While the dragon enjoys the heights and begins to absorb the surrounding lands below, Sid plans a path to bring the group into Dagger Falls without catching attention from the mercenaries.
The morning is crisp and clear. The scents of flowering flora mix with wood smoke. Most of the town is going about daily business of some sort, but a few households have small crowds gathered about.
"Please, we need help! Our father won't wake up!" pleads a young commoner boy. Other citizens try and suggest things to help rouse the man, but no one can wake him. He looks healthy, just asleep.
Beau grumbles along as the group moves into the town. He had his nice new warhammer with him, placed within easy reach, though both his pipe in his mouth and ale was closer. He notices the crowd gathered, and using that natural dwarf charisma, ask " Well lad, have ye tried poking him? Maybe dunkin him in water? One time me Gran had ta dunk Granfather into the river. He had drank to much the night before aye?"
Beau clearly was unable to think anything outside of a common issue, and seemed a bit confused why this was drawing a crowd.
"We tried those things with my daughter! It didn't work!" shouts someone in the crowd. "And my wife!" shouts another.
Xune tries to find out as much as she can about those stricken. First, she is unable to eliminate magic as a potential cause based on her elven criteria as all the victims are human. Secondly, none of them had any unusual encounters before going to sleep the night before. In every case the last people they had contact with were family.
Sid nods to little boy and goes with him to examine his father. He sings a short spell under his breath and looks for magical auras around the man.
Blustering about how humans always managed to get sick from the simple of ales and porters, Beau was clearly now out of his league. He only knew what worked for dwarves, and it seemed those did not work with humans. He would keep an eye out on the group however, since this could be a trap.
Once calmed down some, one of the family members does relate that a victim was not feeling well, but described it as a common cold or hay fever. The crowds begin to disperse, as their curiosity is overtaken by their need to get on with their days.
Sid notices an active magical aura of some sort around the victims. He isn't able to discern the exact nature of it, but it appears to be moderately powerful.
Xune spots an odd residue on the victims. It looks like dried tree sap.
Sid nods and sighs. "They're under a magical effect. I can't tell what, exactly, but it moderately powerful."
The priest looks over the victims and the spots of dried sap. Combined with Sid's report of magical influence Davin is able to determine that there is not one single cause to the affliction, but rather a couple of things combined. The sap has toxins that cause a lack of consciousness, but some magical effect is keeping them that way.
Sid laughed. "I'd be hard pressed to call this village 'out of the bush.' But sure, let's get a drink. We can ask if there's a hedge wizard or a herb witch around here."
As the group tries to blend with the townsfolk Xune spots the tavern not to enter. Of course, it doesn't take someone incredibly street wise to notice the large number of uniformed Zhent mercenaries, mostly humans and orcs, entering The Broken Dagger.
The other tavern in town, The Red Rock is a more ramshackle affair frequented by locals. This time of day it is rather quiet and just opening for business. A half-elf woman walks from table to table pulling down chairs and wiping away dust. She ignores the crew as they enter, until her floor space has been reset and she walks around the bar to pour a drink for the barfly at one end of the bar who is starting to wake up on his stool, having clearly passed out in that very spot last night. And probably every night.
"So you're not from around here," the woman says cheerfully at last.
Beau swaggers in as much as any dwarf can swagger, and while puffing his pipe, gruffly, but in a more polite manner than anyone in the ground has ever heard him grumble " Yer best ale, or yer worst. Really, as long as it is ale. OR mead. OR anything not water and has the juice from the Gods in it." Beau then swings his legs while sitting, much like a overly bearded child
Beau waves a hand at Xune, clearly the put-upon member of the group. For surely everyone knew it was best with the Juice from the Gods.
"Well aye. Howe else do ye think I manage to suffer all yer insults and other misbehavings? All dwarves do! Tis the other races that make us surly, and only the sweet, sweet alcohol will release a dwarf from his ill manners ot make us cheerful and pleasant to around." He stated in a voice that made it clear this was true, and no one could question any of the logic in it, for why, or rather, how could you? It made perfect sense to Beau, and so that is all that mattered. He does take out his tin of tobacco, and stuffs a lil bit more into his pipe.
"Let me get you something that should make you cheerful then," the woman says with a grin as she grabs a dusty jug from beneath the bar. She pulls a cork out and sniffs, recoiling visibily. "As for something fresh, old Wick here brought me a couple fat hens yesterday, they're getting ready to roast some up in the back of the house. So you're clearly not Zhent mercenaries, or hopefuls, because they tend to not really care about non-humans. Except for orcs, but they're just expendable shock troops to the Zhents. Anyway, dwarves haven't been around for a...I don't know, a while, in Daggerdale. Not since the old wizard hexed them. A shame really. Mind if I ask you something?" She leans in close and lowers her voice, even though there is no one else around. "Did you guys see the ghost? You know, sleeping up there in the Eyrie?"
At the woman's off-handed identification, Sid leaned back in his chair and nonchalantly looked at the rest of the bar, wondering if they had been lured into an ambush.
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The woman throws her head back with a loud guffaw. "Almost believable!" She pours the jug into a tall stein for Beau. "Lucky guess. Buncha elves walk in with a dwarf and a human priest? Adventurers. Faerun is riddled with them, don't you know? And as fate would have it, this land is due for some heroics. Now I asked myself, 'Kessla? Where would these fine folk be camping at?' and seemed there would only be a few options. So, did you find any dwarven ruins? The ghost of the hills? Any of a dozen other weird rumors that float about? Faeries used to be fashionable, then beastmen, now ghosts. The mercenaries don't like the place. No one wants to go on patrol there is what I hear. May be that that is changing, though. Lately the talk is about cursed dwarves roaming the streets at night. But I could tell stories for hours."
Beau blinks while draining the first of his clear intent to have many ales, and burps. After making sure he wont burp again, he says "Well now, how ye know we even be camping? I could be walking threw and found these vagabonds!" It was a weak attempt to cover, for if the barkeep noticed them, their enemies surely noticed as well. And that was good for no one, not least of all that dragon they rescued.
The half-elf grins and gets ready to refill Beau's stein but halts and looks up at the door. "You should move to that dark corner over there," she says very seriously. "And let's hope they didn't see you come in. Go!" She puts the jug and a bottle of wine down on the back table she indicated and rushes everyone over to that corner. "Be very quiet!"
A few moments later a group of five men in Zhent mercenary uniforms enters the tavern. They fan out by the entrance and one steps forward to speak to the woman. "Kessla. We heard a rumour, and we know you traffic in gossip. The Constable wanted me to tear the place up, but, I don't think that's needed, do you?" The man looks around the room standing in front of the bar. "Not much business in the morning, eh? A single drunk. Heh. The peons say elves and a dwarf were seen wandering town, asking questions about the sleeping sickness. You haven't seen them, have you?"
Kessla shrugs. "Last set of pointy ears I saw were in the mirror, Sergeant Curr. But I'll for sure run-tell the Constable if I do see any elves, you betcha."
Curr grunts and gives her a huge fake smile, "Oh, I am sure, I am sure. The Constable has need of adventurers over at the Temple of Lathander. Pays well, if they survive. Right, let's move on, men." He abruptly turns around and leads the other men out of the rundown building.
Kessla sighs and walks over to the corner table. "Come on, time to go. You can keep the drinks, sorry, no chicken for you all. They will return and my magic will be depleted. If you're just passing through, I recommend you keep on passing. If you're here for other reasons...find Loudon. He's the cooper. Shop is on the other side of town."
Beau grumbles about the lack of more ale, for he had only just started drinking really. One stein may be enough for the elf or humans, but Beau was a growing dwarf! They had, nay, needed a certain amount of ale to function! Next they were going to take his pipe! Under his beard he coughs and says "Best he have some ale. I'm a might still thirsty, and its either ale or a fight." But Beau makes ready to move, going to find the cooper.
Sid nods. "Probably, if he's the kind of man we need to talk to." He gestures at the door. "Let's see if we can get across town without kicking up a ruckus."
The crew creeps out of the tavern and moves quickly through the back alleys of town and avoiding the areas where the occupiers congregate.
Loudon's shop is packed floor to ceiling with barrels and casks, most of which have tags tacked to them indicating an item is already sold but not yet delivered or picked up. The sound of hammering echoes from the back of the shop, where a middle-aged human man is working on reinforcing a wine cask with metal rings. The workshop is the opposite of the front of the store. Other than some sawdust on the floor, every work space and shelf is in perfect order. The bell on the front door alerts a young man who briskly walks over with a smile on his pimple covered face. "Hello, can I help you find anything?" The man looks up from his work and observes passively.
...
Smoke surrounding him, Beau looks at the young man with obvious doubt. How could this young thing know anything about making things? He is barely old enough to walk! Nonetheless, Beau starts "Well now, we be looking fer some... help ye would call it?" Being the least diplomatic, it was clear he was out of his element as he tried to talk to the young boy
"Oh, certainly, sir, we have a fine collec-"
The boy is cut off shortly after he speaks by his father. "Son. Please do the inventory a little early."
"Yes, sir," the youngster replies before rushing off.
The older human wipes his hands and walks to the front of the shop. He stands behind the counter and looks everyone over. "I suspect you aren't here for a new cask supplier. I don't know what else I could do to help."