Culmen's Cliff (Inactive)

Game Master Khriox

One would think that the Great Hall of a Duke would be more inviting.

Yet as the party makes their way past the aged, bug-nibbled banners bearing the red sunburst phoenix of House Lores, it is clear that the fireplaces lining the hall have yet to be lit. There is a clear aura of mourning in this stonework hall, as if the long shadows cast by the tall pillars on each side are makeshift funeral garb, draped across the tiles.

Word came to you early in the morning that someone had been murdered within the confines of Castle Lores. Lores, the town in the shadow of the keep, is a relatively small place. Everyone knows everyone and gossip spreads like a pox. It was not until later that the rumors were confirmed that it was indeed the Duke's young heir, Calliphan Lores, a boy of 9 and a half, whose throat was cut in his bedchambers during the night. It is common knowledge that the boy was the only male heir to the Duchy, as Duke Lores himself has no true-born sons to his name.

A dozen riders bearing the Lores banner rode out before the sun had breached the Eastern summits in pursuit of the killer, who had apparently fled the city on a shaggy horse by the name of 'Sweetie Pie', if the Stableboy Paxton is to be believed.

You all have been summoned to the Great Hall by the Seneschal, named Bradigan of Kossos[/b. He is a thinly built Half-Elf with a crooked nose and gaunt features, as if the life had been drained out of him through a spicket in his neck, leaving only a paltry amount of blood to sustain him. His eyes are sunken and reddened around the edges, and his lips quiver from the mild cold that has seeped into the Great Hall.

[b]"You're half-late, sires and sirelings." He coughs out, holding a hand to his faded doublet as if it would calm his sickness. "I am informed you are men of wildblood, and surveyors of these lands. Is my-" Bradigan offered another slew of coughs, rubbing his throat. "-information accurate? Are you 'hardy souls'?"

"Lord Lores sent out a dozen of his most skilled guardsmen on horseback this morn, though even that many men has not satisfied his Lordship. He yearns to send another party up into the Malar Pass in hopes that with two parties searching for that despicable whoreson, one will surely be successful." Bradigan pauses, looking over the group with the eyes of a hawk with clipped wings. "Ah, yes. The identity of the murderer. Poor Calliphan's tutor, a man of small account and even smaller honor, it seems. He is a halfling by the name of Sellano Sellena. We were foolish to trust a Southern half-man with a foreign tongue. Those with southern blood are all killers, I tell you. They have no cold to humble them."

"Sellano was seen whipping a horse into full gallop northward, towards the Malar Pass. It is my reckoning that he hopes to evade any pursuers in that god-forsaken blizzard. If you are wise, dress warmly. Such cold can kill a man where he stands as surely as any arrow or blade."

Bradigan pulls out a hastily inked decree, opening it up to show it to the party, the Duke's seal in recently cooled wax at the bottom. "His Lordship is prepared to offer stout lands, Knighthoods and Lordships to any who aid in the return of this criminal so that he may watch the half-bastard hang for the murder of his nephew. I am to repeat, bring Sellano Sellena back here alive. Though, I myself must add that 'barely alive' is suitable to myself and the Duke included."

Placing the decree away, the thin Half-Elf extracts another larger piece of paper, offering it to the closest party member.

"Here is the most up-to-date map of the Northlands I could find in the castle library. Have you lot any questions? I hope they are brief. Time is of the essence and every moment to waste here is a moment that half-bastard is getting away."

Gimpy stood near the back of the group. His tail was tucked inside his warm clothes to keep it warm, but it just sufficed to make him look like an idiot. He was sipping from his wineskin as he listened to Bradigan.
He flinched when he called southerners murdurers, but was otherwise appearing more occupied by his wineskin. He looked at the map and frowned. Damb cold and snow... Now I have to go out into it? What can make this any worse? Gimpy thought. He almost chucked at himself. Oh. I know... No alcohol! And only men to keep me company...
Gimpy put his wineskin away and moved to the side to be seen.

"yes, are we getting paid in advance for supplies, will you provide us with supplies, or will we have to supply ourselves?"

at this time, gimpy has an unstable mutagen made... It increases Dex,

The big times. Pip's skills as an investigator were finally recognized. It must of been because of his work in solving the case: The Baker's Affair, soon to be available in softback. Now he had a mission straight from the hall of the Duke.

Looking around, he saw Gimpy already present and already drinking. Shaking his head, he listened to Bradigan, frowning when he insulted the Southerners. Letting it slide, Pip did not recognize the name of the Halfling. Speaking up, Pip asked,"I'm sure there are not many halflings, especially out in a blizzard, but does he have any distinguishing features? Also, there any bandit groups or anyone operating or residing around the Malar Pass that may pose difficulty?
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

Once he got his answer, Pip would turn his head to the others present. Trying to see if he recognized any of them from around town. His brain already started trying to put together why the halfling would murder the Duke's son and who was really behind it.

what time of day is it?

odds are a southerner on his own won't even survive the night.

"do we know if he has any experience in traveling in our winter? Or maps that might show him the way. Without either of those we are just as likely as not only going to find the body come spring. Particularly if he did not bring proper clothes or food."

Bradigan frowned briefly, regarding the pair of ratlings with his hawklike eyes, his posture becoming more tense once Pip began to ask his questions. His thin neck undulated with a swallow as he began to address Gimpy first, lips puckered tightly.

"I would not pay you in advance if you told me Sellano was in the next room, Ratling. Your capering about with that Baker may have earned your a reputation among the lowfolk in this town, but it has not earned you any boons from the Duke's coffers."

Bradigan then turned to Pip, parting his thin, pale lips to speak.

"Sellano...was a well-groomed type of half-man. The courtly type. We had his traitorous arse shipped up from...Shields-spar."

Knowledge (Geography) may be rolled for more information about Shields-spar.

"He kept his hair in a knot atop his head, my reckoning is that he tried to use it to enhance his height. What a lark." He burst out in an amused chortle at the halfling's expense.

Pip, your motive sensing detects that that laugh was not entirely genuine. Very forced.

His attention moved then to Kal'Tos, peering up at one of the large vaulted windows to regard the noon sun, barely shining through the thick overcast.

"Sellano had access to the Duke's library same as I, it isn't out of the question that he could have stole a map from there. He stole a horse, did he not? And perhaps leathers and furs to keep his wretched body warm. It would not surprise me if he did not take a vial of Calliphan's blood with him, just to say he had stolen it from the poor boy's throat. I cannot comment on his experience in the White, he could have researched survival techniques."

Gimpy frowns at the answer, but he doesn't retalite at the man's tone. seeing Pip look around, Gimpy decides to look about as well. Seeing the others, and recognizeing a few of them as local hunters, Gimpy makes note to get to know them better before they set off.

He fiddles with one of his wiskers as he listens and waits for the others to ask their own questions. I need to make sure I can move through the storm... Some skis would have helped a lot, but what can one expect from the cold-hearted skum that run this place?

Feeling uncomfortable, Gimpy scoots up next to Skivven.

perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

looking for anything odd about the room, possibility an out of place object

Geography shields spar: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

There was something going on. Pip noticed the forced laugh and how branding an glossed over his question about 3rd parties in the pass. He would let it go for the moment. Brandigan obviously knew more than he was saying and didn't want to share.

The newcomer likewise asked relevant questions. It seemed he was a local and rather. intelligent for a dwarf. He had enough for now. Brandingan was definitely shady. The only real way to get to the bottom of this was to apprehend the killer and question him.

Gimpy doesn't see much of import, other than the Great Hall having not been cleaned for what seems like a week, or more. Cobwebs are accumulating at the bottom of columns and the rugs look particularly dirty.

--

Bradigan tongued over his teeth with his lips closed, regarding Pip for a few moments before folding his arms tightly. "Regarding brigands? I think it unlikely. Bandits are not unheard of in this region, but they are more of a problem the more south you travel. Men of ill honor seem to freeze faster than Loresians. I doubt you'll meet any highwaymen on the way."

--

Pip, you've never even /heard/ of a place calls Shield-spar, but you /have/ been to a place called Shieldsport, down near the Shaded Isles. Nestled in a bay, Shieldsport is a major economic center for the southernmost edge of the continent. A halfling of educated, wealthy, noble background would be very common in Shieldsport. They're a dime a dozen down there.

I don't trust this map of his if our quarry left it behind. Might make good tinder for a fire, though.

"We'll need horses," Grunyar says gruffly in response to Bradigan, more a command than an observation. "This Sellano's on horseback and already got half a day's ride head start, maybe more. It'll be slow going in weather like this, but even slower without a horse."

Grunyar, like Gimpy, shifts his gaze about their surroundings looking for anything out of place.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9

Figured a castle'd be a bit tidier than this.

"If you've got some of the halfling's things or can take us to the stable he stole his horse from, my wolf should be able to pick up his scent," Grunyar continues, "and, if your horsemen haven't trampled all over everything, I may just find his tracks."

Seeing how untidy the hall is, Gimpy decides to inform pip of this silently

Gimpy bumps Pip softly and motions towards the cobwebs
slight of hand:to avoid observers: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

this is to avoid the transmission from being heard aloud, trying to do this without being seen

Gimpy then scoots back and pulls his wineskin back out.

"Look, I understand time is of the essence, but the dwarf is right. If we aren't supplied with at least a sled and dogs, then we may as well not leave at all and search when the snow melts."

Silently in his head, He could have went south for all we know, but then I just think I'm hoping I could get away from the cold

"My brother and the ratfolk speak the truth, but I suspect nothing will be found till snowmelt. Unless he was secretly an expert at winter traveling and has the food, clothes and maps to take him somewhere. Book knowledge won't get you very far in this weather."

GM are there any villages or other human settlement that I am aware of up that way that the halfling could take shelter with?"

Sellano grunted and visibly grit his teeth at what Grunyar said, his folded arms tightening to the point that he nearly cracked a shortrib.

"The Duke cannot offer you horseflesh to ride, Master Dwarf, because there is no horseflesh to mount. Sellano took a mount this morning and the guardsmen sent after him mounted the rest and took chase. If you are to find steeds to sally forth, you will need to look elsewhere than the Duke's stables. I have none of Sellano's personal items, but you're free to visit the stables, they are to your right as you leave Lores, you cannot miss them. I assure you, you'll find little more than horse pies and that half-wit stableboy Paxton there."

Bradigan then turned his attention to Kal'Tos, straightening his back, a spark of anger burning in his sharp, predator's eyes.

"The heir to Lores is dead, and you lot are mewling over horseflesh? Your honorable Duke is willing to make you lords and knights for the return of this half-man. Think a second moment before you quibble for scraps again, lest I tell the Duke you had not the moxie for the task. Now, have you any true inquiries? I must return to his Lordship and offer my condolences."

--

It is common knowledge that a town called Culmen's Cliff is the only settlement up in the Long Valley, roll Knowledge (History) or (Geography) to try to recall more information.

"Spare me your indignation servant, if you were competent then we would have been called hours ago and if your plan was to send two parties the first wouldn't have taken all the horses. Now you expect us to risk life and limb to chase after a halfling that will likely be dead within days, that has a headstart of half a day and could travel faster than us. Tell me why I shouldn't leave this moment dragging you with me in the search, after all I am clearly to stupid to identify the only halfling north of this town, being a quibbling wildling and all."

Kal'Tos has little time for what he sees as stupidity or condescension. Unfortunately I have neither of those skills.

Gimpy dislikes this man already. If it where up to him, he'd shove a sleeping potion down his gullet.
But keeping his composure, Gimpy waved the comment away. It doesn't matter I guess... If we are headed north we'll likely find him consorting with beast-folk, like the orcs or perhaps a white dragon... But what does it matter to you? If we don't return you don't have to pay us, right?" Gimpy's tone became condisending towards the end.

Gimpy shook his head, " so if you're so inclined to have us leave, I think I can comply, but I don't think it will be very helpful. You'll still have to complain that we actually came back, with our objective. "

Gimpy gave Bradigan a malevolent smile and took the last drink from his wineskin.

Sellano pauses and swallows, looking down at the dwarf. His tight grip on his own chest loosens and he coughs, holding a hand to his pallid lips.

"My apologies, Master Dwarf, and you as well Ratlings, the death of Lord Calliphan has the castle wound tighter than a clock, it is difficult to be courteous when also grieving for the young Dukeling. Tell the Stableboy Paxton he is to give you lot my personal packmule, Daisy, she resides at the back of the stable. I'm sorry, but that is all I can offer you."

He moved to sit on the stairs leading up to the Duke's throne, running a hand through his short, feathery hair.

"The Long Valley is a dead end, no man can scale The Cradle or any other mountain along it's edge and live. The half-man has cornered himself. It should be short work for wildermen like yourselves. You have my faith and trust."

[ooc]Know: Geo: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Adrian seems to finish mulling over the idea of the job, nodding. "It's entirely possible that this halfling might be desperate enough to try, and foolish enough not to see his doom, but horses won't travel too much faster than experienced huntsmen in the kind of blizzard we face. We know roughly where he's going, but the hard part will be finding him. Between Lissa and the wolf, we should have that taken care of. The only thing stopping us is hesitation, so let's take care of what we need to, and fast. Braddigan, may I let Lissa inside so we can examine the halfling's chambers?

"Anyone that wants even a chance of surviving will head to Culmen's Cliff. If in doubt we should head there."

Bradigan regarded Adrian with a measured gaze for a few long moments before shaking his head.

"The half-bastard was quartered in the room next to Calliphan's bedchamber, connected by a door. The whole upper floor is off limits by the Duke's decree, he wants no common-blood eyes to see the corpse of his Nephew, which still lays as it was found in his bed, awaiting the Apothecary. Going into Sellano's room would be impossible, I'm afraid. But..."

The half-elf took out a small brass pocketwatch.

"I found this laying on the floor outside of Calliphan's bedchamber this morning, I believe it belonged to Sellano. Perhaps your beast may take a whiff of it and catch his foul scent."

There is a glint of optimism in Bradigan's eye.

--

DC 15: Culmen's Cliff, formerly known as Culmen's Trading Post, is a small mining community at the north end of the Long Valley. Upon discovering that there was a motherlode of coal in the nearby mountain 100 years ago, the small town has been steadily exporting coal South up until a decade ago. An accident in the mines caused the town to abandon the business, and has since slowly deteriorated. You can't quite recall what happened to cause the mine to close..

Gimpy takes the watch and examines it closely

perception, search: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

He then hands the watch to Skivven, to see if he finds anything he didn't

sorry for such a short post... I'm busy

Pip picks up on Gimpy's hint and takes a look around the room.Hall Perception - Sight: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5 before turning his attention to the conversation at hansd. Bradigan badgered by good questions seemed to be giving in as tidbits of information came out. Yet Pip still felt scorn towards this Bradigan, whose contempt Pip looked forward to overthrowing.

Culmen's Cliff Knowledge History w/Inspiration Bonus: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (5) + 7 + (5) = 17
Culmen's Cliff Knowledge Geography w/Inspiration Bonus: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (13) + 7 + (5) = 25

The pocket watch. A real clue. Watching Gimpy take it and try to discern something he was not surprised when he presented it to Pip. Taking a sniff of the pocket watch,Perception utilizing Scent Ability: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (18) + 14 = 32 Pip would see how well this Halfling could hide.

The watch seems well made to Gimpy and upon further investigation, via opening the watch, Gimpy finds the inscription: 'To B, from S' etched into the bronze.

--

DC 20: Culmen's Cliff was wracked by a sudden and deadly flash fire that originated from within Culmen's Mine. All of the miners working that day perished in the blaze, which burned away many of the struts that lined the tunnel walls, causing multiple cave ins.

DC 25: There are rumors that the fire was started by one of Caffridi Culmen's great grandsons, who strode into the mine with a torch after drowning his infant daughters.

--

The pocketwatch's scent smells strongly of Bradigan's cologne and the inside of his pocket, the time spent within had masked whatever scents lay underneath- aside from a distinct note of parchment, ink and Southern wine that clings to the bronze.

Knowledge(Geography): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

"Not sure how much scent they'll catch from a watch," Grunyar grumbles, growing frustrated with the seneschal's limited assistance, "but it's worth a try. A blanket or bit of clothing would be more helpful if someone nobler than those of us tasked with the dirty work would be able to retrieve something of that sort from the halfling's room."

"Unless the Duke can provide us with a tent," he adds, looking intently at Bradigan, "we may want to see if we can pool our resources to buy one on our way out of town. Just in case we don't find the murderer before nightfall and the blizzard doesn't let up."

Gimpy makes note of the inscription.

"Okay, I think I'm done here. I'll go prepare my extracts and such for the day" Gimpy then made his way to the door. "If anyone needs me ask Skivven. He knows where my house is..."

Gimpy strides down the snowy road to his house. Once inside he takes off his cloak and heads to the bedroom where he had his alchemy kit.

preparing 2 cure light wounds, 1 endure elements, 1 shield and 1 enlarge person, then I remake mutagen. Unstable, bonus to strength, grants scent, reduces intelligence.

As he works he sings a jolly dwarven drinking song, although out of tune.

if we happen to forget something, I took the packrat feat to compensate:)

"Bah, you fool. You've tainted the evidence. Your cologne has masked his scent. My nose surpasses any beast. This is why it should be left to professionals. Mumbling about incompetence, Pip turned to one of the others to present the watch to whoever wanted to take it. If no one took it,he would put it carefully away.
Sense Motive on Bradigan's response: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

After a pause, he turned to Bradigan and asked a followup question, "By any chance was there a note or some parchment left by Sellano? Or maybe someone who provided him with his favorite drink?
Sense Motive on Bradigan's response using 1 inspiration pt.: 1d20 + 4 + 1d6 ⇒ (15) + 4 + (3) = 22

Taking what clues he could gleam from Bradigan, Pip was about done here and ready to meet that stable boy.

Grumbling in an undertone reminiscent of the tigress he hunts with, Adrian glares at Bradigan. "Fat lot of good that does anybody. That 'common blood' bit is going to come back to bite you one day, and I hope to see it happen. I've got a couple last minute things to take care of, where should we meet up, Skivven, was it? Since the other ratfolk here up and left, I suppose we should just meet at his house."

After receiving directions, Adrian will go outside and whistle for Lissa, striding around a corner and moving to obscure himself from view as he looks for any buildings nearby that might offer access to the upper portion of the castle. If he can find a way, and then something of their quarry's, the job becomes much easier. If not, he'd go meet the others.

Stealth: Adrian: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23
Stealth: Lissa: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (7) + 13 = 20

Stealth Synergy means that the highest d20 roll gets used for both Adrian and Lissa, but we each add our own modifiers. For example, I roll 13, Lissa rolls 15. We both use 15 as a base, so I have 24 and Lissa has 28.

Synergy Stealth Result: Adrian [23] Lissa [27]

Ragnar kicks his feet down off the table, sitting up in the seat he's taken near a wall while waiting for the rest of the company to arrive. Lifting the brim of his hat from where it's been covering his eyes while the others spoke, he stands and almost prowls over to Bradigan, where he prods the man in the chest with one gnarled finger. "I'd not speak of The White so familiar-like, there's things in the north far colder 'n further afield than any milk-sop like you've imagined, an yer like as not to bring 'em callin' when yeh speak of 'em."

He fixes the man with a pointed glare before walking to join the others in leaving the hall, pulling his thick cloak tight against the snow. "Follow me teh' th' stable, need teh make sure tha' boy Paxton's got Hrimfaxi prepped fer Th' White." With that, he begins leading the way to the stables, clearly a man of few words and even littler patience for beurocrats.

Know (Geo) Shields-Spar: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Know (Geo) Culmen's Cliff: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

As he leads the remainder of the group towards the stables, he will regale them with that small amount he knows about the half-man's origins, as well as his possible destination.

Bradigan peers at Grunyar with his beady eyes, cropped too close together for him to ever be handsome, perched atop that beak-like nose.

"Hrm. I have offered your brother my beloved packmule Daisy, she may have a tent in her saddlebags. It has been quite some time since I have checked on her, being as I am not foolish enough to live outside the safety of the high walls of Lores."

The hawkish Half-Elf then turned his gaze to Pip, scoffing. "How was I to know? I merely placed it in my pocket!" He says with irritation clear in his voice, arms folding once more. It reminds Pip of previously in the conversation, when he got more defensive about Sellano and his origins. He had loosened up once the topic shifted, but now he was wound tight as a clock once more. "Sellano was fond of the meads of the North, he said that southern spirits made his stomach turn, if I can remember correctly."

Bradigan was about to address what Adrian said before he was approached and poked in the chest by the brusk Ragnar, causing him to flinch back and pull his arms closer as if expecting a strike. He did not reply, simply looking at the Northmen, remaining rat and the dwarves with unease and uncertainty. As they departed, the Half-Elf took out a small piece of paper and unfolded it, regarding what was written on it shortly before stuffing it back into his doublet and fleeing to the upper halls.

--

As the party steps out into the courtyard of Lores Castle, the cold hits them like a blanket soaked in ice water. Snow falls heavily from above, a fresh coating of powder over the fountain that they had passed on their way in, the statue of a woman with birds perched on her fingers and shoulders, as if she were singing with them, is covered to the point of being unrecognizable.

Adrian, like many castles, there are little opportunities to reach the higher floors from nearby buildings or walls, a measure taken to give few opportunities to invaders. Unless serious time is taken out in the freezing cold with climbing gear to scale the slick stone wall five stories, it is unlikely you or your puddy-tat will be able to reach Sellano's room.

As the party leaves the castle grounds and goes where they will, they will notice the peaks of the mountains looming in the distance in almost every direction, like tall sentinels watching them from above. Depending on the snowfall, however, the terrain goes from faint to unreadable due to the haze.

"Allo', Mister Slootson. Oih cut thuh rottun bits out of ahn appohl and fed eht tooh Hrumfaxi." Said Paxton as he clutched the makeshift broom in his slender, claw-like fingers. On first glance it would not be unheard of to think Paxton was some sort of goblin, but alas, the poor boy was merely a human who had been kicked by a horse so hard in his youth that his jaw never healthed properly. His mouth is always agape, his jaw dented cruelly on his right side, as if stoved in by a knight's war mace.

"Want eih untie'em fohr yeh, Mister Slootson?" He asked, seemingly amiable and pleasant, all things considered.

--

The White is upon you, children of mountain, burrow and valley.

Six hours of light remain.

--

Currently Ragnar is the furthest outside of town, in the stable outside the front gate. Gimpy's home is a stone's throw past the gate inside town. For it being noon, the town is deathly still and barely stirs.

"the way I see it we have two options, 1 everyone grabs their gear and supplies, eats, stocks up on water and we meet at the gate as soon possible. Option 2 we write this day off, get a good night's sleep and leave at first light tomorrow. Either way we travel long days, stopping when it is time and we find a good place or an hour before dark."

I have all the knowledge skills and they are all same skill level at the moment. Go figure. Looking for who would succeed if duke and son both die.
Knowledge Succession Laws: 1d20 + 1d6 + 7 ⇒ (4) + (6) + 7 = 17

Pip turned to leave, having already given directions to Adrian, pondering Bradigan's answers. Bradigan was too tense, gave false answers. He was involved; Pip just did not know how. He'd have to discuss it with the others. As he hurried out to catch up with them, his tiny legs slower than the rest of the party, Base speed 20 Pip realized he had forgotten to ask the most vital thing - Where were the guards? the staff? Damnit Gimpy. Gimpy should have been slightly more overt in what he was trying to signal earlier.

Catching up to Kal'Tos just as he spoke, Pip would answer, "I'd say head out today. Gimpy's already getting ready and that human should be headed to Gimpy's once he's done whatever he's doing. Let's take an hour to finish getting ready and meet at the stable. I got some questions for the stable boy and then I'd like to talk to everyone. Maybe with luck, we can catch the tracks before the snow claims them all, if those incompetents did not ride roughshod over them already.

Pip, you have a feeling that things might not be very good for the Duchy of Lores if the Duke meets the same fate as his nephew. Without an immediate heir, like a brother, the Duchy may be fought over by nobleman, other nations or his knights.

It would be a lot of bloodshed.

As they leave the castle, Grunyar blows a quick puff of air through the silent whistle around his neck and is joined by his wolf, Jaiyo, who had been waiting in the relative shelter under a small pine tree nearby.

He gives the wolf a rough rub on top of the head as he arrives and falls in beside the dwarf as he walks. "Good boy, Jaiyo. We're going hunting soon."

The wolf's eyes brighten at the mention of hunting as the dwarven brothers split off towards home to gather their things.

"I'd just as soon get on our way as soon as we're ready," Grunyar tells Kal. "If that pointy-eared seneschal had called for us earlier or been any help at all, we'd be on our way back by now with a frozen halfling in tow."

Lacking the inclination and time to scale the sheer, frozen walls of the castle five stories up, Adrian seems to melt out of the shadows along with Lissa and starts walking across town, meeting up with the rest of the group partway to Gimpy's house, near the stables. "No luck getting something of the halfling's. Bloody half-elf ruining the scent on our only lead. I have a little nature magic, smooths the way in front of us a tad. My house is on the way to Gimpy's, I can grab my pack and meet everyone there, and we set out as swiftly as we may. Between all of us foraging along the way as one of us follows the tracks, I should think that we can get along fine even in the winter. Maybe a few more snow hares than we might otherwise eat, but plenty well enough. I say we set out today."

As the party looked like they were heading to a consensus , Pip would approach the stable boy, giving him a good look before speaking."Excuse me, Paxton, right? Sorry to interrupt but I was wondering if you know anything about the horse Sellano rode away on. Like was it well rested? Was the harness damaged? Will he be able to push the horse to its limits or will the cold do it in? By any chance, did he make off with anything from the stables besides the horse?" Pip would ignore the boy's disfigurement, disinterested in the injury but inconvenienced by the boy's speech.

Pausing to let the boy speak, Pip would add moments later, "That Sellano, has he been acting differently? Or maybe someone new has been coming by the castle recently?"

Paxton looked down at Pip with a vacant expression before he quickly nodded. "Awh yeh, Sweedie Pouigh wus gohn when ah came into th'stabol this mornun, so I told the guards thas theh mare he toohk. I didun't find nothan missun' aside fhrum Sweedie Pouigh's saddol and a shovel from theh toohl shed."

Paxton considered something for a moment. "I nevah met theh Half-man thaht everyone is angry at. I'm noht allowed tuh go within eye-shot of theh castol on because ah scare theh lil' Lord Calliphan."

He shrugged. "Theh was two merchants came tuh town thuhree days agouh but they left South yestahdarday mornin'. One of'ehm only had one finger on his right hand, he did. At least he can steel scratch his nose." The boy laughs at his own jape, his slack jaw jostling loosely.

Gimpy stepped out of his house. He thought for a moment before deciding to stay put. If he wandered off then the others could loose time looking for him. He decided that it would be best to stay where he was. But as he did, he took some time to get started on some alchemical supplies

Craft(alchemy): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30

He began to mix the chemicals for keros oil(fire breather's oil)

Once he finished that he worked on some tindertwigs

craft(alchemy): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12

"Tis a shame they won't let you to the castle." Pip paused, shaking his head. Smiling, Pip continued"So those merchants, how you know they were merchants?"

Waiting a moment for an answer before continuing, "Any chance they were half-men? Maybe sporting top knots or were they human or maybe even dwarf?Pip pointed to the chatting Dwarves. "Don't suppose you heard what they were chatting about or goods they had? Maybe caught a symbol on their gear? " If Paxton did not understand the language of the men, Pip would give a sample of Dwarven, Gnome, Halfling and Draconic to see if Paxton recognized the sound. Giving him a moment to answer, regardless if he answered, Pip took out three silver coins. "For your trouble. Get something good to eat tonight. Oh and we'll probably be needing that pack mule, right Sleetson?" Pip would wait around for final answers. He wanted a quick bite before they set out.

As they leave the castle, Grunyar blows a quick puff of air through the silent whistle around his neck and is joined by his wolf, Jaiyo, who had been waiting in the relative shelter under a small pine tree nearby.

He gives the wolf a rough rub on top of the head as he arrives and falls in beside the dwarf as he walks. "Good boy, Jaiyo. We're going hunting soon."

The wolf's eyes brighten at the mention of hunting as the dwarven brothers split off towards home to gather their things.

"I'd just as soon get on our way as soon as we're ready," Grunyar tells Kal. "If that pointy-eared seneschal had called for us earlier or been any help at all, we'd be on our way back by now with a frozen halfling in tow."

"Indeed, I wonder if he stands a chance of becoming duke if something happens to the current one. This all seems far too badly managed to be simple incompetence."

"Who knows?" Grunyar replies as he gathers his gear. "I don't trust him, and I certainly don't trust his map. It's gonna be hell trying to find the right tracks to follow now that he's sent out a bunch of clueless castle folk on horseback to ride right over whatever tracks there were in the first place."

Swinging his backpack over his shoulders, Grunyar claps his brother on the back and scans their temporary living quarters.

"Ready?" he asks. "We can get a quick bite to eat on our way to see about that mule. With any luck, we'll find the halfling left something behind in the stables when he stole that horse, even if it's only his scent."

Gimpy, frustrated at his lousy attempt to make such a common alchemical item, stands up and heads out of his room. He grabs his backpack and shoves his stuff inside.

Headed out the door, he straps his tailblade on and goes out to the stables

Skrew them finding me, I'll find them!.
Gimpy strides towards the stables in his snowshoes and tries to see if he can spot the others. Once he does, he clops over and says, "I'm sorry, but I'm back! I have all my stuff prepared and I even have some firespitters oil. Anyway, Pip, the inscription on the inside, I've had some thoughts. What if the watch used to belong to this Halfling but was given as a gift to our ass-of-an-elf friend? The letters are consistent with their names as well as the scent of our elf's perfume."

Ragnar takes a few moments while the others interrogate the stable boy to make sure the girth straps of Hrimfaxi's saddle are cinched properly, and that his gear is balanced properly between the numerous saddlebags hanging along the stocky beast's sides. Satisfied, he turns back to the others, clapping Paxton on the shoulder familiarly, "Yeh've done a right good job as yeh always do boy. Aye, the ninny up in th' castle said eh'd lend th' mule teh these others; won't be nearry as good as a real nor'lands horse like Hrimfaxi, but 'aving another back teh carry gear won't hurt. Be a good lad n' saddle er' up fer us will yeh?"

With that he turns back to his own mount, guiding him towards the front of the stable. "Ah'm ready to brave Th' White when you lot are."

Paxton considers the ratling's question for a few moments before his lips began to waggle once more.

"I knew they wos merchants cause they had a cart, theyh toohk et up tooh th'castol. At least that's where it louked like they were going. No, they was full men, they was. They kept mostly to themselves I reckon, they was mighty tall and skinny. Like one'a them longweeds that grow out by Lake Tarsus."

The stableboy looked down at the silver offered and gawked, taking it immediately.

"Thank you rat man! Mule? Th'only mule in here is Daisee, which is the Sennieshawl's. Did eih say yooh could 'ave her? Oh! Oilright then, I'll saddle her ohp!"

Paxton practically trots off to ready Daisy for the party, bringing her out shortly after with worn saddle and two large saddlebags on either side. She is ready to go.

Daisy can hold up to 200lbs of gear.

"You lot be sayfe, ah put a few appols in Daisee's right saddolbag. She loves appols." Said the stableboy before retreating towards the warmth of the small stove he kept in the stable itself.

--

The wind has picked up and the snowfall grows heavier.

Five hours of daylight remain.

The White beckons.

--

Could everyone roll me 5 d20 rolls, please? Just pop them at the bottom of your next post. Thanks!

"We are wasting daylight, come let us try to pick up the trail."

Unless anyone objects Kal'Tos will head to the town gate.

1d20 ⇒ 11
1d20 ⇒ 17
1d20 ⇒ 12
1d20 ⇒ 7
1d20 ⇒ 7

Okay! I agree. Let's move forward with our company and get going.

Gimpy hefts his backpack up and holds out a tiny vial. Ready for anything!
5d20 ⇒ (3, 9, 11, 10, 19) = 52

stupid derpy dice.

Just want to point out I took alternate trait: Unnatural - An animal's starting attitude toward ratfolk is one step worse than normal. This racial trait replaces rodent empathy.

Pip would thank the stable boy, turn to Gimpy and say "Of course they're connected Gimpy. It is proof we lack. Let's head out. Oh and someone should check those saddlebags to see what Bradigan had left for us." Pip would glance at the mule, seeing if it would attack him. You could never trust animals. "Who's going to guide Daisy?" Pip asked, unwilling to do so.

Pip dons his skis once outside the stable if the ground is snow or ice covered.

Roll: 5d20 ⇒ (6, 6, 15, 3, 13) = 43

Grunyar eats as he walks to the stable, passing his brother a stack of bread, meat and cheese he'd purchased on their way (-1 gp total). Before getting within sight of the others, he tosses a chunk of meat to Jaiyo, who snatches it from the air and swallows it seemingly in one motion.

"Here's some bread and cheese if you lot haven't eaten yet," he announces, holding up a sack. "If you have, we'll save it for later."

"Paxton, which stable was Sweetie Pie in before she was stolen?" he asks the stableboy. "I want to see if the halfling left anything behind. Since all the horses are gone, there's none to get spooked if I let Jaiyo here sniff around the stall to try to find a scent."

1d20 ⇒ 17

1d20 ⇒ 15

1d20 ⇒ 20

1d20 ⇒ 1

1d20 ⇒ 14

1d20 ⇒ 11

1d20 ⇒ 7

1d20 ⇒ 7

1d20 ⇒ 6

1d20 ⇒ 7

Adrian darts into his home and grabs his traveling gear on the way to the stable, letting those who are better with investigating people handle the interactions with the stablehand as he tries to brainstorm the effects that the snow would have on tracks, and if finding any was possible. Culmen's Cliff was a likely point of refuge if, and only if, the halfling knew of it. He would occupy his hands during his thoughts by strapping Lissa's barding on; a familiar and oft-repeated task that served to steady his thoughts. A small infusion of magic and a soft blessing invoked on the tigress in the name of the Spirit of the Falcon marked the end of Adrian's preparations, just as Grunyar returned with the food. "Thanks. I'll have some bread and cheese, if Lissa can get some meat. I'd rather not start subsisting off trail rations before I had to."

Paxton would be caught off guard by the question, having been pre-occupied with counting the handful of silver the ratling had given him over and over. "Mh? Oh, thaht stabol roight thehr." The half-wit pointed at the stall closest to the door. It looked recently swept, and the broom was laying next to it's door.

Jaiyo glances up at Grunyar before understanding the command, loping into the stall to begin sniffing about. After a half a minute, the wolf let out a shrill bark and return to his master with something in his mouth, dropping it in front of Grunyar obediently.

A riding crop.

--

If someone takes the time to search through Daisy's saddle-bags before loading her up with gear, they will find:

1 ripped blanket, torn on one end by three cuts.
1 half-made necklace/bracelet made of chicken-bones and twine, with several loose chicken bones strewn about.
1 empty bottle, smells of foul moonshine.

--

As soon as one steps foot (or footpaw) outside of Lores they are struck by a bone-chilling wind. It is as if another body of equal weight and strength was pushing against them as if to block their way.

It takes physical effort to walk at a steady pace.

The mountains surrounding Lores can no longer be seen, hidden by the White as the snow falls at a shockingly swift pace. Daisy whinnies and struggles slightly against whomever has her reigns, and Hrimfaxi pauses for a few long seconds before letting out a disgrunted noise past his nostrils.

Jaiyo also seems to wilt at the cold, but presses forward silently beside Grunyar.

Lissa seems un-phased, perhaps even at home in the shivering snow.

A five hour walk will lead the party just to edge of the Bitterwoods to the northeast via the Northroad, past the frozen Lake Tarsus, if no stops are taken.

Do you proceed?

--

ALL THOSE WHO TOOK TIME TO EAT ARE SATIATED.
ALL THOSE WHO DO NOT HAVE WARM WINTER CLOTHING TAKE -4 TO ALL ROLLS WHILE TRAVERSING THE WHITE.
ALL THOSE WHO DO HAVE WARM WINTER CLOTHING TAKE A -2 TO ALL ROLLS WHILE TRAVERSING THE WHITE.

--

Can I get percentile (d100) rolls from Gimpy, Pip and Kal'Tos, please? Thanks!

Percentile

1d100 ⇒ 33

As we pass the lake

"Does every have water? We can stop to fill up if someone forgot."

----

Once it is starting to get dark.

"I recommend we push on for a couple more hours, thanks to that useless Half-elf we are hours behind the target. We can have someone with darkvision lead and connect people by rope so we don't lose anyone."

That percentile: 1d100 ⇒ 92

Gimpy shivers sporadically and pulls out a tiny vial it's his endure elements extract he downs it and immediately feels better. ah, gosh! That's so much better!

I have that sight, I can lead but I'll only last as long as my extract, but I don't have to worry.

Gimpy smiles politely. How do you think I live up here without extra clothes?

Gimpy sighs, I need at least an hour to prepare my extracts for tomorrow.