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Post by GravityEmblem on Dec 21, 2020 14:08:18 GMT -8
Red Larch is a little town in the Dessarin Valley--a stopping point of sorts, positioned between two great cities, neither of which are relevant to the town or its people. Great cities come and go, they say, but small towns by the roadside are forever. And as long as there are small towns by the roadside, there will be townsfolk in those small towns, chatting and gossiping about rumors, from the scandalous to the amusing to the genuinely frightening. The rumor of the week in Red Larch is that of a missing delegation from "some city somewhere," who disappeared somewhere in the Sumber Hills. Other news includes stories of fierce raiders, roaming monsters, suspicious strangers, and unseasonable weather. Most unseasonable.
Iroas, standing within the town's only inn, the Swinging Sword, hears all of this from townsfolk, coming in to have a drink and tell a stranger how little they care about bustling "metropolises". He's already heard "Great cities come and go, but small towns are forever!" about a dozen times. (And several of them were closer to "Big townsh come and go, but shmall tows are foooooooorever! *hic*") None of the rumors he hears have much to do with his mission: retrieve Savra Belebranta from the Feathergale Knights. She absconded with them a few months ago, and her parents have been worried sick; at least, that's what the Order informant said. Perhaps they don't care one way or another. From what she told him, he understands they're a group of flamboyant nobles who hunt and fight bandits on the backs of griffons, when they aren't having unnecessarily lavish feasts in their Spire just northeast of Red Larch. But the two men who enter the inn catch his eye. A human in armor, carrying weapons. Uncommon, but not unusual. His companion is a Kobold-once again, not typical, but not particularly strange. However, the kobold appears to be...radiating magical energy? Sparks of apparently arcane nature fly off of him every once in a while. The townsfolk pay no mind; perhaps it is only his connection to magic that allows him to recognize this.
Braedon and Migor, as they walk into the Swinging Sword, have a mission in mind. Before they escaped three months ago, they heard Urzzaya discuss something--something about an elemental cult. While she revered the elemental fire, she worked independently, with no company but a few hired guards and her kobold slaves. One evil elemental wizard was plenty, but two? Four? Twelve? Who knows how many, with an adoring army of indoctrinated fire cultists? They could not, in good conscience, allow that to stand. Thankfully, she had mentioned their destination: the Sumber Hills, within the Valley of Dessarin. Migor and Braedon, after giving Urzzaya a wide berth, made their way to the small town of Red Larch, hoping to gather information without drawing too much attention. Based on the human man staring at them in confusion, they haven't succeeded.
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Post by Zero Prime on Dec 22, 2020 15:04:18 GMT -8
Braedon, Wolf Touched WarriorARMOR CLASS: 16 | HIT POINTS: 31 | CURRENT: 31 | HIT DIE: 3d10 | CURRENT: 3d10 PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 13 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 11 | INSPIRATION:ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. Braedon cut a distinctive figure as he entered the smoky common room of the inn, a tall man, with broad shoulders, and a tapered waist, a cloak of wolf skin pelts hung over his back, poking from beneath the heavy furs was the head of a pike on a solid oak shaft, and the worn hilt of a greatsword. His face was worn, and gaunt, his deep blue eyes heavy lidded, scanning the room with suspicion, coal black hair framed his face, worn short enough one could see the scalp, and a few days growth shadowed his chin. He walked to the counter and held up two fingers, "Two flagons of mead, and bowls of stew, preferably something with meat in it, or what passes for it here abouts. And a crust of bread." He paused, indicating a vacant table to Migor. "My companion and I will need a room for the night," he leaned real close, "and if you can direct me to someone who knows more about those disappearing city folk in the Sumber Hills, half again as much coin, for you and you alone."
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Post by Daos on Dec 22, 2020 20:01:45 GMT -8
Iroas is a tall, muscular man in his early thirties with fair skin and dark brown hair. His eyes are hazel and while he usually shaves when he has time, the fact that he currently sports a full beard shows he has been traveling. That, and the dust of the road still clinging to his clothes and boots. He stands tall and proud, and yet his face seems weary, and his eyes show a wisdom that usually only comes with age. Most of his equipment, including his weapons and armor, are stored up in his room. Right now, he is wearing the red and grey vestments of Ilmater, and a medallion around his neck bears the image of a pair of white hands bound with red cord. After his adventures in Phandalin, he and his last party split ways. Now he was on his own again, and with a fairly difficult mission. Dealing with an evil drow wizard seemed downright easy in comparison to tracking down this noblewoman, who certainly did not seem to want to be found. Personally, Iroas felt his talents were somewhat wasted on this quest. But the truth was, he really needed the coin; and the Belabrantas of Waterdeep had quite a bit of it. He had burned through most of what he earned in his previous adventure already--mostly on donations to the needy, so this situation was sort of his own fault, to be fair. Iroas had basically exhausted all of his search options in this town, and was just enjoying a cool drink until he could plan his next move. When the two strangers entered, he really didn't give the human much of a second look, although the kobold stood out. Not just for being a kobold; he hadn't seen too many of them--not in taverns, at least--but the magical energy emanating from him was difficult to miss, or ignore. More out of personal curiosity than anything else, he decided to keep an eye on the pair.
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Post by GravityEmblem on Dec 24, 2020 11:22:11 GMT -8
The bartender--a stout, sturdy woman laughs heartily at Braedon's request. "I'll want payment for the food, but I'll not take you coin for something you could learn just by standing around and keeping your ears perked! Come, I'll take you to a table." She leads them to an empty table, remarking, "You know, some folk aren't fond of adventurers like you, but you fellas are good for Red Larch, I say. Every bandit and monster you kill is one less for us to deal with, after all!" She jots down their order and gestures to a half-elf in cleric's robes. "Brother Eardon here was the last one to see the delegation alive..." she says mysteriously. He stops eating his soup to turn around and glare at her.
"All I said was, I glanced them in Beliard, and was surprised that they haven't reached here yet. I wanted no part in this...irresponsible rumormongering!"
"The Sumber Hills are a dangerous place," notes a halfling with a large glass of ale. "They were probably torn to shreds by hideous ghouls! Or maybe wights!"
"Nah, I bet the unseasonable weather got them," argues a chubby dwarf woman. "Got struck by lightning so many times, they turned to ash! Then the wind scattered their remains, and that's why we haven't found them yet!"
"Personally, I bet it's those bandits who have set up camp in Rivergard Keep," the bartender says. She's returned from the kitchen and served Braedon and Migor their food. A young human woman, cleaning up an empty table, scoffs.
"Bandits, monsters, cultists--you always expect the worst, Kaylessa. It's probably just some refugees or mercenaries."
"We don't even know there are people there!" objects Eardon. "All we heard is some...conflated rumors about ships coming in and out! 50 gold! 50 gold that it's some drunkard who glimpsed some driftwood!"
"I'll take that bet, if you're serious," Kaylessa says. "There's always something goin' on in the valley. Minute bandits are arrested, monstrous beasts show up. Once they're dead, necromancers come by. Always something, I tell ya."
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Post by Igordragonian on Dec 24, 2020 13:42:26 GMT -8
Migor follow. Migor trust Braedon. Migor will serve the strong human. Serve him well, he will. Migor enter the inn by the Braedon's side, his back bent, his frog like eyes, shift around looking for danger- or random explosion of chickens, or some other crazy chaotic events which seemed to haunt the small reptilian being. Migor nod, and join the table- pushing a chair, to give a sit to his Master- erm.. Braedon. Yes. Migor out of respect wait for Braedon to take a seat, and only then allow himself to sit- putting his backbag on the chair, and then sit on it's as well. 'Thank you, food lady' he chrip, and start to eat with big bites, as if he afraid that something will happen, and he want to eat before it does. But Migor listen.
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Post by Daos on Dec 25, 2020 13:14:56 GMT -8
Iroas listens to all of this, and wonders to himself if all these disappearances might have anything to do with his own mission. Although Savra Belebranta hadn't just vanished, exactly, she had run away. Still, it might be something. For now, he decides to keep listening.
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Post by Zero Prime on Dec 26, 2020 4:39:13 GMT -8
Braedon, Wolf Touched WarriorARMOR CLASS: 16 | HIT POINTS: 31 | CURRENT: 31 | HIT DIE: 3d10 | CURRENT: 3d10 PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 13 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 11 | INSPIRATION: 0 ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. Braedon stumbled as Migar pulled the chair out for him, as he was used to doing such tasks for himself. He glared down and whispered, "I keep telling you that we're equals, companions, partners." He shooked his head as if he'd had this conversation before, "You're not my servant, please." He turned his attention back to the barkeep and the locals, "Well bandit's shoring up an old keep is a dangerous tale, once they take root, your militia," he paused, scanned the room, addressing the village folk therein, "don't got much of a chance of evicting them." Looking to his diminuitive companion, "maybe we start there, ain't easy to up and move camp if your camp is an old stone fort." He shrugged, "Any of you louts willing to give me 'n the kobold here a map to this keep, we deal with this bandit problem of yours and you buy us a round of ale and put us up for a week?"
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Post by GravityEmblem on Dec 26, 2020 6:17:28 GMT -8
Kaylessa laughs. "I like your jive! Sure, here's a map." She hands Braedon a map, which places Rivergard keep at about 24 miles away. It's on the river, just inside the Sumber Hills.
The maid rolls her eyes. "At least check if they're really bandits. I've heard too many stories of 'heroes' killing everyone they find without a second thought."
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Post by Igordragonian on Dec 26, 2020 15:25:17 GMT -8
Migor 'Comehere!'AC: 14 - HP 20/20 - Inatiative+4 --- PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 12 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 10 ------------------------------------------------ 'I am sssorry Masster Braedon, I just want to be usseful..' Migor apologize. Migor will help!' the kobold chrip happily.
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Post by Daos on Dec 26, 2020 16:57:28 GMT -8
Noticing his mug has grown empty, Iroas waves over the barmaid for a refill. "Is that a problem that has happened here often?" he asks. "Adventurers killing everyone, I mean?"
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Post by Zero Prime on Dec 27, 2020 7:08:16 GMT -8
Braedon, Wolf Touched WarriorARMOR CLASS: 16 | HIT POINTS: 31 | CURRENT: 31 | HIT DIE: 3d10 | CURRENT: 3d10 PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 13 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 11 | INSPIRATION: 0 ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. Braedon felt a pang of guilt at the kobolds down-turned eyes and sullen voice. He made ready to stammer out an apology, the creature was only trying to show his appreciation of course, but it still made him feel uncomfortable. As quickly as it came though, the kobold's mood shifted as he offered to aid to the town in their endeavour to rid the keep of possible bandits. As the barmaid cautioned them to determine the veracity of the bandit's actions before engaging them, it reminded the wilderness warrior of a tale he'd heard of an over zealous paladin in the north, casually tossing a javelin through a corrupt official. He shook his head, No, he thought to himself, he wouldn't allow that to happen here. As the gentleman who'd been scrutinizing them as they entered the common room earlier spoke, Braedon shifted the focus of his attentions. "Too oft I find, the term bandit is thrown about for those who struggle under the yoke of oppression. Not to fear, stranger, I shall sufficiently scout the location to determine whether the occupants of the keep are, in fact, bandits, criminals, or worse." He noted the man's empty cup, "And please, allow me to refresh your ale, I believe the innkeep shall be gracious enough to allow us a tab for the night," and with a laugh he kicked a chair from under the table, inviting the stranger to sit with them. "I am Braedon, a hunter and trapper," he clapped a hand on the shoulder of his smaller friend, "and this my companion, my friend, Migor, a student of the arcane." A pause, as he studied the man, "And you, my wary friend?"
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Post by Daos on Dec 27, 2020 12:56:11 GMT -8
"Iroas Silvereye, Painbearer of Ilmater," he replies, standing up. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he says both to the hunter and the kobold.
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Post by GravityEmblem on Dec 27, 2020 15:38:35 GMT -8
Noticing his mug has grown empty, Iroas waves over the barmaid for a refill. "Is that a problem that has happened here often?" he asks. "Adventurers killing everyone, I mean?" She sighs as she refills his drink. "Not exactly slaughter of innocents, but I find adventurers tend to have a "kill first, ask questions never" lot. Bandits? Kill 'em-no negotiating or hearing their side of the story. Cultists? Best case, poor deceived souls get killed along with their manipulators. Worst case, you just killed a perfectly peaceful organization with a nonstandard religion. Monsters? A surprising number of 'inhuman monstrosities' are quite intelligent--and the ones that ain't are usually protecting their young or their territory. Plenty of problems that could be solved for everyone if you lot could just stop usin' murder as a solution."
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Post by Daos on Dec 27, 2020 20:50:18 GMT -8
Iroas nods sympathetically. "There is much suffering in this world, it is true. If only we all could be a little more understanding toward each other," he says to the barmaid.
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Post by Igordragonian on Dec 28, 2020 0:49:24 GMT -8
Migor couldn't eat it all, so he poured the leftovers to a pocket in his baclbag for later snack. "When in hurry, they also call me "Comehere!" He say the "Comehere" with a mimic of angry tone. "Well, killing is easier I guess. And you can loot. Also many thinkz talky talkies is for weaklings."
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