The Crucible of Freya (Inactive)

Game Master Grimmy

Jerrid sits near the kitchen door and eats or shares a few pieces of meat with Medus with the warmth of the fire letting the reptile bask. Every now and then red eyes flicker in the firelight, Jerrid takes in everyone as they enter, deciding how dangerous they are.

Perception 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (9) + 13 = 22, Sense Motive 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17

Only the one farmer enters, to drink sadly at the bar.

Glarian has no other patrons but you, and no other staff but herself.

Lannet seems to be enjoying his anonymity. He has a new fake accent to go with the purple cloak and hairstyle. He sounds like a halfling from the Grand Duchy of Waymarch, the kind that have their toe hairs plucked.

He also seems to be making puns and wordplay at the expense of the unwashed farmer at the bar.

"I can understand why you're eager to go chaps, the time certainly does seem to be getting ripe...."

When Leoven mentions the murderer who has not faced justice, Lannet quips:

"Truly an odorous crime."

He seems to be amusing himself endlessly.

Once Astor got the halflings back in the inn he stays down and watches Lannet like a hawk. Wherever he goes, Astor goes.

Janna enjoys the quiet of a small town tavern. it has been a long time since she last enjoyed such things, and can actually afford to stay there.

she takes notice of the farmer, apparently drowning his woes. she has seen the look before, she knows it well. Janna motions to Damien that she heard him but to wait a moment.

Janna approaches the farmer.

sir? You seem a bit distraught. Is there anything I could do to assist? perhaps lend a listening ear.

Janna seems concerned that there could be a connection with this farmer and the missing blacksmith's daughter. perhaps there is more going on than meets the eye.

diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13

The farmer looks at Janna cockeyed. He has so much foam in his beard from the ale it looks like he's lathering up to shave.

"Distraught. I... pfft! Sure. You can assist. Go tell the law in this town to do they're job that's how you can assist. Do you know I'm a muhr-duh-ruhr and they let me go free? A MUHR-duh-ruhr."

He points at his chest.

Entry 6 – We buried the family this morning with prayers from our paladin. Healed and rested after fighting Vortigern yesterday, we head on towards Fairhill. It should be about 6 miles since the farm is 4 from the Tradeway. Somewhere out there is a mage and his imp desperate to get us.
In the farmhouse I find my pet, Medus the viper, Vhillish gets a riding dog, Topper, and Damien has a cat. Janna and Samduc had duped the wizard giving him a useless amulet and scroll. So Janna shows us a letter that Eralion sent a friend detailing his pan to transform into a lich, unguents and a phylactery are mentioned. Sourced in Bards Gate. Where?
Astor gets a bow and fine shortsword, and I salvage some other gear. They are dead so it’s fair game.
*
Near Fairhill we met a young huntress, Estler, with a hare. She tells us that Stoneheart Forest is called the Stirge Woods locally.
*
Fairhill is in farming country with about 400 people living well. Honest sort of place with a magistrate, Arlen, and a shrine to Freya, priestess Shandril. When we get there it’s all open and not easy to hide. There were an elf, Lauriel, and her guard, Baran. He was missing one hand, a left, and a bastard sword. The drow paladin and our employer do the talking and soon we are accepted and led to Shandril and her shrine.
There she is performing a ritual over a silver bowl and her hand enters a hot brazier with no pain. The altar has a carving of a stag and it transpires that the valuable bowl is called Freya’s Crucible and it can make the village womenfolk more fertile. And no lock. No door!! These people are touched. Now Kevezyat shows her mettle and faith burying her own hand in the brazier too, without any harm.
So that display brings on an argument on faith and Damien is no supporter. Vhillish and the drow try to change his mind. What a pointless chat. Faith ha! Either you have it or not. No discussion.
Shandril remembers Eralion (the necromancer) as a good wizard but that was 20 years ago. She also met a wizard who disappeared into the Woods with a female warrior, shifty man in leathers or chain and a dwarf follower of Dwerfater. Shandril had a vision that they would die killed by spiders but chose not to tell them their fate.
*
After we headed for the Drunken Cockatrice Inn. Glarian the half-elf’s famous shrine to meals and rest and it did live up to its reputation. Meals 2 sp, Rooms 2 gp There we met Lannet, a Halfling who was possibly last to see the wizard’s party and he sold them a refracting gem. Lannet had stolen that crystal from a passing merchant. This all is discussed while I clean and freshen up, and I do get the pleasure of seeing Astor’s Stare cowering the little tyke. He has a way with beggars and thieves! So Lannet becomes our guide and we agree to cover him against the newly arrived gang sent to recover the crystal and punish the Lightfingered Lannet. They are 2 halforcs, an armoured dwarf and a man in light armour.
After a good meal, Damien and I head for Voril’s Armoury. We discuss the gnolls sickle, it’s magical and able to fit my hand. Voril talks about it being duergar crafted and from the Under Realms. I like that. Afterwards the blacksmith offers us a suit of mail to find his daughter, Arialle. She left recently with another youth, Nathiel, a woodsman.

Damien looks at Lannet with an annoyed expression, "Plenty of time to pick up supplies during your little excursion this afternoon. How far had you traveled into the Stirge woods before turning back?"

He raises an eyebrow at the drunken farmer, "You're certainly a fine slayer of pints. Just who did you go and murder?"

Leoven is generally a person that get not angered easily. But the halfling words start a fire within him, only using all his will power does the young cleric maintain the calm.

Sam gives Lannet a stern look.
"We are getting an early start and definitely not going to the market. Time to turn in after we hear this fellows story. Obviously something is troubling him."

Kevezyat gives Lannet a hard look, "Keep your focus on remembering the correct path in the forest tomorrow, not on obvious and insulting word-play." she says in a tone that brooks no disobidience.

She then leaves Lannet's table and joins the other in conversation with the farmer. "Indeed, your's sounds a worthy tale."

Lannet begins to say something but cuts himself short. A resigned look comes over his eyes.

"Sure, sure." He says softly. "Leave in the morning then."

Sense motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

Leoven goes to the room to rest and wait for the new day. All night the images of the dead family appears in his head. he knew there was evil in the world, atrocious evil, but seeing it wih his onw eyes totally shocked him.

Vhillish sidles up to Lannet to add his footnote to procedings;

"Now sir. Be a good gentleman and keep the trap shut eh? No need to be upsetting people... Yappy chaps like you ain't good for morale... an I can't have that sir... no-no..."

The serjeant claps him on the shoulder afore leaving the Halfling alone;

"Rest assured... I'll have my eye on you laddie..."

Vhillish will then check if anything else is required of him before retiring to his room to prep equipment for the coming journey.

The farmer is about to answer Damien when he hears Kevezyat speak to him. Turning and finding himself faced with a dark elf, he tips over backwards on his barstool and crashes full force to the floor.

By the time he collects himself and stands he seems to have forgotten whatever trepidation it was that had caused his fall. Rather than recoiling he is now grasping Kevezyat's upper arm and leaning in much too close to talk.

"He wants to know... This one wants to know.. Who did I murder. My wife! My own wife that's who! Pftt. You happy now!"

The deep gnome finishes writing his diary notes and has a word with Glarian to thank him for such good meals. He gives him a tip. Also he warns the half elf that he will be leaving early in the morning.

DM Only:

Jerrid murmurs to Astor as he goes upstairs, "I am getting an early night's rest. We will not have many in the Stirge Woods. Night."

Astor barely looks away from Lannet as he nods and grunts in acknowledgement of Jerrid. He won't go to bed until Lannet does.

Damien considers the drunk man with a touch of skepticism, "And you say the law has failed to arrest you for such a crime? Why is that?"

Unflinching in the face of the farmer's flammable breath, Kevezyat glances briefly down at the gnarled hand grasping her arm, then back up to the man's crazed eye, her own gaze on of understanding and compassion.

"Calmly now" she says gently, "You say you've murdered your wife? But haven't been arrested? How came that to be. Speak, and be heard."

Diplomacy 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27

Janna steps back from the man. She has had her fill of murderers and criminals of late.

letting those of the more diplomatic ability take over.

Glarian sees the farmer accosting Kevezyat and comes across the bar.

"Now, now Fendrin. There, there."

He responds to her soothing tones and let's himself be led upstairs.

When Glarian returns she offers a sad smile.

"Fendrin's wife and son were captured by a manticore six months ago. It carried them off alive. He must have thought death was a better fate then what awaited them in the creature's lair, for he shot his wife with a bow from the ground, killing her. His child was likewise dropped from the beasts mouth and fell to his death."

Damien grimaces, "A hard choice...I'd be hard pressed to call it the wrong one though. What became of the manticore?"

When there's a moment, Damien inquires with Glarian to see if she has a spare nail laying around somewhere in the inn? Left over from something or just left behind?

Sam is touched by the story and comments truthfully:
"You were in trouble as you had only two very bad choices. Either way, you could beat yourself about it for years."

He adds: "Or, you can realize that life is a set of imperfect choices and we make the best ones we can and move on. Freya would understand, as innocents should not suffer."

Glarian shakes her head sadly at Damien's question.

"As always it flew up the river back up North from whence it comes. Alas, we know not why it takes it's prey alive."

"Perhaps at some time, when we are not otherwise engaged, it may be worthwhile to rid Fairhill of this menace. And bring Fendrin some peace." Kevezyat says , her eyes wide at the horror of the choice the poor man had to make.

I is getting late, we must be on our way early. breakfast has been paid for. Janna goes to retire for the evening. letting her companions enjoy the remainder of the evening.

Janna goes to her room but instead of retiring for the evening she pulls out her parchment and pen to finish the writing she had started.

Janna folds up the note and tucks it away hoping to figure out some way to send it to Bard's Gate.

Damien shakes his head, "If it keeps coming back you'd figure the bloody sheriff would send a squad after the damn thing. Well as Kev says, maybe in future?"

He finishes the last of his current pint, before stretching, "Well, as the lady said it's getting late and tomorrow's an early day for us."

Collecting the last of his things before gesturing to Lannet and then the stairs, "Come on son, you're with me.", the half-elf's tone making it clear he will brook no argument.

Kevezyat smiles at Damien's efforts to corral the obviously unenthusiastic halfing, a thought comes to her What was that saying....herding cats?

She remains in the common room, conversing softly with Glarian when she isn't otherwise occupied. She othewise stares into the fire, sipping a mulled wine, replaying in her mind Fendrins initial reaction to her race , that also bring back the Sheriff's comments. With a sigh, she refused to engage in any self-pity, and steel herself for similar experiences in the future.

Eventually, she bids Glarian a good night and retires to her room.

Lannet shrugs.

"Take me to your room handsome, I'm all yours. Are we using that somehow?'

He points over Damien's shoulder where Glarian is approaching with a nail she found somewhere.

Seeing that Damien is taking Lannet to his room for babysitting Astor is satisfied that no more trouble will come from the halfing this evening. He drains a final pint and with a wave to his companions that are still left downstairs he makes his way up to his room for the night.

Damien takes the offered nail with a nod and merely jerks his head at the stairs in answer to Lannet's question.

Once in their room, Damien moves to the window. Somewhat awkwardly he uses his hammer, gripped just below the heavy head to drive the nail through the frame and into the sill below, pinning it shut.

Moving to the bed, he simply offers Lannet a shrug, his voice flat, "I don't like drafts. Not to worry though, I'm even giving you the bed."

Stripping a blanket and one of the pillows off the bed he shakes out his bedroll and sets it in front of the door. Tossing down the pillow he lays himself down casually and pulls the blanket over top, rendering it impossible to open the door without moving him.

Laying on his back he speaks with his eyes closed, "Best get some sleep master halfling, going to be an awful early day tomorrow..."

Heedless of whomever he billets with, Vhillish unpacks his gear, polishes and checks before using his innate magicks to make kit, armour and uniform spotless.

Before retiring the serjeant does countless press-ups and star-jumps before stretching out with knife and light hammer under his pillow.

Jerrid pulls out his spellbook and prepares some spells suitable for the day ahead.

Then he falls asleep with a dagger in hand and snake coiled on his pillow.

Kevezyat awakes before the dawn and prepares her gear for the journey to come. Leaving her room, she walks through the slumbering town to the Temple of Freya.

Once there she kneels and begins to pray and meditate, greeting the dawn with a peaceful soul and lightened heart.

Sam continues to work on his amulets. The 'haystack' is getting bigger as he has many amulets.

After several hours, Jerrid wakes and reads his spellbook again. Then he heads downstairs for breakfast or just a warm drink. The sneaky gnome steps outside to check around the Inn, in case of ambush. He circles the area cloaked in darkness and then returns to the common room to feed Medus.

Shandril greets Kevezyat with a tender smile.

"Tell me blessed one, how are you and your companions finding our village and how will you spend the days to come?"

Leoven could not sleep well. He wake up a couple of hourse before the sunrise without really much to do. He spend some time praying for his spells, but then What? the group probably would not start the travel until a couple of hour later.

The young cleric leaves the inn in time to see Kevezyat go to the temple of Freya, perhaps he have to look for something similar.

Is there a temple or even a small shrine for Tyr in the town?

If not, is tehre a library?

In the circle where the Temple of Freya is, there are other Shrines. There is not one specifically dedicated to Thyr, however one of the shrines does have small statues of Thyr and his sister Muir, but no priest.

Likewise there is no library.

I doubt a library would be open before dawn either way Leo, librarians need to sleep too :P

As with many of the others, Damien wakes a few hours before dawn. Pulling himself out of bed he rolls his shoulders and works the kink out of his neck. A little more awake he moves to the bed and rouses Lannet. Physically pulling him off the bed by an ankle if need be, "On your feet son, if you're not packed in ten minutes you'll be eating cold rations for breakfast!"

Repacking his bedroll, he slips into his armor and secures each strap carefully before slipping his coat on over top. With Lannet in tow he makes the round of the two floors occupied by his companions, knocking on doors and making sure they are awake, pleasantly surprised to see at least half of them already making ready or out and about. He tells everyone to be ready to head out in an hour, shortly before dawn.

Heading downstairs he inquires with Glarian about a hot breakfast before they set out.

Pleasant smells are already wafting through the common room. Glarian's hospitality as ever does not disappoint.

Shandril greets Kevezyat with a tender smile.

"Tell me blessed one, how are you and your companions finding our village and how will you spend the days to come?"

Kevezyat looks up from her meditations as Shandril's quiet question.

"Your village is as one would expect, your influence is noticable." she says with a smile, getting up from the ground.

Nodding to Leoven as he arrives , she stands beside Shandril as she lights a candle "We journey into the Stirge Wood, I believe it is called. Following an evil man who seeks another evil man's handiwork. Freya's will be done, we will succeed in our efforts."

Astor will snore into the late morning sleeping off the ale and in a comfy-ish bed. Someone might need to wake him up...

Leoven prays and concentrate in what he have to do. THen he returns to the inn and waits for his companions to wake up.

Lannet raises an eyebrow at Damiens remarc, after yawning and stretching.

"What is there to pack? I had no other belongings with me when you took me prisoner, only these clothes on my back."

Damien shrugs, "Then you'll not have to worry about missing breakfast. Do you have supplies at the other inn, or are you simply a man who travels light?"

If Astor doesn't wake up when Damien knocks on the door he will try again on the way back down the hall from the other rooms, going inside if necessary. (Provided the door isn't locked.)

He kicks the bed, "Sorry to disturb your lordship but we're getting underway soon. Though if you'd rather sleep all day that's well and good. I certainly won't miss the complaining..."

Once downstairs, Damien gratefully accepts a plate of Glarian's cooking. He sets a pair of silver down on the table in payment. Looking at the coins he adds a pair of gold alongside, offering her an apologetic look, "You might need to make some minor repairs to the window in my room, it appears to be stuck..."

Lannet hitches his belt and fastens his cloak.

"Yeah my stuff is back in my room. Nothing I need though. Let's get going."

Downstairs, Glarian turns over the coins thoughtfully in her hand, thinking of the nail she gave Damien the night before.

"Lannet... are you ok with what is happening here?" she asks quietly and seriously.

Lannet's face is grim and resolute as he replies.

"I'll be ok ma'am. I always am. I'll be back next week and all this will be behind us."

Astor jumps awake with the kicking of his bed and swings his fist lazily at an invisible foe nowhere near Damien. "Uuuggghhh... I'm up! I'm up!" He scratches in a few places, and then gets up, fastens his weapons, and heads downstairs for breakfast.