Hellknight Hill: The Lost Ring

Game Master Joana

Hero Points: Ren * Jonagher * Ragna 0 Shaserai *


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Owing to its proximity to Breachill Town Hall, the Wizard's Grace tavern is the favored establishment of the many adventurers who wish to seek work from the council in the town's monthly Call for Heroes. Here, adventurers and municipal workers regularly mingle, exchanging stories and generally enjoying the atmosphere created by the diverse clientele.

Over the past few days, the tavern has grown particularly busy, as hopeful adventurers seek to make an impression on the locals, particularly any town officials who might have stopped by for a drink and a meal. Today at noon the Call for Heroes will be held, and Trinil Uskwold is presiding over the traditional meal of boar stew with lentils for hopefuls and spectators alike.


CG Male human (half-elf) rogue (thief) 1
Vitals:
AC 18 | HP: 16/16 | Fort: +3, Ref: +9, Will: +6 | Perception: +6

*dot*


Several tables have been pushed together in the center of the room, where a strapping man is holding court among a crowd of well-wishers and hangers-on. This is clearly the most raucous section of the tavern. Society to identify

At the bar, a well-dressed older man with a bald head and a carefully-tended goatee nurses a drink while observing the room with a twinkling eye. Society or Politics Lore to identify

In a far corner, a thin halfling man with unkempt, graying hair hunches over a table, shuffling anxiously through a sheaf of handwritten papers. Society to identify

At a table near the door, a tall human man in traveling clothes sits alone, watching the room with what might be bemused interest or skepticism. Society to identify


Abigail shakes off the dust from her cloak as she makes her way to a corner of the room, hoping not to draw attention on her late arrival. Who would hire an adventurer who gets lost but a few miles from the town...

From the corner of her eye, she spies Ren. She felt bad for him. After all, he had suggested what has turned out to be the right way, but Abigail had a way with word, and so they went the wrong way... She tries to make eye contact to let him know he is welcome to join her.

She wishes she had had time to find a room for the night and clean up a little before coming here. She smells of the road, and of hope, and of melancholy for that matter.

Under her cloak, she tightens her grip on her husband’s journal while she reads the room.

Society: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12


Abigail:
From the description Ren gave you on the road of the town council, you feel fairly certain that the well-dressed man at the bar is Quentino Posandi, one of its members and owner of a local masonry company.

A young, red-headed woman approaches the table. "Welcome to the Wizard's Grace. Are you here for the Call to Heroes? Boar stew with lentils will bring you luck, as it did my great-grandfather."


Male Human (Skilled) Wizard (Universalist) 1; HP 15/15; FP 1/1; AC 15; Fort (T) +4, Ref (T) +5, Will (E) +6; Perception (T) +4

Noticing Abigail, Irenaeus smiles a thin little smile as he moves to join her. Why not after all? They shared the road, they may as well share a table. And he is certain he can refrain from reminding her that he had... well... told her so.

As he makes his way to the woman's table he takes in his surroundings. The Wizard's Grace indeed. Although this is hardly the first time he finds himself in the amusingly named tavern, it is certainly one of those times that he has wondered how it got its name. Perhaps he should look it up the next time he visits Breachill's Archives.

"I did tell you so," the mage quips -wincing mentally at his lack of self-control- as he takes a seat, sparing one last look at those customers that seem to stand out more than the rest.

Society: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

Politics Lore: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

Society: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Society: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18


Irenaeus:
The strapping young human enjoying the attention in the middle of the room you recognize as a lumberjack employed at Breach Creek Lumber named Neven Deckard. Why he seems particularly popular at the moment you don't know.

The older man at the bar is Quentino Posandi, owner of Posandi Brothers masonry and a member of the town council.

The halfling in the corner, Calmont Trenault, is fairly new to the town; you only know him because Voz Lirayne recently hired him at Reliant Book Company. 'He's hardly a scholar; you wouldn't think to find many intellectuals in a place like Breachill,' she said, 'but he needs a job and can schlep books up and down the ladder for me. Gives me a little more time for research....'

The fourth man you don't recognize. You wonder if he's in town for the Call for Heroes.


CG Male human (half-elf) rogue (thief) 1
Vitals:
AC 18 | HP: 16/16 | Fort: +3, Ref: +9, Will: +6 | Perception: +6

Having soaked up the atmosphere of the Wizard's Grace for a couple of hours already, Jonagher takes one last 'turn' of darts among the bar patrons and heartily thanks his last competitor for a good game. He'd won as much as he'd lost wagering on the outcome, so he considered it time well-spent. But, more customers were starting to arrive, and the room was getting a bit crowded, so he wanted to grab another mug of ale before the bar became too busy. On his way across the room, one of the rowdier patrons engaged in the retelling of a battle with an ogre accidentally backs into him and knocks Jonagher off his balance just enough that he has to catch himself on one of the tables.

"Well, hello there..." he flashes an apologetic smile to Irenaeus and then a roguish one to Abigail. "Forgive my intrusion," he quips, "I'm afraid it's getting more boisterous in here by the minute." He looks down at the table and notes he didn't spill any drinks through his little mishap, much to his relief. "Are the two of you having a round? Seating's a little sparse. Maybe I can join you? First one's on me?"

To the casual observer, Jonagher appears elven, his features a close enough match to his father's kin that it's difficult to perceive his mixed heritage. His hair hangs long and white around his shoulders, pierced by the elongated points of his ears. He has startlingly blue eyes, as vibrant as the sunlit sky. Dressed in leather armor and clothes of mixed browns and greens, he also carries a brace of daggers and a shortsword.

He moves his slim frame into a chair and casts his gaze around the tavern floor, trying to catch the notice of a young serving maid or the bartender himself. A number of other patrons stand out to him, as well...and, though it had been a few years since he'd returned to Breachill, he thought he recognized some of them.

Society check: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
Society check: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
Society check: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
Society check: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10


Jonagher:
The popular fellow in the middle of the room is Neven Deckard. He has definitely grown up and filled in since you last saw him, as a rather awkward teenager. You hear he's working at Breach Creek Lumber now -- that would account for the muscles -- and you understand he met with success at a recent Call for Heroes, which would account for the popularity.

The older man at the bar is Quentino Posandi, the owner of Posandi Brothers masonry. He had more hair when you were last in town. He's on the town council now, you hear.

The halfling wasn't here when you lived in Breachill, but you've heard about him. A tramp of some sort, he's testing the devotion of the town to their heritage of kindness to strangers. His name is Calmont Trenault, and he's working at Reliant Book Company, though most feel that his position is due to Voz Lirayne's charity -- and that charity might be misplaced. You haven't heard anyone with a kind word to say about him.

The fellow near the door is unfamiliar to you. He must be in town for the Call to Heroes ... which might make him competition.


Male Elf (seer elf) Cloistered Cleric 1; HP 13/14; FP 1/1; AC 14; Fort (T) +3, Ref (T) +4, Will (E) +9; Perception (T) +7

It has been a couple of days since Shaserai came to Breachill. He has spent every moment he could in the town archives, hoping against hope that the fire in his nightmares had occurred in the past, being the visions echoes of the tragedy.
Having found no record of such a fire, and wanting to keep an eye on the town, Shaserai has decided to participate in the Call for Heroes. He heads to the Wizard's Grace, the local watering spot for hopeful adventurers to try to find out if Breachill has suitable protectors in the form of righteous adventurers and if not, try to assemble such a group.

When he enters the establishment he gazes around the room, trying to recall if he has heard something about the people who stand out the most.

Shaserai approaches the group in the corner, liking the look of them. Wearing the vestments of his faith, he cuts an imposing figure. He is of average height by elven standards, but the fact that he's a little stockier than other elves makes him seem shorter. He wears his chestnut hair in multiple braids that reach past his waist, decorated with iron beads. His golden eyes are inquisitive, but lose any edge they possess when he smiles.

"Pardon me" he starts "And well met. I hope it's not presumptuous of me, but are you here for the Call for Heroes? You don't seem like ordinary citizens, and it is the only event today. If so, and if you are willing and we are compatible, we could enter together. As they say, there's strength in numbers..." he trails off "Pardon me again, where are my manners!? My name is Shaserai Stonecutter, priest of Torag, here in Breachill on religious buisiness."

Society: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Society: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22
Society: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Society: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9


Shaserai:
The well-dressed man at the bar is Quentino Posandi, a member of the town council and latest proprietor of Posandi Brothers masonry, a family business that stretches back generations in Breachill.

The halfling in the corner is Calmont Trenault, a relative newcomer to town. He works at Reliant Book Company.


With nothing better to do, Ragna enters the Wizards grace an hour before noon. She prefers Cayden’s Keg, but everyone is going to be at the Wizard’s Grace tonight; besides, little was better for sore muscles than Trinil Uskwold's famous stew. She had more reasons than food to be here on this day, of course. Her work was honest but boring, and it was time for a change. She wasn't ever going to see a dragon swinging an axe in a forest anyways. By the time she arrives at the Wizard's Grace she has already had a couple drinks with friends that wanted to wish her luck.

At six foot and a somewhat stocky build, Ragna is taller than most in the tavern and has no trouble moving through the forming crowd. She wears simple and practical workers clothes like most of the others in the tavern. Her red hair is pulled into a thick braid that hangs to her waist and a dense patch of freckles runs across the bridge of her nose, underscoring grey eyes.

Most of the important townspeople would be at the tavern today, but one stranger stands out to Ragna. An elf in his dour - in her opinion - trappings. She appreciates the runes on his robe, they remind her of her own peoples written language, but it all seemed a bit much with the mono-black pigment. He wasn't a complete stranger - she had seen him in the archives seemingly researching a topic rather intensely. Seeing as it was rude to interrupt someone in their studies she hadn't bothered him before. Now seems like a good opportunity to figure out how his search went. If nothing else, he might buy her a drink. She approaches the elf and his group, not making any particular effort to avoid the paths of some of the more rowdy or oblivious patrons and greets the cleric without much in the way of social grace. It's possible she had more than a couple drinks with her friends. "Priest!" she nearly shouts to the cleric, interrupting his ongoing conversation. "I've seen you around quite a bit the lest couple days. How goes your search in the archives?" She raises a calloused hand as if to clap the man on the shoulder, wavers, and decides there are better gestures of friendliness.

Society(U)1: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Society(U)2: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
Society(U)3: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17
Society(U)4: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19


Ragnhild:
The man at the center table is Neven Deckard, a fellow lumberjack at Breach Creek Lumber. He answered the Call for Heroes a few months ago, hired to put a stop to whatever was killing livestock on some outlying farms, and he and some friends successfully killed a few wolves in the area. He's been a bit full of himself since he earned his official Hero token from the Council; to be honest, he thought he was Shelyn's gift to the women of Breachill even before that.

The older man at the bar looks familiar, but you can't put a name to the face. He's a local, anyway, probably runs a business somewhere in town.

The halfling at the corner table, Calmont Trenault, is a newcomer to Breachill, only arriving several months ago He works at the Reliant Book Company.

The man near the door is a stranger. You've heard that an outsider is putting in a request for local heroes today, a fairly unusual occurrence; perhaps this man is the fellow in need.


Shaserai smiles at the brazen human.

"I do recall seeing you about as I was researching." He shrugs and makes a so-so gesture "I haven't found anything but that is worrying in itself. Today is not the day for those matters though." He turns to the young redheaded woman that has approached the table "I for one wouldn't turn down a bowl of that stew, miss. Also a mug of ale, dwarven if you have it. The same for my fellows here if they so desire, on me, of course."


Abigail is taken aback by Ren’s direct approach. He would have made a fine Hellknight, she thinks to herself. But her musings make her miss the many questions that came from left and from right.

She smiles and nods, affirmative, and looks around, wondering how many are there in fact for the Call...

Still travelling. Hard to find time to learn a system. Please be patient with me.


The waitress readily takes Abigail's nod as speaking for the whole table. "I'll be right back with a round of stews and ales," she affirms, halfway to the kitchen before finishing her sentence.


CG Male human (half-elf) rogue (thief) 1
Vitals:
AC 18 | HP: 16/16 | Fort: +3, Ref: +9, Will: +6 | Perception: +6

"Well...I didn't mean to intrude, but a round of ale and a hearty stew sounds like a good time to meet new folks. I'm Jonagher Witt, by the way, recently returned to Breachill. My mother, rest her soul, used to work at the archives. When she passed, I joined my father in Kyonin for a bit, but it never really felt like home, you know? So, I'm here again, looking to make a name for myself, and the council's call seems like the best opportunity for that."

"By the way," he leans in conspiratorially and lowers his voice, "There may be a bit of competition to catch the council's eye. If the rest of you are keen on the same thing, it might be useful if we cast ourselves as a unified team rather than just a handful of individuals who've never worked together. I mean, yeah, none of us have ever worked together...but, they don't exactly know that, right? And, by the time they figure it out, hopefully they'll already have awarded us an opportunity and we will have spent time working together."


Shaserai:
As the half-elf introduces himself, you realize you know the name Witt. You read in the archives about a mysterious house fire that killed a local woman named Miranda Witt several years ago; it was the most recent unexplained fire in Breachill.


Abigail looks at Jonagher, pensive, then says: "Abigail..." she hesitates for a moment, not sure whether to use her husband’s name or her own. Finally, she decides to honour her husband still. Who knows, someone might recall the name?

"Garrett. Abigail Garrett. An yes, working together sounds like a good idea..." she avoids looking at Ren, wondering whether he will cast his lot with her despite her latest performance.


Male Human (Skilled) Wizard (Universalist) 1; HP 15/15; FP 1/1; AC 15; Fort (T) +4, Ref (T) +5, Will (E) +6; Perception (T) +4

"I am Irenaeus... Crispin," the mage introduces himself, albeit with a very brief pause between his first and last name. "Although I am not adverse to Ren, if you prefer something... shorter. Truth be told, it reminds me of interesting times. Fun even. Of a sort."

Clearing his throat he focuses on the half-elf's proposal. "So, the adventuring equivalent of stacking the deck, so to speak? All is fair in love, war and hero-ing?" He smiles his thin -and crooked- little smile. "Well, our table does seem to have filled rather quickly. Such a friendly little town," he continues, half-jokingly and half-sarcastically.

"Could work though, yes. But what can we do? What are our skills? That information would be good to know before we actually do end up working together, yes? Lest we start our first dance by stepping on each other's toes."


Male Elf (seer elf) Cloistered Cleric 1; HP 13/14; FP 1/1; AC 14; Fort (T) +3, Ref (T) +4, Will (E) +9; Perception (T) +7

Recognizing the half-elf's name from his research, Shaserai blinks in surprise "Jonagher, just a question, If I may." he hesitates before asking "Have you ever had dreams about fire?"

Turning to address the others he continues "I like that proposal, as long as we do not actually lie to the council." He touches the holy symbol hanging from his neck. "As I said I'm a priest in the service of Torag. I'm skilled in medicine and religious doctrine and I have notions of natural philosophy. In combat I can provide aid thanks to the blessings of the Father of Creation. Don't expect me to go bashing heads with a warhammer though."


"There you are." The waitress returns with a tray full of steaming bowls. "Stew and ale for everyone. May it bring you luck!"

"Luck?" a trilling voice repeats, as a middle-aged woman with a multitude of quivering chins appears out of the crowd near the party's table. She is dressed all in black, including elbow-length satin gloves and a gauzy black veil fluttering over her eyes. "Could it be? Am I looking at potential Heroes?" She looks around the table admiringly.

Everyone:
Everyone recognizes this woman as Morta Valaskin, the proprietor of Morta's Mortuary. She is known for drumming up business before every Call for Heroes, hawking prepaid burial plans on installment to prospective adventurers before they go out to face a dangerous situation.


"I know you!" Ragna exclaims when Witt introduces himself, dropping heavily into a vacant chair near the table and smiling. She didn't know the elf, not really. He was a few years older than her and they ran with different crowds, but she'd spent a lot of time around his mother at the archives before her passing. "I'm Ragna. Ragnhild Eklund. I knew your mother. How were your travels in the wider world?"

Ragna hungrily accepts the ale and stew brought by the waitress, seeing to the ale first. When Morta approaches she shifts in her seat, angling slightly away from the woman and frowning.


CG Male human (half-elf) rogue (thief) 1
Vitals:
AC 18 | HP: 16/16 | Fort: +3, Ref: +9, Will: +6 | Perception: +6
Abigail Garrett wrote:
"...yes, working together sounds like a good idea..."

"Excellent! I had a feeling you guys would be discerning pragmatists...just like me, of course..."

Irenaeus Crispin wrote:
"Could work...yes. But what can we do? What are our skills? That information would be good to know before we actually do end up working together, yes? Lest we start our first dance by stepping on each other's toes."

"Well, I've a deft hand with a blade...thrown or swung...and I'm a fair shot with a bow, as well," Jonagher brags, "But, oh, my skills don't stop there! I can talk my way out of anything...and I'm nearly as good at talking others into anything. I'm an educated man, well-traveled, and I've been to the Darklands and back."

Shaserai Stonecutter wrote:
"Jonagher, just a question, If I may....Have you ever had dreams about fire?"

Jonagher pauses and his enthusiasm drops a bit as the turn in conversation creates a bit of melancholy for him. "Just nightmares, not dreams," he answers, "My mother died in a fire when I was in my teens. Lucky for me, I wasn't home. And...unlucky for me...I also wasn't home to save her."

Ragnhild Iona Eklund wrote:
"I know you!" Ragna exclaims... "I'm Ragna. Ragnhild Eklund. I knew your mother. How were your travels in the wider world?"

Thankful for the interruption, Jonagher turns his attention to Ragna. "Is that so? Then, we are well and truly met," he smiles as his mood shifts again, "We'll have to talk more about your memories of her. I actually feared the good folk of Breachill would forget her...and me, as well, I guess. After she passed away, my travels took me north to visit my father's people in Kyonin. He's a diplomat, pursuing elven interests with the five dwarven kings and some of the human communities along the riverlands and coastal nations of the Inner Sea. Just getting to know him better opened a much wider world to me, and I hope to see a lot more of it after...well, after I take care of some unfinished business here in Breachill."

Alseta's Ring wrote:
"There you are." The waitress returns with a tray full of steaming bowls. "Stew and ale for everyone. May it bring you luck!"

With such enticing food and drink suddenly arrayed before them, Jonagher cuts his reminiscing short. He's about to comment on the tradition for the meal, but then a new voice interrupts.

Alseta's Ring wrote:
"Luck?" a trilling voice repeats, as a middle-aged woman with a multitude of quivering chins appears out of the crowd near the party's table. She is dressed all in black, including elbow-length satin gloves and a gauzy black veil fluttering over her eyes. "Could it be? Am I looking at potential Heroes?"

"Anyone has the potential for heroics, ma'am..." Jonagher quips, "We just happen to be the ones who can reliably deliver on it. Am I right, everyone?" He looks around the table, all smiles again.


Male Human (Skilled) Wizard (Universalist) 1; HP 15/15; FP 1/1; AC 15; Fort (T) +4, Ref (T) +5, Will (E) +6; Perception (T) +4

"I am a mage," Ren says, answering the question he himself posed to the others. "Although my past was colorful enough to ensure I still have some skill at deception and subterfuge if needed. I am somewhat out of practice of course, I must admit."

"Ah, Ms. Valaskin," he says then in greeting to the black-dressed woman as soon as she approaches the newly formed group's table. Although he has not met her in person before, her style and appearance are unmistakable, even to an admittedly frequent visitor such as he. "I do so hope I... well, we will have no need of your... ahem... services any time soon."


"Well, you know what they say," the woman replies to Ren playfully. "'If 'hope' and 'think' were food and drink, there'd be no need for cooking.' I offer a very generous plan to Breachill's heroes: the Adventurer's Discount whether you're successful in your mission or not, and if you're summoned to the Boneyard before you've finished with your installments, the balance of the debt is forgiven, even if you die your first time out! But you must sign the papers before you depart. Give it some thought, dears! No need to be a burden on your loved ones ... or end in a pauper's grave." She offers one last brilliant smile in shares around the table before moving on to pitch more hopefuls.


CG Male human (half-elf) rogue (thief) 1
Vitals:
AC 18 | HP: 16/16 | Fort: +3, Ref: +9, Will: +6 | Perception: +6

"Well she seemed positively morbid," Jonagher dryly comments for the table after Morta departs, "You'd think there'd be more optimism and encouragement for those undertaking such dangers on behalf of the Breachill. After all, those entrusted with the Call are counted upon to address the things even the town guard can't handle."

He then looks back to Ren. "So, you were saying you're a wizard? I gotta admit magic is a mighty fascinating thing to me. Someday, I might apply myself to studying it, as well...provided I live long enough!" He adds a wink for everyone's benefit. "Say, does anyone know when the council makes their decisions for the next band of heroes and their assigned task? Do we still have a night of carousing before we present ourselves? If so, could I interest anyone in a game of darts after we eat?"


"Someone that falls in defense of Breachill is a hero, even if they answered the Call for their own benefit." Ragna sneers under her breath as the mortician leaves to harass others. "Their death is not a business opportunity. Where I am from we honor our heroes." She looks into her tankard, drains the remaining liquid, and signals the waitress for another before adding "Usually on a pyre, and wood is cheap. Who would want to be stuck in a box in the frozen ground for eternity?"


Male Human (Skilled) Wizard (Universalist) 1; HP 15/15; FP 1/1; AC 15; Fort (T) +4, Ref (T) +5, Will (E) +6; Perception (T) +4

"Oh? Interesting," Irenaeus says in reaction to the half-elf's words regarding magic. "Then perhaps when that day comes -provided you live long enough, as you say- we may discuss it further."

"Boxes in the ground, pyres on stacked wood," he then remarks drily as the conversation momentarily shifts to what becomes of one's body after one no longer has need of it, so to speak. "Both sound equally unpalatable to me." He takes a sip before continuing. "Why should death be inevitable? Aroden, Cayden, Iomedae, Norgorber... Those were neither buried nor burned." He sighs then and smiles just a little. "Fine, I will give you Aroden... shall we say, postponed his end rather than avoided it, but still...," he adds, probably suspecting what one or more among the group would point out next.

He shrugs. "If one is to have ambitions, they may as well be grand in scope."


Male Elf (seer elf) Cloistered Cleric 1; HP 13/14; FP 1/1; AC 14; Fort (T) +3, Ref (T) +4, Will (E) +9; Perception (T) +7

"I'm sorry for your loss Jonagher. I too lost my mother to a fire, although I can't imagine your grief, as I was a baby when she died." Shaserai takes a hearty gulp of his ale. "May their gods keep their souls."

After Morta Valaskin leaves, Shaserai frowns. "Have no fear, if we do end up adventuring together, I'll do everything in my power to make sure we don't need her services. Although many an adventurer has ended up in the halls of Forgeheart before their time, I don't intend to be one of them." He smooths his vestments and continues his meal until Irenaeus' words pique his interest. "So you intend to pursue godhood? An ambitious and many a time laudable goal, but as you yourself pointed out not even the might of divinity has kept every god safe from death. May the Lord of the Forge never falter." He adds.

At Jonagher's question he recalls. "The Call for Heroes will be held at noon, so no time for darts now. We'll have to table the game for after we deal with our task."


Abigail purposefully ignored the insurance seller, considering it bad lick.

He forgot Asmodeus... she thinks with some bitter melancholy, thinking of her husband.


Male Human (Skilled) Wizard (Universalist) 1; HP 15/15; FP 1/1; AC 15; Fort (T) +4, Ref (T) +5, Will (E) +6; Perception (T) +4

"I am more than willing to settle for mere immortality," Irenaeus tells Shaserai only half-jokingly as he takes another sip.

"Since we seem to have at least a little time until the Call commences, might I suggest we mingle somewhat? I am sure we have all noticed that man over there, Mr. Deckard I believe? For a lumberjack, he seems awfully popular at the moment, yes? A fellow participant perhaps?"

"And Mr. Posandi is a member of the council, so a chat with him could prove informative and productive."

"That one, however, I do not recognize," he continues, indicating a tall human sitting alone. "Not that I know everyone in this town of course."

"Now, if you will excuse me, I think I will go greet Ms. Lirayne's assistant over there," he says as he rises from his seat and starts walking towards the halfling's table.

"Hello, Calmont. How does the day find you?"


Irenaeus Crispin wrote:

"Now, if you will excuse me, I think I will go greet Ms. Lirayne's assistant over there," he says as he rises from his seat and starts walking towards the halfling's table.

"Hello, Calmont. How does the day find you?"

The halfling hadn't noticed the wizard approaching his table. He looks up with a start, spreading his arms over the papers on his table as if to cover them as he gathers them together into a loose bundle. "I, uh, you -- oh! Nothing! This is nothing. I'm not doing anything!"


Male Human (Skilled) Wizard (Universalist) 1; HP 15/15; FP 1/1; AC 15; Fort (T) +4, Ref (T) +5, Will (E) +6; Perception (T) +4

"You seem rather flustered for someone who is simply relaxing and not doing anything, you know," Irenaeus returns with a friendly smile, at the same time trying to sneak a peek at whatever it is the halfling is trying to keep away from prying eyes. In this case, the mage's.

"If something is the matter, perhaps I could help? I am a pretty smart guy, if I do say so myself. Or at the very least you could use me as a sounding board for whatever concerns you?" He shrugs. "Besides, it is not like we are strangers, are we, Calmont?"

Not entirely sure if I should roll the following checks or not, but for the sake of expediency here they are. If they are not needed or if they are supposed to be rolled by you, by all means, disregard them. :-)

Perception (T): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Diplomacy (T): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15


CG Male human (half-elf) rogue (thief) 1
Vitals:
AC 18 | HP: 16/16 | Fort: +3, Ref: +9, Will: +6 | Perception: +6
Shaserai Stonecutter wrote:
"I'm sorry for your loss Jonagher. I too lost my mother to a fire, although I can't imagine your grief, as I was a baby when she died." Shaserai takes a hearty gulp of his ale. "May their gods keep their souls."

Jonagher solemnly nods, but seems reticent to speak any further of his mother's demise at this time.

Shaserai Stonecutter wrote:
At Jonagher's question he recalls. "The Call for Heroes will be held at noon, so no time for darts now. We'll have to table the game for after we deal with our task."

"Ah. That's too bad," the half-elf replies, "I was hoping to win a bit more coin betting on the outcome. Always bet on yourself, I say...or don't bother playing the game."

Irenaeus Crispin wrote:
...Irenaeus says in reaction to the half-elf's words regarding magic. "Then perhaps when that day comes -provided you live long enough, as you say- we may discuss it further."

"I already look forward to our discussions," Jonagher nods and sips his ale, before finishing the last of the stew before him, "After all, I plan on living to a ripe, old age...and maybe longer if I can pass the Test of the Starstone." He grins at the audacity of the latter claim, and it's clear he enjoys joking around with his newfound companions.

Irenaeus Crispin wrote:
"Since we seem to have at least a little time until the Call commences, might I suggest we mingle somewhat? I am sure we have all noticed that man over there, Mr. Deckard I believe? For a lumberjack, he seems awfully popular at the moment, yes? A fellow participant perhaps?"

"Indeed. I knew him when he was but a youth," Jonagher states, "And now, he seems a man's man. I hear he met with some success during the last Call. I suppose he's come back for another round, as it were..."

Irenaeus Crispin wrote:
"And Mr. Posandi is a member of the council, so a chat with him could prove informative and productive."

"Perhaps you're right," Jonagher says, "It wouldn't hurt to butter up an early ally on the council. And maybe he can put in a good word for us...you know, as a team." The rogue wipes his mouth on his sleeve and then rises to work the other half of the room while Ren talks to Calmont.

Making his way through the crowded the tables, he wanders over to the old man's stool by the bar. "Mr. Posandi!" he exclaims, "Come to enjoy the festivities before the next Call? Perhaps you don't remember me. I'm Miranda Witt's son, Jonagher, recently returned to Breachill. It's been a few years, but I'm glad to see a familiar face. I hear you're on the council now? Or was that always so? I'm afraid I don't recall."

"Regardless, it's good to be back in town. I've missed this place. After spending a few years in Kyonin under my father's tutelage, I'm hoping to make a name for myself here among my mother's people." He jabs a thumb back at the table where the rest of his new friends are sitting. "I'm actually part of a team and we're all quite capable adventurers. I myself have been to the Darklands and back. And, that fellow over there...the one talking to the halfling? He's an actual wizard! You know, the spell-slinging type? Could come in handy for just about any challenge. There's a priest with us, too...a follower of Torag...the god of protection, right? There'd be no one better to entrust with the defense of Breachill that a fine fellow like that. So, I hope you'll give us a chance at doing some good. And maybe put in a word for us with your fellow councilors?"

Perception (T): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14


Male Human (Skilled) Wizard (Universalist) 1; HP 15/15; FP 1/1; AC 15; Fort (T) +4, Ref (T) +5, Will (E) +6; Perception (T) +4

I am assuming Jonagher is rolling a Diplomacy check, not a Perception one. From what I can tell, the modifier (+5) even corresponds to Diplomacy (T) (his Perception (E) modifier is +6).


Male Elf (seer elf) Cloistered Cleric 1; HP 13/14; FP 1/1; AC 14; Fort (T) +3, Ref (T) +4, Will (E) +9; Perception (T) +7

Seeing the others mingling, Shaserai finishes his meal and says "Has anyone heard what this Call for Heroes will be for? We could talk with the person or persons seeking help to see if we can gain any insight on their plight. That may give us an edge."


CG Male human (half-elf) rogue (thief) 1
Vitals:
AC 18 | HP: 16/16 | Fort: +3, Ref: +9, Will: +6 | Perception: +6
Irenaeus Crispin wrote:
I am assuming Jonagher is rolling a Diplomacy check, not a Perception one. From what I can tell, the modifier (+5) even corresponds to Diplomacy (T) (his Perception (E) modifier is +6).

Yep. My bad. I meant Diplomacy.


Ragna finishes her stew and rises from her chair with a content grunt. "Probably the stranger by the door." She answers in response to Shaserai. "Sometimes out-of-towners come looking for help for their village or homestead. Isger is a dangerous place and there isn't exactly a countrywide law enforcement body to rely on."

Ranga makes her way towards Neven Deckard and the crowd gathered around him. He'd done a good thing, dealing with those wolves, but he'd been more insufferable than usual since. Vanity is not a heroic trait and a little teasing would do him some good. "Hail, Deckard. What are you doing here?" She asks, looking around in mock confusion and leaning on his table. "Have you come to return your little medal?"


Irenaeus Crispin wrote:
"If something is the matter, perhaps I could help? I am a pretty smart guy, if I do say so myself. Or at the very least you could use me as a sounding board for whatever concerns you?" He shrugs. "Besides, it is not like we are strangers, are we, Calmont?"

"No. N-n-no. Thank you," Calmont stammers, digging in his pocket with one hand as he clutches his papers to his chest with the other. "I have to be going. Have to get back to work." He drops a few copper coins on the table to cover his fare, hops down from his chair, and quickly sidles toward the tavern door.

Irenaeus:
One of the papers the halfling is studying looks to be a sort of blueprint or floor plan of some sort of structure. Another is covered in writing in a crabbed, untidy scrawl: you can pick out a few words: 'ring', 'buried under', 'gold.' The corner of a third paper peeking from beneath the others seems to bear his employer's familiar flowing handwriting, though the glimpse you get of it is too quick for you to read any of what Voz has written.


Jonagher Witt wrote:
"Mr. Posandi!" he exclaims, "Come to enjoy the festivities before the next Call? Perhaps you don't remember me. I'm Miranda Witt's son, Jonagher, recently returned to Breachill. It's been a few years, but I'm glad to see a familiar face. I hear you're on the council now? Or was that always so? I'm afraid I don't recall."

Posandi peers at the younger man a moment before recognition dawns on his face. "Of course! Poor Miranda's boy. What a shame that was. If I didn't offer my condolences then, let me do so now." He shakes the proffered hand. "Yes, I believe I was serving on the Council at the time of the fire. But there's no reason for a young lad to take much of an interest in politics, eh? I've been off and on for several years now; have to keep the family business running as well, but my cousin Amera has stepped in to handle day-to-day concerns, which allows me take a step back and do my civic duty."

Jonagher Witt wrote:
"I'm actually part of a team and we're all quite capable adventurers. I myself have been to the Darklands and back. And, that fellow over there...the one talking to the halfling? He's an actual wizard! You know, the spell-slinging type? Could come in handy for just about any challenge. There's a priest with us, too...a follower of Torag...the god of protection, right? There'd be no one better to entrust with the defense of Breachill that a fine fellow like that. So, I hope you'll give us a chance at doing some good. And maybe put in a word for us with your fellow councilors?"

"The Darklands, you say?" Posandi questions, leaning back to get a closer look at the rest of the party. "You may be overqualified. As I'm sure you recall, troubles around Breachill tend to be more prosaic. Our last team of saviors was a handful of lumberjacks." The lines around his eyes crinkle merrily as he smiles and winks.


Ragnhild Iona Eklund wrote:
Ranga makes her way towards Neven Deckard and the crowd gathered around him. He'd done a good thing, dealing with those wolves, but he'd been more insufferable than usual since. Vanity is not a heroic trait and a little teasing would do him some good. "Hail, Deckard. What are you doing here?" She asks, looking around in mock confusion and leaning on his table. "Have you come to return your little medal?"

"Have I ...? What? Return?" he scoffs in derision, never having had much of a sense of humor. "Why would I do that?"


Male Elf (seer elf) Cloistered Cleric 1; HP 13/14; FP 1/1; AC 14; Fort (T) +3, Ref (T) +4, Will (E) +9; Perception (T) +7

After listening to Ragna's comment Shaserai decides to try to figure out what might trouble the traveler. He stands, puts some silver on the table to cover their meals and ales, takes his mug and heads his way.

"Good day. If I may." He gestures to a chair at the human's table and sits. "My name's Shaserai and I'm a priest of Torag." He waits to see if the man will give his name before continuing. "I'll be frank with you. The five of us that were on that table" he points "will be participating in the Call for Heroes and we've heard you may be one of the petitioners for aid. Is that true?"

Diplomacy roll if needed

Diplomacy (T): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19


Male Human
Shaserai Stonecutter wrote:
"Good day. If I may." He gestures to a chair at the human's table and sits. "My name's Shaserai and I'm a priest of Torag."

The man half-rises politely from his chair as Shaserai approaches, offering a firm handshake. "Alak Stagram," he introduces himself. "Torag? Really? You seem rather ... tall."

Shaserai Stonecutter wrote:
"I'll be frank with you. The five of us that were on that table" he points "will be participating in the Call for Heroes and we've heard you may be one of the petitioners for aid. Is that true?"

One eyebrow quirks up. "Is that allowed? Prior contact between the heroes and the petitioners? I suppose a priest of Torag wouldn't bend the rules. Yes, my task will be a part of the meeting today. My family once resided near here, and I came to search for a missing heirloom I have reason to believe may have been secreted somewhere in the area. I thought I would just ask around, but I was told that this," he waves his hand around at the crowd in the tavern, "is the way things are done here. Let it not be said I failed to go through the proper channels." He smirks.


Male Elf (seer elf) Cloistered Cleric 1; HP 13/14; FP 1/1; AC 14; Fort (T) +3, Ref (T) +4, Will (E) +9; Perception (T) +7

Shaserai makes sure to shake Alak's hand back with exactly equal firmness but then, at the man's incredulity, he laughs "It's not the first time that observation has been made. Trust me, the only elven thing about me is my physique. I was raised by a dwarven priest and I love the forge. It seemed a natural calling to me." He shrugs "I'm not a local, but as far as I know the majority of the Heroes that answer the Call are, so logic dictates they most likely already know the plights that are going to be brought up to the council for consideration."

After Alak's explanation he adds "I may not have known them long, but the others seem like very reliable people, so I assure you that if we end up assigned to your task, we'll do everything in our power so you can recover that heirloom."


CG Male human (half-elf) rogue (thief) 1
Vitals:
AC 18 | HP: 16/16 | Fort: +3, Ref: +9, Will: +6 | Perception: +6
Alseta's Ring wrote:
"The Darklands, you say?" Posandi questions, leaning back to get a closer look at the rest of the party. "You may be overqualified. As I'm sure you recall, troubles around Breachill tend to be more prosaic. Our last team of saviors was a handful of lumberjacks."

"Well, truth be told, I only ventured there...and it was in the company of some rather well-prepared elves from Kyonin. So, it's not like I tamed it or anything." He grins at his own joke.

"We were investigating the Darklands to follow up on some rumors of nefarious activity, but they turned out to be false...or, at least, we never turned up anything to substantiate it. Sure, we ran into a hazard or two...and a few dust-ups with some of the native humanoids there, but nothing too dangerous. Even so, it was quite educational. I certainly learned a lot from my elvish brethren about getting along in the underground 'wilds' as it were."

"So, maybe not so much overqualified as just adequately qualified," he winks, "But definitely moreso than a handful of lumberjacks. If there's something a bit more concerning that arises, we'd be more than happy to address it on behalf of the good citizens of Breachill...of which, I consider myself a native son. After all, we've got to protect the lives and businesses to ensure the town keeps thriving, right?"

"Speaking of which, you mentioned your family business? I'm not sure I recall...but what trade do you deal in? And your cousin, Amera? Has she been in Breachill all along? Perhaps we grew up together? Did she ever spend much time in the archives?"


Male Human (Skilled) Wizard (Universalist) 1; HP 15/15; FP 1/1; AC 15; Fort (T) +4, Ref (T) +5, Will (E) +6; Perception (T) +4

"Well, that was a bit abrupt," Irenaeus mutters to himself as he starts making his way back to his newfound group's table, quite possibly implying "rude" as well when only saying "abrupt".

'So, a buried ring then,' he thinks to himself, waiting for the others to return from their respective chats before sharing his information, or at least what there is of it. 'A gold ring perhaps? Or there is gold waiting whoever finds the ring?'


Jonagher Witt wrote:
"Speaking of which, you mentioned your family business? I'm not sure I recall...but what trade do you deal in? And your cousin, Amera? Has she been in Breachill all along? Perhaps we grew up together? Did she ever spend much time in the archives?"

"Masonry. A family business, Posandi Brothers, though I'm the only 'brother' involved at the moment. Oh, no, Amera would be quite a bit older than you; I doubt your paths ever crossed."

Everyone's attention is seized by Trinil Uskwold ringing a brass bell attached to the wall behind the bar. "Last call!" she announces, hanging the metal beater stick back on the hook by the bell. "Last call before the Call for Heroes! Anyone need their cup topped off for the toasts?"

Toasts for good fortune are traditionally offered in the Wizard's Grace just before patrons cross the street to the town hall for the meeting. You may offer one if you choose; you don't have to, though.


Abigail smiles at Ren as she watches him return: "Ren, what a strange process!? Is this going as intended? Are we to find trouble or to wait for it to call upon us? I must confess confusion... Perhaps this was a bad idea after all..."

She nonetheless decides to give it more time and orders her cup filled.


Male Human (Skilled) Wizard (Universalist) 1; HP 15/15; FP 1/1; AC 15; Fort (T) +4, Ref (T) +5, Will (E) +6; Perception (T) +4

"I consider... let us call it mingling, a rather good way to get information," he replies as he sits down. "And information, a close relative of knowledge, is always useful. Or at least more often than not."

"And as for trouble, dear Abigail? That, I have found, often brings opportunity. And that in turn can lead to reward."

"For example, that fidgety halfling? I believe he is looking for a ring buried under some structure of other. And there is gold involved. And he seems to be doing so on the bookstore owner's orders, or at least I think so. Not much to go on, I admit, but do you not love a good mystery, hmm?"

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