Kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall. Changes race through the land, sometimes subtle and sometimes cataclysmic. Little in the world truely stays the same forever, but there is one constant -- the world will always need brave souls to stand against the darkness, the wilds, treachery and greed. Even for those not driven by higher ideals there is little doubt one can make a fantastic living at adventuring, assuming of course they survive to spend the wealth. The location in which the land’s newest batch of adventurers start is the town of Fallcrest. A fair sized location set on the banks of a good sized river, this town was once a cross roads for the area, and still manages to keep afloat despite comparatively dwindling trade as the land recovers from the war with the orcs. It is a melting pot on the edge of a wilderness and sees much use as a stop over between more established cities. Many are still wandering, lost after the war ended - still trying to find their place in this new world.

Our story begins in the city of Fallcrest. (See City map in Discord>Media)

Its Friday evening, the sun is beginning its downward trek as night begins to overtake the sky. 

Lem currently lives in Fallcrest. He is hoisting a tankard of ale at his favorite local pub, the Blue Moon Alehouse, with an old friend Teldorthan Ironhews (Dwarf, the town's weaponsmith and armorer). They sit at the bar, enjoying one of the bards playing at that nights open-stage night. Right now he is playing a melancholy song, in stark contrast to the previous few toe-tappers.

Zashier lives just over the river, on the western banks of the Moon Falls, and manages his farm next to the fertile fields of the Moon River. He is making his way across the river to pay his monthly rent to Armos Kamroth who lives in upper Fallcrest. He has decided to stop off for a drink at the Blue Moon Alehouse on his way...Armos can wait a little bit longer for his money...Despite having moved back to Fallcrest, things have still not gotten back to normal. As he makes his way into the alehouse, he still gets some strange glances. He sidles up the bar to get himself a drink. (Does he just stick his trunk in the cup?)

Yokini is traving from the East, headed to Fallcrest, with mule in tow. She has just entered through the King's gate, and is headed for the Blue Moon Alehouse, in search of on old friend. She hears a commotion behind her as one of the travelers attempting to pass through the gate is being detained. She looks back over her shoulder to see a young woman on a horse with weapons sticking out in every direction being detained by one of the city guards.

Thistle, traveling north in search of adventure, is being detained by one of the guards at the Kings Gate. Seeing weapons sticking out in all directions, he motions for you to pull your horse to the side, and asks you to dismount. You wonder if he, like most of the men in your life, needs to be taught a lesson. He asks you your intentions in the town. You are not sure if now is the best time to cause a skuffle...you just arrived, and you remember the words of your prison-mate about the dragon's treasure in this area that caused you to travel north...better not to draw too much attention to yourself just yet...

Raddunth, up ahead, you see a young lady on horseback with lots of weapons being detained by a guard at a gate into the city. You are traveling alone, but that has never bothered you before. Seeing this woman detained, you wonder if those that live in this town, like the others you have visited, suffer from inujustice...that perhaps they need your help.

Thistle dismounts carefully, nothing rash to make the guards nervous. She knows the type. Off the horse, she is shorter than he is, that will put him more at ease. Hands open, and empty, she smiles at him. “No trouble, sir, just a lady keeping herself safe on the road. Is there somewhat I need to do to go on in? It’s been a long day of dusty riding, and I’d like a cool pint and a bed that’s softer than the ground, if there’s one in there,” she motions wistfully through the gate.

 
As Zashier sat their staring into the cup for a time, as was custom with the peculiar man, he almost caved into temptation. Certainly he had practiced enough at home to make it work. The trick was to only snort the drink part way up, and then blow it into his mouth. Simple! Yet, the memory of last month's mishap brought with it the phantom burning sting that left him absently petting his poor, scarred trunk. "Not this time." He mutters, and great deal of perhaps needlessly intense focus, he wrapped the trunk about the tankard and carefully poured it into his mouth.

In between fairly large gulps of Ale, he shifted around to look at his surroundings, ignoring the quiet groans of the two seats beneath him, and politely waved at any that continued to look at him funny. Even if they turned away out of fear or derision, the elephantine man's happy-go-lucky smile never diminished in the least. Just as it took time to coax a seed into bloom, so to he accepted the same would be the case of the locals. Which is why after nearly polishing off his one and only drink(so far), he sets down the necessary coin, gets up, and just as he setting it back down... accidentally squeezes, leaving a large dent in its side. "Oh! Uh... eh, Hey man. I think I, uh, crushed your mug." He calls over to the bartender in this sweet, but thick accent(think kiwi), then pokes at the by then released cup. "Yeah, that's, uh, definitely crushed. But, no worries. I think I can fix it." He then starts to try bending it back out, but struggles to even get his fingers into place. "Ooo, oh, that's lookits getting a bit worse." At this point a for once frazzled Zashier starts looking between the bartender and the dwarves across the way(Lem's grouping). 

Lem Sprak, or Lemmy to an old friend like Tel, has been muttering to himself for the past five minutes as the two dwarves wrestle with a contraption that begins where his left arm once was. At mid-forearm, a metal “arm” begins and culminates in a set of finger-like sticks. They aren’t working very well, seemingly unresponsive and Lemmy has been swearing to himself at various volumes for a few minutes, as Tel tries to help. Finally he knits together two wayward clips and lets out a triumphal “ha-HA” but the arm still does nothing. A pause. He bangs it on the bar in frustration, nearly toppling his tankard, and two crystals light up and the fingers begin moving in an uncanny valley sort of normal way. He looks up at Tel, grins, and lightly punches the dwarf in the shoulder.

Lemmy is tall, scarred, and slender for a dwarf, but also wiry, with visible knots of muscle near his neck. He is bald, and instead of a traditional full dwarves beard, he sports a black goatee. His eyes are large inside his head, and he oscillates from a very sleepy-eyed, reserved, soporific, almost meditative presentation, to a big-eyed, manic, frazzled affect that comes with a side helping of perpetual motion. Once he fixes his arm, his switches from manic to meditative and notices the world around him again. He and Tel exchange a few words, Tel with a half-grin, having seen the Lemmy Show before, and Lem with a close-in visibly trusting relationship. It’s obvious these two have known each other for a while. 

Lem is meditative again, absentmindedly moving his right hand in time with the bard’s music, drawing what could be his own musical notation, measure by measure, in the air... or what could be just intricate nonsense.

When the large elephant man comes in, Lem turns and just stares at him, twitching and wrinkling his nose involuntarily. It’s not purposefully rude, but it’s certainly not smooth.

”You, your, nose, mouth, nostrils, larynx, esophagus, huh.” His mouth is nowhere near keeping up with his brain, and is just listing parts of the anatomy he is thinking about. He pauses. Leans in too close. “How does that work? Drinking. Will beer make you sneeze? The bubbles in your nose?”

Out at the Kings Gate, Thistle will try to read the guard to find out if he’s just being normal-cautious, or if there’s something else going on (either generally, like the guard is on general alert, or specifically, like the guard is looking for her for some reason).

Insight: 11

Thistle smiles her winning smile, empty of guile, just an honest sellsword making her way in the world. :)

Persuasion (with Advantage): 19

At the gate, Thistle dismounts. You don’t get the feeling he is trying to hide anything, and your smaller stature and winning smile win him over. He says to you:

I just saw all the weapons and wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be causing any trouble. We have a lot of refugees coming through here after the war. Most are harmless, but others get caught up in the gang in town, since they have nothing better to do. Some have even gone missing, but it’s hard to keep track with so many coming and going. Plus, (here he blushes) I thought you were kinda cute. (He glances down, a little embarrassed). You can be on your way, just try not to get into too much trouble.

Thistle gives a genuine smile. “I’ll keep my nose clean, thanks for the warning ‘bout the gang element. And believe me, if I were fishing, you’d be a fine catch.” 

She holds out her hand, “Friends call me Thistle.”

Then, “Nice to meet you. Can you point me to where I could find a place for a cup and a bed, and a stall for my horse?”

Ah, Fallcrest. After so many years of the unknown and relative discomfort on the road, it's good to be back to something that's a little familiar. Though, the place looks so different than it did before she left. Many of the buildings have been rebuilt — at least in Lowtown. It actually looks like a town again. Though, the people on the streets still appear a little shell shocked and war weary. But she has the same look in her eyes, if she's going to be honest.

"Here we are, Gomol, old girl," Yokini says, looking up at the Blue Moon Alehouse. She ties the gray mule to a nearby post, then begins fiddling with the strange glove on her left hand. She turns a nob and extends three fingers. Walking around her mule, she touches the ground at measured points. A gossamer strand is being left behind; one so thin it is almost invisible. She walks all the way around her animal and then turns the nob again. (Action: alarm) Standing up straight again — all three and a half feet tall — she smiles at Gomol. "I'll be back," she tells the creature.

Yokini walks through the door to the alehouse and pauses to look around while pushing her bushy, gray hair back out of her face. Her eyes land on Lem, and her eyes twinkle with delight. She marches over to him, her pointy shoes making tiny scuffing sounds on the wood floor. "Lemmy Sprak," she says, climbing into the chair beside him with several oofs of effort, "it is good to see you again."

When Lem sees Zashier pick up the cup with his trunk and drink normally, he silently opens his eyes and mouth, and tilts back his head in a "ohhhhh" sort of expression. 

After he accidentally dents the cup, Lem's eyes bug out again and he hops up on the balls of his feet in a squat, perched on the top of the barstool. His hands start twitching and moving repetitively, and his eyes focus on the cup. Tel, his companion, smacks the palm of his hand on his forehead, sighs, and slumps forward into his tankard. He's lost Lemmy again.

Lem casts mage hand and a pale white but otherwise normal dwarven hand forms where his mechanical hand is and floats forward toward the cup. It grabs it and then brings it back to Lem. He then begins to reach inside, poking and prodding at the dent, and attempts to bend out the dent to repair the cup. He's using the now-working hand, and the mage hand, and his normal hand, whose fingers are a bit smaller than Zashier's. He hasn't said a word to Zashier about asking his he could help or permission to try, or anything.

[Here's a vanilla d20 roll, DM dj, so feel free to add whatever makes the most sense. 6]

(Lemmy's focus on the repair task is such that he didn't see Ini come in, nor sit down next to him, nor did he hear her speak at all -- it's a focus she's endured many times before.)

"Lemmy," she says a little louder. "Lemmy!" She raises her left hand and a shower of sparks shoots from a finger into Lemmy's face. "Leeeeemmyyyyy!"

While Thistle is still talking to the the guard, Raddunth rides up to them on his horse. "Lady, if you are seeking a hand transporting all those weapons, that guard probably has other duties to attend to. If you would like the assistance of Raddunth, I am entering this place as well."

(Two things to note:

1. He is wearing an open fur vest, fur trousers, and fur boots. Not badly made, but no one with any fashion sense would make them, let alone wear them in public.
2. He grumbles about being bossed around by women, yet he finds himself more often than not being ordered to do things by intelligent women. )

The first time Lem spoke, an already somewhat distracted Zashier just merely stopped and stared at him funny, not seeming to comprehend most of the first part, and then seeming too embarrassed to answer the other questions prior to moving on awkwardly setting his attention elsewhere. Then the incident happened with the mug, and well...  

"Oh, hey, hey, hey man. What's this then? Sure you want that?" He asked of the hand while watching the ghostly thing make off with his cup. Its only once they reach Lem that he seems to put two and two together, though somehow still seem confused after a few seconds. Curious all the same, he carefully navigates his way over and behind Lemmy's seat, and squats part way down as to avoid looming over the dwarf at work. Enraptured as he was, and despite his ears twitching reflexively in response to gnome's nearby's yelling, Zashier fails to even fully recognize her presence as much as Lemmy had.

Not until his trunk went rogue while his focus was elsewhere, and began sniffing at the air by Yokini's head. And even then, rather than look and again connect the dots, his gaze is cast upward in confusion. "That's weird. Where are these thoughts coming from?"

Thistle looks up at the furred barbarian, smiling and shading her eyes from the lowering sun. “Thanks stranger, but I’ve carried them all the way here, I think I’ll make it.”

She turns back to the guard to get his recommendation, but doesn’t turn her back on the new guy.

When Zashier sidles up behind Lem, he catches Yokini's attention. Her eyes make a quick dart over to the newcomer, but then her whole head swivels, as does her arm. The sparks begin spraying Zashier, but the gnome realizes what's going on and stops the display almost as soon as it starts. "Z-Zashier," she breathes. "Is that you? Well, of course it's you." She tries to smile, but looks more worried. She swallows. "You're still in Fallcrest?"

Zashier, after crushing the cup, the bartender, a tender woman you know as Kemara Brownbottle, gives you a knowing look and says to you in a smooth alto voice: Zashier, how many times do I have to tell you, dont worry about it. Every since you came back a changed man, I ordered several extra shipments of mugs. And the ones you do bend, I can jus thave Telly over there beat them back into shape when he has the time. Dont you worry your trunk about it. And she brings you another mug of ale. This ones on the house. Its a new brew Ive been working on. Not sure what to call it. (Zashier feel free to tell me what this brew tastes like, and feel free to suggest a name to Kemara.)

Thistle the guard recommends the Blue Moon Alehouse just past the gate in Lower Fallcrest. He also tells you that there is another taproom in upper Fallcrest if you want to pay a little more for a little higher class drink. He also casually mentions one more bar, a gnome establishment in lower Fallcrest, over near the river, though he recommends you stay away from that one for the time being, so as not to cause any trouble. He says That bar is known hangout for The Braids. It can get a little dicey in there, especially if the gang is feeling especially on edge. He helps you back up into your saddle and sends you on your way.

Yokini, as Kemara comes your way when you sit, she brings your favorite cup of ale. I remember everyones favorite drink. Yours was a particular favorite of mine to brew (as with Zashier, feel free to fill in the blank with what your favorite brew was when you were living here.)

Lemmy, you attempt to poke and prod the cup to get it back into shape, but you are unable to fix all the denting that Zashier caused to the cup.

--

Lemmy, Zashier, and Yokini, you know Kemara Brownbottle. She loves to brew, and occasionally works as bartender here at the Blue Moon Alehouse, though she would rather be in the back perfecting her new brew...what she calls micro-brew, mostly because she makes it in such small, high-proof batches. She Is a little older human woman, but still beautiful and strong. You know her also as one of the dragon slayers. She was rumored around town to have been the only surviving member of an adventuring party that took down a dragon of the north. The tales say that after she hand-delivered each of the bodies of her fallen comrades, and paid for the best burial for each of them, she settled here in Fallcrest and helped open the Blue Moon Alehouse. She doesnt usually discuss her adventuring days, but you believe the tales to be true by the way she handles her bar - you have seen her hop over the bar and through ruffians out in the street that want to start trouble.

Teldorthan Ironhews, "Telly" to those that know him well, is towns weaponsmith and armorer - a dwarf he knows his craft.

--

For those coming into the Blue Moon Alehouse, you see a decent sized room, probably 40x40 square. Up ahead (and wrapping to the left of you) is the bar, with a wall full of custom ales and brews. Off to the right is a stage. A bard is currently performing there - it is open stage night - and you see several other bards sitting at tables near the stage. Some have already gone, others are waiting their turn - humming melodies, tuning their instruments. At the bar are Lem, Yokini, Telly, and Zashier huddled together around a broken mug, and Kemara is behind the counter. Other tables are full of several groups -- some dwarves are meeting and having an intense discussion, several gnomes are playing a rousing game, and off to your left a group of Tieflings are keeping to themselves -- making a bit of a rukus, interruping the bards songs every now and then, but just generally enjoying their evening.

--

As you are working on the cup Lemmy, Telly tries to get your attention. Lem...Lem...Leeeemmmy! As I was saying, my shipment got ambushed on its way here. There was a caravan on its way here from Stormhaven, and I had a special item on board - a valuable strip of dragon hide. I was going to make it into dragon scale armor, but news just reached me that the caravan was ambushed, and those dirty kobolds took everything! I tried to get The Braids to look into it for me, even paid them up front, but...(here he motions to the group of Tieflings in the corner, all of whom you notice have a single braid down their back)...I dont think they are too keen on looking for that caravan.

Zashier could scarecly complete a sentence in reply to Kemara without getting flustered after incidents. Today was no different, so he settled for tenderly accepting the brew -- an oddly sweet concotion that always burned somewhat on the way down -- with his hands and nodded his thanks. Unfortunately, he still couldn't come up with a name on a spot for the brew, so he gave her his customary and apologetic shrug prior to events taking his attention elsewhere. Speaking of which....

"Oh, hey, hey, oh, then." Zashier initial exclaimed as he began patting at his trunk as if to put out a fire. "Oh, it's not -- Hm?" He turns to Yokini, smiling his absent-minded way as always. "Who's asking? I mean, I know your ask'n, but is there anyone-... Oh! Well, would you look at that. Miss Yokini, right?" Zashier stops brushing his trunk down, and begin leaning this way and that as if to get a better look at the gnome. "Yep, I recognize that scent. Not to say'n you smell poorly on anything. Just making an observation, and realizing how bad it sounds." He chuckles, and if she allows it, he pats her on the shoulder.

He cannot keep his ears from wiggling in joy of seeing a familiar face. And for now, the distraction is enough to keep from paying much mind to talk of a missing shipment.

Yokini doesn't shy away from Zashier's touch. In fact, it seems to ease some of the wrinkles that line her forehead. But then the mug that's been put in her hand draws her attention and she looks at it and then Kemara. "Thank you," she says lightly, but then after another look at the mug, the old gnome says with relish, "Oh, thank you, sweetie!" She draws the mug to her mouth with both hands and takes a deep draft. As she swallows, she closes her eyes and hums in delight. "Glowglass." She hums again and looks a little wistful. "Tastes like home." She takes another swig then, her eyes darting briefly at Zashier, Yokini looks at Telly. "What were you saying about a missing shipment?"

Thistle will look sharply at the guard as he “assists” her onto her horse. But it’s not worth it. She looks over at the furred barbarian. “Join me for a drink in a new town?”

Guiding her horse through the gate, she looks around, but with a no-nonsense air. She’s seen cities before, and there’s no mystique left  

She will make her way to the Blue Moon, dismounting and tying her horse up next to someone’s mule. She invites Raddunth to enter first, with a sweeping bow and a grin, then follows more cautiously, keeping to the side as she comes in and assessing the room.

She’ll let Raddunth take the lead/attention/heat.