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In Search of Heroes (Inactive)

Game Master verdigris

Play-by-Post game set in Darkmoon Vale, using the Pathfinder ruleset.


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Trafalgar arrives back at the sitting duck and pays the fee to sleep on the floor. He chooses a corner to rest, and sleeps uncomfortable for the rest of the night. When dawn arrives, he awakes and heads back outside to commune with his raven, Curaco. He prepares the same spells as he did yesterday, and feels that they will be the best benefit for today. "After the failed search last night, maybe I will have better luck today to find Othoe. I hope he slept well and is safe."

Search to find Othoe1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6


After having heard the false gnome's and the druid's conversation, Lamtheer decides he's seen enough.

He creeps out of the little town and, with his eyes adjusting rapidly to the starry darkness, he finds a nice and dry patch of moss between a great tree's roots. There he makes himself comfortable for the night, taking care to make his sword and bow accessible in case he needs them.

----

A little while before dawn, the bird noises wake Lamtheer up. He keeps still a little time, lying on his back and staring at the trunk which goes up straight above him, expanding in a flourishing foliage.

Then he stands, yawns and straightens himself. He goes to a little stream he spotted before making camp the night before, and freshens up.

Then he comes back to the village, and goes directly to the spot where Othoe spent the night.

As he arrives, the gnome is busy adjusting his improbable wig, his back to the half-elf.

Lamtheer deliberately steps on a twig so as to warn the halfling about his arrival.

"... morning" Lamtheer says to Othoe.


GM:
Chrystosm attempts to tail the two men Stealth 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20 to remain unseen; Survival 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12 to track them in the dark , trying to find out where they're going, what they're doing and what's in it for him (if anything)

If he loses them, or they spot him, he runs off until they stop chasing him and goes to sleep (as best he can) in a convenient doorway, waking up the next day feeling rather substandard. Pulling his belt tighter, he goes off and attempts to find the helpful "gnome" he met the night before.


Despite the late night, Elandor’s internal rooster has him awake before the crack of dawn.
Thank Abadar for honest business, this place is decent, it even has a wash bassin
Elandor washes his face in the washbasin provided and puts on his finest cloths (Courtier’s Outfit) , leaving the cursed chainmail on the chair. Facing the window, he automatically recalls a verse of the Order of Numbers and then sits in silence pondering his twisted faith. He truly believes in the tenants of Abadar, just that… just that… so much potential… Aktun could be real one day. As he focuses on images of Aktun he feels his heart and mind revitalize…

Noises of a busy kitchen draw him away from the spiraling towers…

Flapjacks time


Sarek awakes with a huge, body-stretch; forcing the marching-cramp out of every joint and knotted muscle. He is grateful for the rest but stirs himself quickly.
Unsure of Falcon's Hollow, he dresses for any eventuality, wearing his formal war-coat and holding onto his urgosh; Sarek is comforted by the routine and formality of the items.
Heading down to the taproom he rubs away at his eyes when the morning sun shines through the windows Havta get used ta that low-light.
The smell of warm oats comforts Sarek and he lets a smile play across his lips as he reaches the bottom of the stairs: "Brahm, what is that fine smell?"


Nimeon hesitates before touching his fist to Kast.

What an odd custom.

"It is a hard thing to fail at what you love. I tried to be a woodsman like my father, but I was never good enough for him."


Kast smiles as Nimeon completes the expected greeting.

Not good enough to be a woodman? How does one fail at that? Take axe, hit tree. Take tree back to town. Done.

Kast nods along with Nimeon, understandingly.

"Did you say what you are doing here, Nimeon?"


Lamtheer wrote:

Then he comes back to the village, and goes directly to the spot where Othoe spent the night.

As he arrives, the gnome is busy adjusting his improbable wig, his back to the half-elf.

Lamtheer deliberately steps on a twig so as to warn the halfling about his arrival.

"... morning" Lamtheer says to Othoe.

"Ahhhh!"

Othoe stands with a start clearly frightened even though you tried to announce your arrival.

"By Asmodeus' beard you startled me. Sorry, give me a moment."

Othoe takes a moment to breathe and calm himself.

"Not your fault, I've been comforted by the soft calmness of the still morning and you just took me by surprise." Othoe grins.

"Do I know you? What can I do for you?"


Chrystosm:
Chrystosm wrote:
** spoiler omitted **

you're able to follow the en easily, as they continue to talk as they circle the town all night. They seem to follow a route they've taken many times, their mind more on their conversation than on the safety.

"Ease yourself, Liam, it probably is just a cold. You're doing fine tonight, nary a... " he has to hold up for a moment as his friend, Liam, stumbles to one side, clinging to a nearby building to stay upright as a hacking cough nearly lays him low. "cough...well, save for that one, that is." .

Their progress is slow, and Liam's cough gains and eases, depending upon how fast they walk, and how much he tries to contribute to the conversation. Finally, at dawn, they return to a low slung building on the western side of town.


Nimeon nods at Kast's query.

"I did not. I was helping the local militia hunt gnolls in the area. I normally don't come into town but I've been long in the field and wanted a roof over my head for a night."


Elandor Nark:
Jakanapes is quiet in the morning, though it's apportionments would indicate this is not usually the case.

"Good morning, Master Nark," he says with a smile, a platter of sweet smelling flapjacks scenting the air of cinnamon and some other exotic spice. "You're just in time for a fresh plate of flap jacks and sausage." Though he appears cheery, there is a small pinch to his mouth as he looks around the nearly empty breakfast room.

Sarek:
Sarek wrote:


Heading down to the taproom he rubs away at his eyes when the morning sun shines through the windows Havta get used ta that low-light.
The smell of warm oats comforts Sarek and he lets a smile play across his lips as he reaches the bottom of the stairs: "Brahm, what is that fine smell?"

"Good morrow, Sarek. That scent is a mash suitable for breaking your fast. Come sit and enjoy. Fleur will go up directly to make up your room for the day." He sets a large bowl in front of you, steaming and sweet. Bits of walnuts and chunks of apples dot the oats, and some kind of syrup seems drizzled throughout.

"Enjoy."


Dorial makes her way back to the stables where she met "Bacon" earlier that night. Seeing him asleep in his pen she finds a nice pile of hay to curl up on.

He's too cute to disturb. Hay pile looks comfortable enough.

Dorial falls fast asleep on her little bed. In the morning, shortly before the sun rises, she stretches as she checks her gear over before beginning her daily meditation.


”Thank you, those look delicious.” Elandor takes an appreciative first folk full and nods in approval. He gulps his food down followed by a swig of fresh water. Keeping a curious eye on his host, he asks. “Tell me what seems to trouble you? There doesn’t seem to be the anticipated crowd? I realized these appear to be troublesome times with the plague and all, perhaps there is something a stranger can do?”


Nimeon wrote:
"I did not. I was helping the local militia hunt gnolls in the area. I normally don't come into town but I've been long in the field and wanted a roof over my head for a night."

"There are gnolls in the area?! Does the patrolling pay well? I can fight. I *will* fight! Can you get me in the militia?!" Kast asks excitedly.

Friendly people *AND* gnoll attacks! This place is awesome!


"I thought you wanted to be a teacher? Well, I'm not one to deny you, I'll see what I can do. Why don't you sleep on it and decide in the morning?"

With that Nimeon takes his leave and begins his search for lodgings.

*****************************

The morning sun finds Nimeon in his usual state, awake and preparing for the day. In the courtyard he streches before performing a brief workout, just enough to keep stiff muscles from knotting after his past few weeks of constant running and sneaking. As the inn begins to stir he makes his way to the bathes to wash off the road grime and sweat of his workout.

After the bath, Nimeon returns to the common room and awaits the return of Kast or any others from the night before, curious to see how many have already moved on.


Rising before dawn, Simon packs up the wolfsbane for Miss Laurel, throws on his cloak, and makes his promised delivery. Retrieving the blackscour brew for Fleur, Simon heads back to The Sitting Duck as the rest of the town is rousing itself.

"Morning Brahm, here's the blackscour for Fleur." Simon gently places the brew on the bar. "How about a little liquid breakfast, my friend, nothing like a good stout to start the day."

Seeing the dwarf at his bowl of mash, Simon raises his glass in greeting. "Morning Sarek!"


"Don't forget me Simon. It's been a while since I've been in town but surely you haven't forgotten Nimeon?"

Has it been so long? Years I suppose.


Her meditation complete, Dorial sets out into the morning air.

To think, death is all around us on such a nice day. Now, off to meet Othoe.

"Good bye bacon, I'll see you later!" She then sets off to the wall.


"Nimeon!" Simon reaches out and slaps his old friend on the back. "I didn't recognize you with all that hair. Last time I saw you lad, you'd just shorn the locks to get all the twigs out. Pull up a seat and have some breakfast, tell us where your travels have carried you?"


Nimeon smiles as Simon's memory returns.

"I've been almost everywhere I could imagine as a child Simon. Kreed had me providing security in the Vale for a while before I got a taste to wander. I started working with the militia to bring down the gnolls to the south for Baleson. Gotta say I like that much better, Baleson's a good man. I came back for some rest before going back out after a kobold tribe that's been causing some trouble before word of this plague started making it's way through the tavern."

Nimeon grimaces at this last.

"What can you tell me of that Simon, and what have you been up to."


Simon Shrewsbury:
Simon Shrewsbury wrote:

Rising before dawn, Simon packs up the wolfsbane for Miss Laurel, throws on his cloak, and makes his promised delivery. Retrieving the blackscour brew for Fleur, Simon heads back to The Sitting Duck as the rest of the town is rousing itself.

"Morning Brahm, here's the blackscour for Fleur." Simon gently places the brew on the bar. "How about a little liquid breakfast, my friend, nothing like a good stout to start the day."

Seeing the dwarf at his bowl of mash, Simon raises his glass in greeting. "Morning Sarek!"

Actually, Simon, retrieving the blackscour tea wasn't nearly so uneventful. Outside of Miss Laurel's, there was a long line of people waiting to see her. Some were noticeably ill, others seemed well but worried. Cutting to the front might very well have seen a riot break out, but waiting risked being too late to retrieve any for Fleur.

Eventually, you do reach the front of the line, but only after having spent over an hour in the company of the sick and the weak and the worried.

Miss Laurel, a half Garundi woman who came to town with her parents when you were small, is able to help you, but only just. She let's you know that the illness becomes more resistant to her work, and soon she will need to find something else, or risk the currently contained plague turning truly deadly.

Note: Laurel is of a similar age as yourself, and your parents often held her behavior up as an example of what they would have preferred to see in you.


Elandor Nark:
Elandor Nark wrote:
”Thank you, those look delicious.” Elandor takes an appreciative first folk full and nods in approval. He gulps his food down followed by a swig of fresh water. Keeping a curious eye on his host, he asks. “Tell me what seems to trouble you? There doesn’t seem to be the anticipated crowd? I realized these appear to be troublesome times with the plague and all, perhaps there is something a stranger can do?”

"Troubled times?? Aye, I guess you could call them that." Though he tries to hold his jovial smile, it falters, then crumbles, the weeks of worry suddenly weighing on his countenance, "but there's not anyone can do unless you've a cure for the evil that's overtaken our town." and from the look on his face, it seems it might be too late to help what ails him.


GM Verdigris:
For the sake of the game, would it create unbalance or an unfair advantage for the spirit of this adventure if I had the diagnose disease spell? I don't know the Falcon's Hollow storyline and don't want to create a spoiling build.


"Aye, Nimeon, this plague is a nasty mess, waiting through the line of sick and worried folks at Miss Laurels took nearly an hour this morning, I've never seen it so long. She's a good woman, Miss Laurel, an inspiration to any that work the healing arts."

Simon raises his mug of liquid breakfast in salute to the fine woman and her tireless work.

"Lest someone figures the source of this plague, I fear the affliction will grow past any of our arts, it's a dire hour for Falcon's Hollow my friend."


“I apologize, I seem to have stirred some painful memories.” His appetite cut and deeply moved, Elandor pushed his plate, and approaches the man. “This evil you speak off, is it the plague? Did it take friend, or is there more? Not everyone in town looks affected. Tell me frankly, and I will do what I can to help. There is a druid of the Vale in town who believes she can help. I can seek her out.”


Elandor uses his spell like ability “Inspiring Word” to provide a moral boost to his host. ”May death not be in vain, there is hope for those that live.”


GM Verdigris:
Chrystosm walks up to the building and bangs on the door. Look like guardsmen to me. Damn it, if that's the best they can do, they should be besides themselves with joy when *I* turn up...

He brushes down his clothing and tidies his hair before the door opens, and when it does, puts on his cheeriest expression and beams at whoever answers:

"Morning! I hear you're hiring. Where do I sign up?"

Diplomacy 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6


"Morning, Simon." Sarek gives the man a beaming smile and a nod but continues ploughing through the tasty breakfast, puncturing his eating with occasional appreciative noises.

However, he cannot help but overhear Simon's concerned words as he talks with the half-elf: "Plague! Falcon's Hollow lies under an affliction?" Sarek shakes his head in slow-sadness: Simon, I am hear in search of my cousin, similar height to me but dark of thatch, called Angbar. I must know if he is afflicted, may I join you to visit this herbalist? Perhaps he is a patient of hers. In any case, I have some herb-lore ranks in knowledge (nature) and may prove useful."

Sarek pauses in his speech and stands up, giving his mouth and beard a quick wipe before turning to the green-eyed elf : "Forgive me, I interrupted, I am known as Sarek." I offer my arm to grasp in typical warrior greeting.


Quote:

"... morning" Lamtheer says to Othoe.

"Ahhhh!"

Othoe stands with a start clearly frightened even though you tried to announce your arrival.

"By Asmodeus' beard you startled me. Sorry, give me a moment."

Othoe takes a moment to breathe and calm himself.

"Not your fault, I've been comforted by the soft calmness of the still morning and you just took me by surprise." Othoe grins.

"Do I know you? What can I do for you?"

"I am called Lamtheer" says the young half-elf woodsman with green hair.

A pause. He eyes Othoe in a cryptic way, cutting a strange figure for one so young, dressed as he is in his dirt-stained but well-cared for studded leather armor, his doeskin pants and knee-length buckskin boots, with a big longbow strapped on his back and a longsword on his hip.

"I heard you talking with the druid woman last night, about the plague. I'd like to help with putting an end to it."

Lamtheer smiles unexpectedly, a genuine friendly smile.

"I'm sorry I frightened you. I didn't mean to."


Keen to join if not too late. I'll have something up soon...As for the posting schedule, I check the boards like 10 times a day so no worries keeping up. How will combat be handled? Descriptive only or Map tools?


Ah, a greeting I recognize!

Nimeon extends his hand in the same manner.

"I am Nimeon, servant of Erastil and would be woodsman. As Simon said, Miss Laurel is a good woman, if your brother is being treated then her's is the place we should start. I fear if the lines were so long though she may not have time for us."


Nimeon wrote:

Ah, a greeting I recognize!

Nimeon extends his hand in the same manner.

"I am Nimeon, servant of Erastil and would be woodsman. As Simon said, Miss Laurel is a good woman, if your brother is being treated then her's is the place we should start. I fear if the lines were so long though she may not have time for us."

"Aye, well, when folk are busy, an offer of aid is the one thing they'll pause for. Perhaps she'll give me a moment if I offer some help with her work? Even if she knows nothing of my cousin, it sounds like she needs the help and it is worthy work."

Sarek pauses and gives a respectful nod to Simon: "If you'll make the introductions?"

GM Verdigris, I hope we're not barrelling too fast towards adventure? Plague is the big hook in your introduction, should we side-track ourselves until you've chosen the party? Or are you happy for us to keep talking/investigating/whatever about the plague?


Dorial rounds the corner of the wall to find Othoe and another man talking.

She shouts out, "Good morning Othoe! I hope you slept well." She turns to the newcomer, "I think I remember you from last night, but I didn't catch your name."

Dorial is currently wearing her armor with shield strapped to her back. The only other signs of gear is the club hanging off her belt and the two darts tucked on the opposite side.


The young half-elf (he seems even younger than Dorial) looks at Dorial for a few seconds without answering.

Then he clears his voice, and speaks.

"I am called Lamtheer. I am a Squire of the Hunt"

He tilts his head to one side, like he's expecting some reaction from the druid at the mention of his "title".

His overall manner with the young druid is very cautious. Maybe even suspicious, though he tries not to let it appear so.


"Othoe here said you were trying to put an end to the plague."


In all the nine hells, damn it, where are you Othoe," yells Trafalgar at the top of his lungs. How hard is it to find one gnome in such a small town. As Trafalgar continues to look for Othoe, he wonders if he can remember anything about Falcon's Hollow in the trace of his memories.

Knowledge History; Remember anything about Falcon's Hollow1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23


I'm here! I'm here! hehehe

Lamtheer, Lamtheer - Squire of the Hunt huh?
Knowledge, local 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

"Lamtheer, well met. Dorial, welcome - I trust you both slept well? I slept very well indeed. I have a little rabbit left if it's not offensive to your pallet and you have some hunger. Sorry there is no salad, but my forestry skills are somewhat lacking and I'd like as not gather something deadly!"

"So, Dorial, what did you have in mind to combat the plague today? I believe Lamtheer here wishes to help us, and as a Squire of the Hunt he maybe of use. I should also find a man called Trafalgar - he was with us last night you may remember him. He may also be of some help today."


Dorial grins at Lamtheer, "A pleasure to meet you Mister Squire."

If there's any expected response to the title it does not show on her face.

Turning back to Othoe, "Well I would like to first see one of these plagued victims to try and diagnose it. I believe we can also keep an eye out for anyone who suddenly becomes 'weak' as this is a sign of the plague."

She ponders for a bit before carrying on, "We may also want to speak with this Laurel person. I heard it mentioned that she may have some art in healing herbs, and if anyone was to help people within the town it would be her."

She looks down at the offered rabbit, "As much as it pains me, I would also try to avoid eating anything served by the people here. I need to investigate a bit more, but I believe the plague affects the livestock as well. I just hope they aren't using them for food."


Sarek wrote:


GM Verdigris, I hope we're not barrelling too fast towards adventure? Plague is the big hook in your introduction, should we side-track ourselves until you've chosen the party? Or are you happy for us to keep talking/investigating/whatever about the plague?

Actually, side tracking yourselves by getting to know each other is probably the best bet. I've had family come into town early so I won't be able to do as much posting today as I would like. I will be able to at least post the final list this evening, though, by 10pm Pacific.


Fair play.

As they wait for Brahm and Simon to finish their business, Sarek muses with the two friendly locals:
"'Tis a strange place, this Falcon's Hollow, it all seems so tense. Plague will do strange things to any community, I suppose. I thought the place would be, hmm, laden-with-motif, no, that's not the word... swankier? Darkwood is a rare and valuable timber."


Kast wakes up and stretches out, the branches of the underhedge, crackling and resisting.

I wish I could have found the greenhouse, but he left before I could get directions.

Kast rises and stretches out his legs. He spends a few moments massaging his twisted left leg, trying to get it to move.

Another beautiful day in paradise. Now, let's go see about work.

Kast will limp back to the Sitting Duck seeking a bowl of porridge after packing up his belongings.

* * *

"Barkeep! Uhm, I mean Brahm! Brahm! A bowl of porridge if you have it?" Kast smiles nicely and lays a few precious coppers on to the bar.

"By the by, do you know where Simon lives?"


"Darkwood is valuable, friend Sarek, but not to those who live in Falcon's Hollow. After all, we are surrounded by it, to us it is just wood. To those who live elsewhere in Andoran, it is a resource to be exploited. They send their men in and cut down the trees, shipping them far away to be processed and sold for large sums of money. They do not pay the local workers well, if at all, and they do not live here to spend their wealth in town."

Nimeon takes a drink of is water to mask the bitterness he feels.

"The darkwood is rare everywhere it is not, and here we are surrounded by it. Yet my bow is made of simple yew because I can afford it and not one made of darkwood. There are some here who live well off of course, but for the common man it is often enough just to survive. To build every home out of darkwood while surrounded by it would make sense if the darkwood wasn't more valuable elsewhere."

With a heavy sigh Nimeon stops and gathers himself.

"I apologize for rambling. Your question is a fair one, but a bit of a sore spot in this area."


Dorial wrote:
...She looks down at the offered rabbit, "As much as it pains me, I would also try to avoid eating anything served by the people here. I need to investigate a bit more, but I believe the plague affects the livestock as well. I just hope they aren't using them for food."

Othoe stops chewing.

Oh.

Othoe thinks about the one whole days worth of rations he has left from his journey and considers leaving town right then and there.

Where will go you next? How far will you run? It's time to plant some roots.

"I suppose this is as good a time as any to give up meat. At least for a while. Sigh."

Knowledge, local taking 10+7=17

"I think I know where Laurel's shop is. Common knowledge I would think? Rumor has it she can ease the pain of the plague - at least - and many flock to her door. Follow me and I'll lead us there!"

Othoe gathers up his belongings and carefully scatters the fire. He takes the remaining rabbit and hides it in the shrubs. Ready he leads the little group off in the direction of Laurel's shop.


With a grin, Simon raises his mug of stout towards Kast from the other end of the bar. "Some days, you could well say that I live right here at Brahm's."

Laughing at his own jest, Simon strides over and plucks a wayward leaf off Kast's shoulder, "Greenhouse would have been better than the shrubbery my friend, though a good shrubbery does have it's merits. Sarek, Nimeon, and I had just been discussing a trip to Miss Laurel's, down that porridge and join us. She's a good lady that knows her healing arts, you'll like her, and she might just well have some herb requests for us that'll get this group working."

As the group makes their way towards Miss Laurels, a familiar and atrocious wig can be seen bobbing through the street crowd ahead of them. Accompanying the wigged wizard are other folks from last evening at The Sitting Duck.

"Hey there strangers, it seems our paths go the same direction of late. What brings you to Miss Laurels this morning, not coughing I hope?" Simon gives the little group a concerned look.


"Simon! Hey, there you are! I walked all over last night looking for your greenhouse!" Kast smiles broadly.

"Yeah, sure! Let me scoop this down and I'll come. I got nothing better to do than see more of this great and friendly town!

Kast begins to shovel the porridge into his mouth.


As Trafalgar continues to search for Othoe, he stumbles upon a long line of townsfolk. "Maybe if I wait here long enough, Othoe, Elandor, or Chrystosm will eventually arrive here." Their has to be a reason for all these people gathering here. Trafalgar stands against the wall, in front of the line, making sure not to get in the way of anyone or stopping anyone from continuing what they are doing. Caraco sits upon Trafalgar's shoulder to be a small look out in case something interesting comes up.


Fast-forwarding things, I'll assume the guard turned me down. Hard.

Chrystosm arrives at the queue, looking dishevelled and sporting a black eye and a very fat lip, brightening when he sees a few familiar faces."Well, I found thomwhere to thleep", he lisps through his injuries. "Thame it was in a thell. Hate to be a nuithanthe, but any of you genth got a bite to eat? I fed my prithon chow to the ratth and they turned upthide down and then burtth, tho I left it. What a town!" He shakes his head, then attempts to wash his face and hands in a nearby puddle.


Simon Shrewsbury wrote:
"Hey there strangers, it seems our paths go the same direction of late. What brings you to Miss Laurels this morning, not coughing I hope?" Simon gives the little group a concerned look.

"Hello! er, Simon was it? Thanks for the concern, but we're fine. We're hoping to help with the plague and maybe Laurels can provide some answers."

Othoe listens for a cough.

"So are you here for the same?"


"It is Simon, pleased to meet you." Simon offers a hand shake to the halfl..er..gnome. "If any have an answer for this plague, it would be Laurel, but I fear even her talents are being tested by this threat. We're here for the same, hoping we can lend a few hands to her efforts."

Simon's eyes go wide as he looks over the shoulder of the small man. "Crap! Play along everyone, it's Thaldrin's lackeys!" In a loud voice, for the benefit of the swarthy looking men that are approaching.

"Alright everyone, you have your shopping lists and jobs to perform, here is your gold for the day's work. Once you've gathered the items on your list, please meet back at the grenhouse and I'll have the next task for you."

Simon pulls out his coin pouch and hands out a gold piece to each of those gathered, going slow and deliberate, making a show of it for Thaldrin's men.

Well, there goes half of my coins, still, if a single gold piece can save any of these folks from a sure death in the logging camps then it was well worth the price.


“You are obviously upset. I will leave you some time to breath, and return later in the evening to discuss the matter with you. In the interim, I will seek out a certain Laurel, purveyor of remedies, rumor has it she may be the only one in town with any knowledge about the current affliction.”

Feel Free to rewind as needed GM_Verdigris.

Elandor returns briefly to his room to retrieve his mace and sketchpad before leaving Jak’a’Nape to his grisly thoughts. What am I getting myself into… After asking a few locals, Elandor spots the masses. Hmm… this may be more difficult than I thought… He slowly approaches the crowd, holding back from the queue. There seems to be a few familiar faces.

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