Entering the Hanged Man on a blustery early fall evening from your day's business. Your party enters the tavern only to be approached moments later and tempted with a free ale by Wyndell Flickerfield. The gnome has been giving you and your party the once over for an opportunity to work for their own absent employers adventurers Polux and Grimsby. The gnome has kept you on tenterhooks with stories of adventure as your party took several days to reassemble. That evening, the second which you've all reunited, seems as good as any to start something!
Ushering you all to seats at a table you know to be Wyn’s makeshift desk. You find seated already two young humans in their late teens along with Eyes in the Dark. The tabaxi seems to be consulting them but quickly bows out once Wyndell brings your party over. The teens introduce themselves almost immediately as twins, Brida and Baltus Gunnulf. They hail from the village of Carrowkeel by a large lake about a day and a half ride south east from Ferim, the large market town where the party has assembled after their sabbatical. The twins confess they walked over the course of the last three days and two nights to seek help. Their youth and earnestness is clear. It peeks your interest, for reasons of your own, but to Wyndell in seems has agreed to help.
Seated around Wyn's table, food and drinks are given while everyone settles in. After all the party are together and the young boy gorges himself on food as the teen girl launches into their tale of woe: As shepherds in Carrowkeel at the largest farm in the village, the Stokkr farm, their flock as well as their neighbour's were recently beset by a beast(s). Some monster(s) came in the night picking off the most prized of the flock for 5he last few weeks. The beast(s) even slayed the hounds trained to defend the sheep. The Gunnulf however have suffered the greatest loss so far. Their father, whose body has yet to be recovered, had been watching the flock four nights ago and was attacked! He was the first assumed human casualty. The Gunnulf twins were sent by the other farming families, sixteen families in all, to find help. This is only after their own village lawbringer failed to find the beast and end its reign of terror. The Gunnulf twins have been to three other pubs that night before coming to the Hanged Man. They explain how no one will take them seriously because they lack a great deal of coin. They hope you will be more understanding than the others who ran them out of their establishments unaided.
The twins are not malnourished even though the boy eats like he hasn't in days but they are exhausted by travelling on foot. In fact their clothing even suggests to you some sort of wealth but what they wear is well-worn. The Gunnulf twins are nearly identical with blonde, pale skin, and blue eyes.
Wyndell of course offers the twins aid but after prompting Ed to rejoin the party the gnome and tabaxi defer the final decision to the group.
OOC Please begin introductions. Order is as follows:
Persephone
Salamir
Constance
Rammand
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Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
Since Kit's death, Persephone has been healing the sick and injured around town, even helping with Ceremony for Weddings, Funerals, Coming of age ceremonies, Blessings, even an Atonement or Dedication or two, with the cooperation of the local clergy. Since it's evening she's dressed in her familiar black vestments.
She's seen her friends from the adventuring group several times, but this is the first time they've all been called together since Kit died. She was professional in her dealings with him, but recognized him as a mentor for the group, so his loss hurt.
The slender, dark haired Priestess stands to address the youth. "I'm Persephone, you might say I'm a shepard of souls for Sehainie. Hail and well met. '
Sitting in a reclined position, his feet braced against the side of the table, is a young elf wearing a long dark brown overcoat over a reddish shirt, with dark trousers and black calf length boots. He sports a distinctive red mohawk haircut and in his hands he holds a lute that he is very lightly strumming, seemingly disinterested as the young girl tells her tale of misfortune and tragedy. This disinterest is of course feigned, and he is in fact listening quite intently.
It wasn’t the same without Kit there to actually appear to be interested though, and to ask the pertinent questions. He briefly glances over at each of his companions, to see how they are reacting. He imagined at least one of their minds was racing with a million and one questions about the beast, or beasts. There would be concern about the loss of human life, and maybe that there are beasts out there going hungry. Perhaps there was some strategising, and bemoaning a trip out to the country.
He strums on as the girl concludes the tale and her brother continues to eat his fill. Wyn and Ed seem eager to take the commission already, without asking further questions. They may say they will leave it up to him and his companions to make the final decision, but were they really in control of their own fate now they were becoming a franchise? He shakes his head as he thinks back to three months ago, and that fateful endeavour. But that was the past, this is the present. He spares a brief thought for what his mother would think about his big second chance being reduced to shepherding. But everyone had to start somewhere, right? From small acorns great oaks grow, or some such platitude.
He is brought back into the moment and finds himself putting down his lute, bringing his chair upright and leaning forward to get a good look at the twins. What was it Kit always used to say. If you have a problem, if no-one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire…. Who? They don’t exist any more? Now we are something new. Aren't we?
“It doesn’t bode well that your village elders didn’t even see fit to provision you two with horses”, he says, his eyes narrowing as he looks at each in turn. “But you have suffered loss, and I can understand that feeling. And you have found us, that shows resolve and guts”, he reaches for his drink and sits back, his expression softening.
“My companions here will have questions, I know. But we have to start somewhere, so I’m in”, he says raising his mug before taking a sip. “I might have to add a bit of artistic licence to the tale when I tell it later mind”.
"The name is Salamir by the way, Salamir Hawkwinter".
Salamir is right. One of his companion's minds is racing with a million questions.
The sound of a sharp nib scratching against vellum fills any lulls in the conversation as a well-dressed half-elf transcribes the details of the incident in shorthand with various sketches and notes added in the margins. The leather-bound tome she writes in appears to, at times, move entirely on its own--pages flipped to the next without the scribe ever needing to take her hands off the spine or quill.
The wizard, dark locks a tumble of immaculate curls and waves down to the middle of her back, pushes the bridge of her large, round glasses further up her nose with a gloved index finger, her chestnut brown eyes appearing even larger because of the lenses. She straightens and reads over what she's written. "Well, I think we might very well rule out ghasts as the culprits. They're hardly the type to attack livestock when human flesh is nearby. And I daresay a wyvern could be capable, but would be a rare sight in this region. Thoooough... a juvenile looking to claim territory might foolishly find its way into populated areas. The fact that the creature--or creatures--attacked the prized sheep specifically is also... very intriguing." She traces the red roc feather of her wizardly quill back and forth over her lips in thought, though it strays a bit too high, tickling her nose and prompting a great sneeze that nearly knocks the glasses off her face.
"You're a scribe, not a diviner, Constance dear. Perish the thought of forming a theory based on so little evidence!" the book doth protest with a flutter of pages and dramatics alike. The consciousness addresses the twins with its disembodied voice, clarifying, "No offense, darlings. But you'll need to give us a bit more to go off of if we're to decide this isn't just some bumpkin farmer feud out in bumfuc--"
"Alphinius, rude! They've been through quite the ordeal. Exercise a bit of decorum, please," Constance scolds, snapping the spellbook shut. Her brow softens with sympathy as she smiles at the poor twins and rights her spectacles. It's a beat later she adds thoughtfully, "Howevveerr... any additional details would be helpful. Presuming he is, in fact, deceased, your father's body could tell us quite a bit." The monstrozoologist retrieves her field journal from her satchel and begins to flip through, gesticulating as she speaks, "If he's been eviscerated. Disemboweled. Decapitated. If any particular organs or body parts have been consumed. Killed immediately or slowly over time. The method of slaughter often offers excellent behavioral insight into--" the words gradually trail off and the woman rubs at her eyes beneath her glasses before closing her journal with a controlled sigh. Kit never would have let her go on this long. They always knew when to anchor her--keep her from floating out to sea on a tangent or wild theory. And for three months she's felt unmoored, adrift on a storm-tossed ocean without them. She exchanges a knowing glance with Salamir--misery loves company after all--then raises her glass as well.
"Constance Lydia Drake. Monstrozoologist and amateur alchemist. At your service." The sip she takes burns all the way down. She never did understand Kit's enjoyment of whiskey.
“Hmm…” The dwarf sits, seemingly in deep thought. His gloves fingers tap the table at a furious pace. His clothing is simple, but practical. Pockets and belt pouches look to hold every little piece of scrap or tool possible for one person to carry. The only decorative part of attire on him is a gold band in the braid running down the middle of his black beard.
And suddenly, his tell, he pulled up and tied his hair. Rammand is thinking hard. About what? No one will ever know.
With the hair out of the way, you see the shaved sides of his head and the runes tattoos that cover them. “That’s it!” He begins patting the various pouches and pockets, looking for something. After a second, he produces a pen and paper. He spends a couple seconds furiously scribbling before suddenly stopping. Rammand slowly places them back in his pocket.
”I’m sorry. I write things down so I wont forget them.” Pausing for a second, he returns to the conversation at hand. “Do they leave tracks? Or is there any way we can determine where they came from? Or maybe they fly?“ His eyes widen and he suddenly grabs the pen and paper again. He returns to scribbling and without looking up, he adds, “Rammand Drunksong. Nice to meet you.”
"I...I..." Brida begins fumbling her words after she's bombarded with questions. "I don't know where to begin, " she says as if struggling to process it all.
The young girl's mind however hangs most on Constance's visceral description of what might have happened to their father's body as well as the talking book!
"Seems to me we better start over," Wyn heaves a sigh looking to Ed who's looking dumbstruck at the range of responses from the party as well as a little wary of Constance's book!
"Yes, let's," Ed says placing their soft paws reassuringly on Brida's shoulders in a kneading motion. "Before you were called over I got the better part of those details," the tabaxi says with a reserved, sober tone. "Their father is missing," the tabaxi corrects assumptions adding emphasis on missing whilst looking pointedly at Constance. "It's a missing persons case as much as it is a monster hunt. We will not assume the worst as other have," they but before they can continue the teen boy clears his throat to finally speak and interrupting them.
"We don't have horses because it's harvest time and none could be spared or taken," Baltus replies to Salamir who he looks ar curiously. "As for our village. It takes care of it's own business and we came here because the elders were determined to stop this themselves but have failed to do it and may or may not have gotten our father killed because of it," he adds stopping abruptly when his sister nudges him in the ribs. "Well, it's true," he adds with a grimce.
"We only have the place where our father was taken and the...well the missing sheep. There was...I guess blood at each place, " Brida begins again but with a sorrowful tone. "I...I didn't see tracks..." she trails off looking up at Ed still standing behind her kneading her shoulders which seems to be very soothing. "But we...the elders were determined to keep the village open to traders so...we we couldn't investigate it ourselves, " she adds.
"We aren't...we're not fighters. Our village is full of farmers and crafts people. We're just common folk. We came here for help because that's what our neighbors asked of us and what we thought is right. Our father you see well he was an adventurer of sorts too a long time ago. He told us about Polux and Grimsby and how they might be here in Ferim. He told us if we ever needed help with anything...anything unnatural to seek them out," Baltus explains next.
"Well, yes certainly came to the right place I dare say," Wyn exclaims next smiling. "I will put you both up in a room. You look positively exhausted! Then tomorrow on the way to Carrowkeel myself or my colleaguea here," the gnome gestures at Ed and the party, "will accompany you two with horses," he adds winking at Salamir. "Maybe we....discuss the details Ed gathered after these two are off to bed," the gnome then adds gesturing next to a human bar man who comes over.
After a brief discussion between them the human man then leads the teens to their room.
"Questions, " Ed says after the Gunnulf's are out of earshot. "I mean we wouldn't have bothered to call you in if this wasn't a worthwhile conversation to have while your competing for the franchise opportunity," Ed adds shrugging. "Details come with investigation too I find, " they add taking the seat Brida departed from and relaxing into it.
"That is true enough. Scientific inquiry starts with observation," Constance notes as she watches them go. Her hand is firmly planted on her spellbook, keeping him from making any untoward retorts about what "missing" surely means this long after their father's disappearance. There are numerous statistics he no doubt wants to share. The cover of the ornate, leather tome strains against the weight, a muffled voice prattling off indignantly from beneath.
"Poor dears," the wizard sighs over the unintelligible words--she herself entirely oblivious as to the effect her blunt descriptions had. "Incredibly brave--making the journey on their own. Of course we'll help. I'm terribly curious as to what sort of creature may be responsible. Imagine if it were a new species--something amphibious perhaps given the village's proximity to a lake. It would be thrilling to document." Discovering a new species and all the taxonomic wonders involved, perhaps even submitting a holotype to the Order and naming the specimen herself, would certainly give her compendium more widespread recognition. She'd like to see her father laugh at the validity of her research then.
It's belatedly, with a moment of startling self-awareness and a glance about the table, that she adds, "A-And find their father. Of course." Her dark brows furrow and full lips press into a taut line at her own words and shame needles at her heart--when did her priorities so change from the people her research was meant to help? But it would do her no good to be anything other than realistic. Nor to get attached. She's learned the hard way the outcome of both and would not make the same mistake twice. However, she could, at least outwardly, appear optimistic and hopeful for the twins' sake.
"Have you ever been to Carrowkeel before?" she asks, trying herself to recall any information about the village or region as she tucks her quill behind her pointed ear. "It sounds as though the Elders will be little help to any investigation. Isolationists, perhaps, if they're so against outside intervention that two children were rallied for help behind their backs."
((Is a history check for any information pertaining to Carrowkeel or the lake nearby alright?: Nat 20+4=24))
Salamir lets out a deep sigh after the Gunnulf's have left and Constance has rambled on a little about scientific discovery whilst muffling the voice of that spellbook of hers.
”I’ll admit that could have gone better”, he says to Ed and Wyn. “This is all a little different, the dynamics at play”, he adds motioning to Constance, Rammand and the as yet silent Persephone.
He addresses Ed and Wyn again, “You know we lost Kit, we just need to figure a few things out. And my comment about the horses that they seemed to take offence at. It’s been days since all this went down. Even with horses it will take time to get to Carrowkeel. The chances of more of the flock going missing increase, and the chance of their father having survived reduce. The clock is ticking, I said I’m in, the rest we can figure out on the way. I personally don’t think putting those kids up in a cosy room is helping them”.
He turns to Constance, “I don’t recall ever going there”.
Persephone listents intently. She puts a "hush" finger to her lips as she realizes Constance is giving graphic speculation of their father's demise, but her mage friend doesn't notice. She starts to speak when she sees the look on Brida's face afterward, but Ed starts comforting her before "Seph can speak.
She speaks in the conversation as the twins are heading upstairs.
"I'm a sucker for a sob story. I'm in. If it's a flier, we'll need ranged attacks. Of course, it could be a spell that erases tracks (Arcana 4, or Religion 17, to recognize pass without trace)
Anything else on the shopping list?"
(added an intro that wouldn't negate other intros & reactions.)
Constance pushes her glasses up over the bridge of her nose, blinking owlishly at Salamir before averting her gaze, gloved fingers twisting against each other in her lap. He's right, of course. On all accounts, though she only addresses the last.
"I wholeheartedly agree. If we could leave tonight, perhaps Miss Brida and Mister Baltus could follow first thing in the morning? They'd not be but eight hours behind us," she suggests, standing from the table with a slight sway when her vision swims. Too much hells-darned whiskey on an empty stomach. She looks to Rammand and Persephone, using the cleric's shoulder to steady herself, then to Ed and Wyn before declaring in a valiant tone, "It would behoove us to... make haste! P-Polux and Grimsby... on the, um... case? Yes, case!" Lifting her hand from the spellbook, she picks up her whiskey and tosses back the remaining finger of amber liquid.
Freed from her grasp, the book gasps as it tosses open its covers and squawks, "Constance Lydia Drake, you are. In. Your. Cups. Sit down this instant before you make a fool of us both," floundering about like a fish out of water on the table. Alphinius flings his closure strap in the direction of the elven swashbuckler like an accusatory finger. "Mr. Hawkwinter. It's you she's learned these terrible habits from. You--yooouu.... freebooting brigand!"
"Not thought about the shopping list yet, Persephone", Salamir muses as Constance gets shakily to her feet ending with him getting a telling off.
"Whoa Alfie, stop being a mother hen and relax, she's just a little tipsy. Nothing that a coffee and some bread won't fix. And her taste for whiskey didn't come from me", he retorts to the spell book. He looks back to Ed and Wyn, "It's hard to believe I know, but I've been called worse", he says with a chuckle at the freebooting brigand insult.
He does however lean across to Constance, "You ok? I hate to agree with Alfie, but we do need to cut you off".
"I myself have not been to Carrowkeel," Wyn replies. "Ed, " he asks the tabaxi.
"No, neither have I," Ed answers with Wyn.
"Honestly I've never heard of the place until the Gunnulf twins mentioned it" Wyn adds. "The children are extremely exhausted. They will remain here if they want but I'd they wish to join you this evening then I ask you take extra care on your journey, " the gnome cautions.
"If we leave this evening I will go," Ed says placing their paw on Wyn’s shoulder. "I see better in the dark anyway," they add grinning. "As for the rescue mission yes it seems we should leave as soon as possible, " the tabaxi agrees with Salamir.
Constance can recall from her extensive knowledge of Talamh's geography that Carrowkeel is a farming community with rich soil and a geothermal hot spring along with a vast lake that provides fish as well as even more consumable plant life. It's not particularly known for predators however or anything she can recall could have carried off sheep let alone a grown man!
Wyn and Ed seems amused by the spellbook's outburst but do not comment.
"I will go ask the twins if they wish to join us or follow tomorrow, " Ed says moving away from the party towards the stairs where the twins were ushered.
"As for shopping I think you're bit too late for most shops. What do you require in addition to your gear," Wyn asks Persephone with a curious expression.
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Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
"Mother hen?" Alphinius gapes, voice rising three octaves in outraged offense. "And my name, you mohawked oaf, is Alphinius Lysander Constantin Drake the Third. Not 'aLfiE.' Why, if I had hands--or arm or legs--you, Sir, would find yourself on the wrong end of a very pointy--"
"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" Constance hisses as she snatches up her spellbook and snaps him closed. Though her party is quite used to his audaciousness by now, she's sure he's not making a good impression. Cheeks flushed like a chastised schoolgirl, she sets the awakened tome down in her seat and then sits atop him to ensure there are no further outbursts--though one might just be able to make out the protests and insults aimed at her rear.
When she responds to Salamir, she leans in far too close before correcting to an appropriate distance with a clear of her throat. "Y-Yes, I'm... I'm quite alright. And that's probably for the best. Tastes like a burning infirmary anyways," she says with a taut little laugh and pushes the glass away. Her dark eyes linger on it just a moment longer before she turns to Salamir again to ask in earnest, "Are you oka--" then quiets as Ed and Wyn speak up. Head still swimming, she gives the elf a small, reassuring smile and tap-taps the side of his shoe with her own under the table before turning her attention back to the conversation at hand.
"I suppose we might could use some sort of official looking letter from the organization to lend credence and a bit of authority to our--hic--pardon me, to our investigation?" She then looks to Seph for any additional ideas for provisions.
Rammand puts away his pen and paper. He digs in another pocket, pulling out a small C-clamp and offers it to Constance. “Here. This can help Alfie keep quiet, if you’d like.” Reaching across his friends, he grabs the whiskey glass sitting in front of Constance and pour the last two drops into his ale. “I don’t think I have any needs at the moment. Oh, wait. Maybe a bit of glue. D.E.R.B.I.E. has a loose fitting screw… Eh, it’s not that important. We are resourceful… if a bit tipsy.” His eyes linger on Constance for a moment. “Besides, we will mostly be traveling tonight. We can stop and get some things at Carrowkeel in the morning if something comes up.”
Salamir ignores the ranting spell book, as he has become used to doing throughout his time with Constance and the others. When Constance asks him if he is okay he withdraws, leaning back again in his chair, another habit he has become used to. Part of it was that he wasn't sure how he was, and part of it was that he didn't want to delve too deep into his emotions to find out. He answers as usual, "You know me..", and drains the rest of his wine to cover up his discomfort.
"You are of course welcome to keep an eye on us Ed. I mean join us", he says with a knowing smile. "Mom always taught me to be prepared, so I have a few things that might come in handy already", he adds addressing the questions of supplies.
As Rammand speaks of D.E.R.B.I.E, he perks up a bit. "I'm going to be interested to see what you have done with that thing since last we met".
Constance turns and smiles sheepishly at Rammand as she accepts the clamp, "Rammand, you're my hero. This will surely put the fear in him. Thank you kindly." Cradling it in her lap, prepared to use it the moment they get up, she chokes on a laugh as the dwarf adds some whiskey flavoring to his ale. Waste not, want not, she supposes. There's little chance of him becoming as tipsy as she is anyways given his dwarven constitution--he's drunk them all under the table on multiple occasions. At the mention of the inventor's splendid mechanical companion, Constance's interest is likewise piqued and she glances around for any sign of the Defender.
Persephone smiles. "Alphinius Lysander Constantin Drake the Third, you are endearingly opinionated and we appreciate your attempts to keep your ward safe. And I was thinking items we might need for troubleshooting, Wyn. Silver arrows. Flasks of Oil. Stuff that we might not have, that could be useful with a mystery monster. And if we have a cart, perhaps Constance and the twins could nap oon the way." She looks at Ed. "and I could sleep in it during the day while we both use our night vision." Ed is doubtless familiar with the Goddesses give of Darkvision to her clergy.
(OOC: There's also a question on the PM thread about calculating the starting 3x gold, and a list of gear we wanted to purchase, including draft horse and cart. Can we clarify to reflect what we've already got? I think I used a different 3xstart calculation than everyone else. Please & Thanks.)
OOC I couldn't open the group PM until tonight. The site's been glitching for me bad on mobile and traveling I only have a work computer that's monitored so I couldn't check any other way.
"I have some stores here for some of your requests, " Wyn replies to Persephone. "As for the village elders," the gnome begins looking to Constance, "that's your call on diplomacy," the gnome smiles.
Ed reappears with the twins in tow. The twins look exhausted still but at least freshened up. Brida's hair has been braided and Baltus is talking to Ed with a sort of half smile.
"We have horses here," Ed calls out replying to Baltus but the tabaxi's tone is loud enough to hear.
"They were suggesting a wagon," Wyn explains as Ed cocks their head to the side.
"That's certainly not the speed I would choose if haste is our intention," Ed says curiously looking at each of the party in turn.
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Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
From under Constance's derriere, there's a lengthy, muffled croon over Persephone's praise as the spellbook preens. The wizard wiggles her hips, readjusting herself like a mother hen sitting on an egg.
At the gnome's suggestion of diplomacy, she looks to Salamir with a pursed smirk, all but designating him the new Face of their party through the gesture. "Our horses then?" she asks of their group. Though Gods help her, all that bouncing around is not going to be kind on her whiskey-sloshed stomach.
"And, hm... would either of you happen to have a map of the region on hand? I have some notes about the geothermal hot springs and the lake in the area, but it would be helpful to see a bird's eye view of it all. A topographic map would be especially useful as it would give us an idea of the changes in elevation--any blind valleys or insurgences would suggest cave systems where a creature could certainly hide. Though I should rather hope not after our last spelunking excursion." She shivers at the memory.
Salamir puts his hand to his chest in mock surprise as Constance gives him the look.
When Ed mentions taking horses he smiles at the tabaxi, "I am not sure you are driving your wagon properly. The issue with horses is you are limited by the slowest rider, and the one who needs to stop and rest most frequently". He looks at the twins at this point, who look exhausted before they even set out. "Hitch up some fast horses to a wagon, or better still a carriage, and we can take turns driving and our only limitation is the stamina of the horses themselves. Of course we have to go slower during the dark, but that is true either way".
He looks from Ed to Wyn, and then at his companions. "It's just my opinion, and I agree if it were daylight, we were all rested and had not been drinking...", he lets the thought peter out having made his point.
The others will likely remember with some trepidation how fast Salamir drives.
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Our story begins…
Entering the Hanged Man on a blustery early fall evening from your day's business. Your party enters the tavern only to be approached moments later and tempted with a free ale by Wyndell Flickerfield. The gnome has been giving you and your party the once over for an opportunity to work for their own absent employers adventurers Polux and Grimsby. The gnome has kept you on tenterhooks with stories of adventure as your party took several days to reassemble. That evening, the second which you've all reunited, seems as good as any to start something!
Ushering you all to seats at a table you know to be Wyn’s makeshift desk. You find seated already two young humans in their late teens along with Eyes in the Dark. The tabaxi seems to be consulting them but quickly bows out once Wyndell brings your party over. The teens introduce themselves almost immediately as twins, Brida and Baltus Gunnulf. They hail from the village of Carrowkeel by a large lake about a day and a half ride south east from Ferim, the large market town where the party has assembled after their sabbatical. The twins confess they walked over the course of the last three days and two nights to seek help. Their youth and earnestness is clear. It peeks your interest, for reasons of your own, but to Wyndell in seems has agreed to help.
Seated around Wyn's table, food and drinks are given while everyone settles in. After all the party are together and the young boy gorges himself on food as the teen girl launches into their tale of woe: As shepherds in Carrowkeel at the largest farm in the village, the Stokkr farm, their flock as well as their neighbour's were recently beset by a beast(s). Some monster(s) came in the night picking off the most prized of the flock for 5he last few weeks. The beast(s) even slayed the hounds trained to defend the sheep. The Gunnulf however have suffered the greatest loss so far. Their father, whose body has yet to be recovered, had been watching the flock four nights ago and was attacked! He was the first assumed human casualty. The Gunnulf twins were sent by the other farming families, sixteen families in all, to find help. This is only after their own village lawbringer failed to find the beast and end its reign of terror. The Gunnulf twins have been to three other pubs that night before coming to the Hanged Man. They explain how no one will take them seriously because they lack a great deal of coin. They hope you will be more understanding than the others who ran them out of their establishments unaided.
The twins are not malnourished even though the boy eats like he hasn't in days but they are exhausted by travelling on foot. In fact their clothing even suggests to you some sort of wealth but what they wear is well-worn. The Gunnulf twins are nearly identical with blonde, pale skin, and blue eyes.
Wyndell of course offers the twins aid but after prompting Ed to rejoin the party the gnome and tabaxi defer the final decision to the group.
OOC Please begin introductions. Order is as follows:
Persephone
Salamir
Constance
Rammand
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
Since Kit's death, Persephone has been healing the sick and injured around town, even helping with Ceremony for Weddings, Funerals, Coming of age ceremonies, Blessings, even an Atonement or Dedication or two, with the cooperation of the local clergy. Since it's evening she's dressed in her familiar black vestments.
She's seen her friends from the adventuring group several times, but this is the first time they've all been called together since Kit died. She was professional in her dealings with him, but recognized him as a mentor for the group, so his loss hurt.
The slender, dark haired Priestess stands to address the youth. "I'm Persephone, you might say I'm a shepard of souls for Sehainie. Hail and well met. '
Sitting in a reclined position, his feet braced against the side of the table, is a young elf wearing a long dark brown overcoat over a reddish shirt, with dark trousers and black calf length boots. He sports a distinctive red mohawk haircut and in his hands he holds a lute that he is very lightly strumming, seemingly disinterested as the young girl tells her tale of misfortune and tragedy. This disinterest is of course feigned, and he is in fact listening quite intently.
It wasn’t the same without Kit there to actually appear to be interested though, and to ask the pertinent questions. He briefly glances over at each of his companions, to see how they are reacting. He imagined at least one of their minds was racing with a million and one questions about the beast, or beasts. There would be concern about the loss of human life, and maybe that there are beasts out there going hungry. Perhaps there was some strategising, and bemoaning a trip out to the country.
He strums on as the girl concludes the tale and her brother continues to eat his fill. Wyn and Ed seem eager to take the commission already, without asking further questions. They may say they will leave it up to him and his companions to make the final decision, but were they really in control of their own fate now they were becoming a franchise? He shakes his head as he thinks back to three months ago, and that fateful endeavour. But that was the past, this is the present. He spares a brief thought for what his mother would think about his big second chance being reduced to shepherding. But everyone had to start somewhere, right? From small acorns great oaks grow, or some such platitude.
He is brought back into the moment and finds himself putting down his lute, bringing his chair upright and leaning forward to get a good look at the twins. What was it Kit always used to say. If you have a problem, if no-one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire…. Who? They don’t exist any more? Now we are something new. Aren't we?
“It doesn’t bode well that your village elders didn’t even see fit to provision you two with horses”, he says, his eyes narrowing as he looks at each in turn. “But you have suffered loss, and I can understand that feeling. And you have found us, that shows resolve and guts”, he reaches for his drink and sits back, his expression softening.
“My companions here will have questions, I know. But we have to start somewhere, so I’m in”, he says raising his mug before taking a sip. “I might have to add a bit of artistic licence to the tale when I tell it later mind”.
"The name is Salamir by the way, Salamir Hawkwinter".
Salamir is right. One of his companion's minds is racing with a million questions.
The sound of a sharp nib scratching against vellum fills any lulls in the conversation as a well-dressed half-elf transcribes the details of the incident in shorthand with various sketches and notes added in the margins. The leather-bound tome she writes in appears to, at times, move entirely on its own--pages flipped to the next without the scribe ever needing to take her hands off the spine or quill.
The wizard, dark locks a tumble of immaculate curls and waves down to the middle of her back, pushes the bridge of her large, round glasses further up her nose with a gloved index finger, her chestnut brown eyes appearing even larger because of the lenses. She straightens and reads over what she's written. "Well, I think we might very well rule out ghasts as the culprits. They're hardly the type to attack livestock when human flesh is nearby. And I daresay a wyvern could be capable, but would be a rare sight in this region. Thoooough... a juvenile looking to claim territory might foolishly find its way into populated areas. The fact that the creature--or creatures--attacked the prized sheep specifically is also... very intriguing." She traces the red roc feather of her wizardly quill back and forth over her lips in thought, though it strays a bit too high, tickling her nose and prompting a great sneeze that nearly knocks the glasses off her face.
"You're a scribe, not a diviner, Constance dear. Perish the thought of forming a theory based on so little evidence!" the book doth protest with a flutter of pages and dramatics alike. The consciousness addresses the twins with its disembodied voice, clarifying, "No offense, darlings. But you'll need to give us a bit more to go off of if we're to decide this isn't just some bumpkin farmer feud out in bumfuc--"
"Alphinius, rude! They've been through quite the ordeal. Exercise a bit of decorum, please," Constance scolds, snapping the spellbook shut. Her brow softens with sympathy as she smiles at the poor twins and rights her spectacles. It's a beat later she adds thoughtfully, "Howevveerr... any additional details would be helpful. Presuming he is, in fact, deceased, your father's body could tell us quite a bit." The monstrozoologist retrieves her field journal from her satchel and begins to flip through, gesticulating as she speaks, "If he's been eviscerated. Disemboweled. Decapitated. If any particular organs or body parts have been consumed. Killed immediately or slowly over time. The method of slaughter often offers excellent behavioral insight into--" the words gradually trail off and the woman rubs at her eyes beneath her glasses before closing her journal with a controlled sigh. Kit never would have let her go on this long. They always knew when to anchor her--keep her from floating out to sea on a tangent or wild theory. And for three months she's felt unmoored, adrift on a storm-tossed ocean without them. She exchanges a knowing glance with Salamir--misery loves company after all--then raises her glass as well.
"Constance Lydia Drake. Monstrozoologist and amateur alchemist. At your service." The sip she takes burns all the way down. She never did understand Kit's enjoyment of whiskey.
“Hmm…” The dwarf sits, seemingly in deep thought. His gloves fingers tap the table at a furious pace. His clothing is simple, but practical. Pockets and belt pouches look to hold every little piece of scrap or tool possible for one person to carry. The only decorative part of attire on him is a gold band in the braid running down the middle of his black beard.
And suddenly, his tell, he pulled up and tied his hair. Rammand is thinking hard. About what? No one will ever know.
With the hair out of the way, you see the shaved sides of his head and the runes tattoos that cover them. “That’s it!” He begins patting the various pouches and pockets, looking for something. After a second, he produces a pen and paper. He spends a couple seconds furiously scribbling before suddenly stopping. Rammand slowly places them back in his pocket.
”I’m sorry. I write things down so I wont forget them.” Pausing for a second, he returns to the conversation at hand. “Do they leave tracks? Or is there any way we can determine where they came from? Or maybe they fly?“ His eyes widen and he suddenly grabs the pen and paper again. He returns to scribbling and without looking up, he adds, “Rammand Drunksong. Nice to meet you.”
"I...I..." Brida begins fumbling her words after she's bombarded with questions. "I don't know where to begin, " she says as if struggling to process it all.
The young girl's mind however hangs most on Constance's visceral description of what might have happened to their father's body as well as the talking book!
"Seems to me we better start over," Wyn heaves a sigh looking to Ed who's looking dumbstruck at the range of responses from the party as well as a little wary of Constance's book!
"Yes, let's," Ed says placing their soft paws reassuringly on Brida's shoulders in a kneading motion. "Before you were called over I got the better part of those details," the tabaxi says with a reserved, sober tone. "Their father is missing," the tabaxi corrects assumptions adding emphasis on missing whilst looking pointedly at Constance. "It's a missing persons case as much as it is a monster hunt. We will not assume the worst as other have," they but before they can continue the teen boy clears his throat to finally speak and interrupting them.
"We don't have horses because it's harvest time and none could be spared or taken," Baltus replies to Salamir who he looks ar curiously. "As for our village. It takes care of it's own business and we came here because the elders were determined to stop this themselves but have failed to do it and may or may not have gotten our father killed because of it," he adds stopping abruptly when his sister nudges him in the ribs. "Well, it's true," he adds with a grimce.
"We only have the place where our father was taken and the...well the missing sheep. There was...I guess blood at each place, " Brida begins again but with a sorrowful tone. "I...I didn't see tracks..." she trails off looking up at Ed still standing behind her kneading her shoulders which seems to be very soothing. "But we...the elders were determined to keep the village open to traders so...we we couldn't investigate it ourselves, " she adds.
"We aren't...we're not fighters. Our village is full of farmers and crafts people. We're just common folk. We came here for help because that's what our neighbors asked of us and what we thought is right. Our father you see well he was an adventurer of sorts too a long time ago. He told us about Polux and Grimsby and how they might be here in Ferim. He told us if we ever needed help with anything...anything unnatural to seek them out," Baltus explains next.
"Well, yes certainly came to the right place I dare say," Wyn exclaims next smiling. "I will put you both up in a room. You look positively exhausted! Then tomorrow on the way to Carrowkeel myself or my colleaguea here," the gnome gestures at Ed and the party, "will accompany you two with horses," he adds winking at Salamir. "Maybe we....discuss the details Ed gathered after these two are off to bed," the gnome then adds gesturing next to a human bar man who comes over.
After a brief discussion between them the human man then leads the teens to their room.
"Questions, " Ed says after the Gunnulf's are out of earshot. "I mean we wouldn't have bothered to call you in if this wasn't a worthwhile conversation to have while your competing for the franchise opportunity," Ed adds shrugging. "Details come with investigation too I find, " they add taking the seat Brida departed from and relaxing into it.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
"That is true enough. Scientific inquiry starts with observation," Constance notes as she watches them go. Her hand is firmly planted on her spellbook, keeping him from making any untoward retorts about what "missing" surely means this long after their father's disappearance. There are numerous statistics he no doubt wants to share. The cover of the ornate, leather tome strains against the weight, a muffled voice prattling off indignantly from beneath.
"Poor dears," the wizard sighs over the unintelligible words--she herself entirely oblivious as to the effect her blunt descriptions had. "Incredibly brave--making the journey on their own. Of course we'll help. I'm terribly curious as to what sort of creature may be responsible. Imagine if it were a new species--something amphibious perhaps given the village's proximity to a lake. It would be thrilling to document." Discovering a new species and all the taxonomic wonders involved, perhaps even submitting a holotype to the Order and naming the specimen herself, would certainly give her compendium more widespread recognition. She'd like to see her father laugh at the validity of her research then.
It's belatedly, with a moment of startling self-awareness and a glance about the table, that she adds, "A-And find their father. Of course." Her dark brows furrow and full lips press into a taut line at her own words and shame needles at her heart--when did her priorities so change from the people her research was meant to help? But it would do her no good to be anything other than realistic. Nor to get attached. She's learned the hard way the outcome of both and would not make the same mistake twice. However, she could, at least outwardly, appear optimistic and hopeful for the twins' sake.
"Have you ever been to Carrowkeel before?" she asks, trying herself to recall any information about the village or region as she tucks her quill behind her pointed ear. "It sounds as though the Elders will be little help to any investigation. Isolationists, perhaps, if they're so against outside intervention that two children were rallied for help behind their backs."
((Is a history check for any information pertaining to Carrowkeel or the lake nearby alright?: Nat 20+4=24))
Salamir lets out a deep sigh after the Gunnulf's have left and Constance has rambled on a little about scientific discovery whilst muffling the voice of that spellbook of hers.
”I’ll admit that could have gone better”, he says to Ed and Wyn. “This is all a little different, the dynamics at play”, he adds motioning to Constance, Rammand and the as yet silent Persephone.
He addresses Ed and Wyn again, “You know we lost Kit, we just need to figure a few things out. And my comment about the horses that they seemed to take offence at. It’s been days since all this went down. Even with horses it will take time to get to Carrowkeel. The chances of more of the flock going missing increase, and the chance of their father having survived reduce. The clock is ticking, I said I’m in, the rest we can figure out on the way. I personally don’t think putting those kids up in a cosy room is helping them”.
He turns to Constance, “I don’t recall ever going there”.
Persephone listents intently. She puts a "hush" finger to her lips as she realizes Constance is giving graphic speculation of their father's demise, but her mage friend doesn't notice. She starts to speak when she sees the look on Brida's face afterward, but Ed starts comforting her before "Seph can speak.
She speaks in the conversation as the twins are heading upstairs.
"I'm a sucker for a sob story. I'm in. If it's a flier, we'll need ranged attacks. Of course, it could be a spell that erases tracks (Arcana 4, or Religion 17, to recognize pass without trace)
Anything else on the shopping list?"
(added an intro that wouldn't negate other intros & reactions.)
Constance pushes her glasses up over the bridge of her nose, blinking owlishly at Salamir before averting her gaze, gloved fingers twisting against each other in her lap. He's right, of course. On all accounts, though she only addresses the last.
"I wholeheartedly agree. If we could leave tonight, perhaps Miss Brida and Mister Baltus could follow first thing in the morning? They'd not be but eight hours behind us," she suggests, standing from the table with a slight sway when her vision swims. Too much hells-darned whiskey on an empty stomach. She looks to Rammand and Persephone, using the cleric's shoulder to steady herself, then to Ed and Wyn before declaring in a valiant tone, "It would behoove us to... make haste! P-Polux and Grimsby... on the, um... case? Yes, case!" Lifting her hand from the spellbook, she picks up her whiskey and tosses back the remaining finger of amber liquid.
Freed from her grasp, the book gasps as it tosses open its covers and squawks, "Constance Lydia Drake, you are. In. Your. Cups. Sit down this instant before you make a fool of us both," floundering about like a fish out of water on the table. Alphinius flings his closure strap in the direction of the elven swashbuckler like an accusatory finger. "Mr. Hawkwinter. It's you she's learned these terrible habits from. You--yooouu.... freebooting brigand!"
"Not thought about the shopping list yet, Persephone", Salamir muses as Constance gets shakily to her feet ending with him getting a telling off.
"Whoa Alfie, stop being a mother hen and relax, she's just a little tipsy. Nothing that a coffee and some bread won't fix. And her taste for whiskey didn't come from me", he retorts to the spell book. He looks back to Ed and Wyn, "It's hard to believe I know, but I've been called worse", he says with a chuckle at the freebooting brigand insult.
He does however lean across to Constance, "You ok? I hate to agree with Alfie, but we do need to cut you off".
"I myself have not been to Carrowkeel," Wyn replies. "Ed, " he asks the tabaxi.
"No, neither have I," Ed answers with Wyn.
"Honestly I've never heard of the place until the Gunnulf twins mentioned it" Wyn adds. "The children are extremely exhausted. They will remain here if they want but I'd they wish to join you this evening then I ask you take extra care on your journey, " the gnome cautions.
"If we leave this evening I will go," Ed says placing their paw on Wyn’s shoulder. "I see better in the dark anyway," they add grinning. "As for the rescue mission yes it seems we should leave as soon as possible, " the tabaxi agrees with Salamir.
Constance can recall from her extensive knowledge of Talamh's geography that Carrowkeel is a farming community with rich soil and a geothermal hot spring along with a vast lake that provides fish as well as even more consumable plant life. It's not particularly known for predators however or anything she can recall could have carried off sheep let alone a grown man!
Wyn and Ed seems amused by the spellbook's outburst but do not comment.
"I will go ask the twins if they wish to join us or follow tomorrow, " Ed says moving away from the party towards the stairs where the twins were ushered.
"As for shopping I think you're bit too late for most shops. What do you require in addition to your gear," Wyn asks Persephone with a curious expression.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
"Mother hen?" Alphinius gapes, voice rising three octaves in outraged offense. "And my name, you mohawked oaf, is Alphinius Lysander Constantin Drake the Third. Not 'aLfiE.' Why, if I had hands--or arm or legs--you, Sir, would find yourself on the wrong end of a very pointy--"
"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" Constance hisses as she snatches up her spellbook and snaps him closed. Though her party is quite used to his audaciousness by now, she's sure he's not making a good impression. Cheeks flushed like a chastised schoolgirl, she sets the awakened tome down in her seat and then sits atop him to ensure there are no further outbursts--though one might just be able to make out the protests and insults aimed at her rear.
When she responds to Salamir, she leans in far too close before correcting to an appropriate distance with a clear of her throat. "Y-Yes, I'm... I'm quite alright. And that's probably for the best. Tastes like a burning infirmary anyways," she says with a taut little laugh and pushes the glass away. Her dark eyes linger on it just a moment longer before she turns to Salamir again to ask in earnest, "Are you oka--" then quiets as Ed and Wyn speak up. Head still swimming, she gives the elf a small, reassuring smile and tap-taps the side of his shoe with her own under the table before turning her attention back to the conversation at hand.
"I suppose we might could use some sort of official looking letter from the organization to lend credence and a bit of authority to our--hic--pardon me, to our investigation?" She then looks to Seph for any additional ideas for provisions.
Rammand puts away his pen and paper. He digs in another pocket, pulling out a small C-clamp and offers it to Constance. “Here. This can help Alfie keep quiet, if you’d like.” Reaching across his friends, he grabs the whiskey glass sitting in front of Constance and pour the last two drops into his ale. “I don’t think I have any needs at the moment. Oh, wait. Maybe a bit of glue. D.E.R.B.I.E. has a loose fitting screw… Eh, it’s not that important. We are resourceful… if a bit tipsy.” His eyes linger on Constance for a moment. “Besides, we will mostly be traveling tonight. We can stop and get some things at Carrowkeel in the morning if something comes up.”
Salamir ignores the ranting spell book, as he has become used to doing throughout his time with Constance and the others. When Constance asks him if he is okay he withdraws, leaning back again in his chair, another habit he has become used to. Part of it was that he wasn't sure how he was, and part of it was that he didn't want to delve too deep into his emotions to find out. He answers as usual, "You know me..", and drains the rest of his wine to cover up his discomfort.
"You are of course welcome to keep an eye on us Ed. I mean join us", he says with a knowing smile. "Mom always taught me to be prepared, so I have a few things that might come in handy already", he adds addressing the questions of supplies.
As Rammand speaks of D.E.R.B.I.E, he perks up a bit. "I'm going to be interested to see what you have done with that thing since last we met".
Not as well as I should.
Constance turns and smiles sheepishly at Rammand as she accepts the clamp, "Rammand, you're my hero. This will surely put the fear in him. Thank you kindly." Cradling it in her lap, prepared to use it the moment they get up, she chokes on a laugh as the dwarf adds some whiskey flavoring to his ale. Waste not, want not, she supposes. There's little chance of him becoming as tipsy as she is anyways given his dwarven constitution--he's drunk them all under the table on multiple occasions. At the mention of the inventor's splendid mechanical companion, Constance's interest is likewise piqued and she glances around for any sign of the Defender.
Persephone smiles. "Alphinius Lysander Constantin Drake the Third, you are endearingly opinionated and we appreciate your attempts to keep your ward safe. And I was thinking items we might need for troubleshooting, Wyn. Silver arrows. Flasks of Oil. Stuff that we might not have, that could be useful with a mystery monster. And if we have a cart, perhaps Constance and the twins could nap oon the way." She looks at Ed. "and I could sleep in it during the day while we both use our night vision." Ed is doubtless familiar with the Goddesses give of Darkvision to her clergy.
(OOC: There's also a question on the PM thread about calculating the starting 3x gold, and a list of gear we wanted to purchase, including draft horse and cart. Can we clarify to reflect what we've already got? I think I used a different 3xstart calculation than everyone else. Please & Thanks.)
OOC I couldn't open the group PM until tonight. The site's been glitching for me bad on mobile and traveling I only have a work computer that's monitored so I couldn't check any other way.
"I have some stores here for some of your requests, " Wyn replies to Persephone. "As for the village elders," the gnome begins looking to Constance, "that's your call on diplomacy," the gnome smiles.
Ed reappears with the twins in tow. The twins look exhausted still but at least freshened up. Brida's hair has been braided and Baltus is talking to Ed with a sort of half smile.
"We have horses here," Ed calls out replying to Baltus but the tabaxi's tone is loud enough to hear.
"They were suggesting a wagon," Wyn explains as Ed cocks their head to the side.
"That's certainly not the speed I would choose if haste is our intention," Ed says curiously looking at each of the party in turn.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
From under Constance's derriere, there's a lengthy, muffled croon over Persephone's praise as the spellbook preens. The wizard wiggles her hips, readjusting herself like a mother hen sitting on an egg.
At the gnome's suggestion of diplomacy, she looks to Salamir with a pursed smirk, all but designating him the new Face of their party through the gesture. "Our horses then?" she asks of their group. Though Gods help her, all that bouncing around is not going to be kind on her whiskey-sloshed stomach.
"And, hm... would either of you happen to have a map of the region on hand? I have some notes about the geothermal hot springs and the lake in the area, but it would be helpful to see a bird's eye view of it all. A topographic map would be especially useful as it would give us an idea of the changes in elevation--any blind valleys or insurgences would suggest cave systems where a creature could certainly hide. Though I should rather hope not after our last spelunking excursion." She shivers at the memory.
Salamir puts his hand to his chest in mock surprise as Constance gives him the look.
When Ed mentions taking horses he smiles at the tabaxi, "I am not sure you are driving your wagon properly. The issue with horses is you are limited by the slowest rider, and the one who needs to stop and rest most frequently". He looks at the twins at this point, who look exhausted before they even set out. "Hitch up some fast horses to a wagon, or better still a carriage, and we can take turns driving and our only limitation is the stamina of the horses themselves. Of course we have to go slower during the dark, but that is true either way".
He looks from Ed to Wyn, and then at his companions. "It's just my opinion, and I agree if it were daylight, we were all rested and had not been drinking...", he lets the thought peter out having made his point.
The others will likely remember with some trepidation how fast Salamir drives.