."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Batair "This is called Dragon's Milk." The bartender says as he pours Batair a mug of something, that has a nice head of foam, the liquid itself a deep dark. The beer smells of bourbon and has a nice bite as Batair takes a swig. "How many were taken, well, all of the children." He answers. "We noticed when we woke up for Christmas morning, as it was late for the children to want to be opening presents. We found footprints, and wagon wheel tracks, so a group of the village elders went after them. No one has returned from that group either." His voice is hushed as he speaks, and he keeps his head bowed, shoulders slumped under what appears to be a heavy weight of worry.
Jack Turning from Batair the bartender gives Jack a nod and then turns to his bottles. He opens a door, that has whisps of cold fog swirling out of it when opened, pulling out a bottle with a pair of protective gloves. He pours a decent amount into a thick mug, adding in peppermint and a few other ingredients, stirring it all together as cold fog swirls above the mug. he hands the mug to Jack when finished, then returns to washing some cups with a white cloth.
Lyra "That drink may be a bit too chilly, but if it is what you wish." The bartender goes through the same process as before, pulling on protective gloves and getting the fog-swirling bottle from inside the magical cold box. As he works on the drink Lyra attempts to lift the spirits of the room a bit, even if it is just to give them hope. Going by the expressions on the various patrons faces, her words, and music have a great affect. No one is dancing or making merry, but spirits have clearly been lifted, though sadness still exists, as their children are missing. Taking a break from her music, Lyra picks up her mug, the cold fog swirling above it. Taking the smallest sip, she feels cold rush through her body, making her shiver. Needing warmth she moves over to the fireplace and causes the flames to rise up, a nice crackling fire soon sending out warmth.
Kosmos As you sit by the dwindling fire you would overhear what is said to Batair. The other patrons of the tavern seem to be keeping silent, not talking as they sip on their own drinks and nibble on food as they push it around on their plates. Once the bard plays though, spirits seem to be lifted up, though conversation doesn't really pick up. The people seem to have a bit less weight on their shoulders, though the saddness is still plain on their faces. When Lyra comes over to stand near Kosmos, the flames nearby rise up, sending out more warmth into the chamber.
Donlas Donlas sits at the bar as the bartender pours drinks for Batair, Jack, and Lyra. He would overhear what was said to Batair above. "An ale?" The bartender says, giving Donlas a long look. He shrugs, moving to the taps built into the back wall. He looks over the various options, then simply picks the middle one. A deep brown liquid pours into the mug. He fills it up as a nice white foam builds up, then carries the mug over and sets it down before Donlas.
Kosmos hops up from his daydreaming state after hearing what the bartender says, “Wheel tracks you say? Well, what are we waiting for? We have to find these children and the elders for that matter. Finish your drinks and lets be on our way!” He turns to Lyra,“Thanks for the warmth, that was nice.” He picks up his quarterstaff and waits at the door for the rest of the group.
As he waits, he has a delayed thought, “Wait,” he shouts to the bartender, breaking the subdued mood of the room, “did you say which direction those wheel tracks were from here?”
"Also," Lyra murmurs gently to the bartender and the room at large, "I'm curious what evidence leads you to be certain it was a Lich? Might you have any other information to share on our foe?"
Sensing that the party may be departing soon, she suggests lingering a few more minutes to finish drinks and hear all needed answers. Time permitting, she also uses the opportunity to walk among the other four adventurers and, only if they agree, casts Rary's Telepathic Bond as a ritual on each of them that are willing so that we have a line of communication even if separated, as long as we are on the same plane of existence. Well, for the next hour at least, once the ritual is done.
Edited to add: she even includes the bartender if he is game, in case he wishes to share anything that he'd rather not say in front of the crowd, or to relay a message afterwards once the party is gone.
Sensing that the halfling sitting at the bar may wish to keep some of his thoughts to himself, she whispers in his ear. "Peace, friend. This would only share the thoughts and knowledge that you wish to share. All else remains private."
As the bartender tells about the children Donlas thinks of his own and clenches his fists under the bar. Before getting himself together, a bit, again as the bartender walks up to him.
He takes his ale, and thanks the bartender. He sips a bit before deciding he'd rather have just a normal beer so uses Prestidigitation when the bartender isn't paying attention to him to have it taste like a good normal pilsner. Which is the moment that Lyra walks up to him. He listens to her suggestion and tells her he is fine with it. Might make it easier to communicate.
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war |Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
The bartender glances to Lyra. With his spirits renewed a bit from ehr words and music, he squares his shoulder and then speaks. "There has always been rumors of the vile undead." He informs her. "None of us really believed the rumors, as we didn't wish to believe them." His eyes scan over the downturned heads of those in the room, those who won't meet his eyes. "We know now that we were wrong, as what else could have taken our children."
"The tracks are gone." Another villager says, glancing up briefly and looking around, before lowering his head. "Snow covered them up within hours. A second group of parents went out, when the first did not return, and were unable to find the tracks, so returned without being able to know where the others had gone."
Kosmos’s normally erect ears drop at the mention the tracks are gone. He comes back from the door to get closer to the villager that spoke, and in a more subdued tone, “Well, kind sir, could you tell us which direction they all set off towards? Maybe we’ll have better luck in tracking them down?”
Batair had been watching and listening to all the ongoings of the bar around him while rhythmically taking swigs of a new brew to him.
”Not half bad!” he muses while plopping the empty tankard down a little more forcefully than necessary.
”I’ll have another upon our return.” he announces while flipping a gold count through the air at the bartender.
Combing his fingers through his beard, he considers Lyra’s proposal.
”I understand the advantages, half-elf,” he mutters in reply, “but I trust none of you enough to grant a key to my thoughts.”
Batair hops down from the stool, and turns to address the assembly.
“I’ll slay your Lich.” he announces. “…as those of my order are oathsworn to do. I simply came to gather a little information as to where and what I’ll be facing.”
He looks around into the faces of the patrons.
”Do your best to point my party in the right direction, and we’ll bring back your kids.”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Lyra inclines her head courteously as the dwarven Paladin rebuffs her offer. "As you wish, sir. I respect your caution." If we are truly facing a Lich, staying near this one might be crucial for all of us. She has always noticed that something that emanates from these holy knights seems to protect all allies that are close by.
As she continues with the ritual for Rary's Telepathic Bond on the halfling and all others who are willing, including the bartender, harmonica resonating in an almost subliminal melody to shape the divination magic of the spell, she thinks about what she has heard. Nothing for it but to depart and follow the direction that the villagers point them, she supposes. Yet, doubts gnaw at her as she prepares to leave. She tries to understand the missing piece. Why?
For what purpose would someone kidnap (and enslave?) children? Ransom usually, but not in this case it seems. And adults were usually better candidates for slave labor than kids. If the goal was pure malice and hatred, why hadn't the town been wiped out and burned to the ground and its inhabitants slaughtered?
Was the slow cruelty itself the point? How better to inflict misery on the townsfolk than to deprive them of what they love most dearly? On Christmas, no less. Perhaps.
Lyra can't help but feel there is more to this story, but she agrees, it's time to get going. She finishes her ritual and ends up back near the fire where she started. Looking back at the bar, she catches the eye of the silver and blue fairy once more. With a wink, she tips her frigid drink towards him. "Here is to reuniting these good people with those they love most on this chilly winter night." She then pointedly downs the entire drink in one gulp.
Constitution saving throw if needed (+9, I assume she is not within 10' of Batair's Aura of Protection): 20
She shivers violently, but warms herself a final time by the fire, then turns to stand next to the harengon by the door.
As Lyra stops next to Kosmos playing her harmonica and requesting connection telepathically, his ears twitch at the strange possibility, but he nods in confirmation. This should be interesting he thinks. Whatever we can do to help ourselves find these children, I'm all in. After talking with the villager, he heads back to the door and waits the rest of the party.
He smiles at Lyra as she joins him, pleasantly surprised he isn't the only one with the sense of urgency. As he waits for the dwarf, fairy and halfling he starts buzzing with energy eager to get moving.
Donlas is thinkting to himself at the bar, wondering, why wasn't he here, at home when it happend; could he have done something. Or not, why couldn't no one else; how were they taken; all these kind of questions. He suddenly gets back to himself; seeing Kosmos and Lyra at the door he stands up to join them before he remembers something
"Thank you barkeep for the drink; one final question before we go look for ou... your children. How were they taken? Was no one awoken when it happened?"
Hoping he spoke quick enough that no one noticed his mistake.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war |Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
The door flew wide open, in blew the cold. A young girl stepped in, confident and bold. "I escaped from the bad things, I know where they are! Inside of the mountain, it isn't too far." Her parents embraced her, she was hugged and was kissed, But the rest of the children were still being missed. "Hello, strangers," the girl said. "You look quite brave. Would you please help rescue my friends held in the cave?"
The girl's hair and clothes are covered with snow. Her cheeks are red from the cold, but she appears unharmed. She looks at the party when addressing them and asks for their help rescuing the other children. The adults look at the adventurers expectedly as they await an answer.
As the innkeeper brings over a blanket to wrap around the girl and the bartender brings her a steaming cup of hot chocolate, she sits at a table and begins to describe what happened...
She was aroused from her bed by small scaly creatures who quickly gagged her and bound her hands and feet. They carried her away from her house as her family slept. Outside, many more of these creatures rounded up the children from the other homes and placed them all inside a wagon. The children were taken up a steep mountain path to the northeast of town. At the top of the mountain was a cave. Once inside the cave, the children were chained to tables and forced to craft all kinds of different contraptions. The girl cannot accurately describe what the items were, but explains that they were made of carved and painted pieces of wood
Before the girl's parents whisk her away back to their home for her to recover, she provides directions for the party to find the mountain she came from: It's the one directly behind the blacksmith, that looks like a smiling face is carved into the rocks at its base.
"Well we know the objective and we know the direction; A lich is no joke, but perhaps we can save these children without detection."
Jack pauses for a moment and looks quizzically at his drink. Is it so strong as to make him start rhyming? Well regardless, it is just what he needed. Finishing the dregs, he smiles at the group.
"Let us make haste, for the day grows late; If we fly tonight we can unseal their fate."
Pushing away from the bar the diminutive elfin figure floats again through the air, leaving behind more scatterings of snow flurries for the innkeeper to clean. He hovers through the air and through the doorway back out into the bracing cold.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
Approaching the village on a cold winter night,
Expecting the rapture of holiday delight.
The buildings were covered by a fresh blanket of snow,
But something was missing, the spirits seemed low.
No children were playing, no lights had been hung,
No trees decked with tinsel, no songs being sung.
The silence was eerie, the mood was quite dire.
The inn offered shelter, but no warmth by its fire.
The only building with any lights on is a large house that appears to be an inn. As you enter, you immediately notice that the mood in the inn is quite bleak. The flames in the fireplace have nearly gone out. A few candles and lanterns provide dim lighting. There are a dozen or so adults scattered around the main room, picking at cold food or drinking ale and wine. Few people seem to have noticed the party entering, and fewer seem to care.
Inside the feeling was in no way improved.
The patrons were quiet, barely anyone moved.
The group stepped up to the bar, asked, "What's going on?"
The bartender frowned, "Our joy is all gone.
The children have all been taken away
By a being most foul, who loathes Christmas day."
He looked ‘round the room and lowered his voice,
"A lich has enslaved all our girls and our boys."
(Nice post. I like the introduction, descriptive language, rhyming... very good.)
Batair, hardy and hardened, hops up onto a barstool, and thomps his finger a few times on the counter.
"Something stout." he orders in a gruff voice. "It seems tales of this town were rather embellished.."
Tall for a dwarf at just under 5ft, Batair is built much like one would imagine a stone wall. He hails from stout and stalky kin, with attitude less worse for wear than some accustomed to the tragedies of war.
He can have his jovial moments, but tends more toward the serious side. Oathsworn to protect all kinds of races from evil forces, Batair wears his role as a Paladin proudly.
"So, how many taken? When, where, and who noticed anything? ...and what can you tell me about this lich?" he balks at the bartender while pointing toward and awaiting his tankard.
(( FYI: https://i.redd.it/lxiquufwqzr21.jpg ))
An even smaller figure drifts through the air with a twinkling of snow trailing behind from ethereal wings. Fairies are uncommon in these parts, but not entirely unheard of; and in the glum attitude of the inn this ones presence does not rouse any attention to speak of.
His attire is a robe of light blue and silver, with a slight shimmer of frost covering his too-young-looking face and exposed hands. From a thong hanging around his neck is a wrapped vial of a light lilac liquid. His white hair shines brightly in the room, somehow managing to capture, reflect, and magnify all of the light that shines at it in a way evocative of a landscape of fresh fallen snow.
"A chilled peppermint cocktail for me, if you have it. If not, anything cold will do."
Reference Picture
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Lyra Ravenscale instinctively surveys the mood at the inn as she enters and lightly shakes stray snow from her dirty blond hair. The dying firelight of the inn casts an almost unearthly, fey light on her pretty, not quite beautiful, face with its deep blue eyes and dark lipstick. Lightly, subconsciously, she touches the dull black harmonica that she keeps about her slim neck her at all times, almost seeming to drink the light gleaming from her silvery half plate armor and shield with the symbol of an eye on it. Strange gear for a half-elven bard.
Not too long removed from being a child herself, she shivers slightly as she stifles the horrific thought of young tykes being abducted by a Lich and its foul minions. Unnatural creatures and often immune to her magic and charms. But she would find a way to help these people, particularly with a little luck and the right companions. Speaking of which...
Clearly there are questions to be asked, and she sees that her fellow adventurer, the doughty dwarf, has already made a start. She favors him with a nod and a little smile that she is fairly sure will not be returned.
Right to the point as most dwarves are. Just like his battleaxe one hopes. Lyra can appreciate that.
She smiles more widely to see the tiny fey creature in blue and silver nearby. A fellow spirit perhaps, she muses, fey-touched as she is. She indicates to the barkeep that she'll have what the fairy is having as she studies the long-faced patrons of the inn.
Right this very moment, she senses, the people of Hoovale need hope as much as they need questioning. Something to beat back the chill of despair.
As a bard, her best work is prose, not poetry, but naturally she appreciates a good rhyme more than most and decides to respond in kind. She plays a haunting, resonant chord on her harmonica, pitching her voice to respond to the bartender, but so that it carries for the entire inn to hear.
"When the hour grows late and Yuletide hopes fall dark,
And those that you cherish are gone or in fear...
A Lich you say? Unless I have missed my mark
Let the cruel undead now witness our spark
Of hope and soon, the return of your children dear."
After this, content for once to let others do the speaking, Lyra plays her harmonica in the background. Not a lively tune as that still does not seem fitting amidst the sadness and grief, but something invoking solidarity. What in another universe would be called The Blues. We are in this together, the cadence and melody seem to urge.
If necessary:
Persuasion (+13 and Eloquence Bard's Silver Tongue gives her a min 10 dice roll on Persuasion and Deception, so minimum 23 if the result is lower than that): 22
Performance (also +13 but with no mimimum): 19
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Kosmos enters the quaint little village enjoying high hopes. Excited to go on another adventure and wondering what will await them here. It appears to be darker than he would have imagined on Christmas Day, but maybe they’ve all worn themselves out? He knows something doesn’t feel right as they make their way to the Inn, but at the same time he is trying to make reasonable explanations for the feeling of dread and emptiness that is washing over him. It is Christmas isn’t it? There is supposed to be a feeling of peace and hope in the air, not this.
They enter the Inn and as the barkeep answers them, it takes Kosmos a bit to let the information to sink in. All the children stolen? That can’t be right. As the dwarf, fairy and half-elf go up to the bar to order a drink, the harengon takes a seat near the dwindling fire trying to wrap his head around the situation. Tall for his race, around 6’ and slender, he has soft tan fur with white on his face. He wears a dark red monk’s robe with black edging, kept clean and neat. Black wraps around his wrists and quarterstaff; he leans back and attempts to appear lost in thought. He starts checking out the other patrons in the tavern to see if he can learn anything else.
Perception: 27
Entering the village Donlas is a bit dreadful. He left the village only a couple of weeks a go after he stole some gold from some of the villagers. He was afraid someone had seen him so he decided to get away and stay low for a bit. However, when he heard about the missing children he had to come back; afraid of what happened to his own.
Walking into the bar he stays at the back. His armors command spoken to let it be a cloak that hides his face. People shouldn't know about his crimes, but one never can be to careful. For now he'll wait a bit to what happens and how people react etc. At the bar he mumbles for an ale, before he turns on his stool to look around.
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war | Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Having ordered what the Fairy ordered, Lyra pauses her melody to take a brief sip and immediately starts shivering. Tymora's tits, that's cold!
She tries to cover her momentary discomfiture with an ascending riff and flourish on her harmonica as she resumes playing the blues, walking over to the fireplace, nodding a quick smile at the seemingly daydreaming Harengon seated nearby.
Casting Prestidigitation to get the fire going again and warm everyone up a bit, most of all herself.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Jack smiles at her visible discomfort playfully. "Sorry about that. Some people like their drinks to burn on the way down to the tummy, I prefer it cold. It certainly isn't for everyone, but the cold's never bothered me. Anyway," He turns the the crowd of forlorn adults. "...no children at Christmas is just entirely unacceptable. Where will we find this lich? Tell us what direction he went or where his lair resides and we will go forth to free the little ones."
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Batair
"This is called Dragon's Milk." The bartender says as he pours Batair a mug of something, that has a nice head of foam, the liquid itself a deep dark. The beer smells of bourbon and has a nice bite as Batair takes a swig.
"How many were taken, well, all of the children." He answers. "We noticed when we woke up for Christmas morning, as it was late for the children to want to be opening presents. We found footprints, and wagon wheel tracks, so a group of the village elders went after them. No one has returned from that group either." His voice is hushed as he speaks, and he keeps his head bowed, shoulders slumped under what appears to be a heavy weight of worry.
Jack
Turning from Batair the bartender gives Jack a nod and then turns to his bottles. He opens a door, that has whisps of cold fog swirling out of it when opened, pulling out a bottle with a pair of protective gloves. He pours a decent amount into a thick mug, adding in peppermint and a few other ingredients, stirring it all together as cold fog swirls above the mug. he hands the mug to Jack when finished, then returns to washing some cups with a white cloth.
Lyra
"That drink may be a bit too chilly, but if it is what you wish." The bartender goes through the same process as before, pulling on protective gloves and getting the fog-swirling bottle from inside the magical cold box. As he works on the drink Lyra attempts to lift the spirits of the room a bit, even if it is just to give them hope. Going by the expressions on the various patrons faces, her words, and music have a great affect. No one is dancing or making merry, but spirits have clearly been lifted, though sadness still exists, as their children are missing.
Taking a break from her music, Lyra picks up her mug, the cold fog swirling above it. Taking the smallest sip, she feels cold rush through her body, making her shiver. Needing warmth she moves over to the fireplace and causes the flames to rise up, a nice crackling fire soon sending out warmth.
Kosmos
As you sit by the dwindling fire you would overhear what is said to Batair. The other patrons of the tavern seem to be keeping silent, not talking as they sip on their own drinks and nibble on food as they push it around on their plates. Once the bard plays though, spirits seem to be lifted up, though conversation doesn't really pick up. The people seem to have a bit less weight on their shoulders, though the saddness is still plain on their faces. When Lyra comes over to stand near Kosmos, the flames nearby rise up, sending out more warmth into the chamber.
Donlas
Donlas sits at the bar as the bartender pours drinks for Batair, Jack, and Lyra. He would overhear what was said to Batair above.
"An ale?" The bartender says, giving Donlas a long look. He shrugs, moving to the taps built into the back wall. He looks over the various options, then simply picks the middle one. A deep brown liquid pours into the mug. He fills it up as a nice white foam builds up, then carries the mug over and sets it down before Donlas.
Kosmos hops up from his daydreaming state after hearing what the bartender says, “Wheel tracks you say? Well, what are we waiting for? We have to find these children and the elders for that matter. Finish your drinks and lets be on our way!” He turns to Lyra, “Thanks for the warmth, that was nice.” He picks up his quarterstaff and waits at the door for the rest of the group.
As he waits, he has a delayed thought, “Wait,” he shouts to the bartender, breaking the subdued mood of the room, “did you say which direction those wheel tracks were from here?”
"Also," Lyra murmurs gently to the bartender and the room at large, "I'm curious what evidence leads you to be certain it was a Lich? Might you have any other information to share on our foe?"
Sensing that the party may be departing soon, she suggests lingering a few more minutes to finish drinks and hear all needed answers. Time permitting, she also uses the opportunity to walk among the other four adventurers and, only if they agree, casts Rary's Telepathic Bond as a ritual on each of them that are willing so that we have a line of communication even if separated, as long as we are on the same plane of existence. Well, for the next hour at least, once the ritual is done.
Edited to add: she even includes the bartender if he is game, in case he wishes to share anything that he'd rather not say in front of the crowd, or to relay a message afterwards once the party is gone.
Sensing that the halfling sitting at the bar may wish to keep some of his thoughts to himself, she whispers in his ear. "Peace, friend. This would only share the thoughts and knowledge that you wish to share. All else remains private."
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
As the bartender tells about the children Donlas thinks of his own and clenches his fists under the bar. Before getting himself together, a bit, again as the bartender walks up to him.
He takes his ale, and thanks the bartender. He sips a bit before deciding he'd rather have just a normal beer so uses Prestidigitation when the bartender isn't paying attention to him to have it taste like a good normal pilsner. Which is the moment that Lyra walks up to him. He listens to her suggestion and tells her he is fine with it. Might make it easier to communicate.
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war | Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
The bartender glances to Lyra. With his spirits renewed a bit from ehr words and music, he squares his shoulder and then speaks. "There has always been rumors of the vile undead." He informs her. "None of us really believed the rumors, as we didn't wish to believe them." His eyes scan over the downturned heads of those in the room, those who won't meet his eyes. "We know now that we were wrong, as what else could have taken our children."
"The tracks are gone." Another villager says, glancing up briefly and looking around, before lowering his head. "Snow covered them up within hours. A second group of parents went out, when the first did not return, and were unable to find the tracks, so returned without being able to know where the others had gone."
Kosmos’s normally erect ears drop at the mention the tracks are gone. He comes back from the door to get closer to the villager that spoke, and in a more subdued tone, “Well, kind sir, could you tell us which direction they all set off towards? Maybe we’ll have better luck in tracking them down?”
Batair had been watching and listening to all the ongoings of the bar around him while rhythmically taking swigs of a new brew to him.
”Not half bad!” he muses while plopping the empty tankard down a little more forcefully than necessary.
”I’ll have another upon our return.” he announces while flipping a gold count through the air at the bartender.
Combing his fingers through his beard, he considers Lyra’s proposal.
”I understand the advantages, half-elf,” he mutters in reply, “but I trust none of you enough to grant a key to my thoughts.”
Batair hops down from the stool, and turns to address the assembly.
“I’ll slay your Lich.” he announces. “…as those of my order are oathsworn to do. I simply came to gather a little information as to where and what I’ll be facing.”
He looks around into the faces of the patrons.
”Do your best to point my party in the right direction, and we’ll bring back your kids.”
Lyra inclines her head courteously as the dwarven Paladin rebuffs her offer. "As you wish, sir. I respect your caution." If we are truly facing a Lich, staying near this one might be crucial for all of us. She has always noticed that something that emanates from these holy knights seems to protect all allies that are close by.
As she continues with the ritual for Rary's Telepathic Bond on the halfling and all others who are willing, including the bartender, harmonica resonating in an almost subliminal melody to shape the divination magic of the spell, she thinks about what she has heard. Nothing for it but to depart and follow the direction that the villagers point them, she supposes. Yet, doubts gnaw at her as she prepares to leave. She tries to understand the missing piece. Why?
For what purpose would someone kidnap (and enslave?) children? Ransom usually, but not in this case it seems. And adults were usually better candidates for slave labor than kids. If the goal was pure malice and hatred, why hadn't the town been wiped out and burned to the ground and its inhabitants slaughtered?
Was the slow cruelty itself the point? How better to inflict misery on the townsfolk than to deprive them of what they love most dearly? On Christmas, no less. Perhaps.
Lyra can't help but feel there is more to this story, but she agrees, it's time to get going. She finishes her ritual and ends up back near the fire where she started. Looking back at the bar, she catches the eye of the silver and blue fairy once more. With a wink, she tips her frigid drink towards him. "Here is to reuniting these good people with those they love most on this chilly winter night." She then pointedly downs the entire drink in one gulp.
Constitution saving throw if needed (+9, I assume she is not within 10' of Batair's Aura of Protection): 20
She shivers violently, but warms herself a final time by the fire, then turns to stand next to the harengon by the door.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
As Lyra stops next to Kosmos playing her harmonica and requesting connection telepathically, his ears twitch at the strange possibility, but he nods in confirmation. This should be interesting he thinks. Whatever we can do to help ourselves find these children, I'm all in. After talking with the villager, he heads back to the door and waits the rest of the party.
He smiles at Lyra as she joins him, pleasantly surprised he isn't the only one with the sense of urgency. As he waits for the dwarf, fairy and halfling he starts buzzing with energy eager to get moving.
Donlas is thinkting to himself at the bar, wondering, why wasn't he here, at home when it happend; could he have done something. Or not, why couldn't no one else; how were they taken; all these kind of questions. He suddenly gets back to himself; seeing Kosmos and Lyra at the door he stands up to join them before he remembers something
"Thank you barkeep for the drink; one final question before we go look for ou... your children. How were they taken? Was no one awoken when it happened?"
Hoping he spoke quick enough that no one noticed his mistake.
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war | Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
The door flew wide open, in blew the cold.
A young girl stepped in, confident and bold.
"I escaped from the bad things, I know where they are!
Inside of the mountain, it isn't too far."
Her parents embraced her, she was hugged and was kissed,
But the rest of the children were still being missed.
"Hello, strangers," the girl said. "You look quite brave.
Would you please help rescue my friends held in the cave?"
The girl's hair and clothes are covered with snow. Her cheeks are red from the cold, but she appears unharmed. She looks at the party when addressing them and asks for their help rescuing the other children. The adults look at the adventurers expectedly as they await an answer.
As the innkeeper brings over a blanket to wrap around the girl and the bartender brings her a steaming cup of hot chocolate, she sits at a table and begins to describe what happened...
She was aroused from her bed by small scaly creatures who quickly gagged her and bound her hands and feet. They carried her away from her house as her family slept. Outside, many more of these creatures rounded up the children from the other homes and placed them all inside a wagon. The children were taken up a steep mountain path to the northeast of town. At the top of the mountain was a cave. Once inside the cave, the children were chained to tables and forced to craft all kinds of different contraptions. The girl cannot accurately describe what the items were, but explains that they were made of carved and painted pieces of wood
Before the girl's parents whisk her away back to their home for her to recover, she provides directions for the party to find the mountain she came from: It's the one directly behind the blacksmith, that looks like a smiling face is carved into the rocks at its base.
"Well we know the objective and we know the direction;
A lich is no joke, but perhaps we can save these children without detection."
Jack pauses for a moment and looks quizzically at his drink. Is it so strong as to make him start rhyming? Well regardless, it is just what he needed. Finishing the dregs, he smiles at the group.
"Let us make haste, for the day grows late;
If we fly tonight we can unseal their fate."
Pushing away from the bar the diminutive elfin figure floats again through the air, leaving behind more scatterings of snow flurries for the innkeeper to clean. He hovers through the air and through the doorway back out into the bracing cold.
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)