Beware The Snow (aka Do You Wanna Build A Snowman?) (Inactive)

Game Master Twilightrose

Reign of Winter
Current Area


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Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

The small, rather nondescript Taldorn town of Heldren lies just north of the Border Wood near Qadir. On the road to Zimar, Heldren sees its fair share of trade and those passing through on their way somewhere else. The quaint buildings are all mostly made of lumber in Heldren, and who would be surprised by that with it being so near to the woods. Most everyone here survives by farming, herding, or cutting wood. The people are friendly enough, though they tend to keep to themselves. The population is comprised mostly of humans, though there are a few members of other races; six dwarfs, four gnomes, three elves, and one half-elf to be exact. They welcome visitors with open arms, but don’t let that fool you – every able bodied man, woman, and child in this area would not hesitate to take up arms to defend their home and country; they are ever vigilant watching for threats from Qadir.

It may not be a large town, with its population of only 171, but it has what it needs and has extra to spare. There is an armory, a smith, a general store, and an apothecary if you’re looking for something to help keep you alive on your travels. The Silver Stoat has rooms to spare if you’re looking for a place to tuck in for a night or two, and the stables are kept in proper shape to care for your mounts or animal companions. Or, if you are looking to rent or buy a horse you can do so at the stables as well. The barber is more than a man with razors and scissors; he can also pull a bad tooth and replace it with a gold one. In fact, he can treat a lot of ailments but he’s prone to doing so with leeches. There is a temple of Erastil, if you’re the praying type. The temple also has shrines to Abadar, Gozreh, Pharasma, and even Sarenrae.

Those who are familiar with Heldren spot some unusual behavior today, as people are gathered together in small groups whispering among themselves. Occasionally someone looks back towards the woods with a mixture of curiosity and fear in their eyes. As you make your way through the town, you catch snippets of conversations. It would seem that the townsfolk are concerned over reports of snow in the Border Woods and the unnaturally cold temperatures with it being summer. There is talk of an uneasy presence in the woods and the hunters claim to have come across new, dangerous predators that have never been seen in this area before. Some say that the town’s soothsayer, Old Mother Theodora is really worked up over it claiming them to be omens of dark times to come.

A man arrived in town yesterday, bloody and bruised, suffering from frost bite. He said that his caravan was attacked by bandits and strange, wintry creatures near the edge of the Border Wood. He was part of an escort for Lady Argentea Malassene. The bandits took Lady Argentea, and he alone was able to escape death to come find aid. You hear word that a hot-headed local woman, Annalísa, plans to go into the woods with her dog to see what exactly is happening for herself.

Diplomacy and/or Knowledge (local) checks can be made to gather more information on the events that are taking place in this area. Please take a moment to describe your characters and what they are doing, including what brought them to Heldren in the first place.


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

Well if this don't seem like a sight out of a book I read once. Mervyn, a wee little halfling hops down from the wagon that brought everyone here and then looks in both directions up and down the streets of this sleepy little town as he realizes he just landed in a pretty good sized mud puddle from the morning rain, playing it off as if he never landed in the puddle at all, something halflings often had to do, in fact with everything going on he is actually just waiting for the dense fog to come rolling in any minute. Well this place is certainly nothing like Kaer Maga, don't see no blood mages or trolls about.

Mervyn puts out his pipe from his morning smoke, tapping it on the underside of his now muddy boots to empty the contents. Then reloading it from his tobacco pouch but not lighting it, he slips it back into his smoking pouch.

Looking back at the ones that came with him on the caravan trying to get a feel for what their intentions were here in this town. As was his custom when arriving at a new place, he kept his ears open for anything else he could overhear, all senses alert but he had yet to say a word in this new place.

Mechanics:

Do not know if any of these would apply right now but I am going to give them to you anyway.

General Perception
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

To determine anything about the weather and the normal geography of this location. Also to get a sense of layout of the general area.
Knowledge Geography: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

If there are any languages I don't understand, I speak common, elven, halfling, skald and thieves' cant.
Linguistics: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23


Female Elf Magus (hexcrafter) 3 / Wizard (Primalist, transmuter) 1| AC 18 T 14 FF 14 | HP 28/28 | F +4 R +5 W +6 | Init +8| Perc +3

As the hubbub of the small caravan’s arrival rises in the village square, a lithe figure steps out from the general store and heads towards the source of the commotion. Between the bundle of furs and thick, close-woven woolens she holds to her chest, her large backpack, and well-worn leathers, the woman has clearly been travelling for some time, though surprised by the unseasonable weather. The finely-angled features and pointed ears of the head that appears above the bundles threatening to swallow the slender form betray her as an elf, and curious onlookers in the predominantly human village turn to steal a glance at the unusual visitor.

She smiles a lopsided grin as she adjusts her grip on her bundle, but inwardly Machaera is unsettled. Yuelral knows, she thinks, one would think I would have learned better to take my chances after the past few seasons. Still, it’s dry land at least, and it really is on the way, more or less. It’s not likely that I’ll be passing anywhere near Oppara once I’m further on my way home. Home! After all these years, and all that’s happened, would anyone even recognize me? Even so, they would never forgive me if I didn’t visit the Fierani, our Kyonin.

She frowns as her thoughts turn to practical matters. It’s been a few days since the last village of any size, and the weather’s been ridiculous, or worse. She knows better than to speak idly about unnaturalness, but her teeth have been on edge for days. So she counted out her coin to the storekeep gleeful to move unexpected stock at the end of summer, and now her lightened purse adds another concern. Unsure if she can just outwalk whatever’s going on, Machaera considers the possibility of amking some coin in a day or two, testing folks’ trinkets for magic, or interesting them in pyrotechnics. I’m hardly going to bawl my wares like a fishwife right here, though, loaded down like this. Hopefully the inn will be more comfortable.

Despite her preoccupations, Machaera catches snatches of conversations on her way to the inn. Hunters stumbling black frostbitten or worse, missing travellers, someone thinking to look into it. Annalisa, is it? It would be good to help, and, honestly, if I can get so much as gratitude and a warm meal out of doing so, that wouldn’t be amiss either.

She heads to the inn and inquires about room for the night. Depositing her bags she considers how long it might be before someone who might be interested in her talents drops by. Running a hand through her shoulder length hair, Machaera shakes her head and turns her grey eyes to the bar, their purple highlights sparkling dimly in the half-light of the inn during the day - in the meantime, she approaches the innkeeper for the village’s news, especially about whoever Annalisa might be, and if she could use assistance.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15
Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22


Male Human (Kellid) Shaman (Mammoth)

Sitting at the bar is a mountain of a man. Even seated the man appears to be a massive wall of shaggy solid muscle, his large frame, long dark hair spilling onto broad shoulders, and strong jaw lined with a short thick beard, project an almost primal masculinity made stronger by his Hide clothing and furs, his stoic presence and almost palpable silence. Intense, steel grey eyes scan the room, studying everything and everyone as he picks up on the myriad of conversations.

Fear. Fear was the prevailing sensation in this place, many of those here, hoping to quell such fears with strong drink, warming their bones from the chill so foreign to these southerners at this time of year. Even the spirits were unsettled though. This creeping cold was nothing remotely natural, and he had been tasked to find its source. It was a shaman’s lot in life, dealing with things most were barely aware of, roaming the land for the sake of not family or clan, but the wellbeing of all within his domain.

And now his travels had brought him here….or more accurately, Ratatoskyr had brought him here, to this place, following the guidance of the great Mammoth spirits. Grinning slightly, Aðvinr glances down at his companion, the miniature mammoth laying on the tavern floor, watching each person as they entered. The locals reacted in a manner that was to be expected, their eyes immediately jumping to something more familiar, more comforting than the strangers in their midst. Yet he noticed the glance of others, ones who seemed more curious than confused or frightened. Kindred spirits. Perhaps joining this Annalísa would be a good way to find the source and help these people at the same time.


Male Gnome Ranger/1

Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

Game was scarce this morning, and as Fizzlewhisk headed back into town, he could see why. With Mum and Da out on another excursion, the young gnome had little reason to visit the town proper except to try to ply his trade in selling pelts or to see the smith about fixing his traps... again.

From underneath a mop of blue hair shines bright green eyes full of wonder and determination. His hunter's garb consists of blues and greens, and the little gnome would blend in quite well with the forest surroundings if his cerulean hair was kept hidden.

"Excuse me, what's all this goin' on about?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20

Following the throng, Fizzlewhisk makes his way towards the Stoat to look for familiar faces.


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

Mervyn

General Perception: People are lingering about mostly in the Town Square, at the center of which a large statue of a beautiful woman stands. Everywhere you look people stand in groups of three or four as they discuss the hot issue on everyone’s mind. You do see a few who seem unconcerned, or simply more concerned with whatever else they are doing, as they go about their business moving in and out of buildings. You catch glimpses of a dog as it weaves in and out of the small crowds, happily wagging its tail and sniffing the air.

Knowledge (geography): Heldren is very near to the Border Wood, but there are also smaller wooded areas nearby. The Jalrune River flows close to Heldren, and so there are many small offshoots from the larger water supply to be found in the area. In the height of summer, especially for a place this far south, it should be far warmer here than what it is today.

Linguistics: You caught a fragment of someone speaking what you recognize as dwarven. Had you time to study what he said, and have him repeat it for you a few times, you might have been able to decipher its meaning. To hear it in passing, however, you are still at a loss.

-----

Machaera

With knowledge skills being one of the few skills you can only use trained; even though technically you can use it but never gain a score higher than a 10 on it. I don’t see it on your list of skills so your knowledge local roll is useless in this case. You do learn something with your diplomacy roll, however.

Rumors wrote:

Everyone is saying that the weather is unseasonably cold for midsummer, and are shocked that it has even snowed in the Border Wood. Most suspect magic is involved, and some fear Qadiran agents played a role in it.

Old Man Dansby claims that someone keeps stealing from his fields. His farm lies closest to the Border Wood, where half his crops have died from an icy frost and the rest have been carried off.

A farmer’s son took ill a few days ago after falling through the ice over Wishbone Creek. The boy said he spotted a white stag in the forest – and heard it talking – then tried to follow it.

A group of rangers in the Border Wood called the High Sentinels usually keep bandit activity curbed. They’re doing a poor job if brigands could attack a well-armed caravan and abduct Lady Argentea.

The woman behind the bar at the Silver Stoat seems friendly enough as she tells you the price for a room, ”A spot on the floor in front of the hearth will cost you two silver, if you want to spend the extra for one of the rooms it’ll cost you five. I’d decide on that quick though, there aren’t many beds here and they fill up quick when a caravan comes through. Annalísa? What you want with Annalísa? Oh never mind, I don’t need to know. Forgive a nosy woman, will you? Annalísa is right over there, actually.” She nods to the corner of the Stoat and then points for good measure at a tall blond woman sitting by herself brooding with a mug of ale and a sword strapped to her back.

-----

Aðvinr

You easily overhear the conversation between the elven woman who recently entered the bar and the human barkeep. Glancing in the direction she points, you’re able to spot the woman called Annalísa as well.

-----

Fizzlewhisk

See the rumor quote above for Machaera , and add to it the following:

Rumor wrote:


The locals say a hunter named Dryden Kepp claimed he saw a giant white weasel on the High Ridge in the forest. No one believed him so he went back to trap it and prove them wrong.

Two weeks ago, Lady Argentea Malassene traveled past Heldren on her way from Oppara to Zimar to meet her betrothed. Rumor has it the two didn’t get along and Lady Argentea caused a scandal by calling off the engagement and returning home.

Along the way to the stoat, you are immediately greeted by one familiar face as the elkhound you know named Hundur runs right up to you and starts licking your face and sniffing about your body for food. You know that with a little encouragement, he’ll lead your right back to his owner. Incidentally, it would seem that his owner is exactly where you thought she would be. As you step into the Silver Stoat, the dog rushes past you and heads straight for Annalísa sitting in the corner. You also easily spot a couple of unfamiliar faces sitting at the bar.


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

As Mervyn stood there in the street, road, path or whatever they called the main drag here in this town he began to play over the events in his mind. So we have magic brewing in the air, strange weather, talk of doom, fey creatures in the woods, maybe this place is not so different than Kaer Maga after all. he then catches eye of most of the people heading for the inn, or at least the ones that look like they could do something about it. Rather than head in that direction like the rest he again thought for the moment contemplating his next action. If all the rest of these skilled folks are headed to the inn, as usual, why is it always the inn, or the tavern? Then that would be a crowded place shortly. And a hot headed woman wanting revenge? Well I know where that leads. Running off without thought or planning. No one here I have seen so far knows anything more than speculation. The group in the inn will have questions. Then it occurred to him, he knew where it all would lead eventually.

With that thought, he looked around the buildings looking for the apothecary, or hospital or anywhere a wounded person would be treated. He asked directions from locals if they were needed. He was headed in search of the wounded man that had escorted the lady in the caravan that had been ambushed. That was the man that had real answers. That was the man the others currently in the inn would be looking for next. And Mervyn would already be there when they arrived. A course of action the halfling had used repeatedly in Kaer Maga. He had to out think the others, be one step ahead of them. It was the only way a man of his statue could be took seriously in a human world.

OOC:

Mervyn will look for the hospital, apothecary or whatever to find the man. Then he will question him for what he knows and if he can give any advice or assistance. Mervyn will pledge to help the man and to recover the lady and ask for any help, coin, weapons or whatever the man has to offer. He will then wait for the rest to show up. At least he hopes. He will actually try to get the man to vouch for him when the others show up, he does this on the sly as best as possible. Using his race and size as the usual drawback to being taken not so serious.He will pledge to the man that he could be his eyes and ears when everyone heads down to the woods. Could report back and keep you informed. It would be our little secret. Promote me as your emissary and to keep your interest of the SAFE return of the lady as the top priority. Cause you know how reckless a mob of adventurers can be. I shall be your voice.

Now of course all of this serves Mervyn's best interest as well and makes him look like something more than he is. He would rather deal with bigger adventurers from a position of power if possible in their soon to be negotiations of who is undertaking this mission.


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

Mervyn, you'll have to play that out more. You are able to find the apothecary without issue on your own. Do you wish to start there, or are you asking people specifically where the wounded guard is, and if so what exactly are you saying?


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

Locating the apothecary on his own, he is still a bit suspicious of everyone if he doesn't have to ask.

Mervyn stands as tall as his statue will let him in front of the apothecary's door, he reaches into his pouch and pulls forth his pipe and clinches it in his teeth but does not light it, after all this is a place for the sick. Putting any reservations behind him he enters the door as if he belongs.


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

You arrive at the apothecary and are followed in by a stern looking elven woman who rose from her hands and knees where she was tending to the garden out front. She brushes the dirt off of her hands and asks, "How may I help you today?"

The store front of the building is immaculately clean, shelves piled high with labeled containers line the shelves. The woman moves to stand behind the counter where she quietly observes you.


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

Speaking in elvish, Mervyn puts his best face forward "My Lady, I do not mean to disturb your work in the garden. I am Mervyn Tumblelock, I just arrived here by wagon. I am an investigator/scout with the noble house of Kaer Maga and I heard that a gentleman arrived here a couple days ago that was attacked by bandits on the road. I thought I might be of assistance. May I ask where he is, if it is not to much trouble." Now Mervyn knew this was not the entire truth. While he did serve as a investigaor/scout in Kaer Maga it wasn't exactly in league with the Noble Houses but he did scout and investigate them. Small details, the small details. But it is not a lie.... per say. It was just par for the course in his line of work.


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

Bluff check, please.


Male Gnome Ranger/1

Fizzlewhisk pets the hound eagerly while he tries to fish out a morsel of meat. "Hullo Hundur! Lead the way!" The young gnome happily chases after the dog running right into the Stoat. Fizzlewhisk almost misses the newcomers as he comes to a halt before Annalísa. "Heard there was a giant white weasel! Can you believe the pelt that beastie would have? Oh, an' it seems there are some other stirrings as well..."


Female Elf Magus (hexcrafter) 3 / Wizard (Primalist, transmuter) 1| AC 18 T 14 FF 14 | HP 28/28 | F +4 R +5 W +6 | Init +8| Perc +3

Oh, I guessed as much about the Knowledge (local), check, but I thought I would make sure that Machaera wasn’t making a terrible faux pas and blithely asking after someone who might be terribly important in the village as if she was just anybody. Machaera can still fail a DC 10 check, I’m afraid. :)

“Not at all,” Machaera says. “I heard in the square that a caravan’s been lost to bandits, and I couldn’t just ignore the fact. I have some skill in woodcraft, and keeping people safe, so when I heard someone named Annalisa was planning to go into the woods, I thought I might offer to help. Following bandits alone sounds like a dangerous proposition.”

“If we don’t start searching right away, a spot by the hearth this evening would be fine, and more than enough after a couple of weeks on the road for the bones of an old wi- mage.” Machaera catches her slip at the last moment, and smiles somewhat embarrassedly but broadly. She reminds herself that she’s not much of a wizard anymore, nor much of a witch either, but hopes the old joke about elven longevity will be taken in the spirit in which she offered it.

She pauses a moment to try to gauge the mood of the woman staring into her ale. She pulls herself up, going over in her head what she hopes is a reasonably tactful introduction, but before she can cross over to Annalisa a gnome races by directly to her and starts chatting. Making the best of it, Machaera walks closer and waits for a break in the conversation, positioning herself at a respectful distance but where it’s clear that she hopes to have a word.


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

OOC:

Didn't think I would need one since it was just not the entire story and unless she was from Kaer Maga she wouldn't really know. Anyway here it is.

Bluff Check: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Mervyn is a little nervous I guess.


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

The elven woman's eyebrow twitches but she keeps a stoic look on her face and responds in the same tongue, "I will see if he wishes to entertain company at this time." She moves a curtain aside and slips behind it, leaving Mervyn by himself. Doesn't matter where she is from, you were deliberately skewing the truth - bluffing - and gives anyone the opportunity to determine if you're telling the truth or not. Incidentally, this woman doesn't particularly care who you are, where you're from, or what you want.

After a moment she returns and holding the curtain back says, "He will see you." The curtain marks the threshold between business and home. The woman's home is sparse and simple, with only the faintest hints of her elven heritage apparent in the few decorations she has chosen. She shows you to a small room with a cot set up to serve as a recovery area for the bandaged, frost bitten man who sits there expectantly.

DM:
1d20 ⇒ 17

-----

The barkeep smiles at Machaera,"How nice of you to be willing to give your time and skills to help strangers. Well, just be careful with Annalísa. She's not much for diplomacy and lets her temper get her into far more fights than is necessary. Woman can use that sword, though. Finnr made sure of that."


Female Human (Ulfen) Barbarian/1

Annalísa smiles at the whirlwind appearance of Fizzlewhisk. "Greetings my little friend. If I find a giant weasel while I'm out there, I'll be sure to kill it for you and drag it back here. Ah, you fed him again, didn't you?" She asks looking at Hundur who has resumed licking Fizzlewhisks fingers and face.

Once the elven woman has gotten within a few feet of Annalísa, Hundur stops licking Fizzlewhisk and turns towards the newcomer. He lets out a low woof before sitting down in front of Annalísa, facing the new person.

Annalísa looks up to see what triggered her dogs guard response. Seeing the stranger, and realizing that the stranger is waiting for something, Annalísa speaks up, "Oh, I don't work here. If you need a room or something you'll have to talk to Kale behind the bar over there."


Male Human (Kellid) Shaman (Mammoth)

Aðvinr is about to introduce himself when the eleven woman approaches and is met with a challenge from Annalisa's companion. Amused, he sists back and watches the exchange, gauging her by her self assured response.


Male Skin-Walker (Fanglord) Sorceror(Crossblood[Draconic, Orc]/Tattooed Sorceror) 1 (HP 9/9) (AC 13/13/10) (CMD 11) (Fort +2, Ref +3, Will -3) (Init +3) (Perception +5)

A tall, whip-thin half-orc with pale green skin, and spiky black hair, clad snugly in thick winter robes with no sign of discomfort despite the warmth of the bar, sits at a table in one corner, watching the exchange.

Although his features are unreadable thanks to the crude, scowling mask of black wood (which seems to drink the light) covering his face, he clearly turns his head to follow the thread of conversation.

Whilst clearly not as strong as the typical Orcish warrior (nor clad in armor), his arms are easily noted to be covered in a complex network of scars and soot-based tattoos, whilst a well-used greataxe rests comfortably at his side.


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

Mervyn enters the back area and approaches the expectant man and introduces himself to him. Not sure of the mans origin Mervyn is forced to use his common tongue. I hope he can understand what I am saying. Back in Kaer Maga all the other halflings had understood fine but so far he had yet to see one in this quaint town. Even the statue in the square seemed odd, as did the woodwork on the buildings as if this part of the world had not caught up with the rest.

"Me name is Mervyn Tumblelock of the Kaer Marga Tumblelocks." pausing for effect as if he might recognize the name even though Mervyn knew otherwise. "I just arrived in tahn by wagon and overheard of yor plight. Yer spot I'm a investigator, scout for some of the bloomin' noble families in Kaer Maga and I fought I might be of assistance ter yer in trackin' dahn this noble lady mucker of yors that 'as seemed ter have gotten 'erself into a jam. So can yer tell me exactly wot 'appened dahn by the chuffin' woods, then?" Mervyn says as he pulls up a chair next to the man. Pausing to puff on his pipe every few minutes even though it isn't lit. He listens to the man intently as if hanging on every word.

Mechanics:

Bluff: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16


Female Elf Magus (hexcrafter) 3 / Wizard (Primalist, transmuter) 1| AC 18 T 14 FF 14 | HP 28/28 | F +4 R +5 W +6 | Init +8| Perc +3
Annalísa Finnrsdóttir wrote:
Annalísa looks up to see what triggered her dogs guard response. Seeing the stranger, and realizing that the stranger is waiting for something, Annalísa speaks up, "Oh, I don't work here. If you need a room or something you'll have to talk to Kale behind the bar over there."

The corner of Machaera’s mouth twitches. It looks like this woman would appreciate a more direct approach. Nonetheless, she can’t resist the slightest dig. “Oh, I’ve already arranged that. Hope that’s not too cheeky. I’m not sure whether my own or Machaera’s Wisdom penalty is worse.

“Word is that you’re planning to find out what happened to the caravan that Lady Malassene was travelling with. If you could use another pair of eyes and hands, I would be glad to help – I can get along in the woods, I’ve done some guard-work, and I … even know a bit of magic.”

She shrugs slightly, deprecatingly. “Look, I’m sorry – I don’t mean to intrude, and I know you don’t know who I am, but I couldn’t just pass by if there’s any chance I could help.” Not anymore. Not after… “I know how risky it is to track hostile parties through forest, alone. If you take me with you, worst case, there’s somebody else to take an arrow. If there’s no trouble, and I get too much on your nerves, I’ll just keep going on my own. Sound fair?”

She rocks ever so slightly on her feet as she waits for an answer after making her case. Barbaric, these humans. If mother and father could hear me now. This is no way for civilized folk to negotiate, especially about offering help, of all things.


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

DM:
1d20 ⇒ 19

The man curses in Skald beneath his breath, saying something about dirty swindlers, before continuing in Common, "I don't have any money to pay you, if that's what you're after - and you wouldn't stand a chance against the bandits let alone the cold fey they were working with. Be gone with you now, let a man wallow in his shame and lick his wounds!"


Female Human (Ulfen) Barbarian/1

The thoughts that cross the Ulfen woman's mind are written clearly across her face as she changes from confusion to skepticism to relief, before finally resting on humor. Annalísa throws her head back in laughter and it reverberates throughout the tavern. Her face flushes red and a tear starts to form in her eye, and just about the time you are starting to feel well and truly insulted she holds up a hand indicating for you to wait. She catches her breath and stands moving to your side she puts a hand on your shoulder, ushering you to a chair.

Chuckling quietly and a bit more sporadically, Annalísa pats you heartily on the back a couple of times before sitting back down. "Kale, another for us please and whatever Fizzlewhisk will have."

Hundur raises from his seat now and begins to sniff and lick your hands with as much hope and enthusiasm as he had Fizzlewhisk. "Hundur! Stop that now, she isn't going to feed you anything you damn beggar. I swear, you can be trained to face down my enemies to the death but you can't learn to leave people alone when you think they might have a treat for you. Sit, Hundur, sit!" The dog whines but sits as commanded - right in front of you where he continues to stare up at you with pleading eyes.

Annalísa sighs and shrugs, "Sorry." Then after another moment of appraisal, "'Course you're welcome to come along if that's what you want but I don't have anyway to pay you for your time or services. Councilor Teppen is calling together a meeting in an hour or so and I plan to be there. Come along and perhaps you can convince the council your efforts are worth a few coin."


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

Those of you watching Annalísa and Machaera are slightly startled by the local woman's abrupt, loud laughter. She seems to be accepting of Machaera's offer, though and has "invited" the elven woman to sit with her.

Before taking drinks to the table with all the commotion, the barkeep tells Aðvinr, "We have hot stew, too, if you're hungry. I don't know what your friend there eats," indicating the pygmy mammoth at Aðvinr's feet, "But if it doesn't like meat there are some scraps from the vegetables that weren't thrown out yet."

As the barkeep, Kale, moves passed Snjórinn she stops to see if there is anything else that he needs. She is clearly curious about Snjórinn and his mask but holds her tongue. "Something to drink? Stew?"


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

Mervyn acting quick on his feet. It wasn't supposed to go this way, damnit Mervyn. Think fast, think quick. He switches to the Skald language and again addresses the man in his own tongue.

"Alright look, it is like this, sure I'm a halfling, sure I am no Ulfen Warrior and no powerful magician. But I am a damn good Scout, I find traps well, disarm 'em too, I'm small and often go unnoticed when I want. I can pick my fair share of locks." he says before hoping up out of the chair.

"There is a group of people gathering over there at that inn, a head strong woman about to go running off into god knows what without as much as a clue about what they are heading for. While that might suit you fine and dandy, it doesn't with me." pausing at this point, Mervyn is twitchy as he wants to add the flame to the pipe so bad. Holding back his urges he continues.

"I came to you because you are the one that can tell me what is really going on, my interest is in finding the lady and bringing her back here alive. Not running off without all the facts. I can be of use to that group over there that is about to head that way. But...." Mervyn turns to leave and then pauses and turns back toward the man.

"... I was trying also to make sure that your interest in her safety whatever you be to her, bodyhuard, servant, lover were protected in all of this. Sure if it made me some coin, or got me a hot meal, I wouldn't be turning it down. I was going to be your eyes and ears down there. To make sure she finds her way back to you alive. " he says, at this point his hands are shaking and he clinches the pipe ever so tightly in his teeth.

Now walking back through the curtain into the apothecary proper Mervy shifts back to his common tongue. "Yer don't 'ave many options out 'ere and the blokes that are tryin' ter help yer, ... well yer want even tell em wot 'appened. Wot would me lady fink of that attitude, right, it sure ain't buyin' 'er no extra time." he says in a huff.

Mervyn had now made his case. He paused just long enough to see if the man called him back or gave in the slightest, if he did he would return and listen to the man, if he didn't Mervyn headed back out the door of the apothecary and towards the inn. It never goes as planned, never, never, never. Perhaps if I was a wee bit taller. Nope. It wouldn't matter.


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

Careful to keep player versus character knowledge separate. Mervyn has no real reason to think that there is a group of people gathering at the Stoat. In fact, there is only just barely a group just formed. It's a tavern and an inn, the vast majority of people new to town always visit those places.

"Bah! You don't know what you're talking about! I've already met the lass briefly and the councilwoman is calling a meeting. I'm going to be talking to the council soon and I'll tell them everything I know. Again. I don't bloody know why they need to be told so many times. I figure it's to embarrass me further. An' I'm a mercenary, I don't have anything other than honor - which I've already lost - and coin invested in that Lady Argentea. Go on now, leave me be! If you want to know what happened you can hear it at the meeting just like everyone else!"


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

Mervyn makes it out the door of the apothecary and slumps against the closed door. I am so glad that's blooming over. Actually it was the bravest thing he had done in his life. He put himself out there in the open and now he realized the exact reasons why he never was much of a diplomat, he truly sucked at it. Lying while trying to avoid the law was one thing but this was an entirely different and eye opening experience.

Walking away from the building now he lit his pipe. Closing his eyes while drawing in the first puff. Playing the recent events over in his head. Well it wasn't entirely uninformative, I need to find work and my coin-purse is getting light again.

He went over a mental checklist in his head, there was a council woman here somewhere, the lady's name was Argnetea and there was going to be a meeting. Not much to go on but it was a start.

Mervyn made his way to the inn which he had never intended to do in the beginning of this train wreck. He entered the door seemingly unnoticed as usual and surveyed the main room. Elves, humans... oh wait there was a gnome, another wee folk.

He makes his way over to a table close to the woman everyone seems to be gathering around and has a seat as best he can at the human sized table. He looks over in the direction of the blue haired gnome who was obviously some kind of hunter/gatherer type judging by his garb and equipment. He calls out to him and says "Care ter join a fellow kinsman for a drink, I'm bloody well starvin' and woss the bleedin' fun in drinkin' alone?"

If he was going to have to make friends to find work, it was easier to start with someone of his own statue first.


Female Elf Magus (hexcrafter) 3 / Wizard (Primalist, transmuter) 1| AC 18 T 14 FF 14 | HP 28/28 | F +4 R +5 W +6 | Init +8| Perc +3

Machaera begins to bristle at the first outburst of Annalisa’s amusement, but as soon as it’s clear that it’s not malicious, a peal of her own laughter rings out, just a little more quietly, and she relaxes visibly after being seated. “Thank you,” Machaera offers. “Truth be told, I was just planning on passing through, on my way to Oppara and parts north, but I wasn’t expecting this weather, and since it looked like I would be at least a little delayed, and people were talking about trouble beyond the village… well, it didn’t feel right not to at least offer to look into it.”

“I wouldn’t object to some coin out of it, in all honesty, but that’s not why I’m doing it. Furs come dear in late summer, but I’m used to a huntress' lean rabbit stew on the road, and while I’ll be headed through the forest myself, no one should be afraid to go into the woods.” She looks from Annalisa to Fizzlewhisk, and realizes she’s been remiss. “I’m Machaera Selanna,” she adds, offering her hand to each in turn.

Her eyes sweep over the other patrons of the inn. I expect Kale looks forward to when a caravan passes through. I wonder how busy it would be otherwise, midday. She notes the mountain of man at the bar, and his slightly smaller mountain of what looks like a paradoxical tiny mammoth, and notes with some surprise someone further across the room who looks slight for it, but is dressed rather like a complete orc. They do say that some tribes consider other species unworthy to look upon their faces, with their records of scars… Before she can go much further trying to figure out how to inquire tactfully, a halfling with an outlandish accent pulls up a chair and accosts Fizzlewhisk. A popular place, then. Surely they can't all be regulars, though.


Male Human (Kellid) Shaman (Mammoth)

Aðvinr smiles slightly speaking in a rumbling voice that conjures images of an avalanche. "Stew sounds just fine, and the vegetable scraps would be perfect for Ratatoskyr. Thank you" he says, the pygmy mammoth at his feet looking up at the barkeep with genuine intelligence, somehow managing to look pleased.

As the man heads to the back the shaman takes note of the Ulfen woman's raucous laughter as she speaks to the astonished elf. It appeared that she was relatively good natured, or at least of the type that wore their emotions on the surface. Refreshing. Overhearing talk of a meeting he decides to wait until after his stew to make introductions.


Male Gnome Ranger/1

"Oh thanks, Annalísa!" The young gnome calls out to Kale before he disappears, "Two ales and two bowls of stew, please!" He orders as the halfling approaches and introduces himself. "Good day! You're quiet right. No fun a'tall in drinkin' alone... Kale," the small hunter calls, "Double my order please!" Fizzlewhisk nods happily as he makes the mighty climb up the seat, his feet dangling over the side. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Machaera! I am Fizzlewhisk Ettinfell!" He immediately turns back to the halfling, "Did you see the ones at the bar? I think there's gonna be a play! They got lil' critters with them and one is even wearing a mask!"


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

Taking in more of the room at Fizzlewhisk's comments, he notices the brute of a man with his not so baby mammoth. Mammoth? I really got to get out more, I never seen one of those things this far south. Mervyn quickly reminded himself that the man was a very big scary looking dude and probably better left to himself and his own devices.

The lithe figure of an elf that the gnome just referred to as Machaera seemed typical for her kind if but a little more eccentric and she looked as if she had missed a meal or two.

Annalisa on the other hand was definitely Ulfen, and having learned to speak Skald from one like her kind while doing a small stint in prison which by the way was over a totally simple misunderstanding. However Mervyn knew the woman had a temper that would probably match the size of the giant of a man with the mammoth at the bar.

Now the masked orc, there was a sight you didn't see everyday in proper society, maybe in Kaer Maga the city known for its place as a shelter for outcast and the lesser rungs of society. But here. This had to not be a coincidence.

Snapping back into reality from his thoughts, he raised his glass to the green haired gnome and made a toast, however recanting one that he had heard from the Ulfen woman that had taught him the Skald language. And speaking it in the Skald language in hoping just maybe that Analisa might take notice of him. "Here's to furs and amber and strong drink, that’s what gets you through the dark winter days when the ice cracks at the end of the bay and you hear the linnorm scales scrape along the surface. Here's to warm furs and someone worth tumbling between them. "

And with that Mervyn downs his drink in a single gulp.


Female Human (Ulfen) Barbarian/1

Annalísa raises an eyebrow at the halfling that just invited himself to the table but then shrugs and resumes her conversation with Machaera. She shakes the elven woman's hand firmly, "Annalísa Finnrsdóttir. Whatcha after in Oppara?" Noticing Macaera taking a look around at the other patrons, she decides to do the same. Should they make eye contact with her she nods and smiles. "Busy week, lots of new faces."

She takes a long drink of her ale and then nearly spits it back out when Fizzlewhisk starts talking about a play. She chuckles and shakes her head. "Fizzlewhisk, you going to come to the meeting?"


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

Kale is the female type of human person fyi folks.

Kale nods her head at the orders and goes about fetching the food and drinks. She sets a bowl of stew down in front of Aðvinr and a bowl of ends and pieces of various vegetables on the floor for Ratatoskr, patting the pygmy mammoth on the head.

She slips Hundur some fat trimmings when she thinks Annalísa isn't looking, after having set the bowls and mugs down in front of Fizzlewhisk and Mervyn. She wipes her hands off on a piece of cloth and asks, "Anything else?"


Female Human (Ulfen) Barbarian/1

Annalísa lifts her mug when the halfling begins his toast. She responds in Skald, "May your blades strike true, and find you both."

To Kale, "Come on now, the little men are already trying to clean out my pockets. The appetite on this one! Where does he put it?"


Male Gnome Ranger/1

Bowl to his lips, Fizzlewhisk shakes his feet at Annalísa. He sets the bowl down and wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "I keep it all in my feet so I can run faster down hills. An' yes I am... what meetin'?"


Male Skin-Walker (Fanglord) Sorceror(Crossblood[Draconic, Orc]/Tattooed Sorceror) 1 (HP 9/9) (AC 13/13/10) (CMD 11) (Fort +2, Ref +3, Will -3) (Init +3) (Perception +5)

Snjorrin nods in response to Kale's question.

"Some stew and lager would be nice, thank-you."

Although not part of the conversation, he is definitely interested to hear people talking about 'cold fey'.

This far south? What on Golarion is going on around here... There is something... fell... in the air; I can feel it in my bones.


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

The conversation about cold fey took place in the apothecary and not in the Stoat. You wouldn't have heard any of that.


Female Human (Ulfen) Barbarian/1

"Ionnia's calling a meeting. Gonna have that fellow, Yuln, the one who the whole town's talking about tell what he seen and Ionnia's gonna ask for volunteers to go with me into the woods to see if we can find the Lady that was taken. It'll be starting here pretty soon. Finish your stew and we can head back over to the square."


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

Mervyn downs his second bowl of stew, however it seems his appetite is matched by the blue haired gnome sitting across from him. He smiles as the conversation continues around him. It is actually the first time he has felt at home since he left Kaer Maga. The modge-podge of people in the tavern was quite nice even though there was no other halflings. Once he hears Annalisa mention the man he spoke with earlier he can not contain himself any longer.

"Blimey! Bandits! and Cold Fey! Honest guv! Is wot the man, Yuln is it? Told me! I went ter try and talk ter him before I came 'ere. To 'ind ought what 'as goin on."

He re-lights his pipe now that he has finished his stew, although still eyeing a third bowl. He then continues "Now I'm no ace on such fings but I'm a scout by trade and pretty good wiv locks and traps too. I might not be worff much in combat but I'm willin' ter offer up me services ter yer Alisa if yer need em."

He takes a few quick puffs...

"I'm bloody well sure some of these uvvers 'ere 'ave a look like they would frow in some assistance as well?" he says as he holds his empty mug up toward Kale. "One more please"


Male Skin-Walker (Fanglord) Sorceror(Crossblood[Draconic, Orc]/Tattooed Sorceror) 1 (HP 9/9) (AC 13/13/10) (CMD 11) (Fort +2, Ref +3, Will -3) (Init +3) (Perception +5)

Ah, no worries. I was confused - I thought it was a back room at the inn. Mea Culpa!


Male Gnome Ranger/1

Fizzlewhisk all but inhales the last of his food and drink. After a few moments the gnome resumes conversation. "I know most of these woods pretty well, an' I would be happy to help in any way that I could." He turns his head towards the halfling, "A scout is always useful!" then immediately addresses his Ulfen friend again. "Annalísa, who do you think would win in a scrap, Hurdur or that lil stomping beastie by the bar?" He eyes the pair at the bar again, calculating odds in his head. "Miss Macahaera," the youth continues as his head slowly turns to the group again, "Will you be comin' to the meetin'?"


Female Elf Magus (hexcrafter) 3 / Wizard (Primalist, transmuter) 1| AC 18 T 14 FF 14 | HP 28/28 | F +4 R +5 W +6 | Init +8| Perc +3

To Annalisa’s question about Oppara, Machaera responds casually, “Just seeing the world, actually. I’m taking the long way back home to my family. My next stop was originally meant to be Kyonin. I’m afraid I was distracted – still am, too easily.” Her uneasy thoughts wrench the syntax of her speech. What am I supposed to say? That I lost track of where I was supposed to be going sometime after my ship was wrecked, then striking further south into Garund than I ever imagined, and coming carefully back through lands dominated by necromancy, magic generally, or twisted magic or none at all?

Fortunately, Fizzlewhisk and his new companion provide a distraction. Machaera is silent through the toast she is unable to follow, and doubly so at Fizzlewhisk’s unlikely interpretation of the more unusual customers at the bar, sure that he’s having her on. He can’t seriously believe… can he? Then again, can one ever really tell, with a gnome in their enthusiasm?

After a few moments, as everyone gets ready to head to the meeting, Machaera answers both of the smallfolks’ questions at once, “Indeed. As I said, I’ll be going through some part of those woods myself, and I’d like to help in any case. I may be a wanderer now, but that doesn’t mean I can be entirely callous about the troubles of the settled folk I pass through.” As she collects herself, her tone becomes slightly more formal, betraying a part of her upbringing that years of hardship have not been able to erase.


Female Human (Ulfen) Barbarian/1

"I'm not foolish enough to turn down any help. You should come to the meeting too, then, er what did you say your name was?" She asks the halfling.

"I suppose it would depend on whether it was hiding food from Hundur or just trying to hurt me," Annalísa says laughing at her own humor in response to Fizzlewhisk. "Yeah, alright Fizzlewhisk. Just make sure you tell your folks before we leave. I don't want them mad at me because I drug you off into the snowy woods without you telling them you were taking off."

"It's good to get a little distracted, sometimes," She says to Machaera. "Good for the spirit."


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

Kale brings back some stew and lager for Snjórinn, eyeing his mask again less discreetly than she thinks she is and asks, "You needing a room?"

She also deposits another mug in front of Mervyn, taking his empty one away with her.


Male Halfling Rogue (Scout) 1

Mervyn happily takes the new mug and brings it to his lips, wiping away the froth from his lips before answering Analisa's question and returning to puffing on his pipe.

"The bloody name is Mervyn Tumblelock, right, and from speakin' ter Yuln it might be better if yer spoke ter him alone. 'e is of Ulfen decent just like yer Analisa and this entire incident 'as severely 'urt is pride and retellin' the tale of 'ow 'e were overcome in battle is a wee much on the mercenary. 'owever if yer speak ter him prior ter the council meetin' then maybe 'e won't 'ave ter air so much information in the public eye. 'elp 'im keep wot pride 'e 'as left." he says as he eyes Analisa directly.

"O'course yer know more about Ulfen customs than us folk. Just fought I'd make the suggestion." he says in an effort to turn everything back over to Analisa's judgement.

Mervyn then turns back to Fizzlewhisk to continue the fun that Analisa just poked at him "So tell me Fizzlewisk, wot time ter yer 'ave ter be 'omw for curfew? Wouldn't want ter keep yer out past yor bedtime."

Mervy then burst out with laughter as he raises his glass to the blue haired one. "Just funnin' wiv yer"

While the conversation was going on Mervyn was still aware of his surroundings, never forgetting to keep alert. Especially watching the big scary looking man at the bar and the orish man in the mask. He had as of yet not heard anything from them and did not know their true intentions.


Male Gnome Ranger/1

Fizzlewhisk giggles, "I'll leave 'em a note. Mum and Da went off huntin' trolls a few months ago. Da says he heard tell of a three-headed one in some cave South... or was it East? Anyway, I don' expect them to be back, an' they would want me to go an' help out."


Boss Lady Dragon of the Early Evening

Aðvinr and Snjórinn is there anything you want to say or do before I have the meeting start? You two have been pretty quiet but I don't want to rush you either.


Female Human (Ulfen) Barbarian/1

"I have spoken with him, I was there when he arrived in town. I helped him to the apothecary. I've heard most of his story, though he's probably making more sense today than he was yesterday. It isn't my place to interfere with him talking at the meeting. That's council business."

To Fizzlewhisk she adds, "Good, your folks kinda scare me."


Male Skin-Walker (Fanglord) Sorceror(Crossblood[Draconic, Orc]/Tattooed Sorceror) 1 (HP 9/9) (AC 13/13/10) (CMD 11) (Fort +2, Ref +3, Will -3) (Init +3) (Perception +5)

Snjorrin nods to Kale's question.

"A room would be appreciated, although if there are none available, a place in front of the fire after closing would be welcomed; I have had to deal with far less pleasing sleeping environments before..."


Male Human (Kellid) Shaman (Mammoth)

Finishing his meal, Aðvinr gets up, leaving a few coins on the table and strides over to where the interesting group is readying to leave. As usual his sheer mass is such that well before reaching the table, his intention to approach is quite clear.

"Pardon. You are the Annalísa the townsfolk speak of with much respect yes?" his voice a gravelly rumble. Ratatoskyr give the hound staring at him as much notice as if he were a full size mammoth, which is to say, almost pointedly none.

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