Boodiddly is already squeezing his way through the crowd before Urzok can say anything. "Pardon me, excuse me, if I could just slip on past you there..." As he reaches the front of the crowd, he looks up at the painter and smiles before turning to the crowd.
"Uh, hello, if I could say something?" As he waits for the crowd to quiet down slightly, he holds up his left hand - still covered in wet black smudges. "I just finished helping Adrian scrub down his shop's uninvited decoration, so you'll have to excuse my appearance. But you will notice that this-" he thrusts the little hand higher, "is soot, while this..." He pauses to take the half-elf's hand and holds it up next to his own. "...This is paint. These are not the same thing at all - why would you think he was responsible? And why are you all here harassing him instead of helping your neighbor clean up the mess!? You should be ashamed of yourselves!"
Jevar steps up just behind the gnome and adds
Have any of you setup a night watch rotation to catch the culprit in the act? This poor bloke looks like he couldn't convince you either way but somebody needs to see it happen!
Urzok remains at the back of the crowd, keeping an eye out for anyone who starts to heckle or prepare for violence. Don't give a damn about the painter, but can't let the Gnome or the Human come to harm, foolish as they may be.
________
Earlier: Shakur begrudgingly comes along. Just gonna get kicked out of this inn no matter what we do, guys.
---
"If s*&% goes down at night, why aren't y'all staking it out to find and kill this supposed 'witch' or her 'henchman' the obviously-frazzled painter here? You ain't gonna solve anything in the day if the events keep happening at night." Shakur actually spits on the ground in disgust. "You all ought to do something a bit more than riot against some dude in town just 'cuz he happens to have colorful paints!"
Boodiddly is already squeezing his way through the crowd before Urzok can say anything. "Pardon me, excuse me, if I could just slip on past you there..." As he reaches the front of the crowd, he looks up at the painter and smiles before turning to the crowd.
"Uh, hello, if I could say something?"
As he waits for the crowd to quiet down slightly, he holds up his left hand - still covered in wet black smudges. "I just finished helping Adrian scrub down his shop's uninvited decoration, so you'll have to excuse my appearance. But you will notice that this-" he thrusts the little hand higher, "is soot, while this..." He pauses to take the half-elf's hand and holds it up next to his own. "...This is paint. These are not the same thing at all - why would you think he was responsible? And why are you all here harassing him instead of helping your neighbor clean up the mess!? You should be ashamed of yourselves!"
Diplomacy to... Make an Impression?: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22
A few people in the crowd start looking guilty at the gnome’s words when one person steps forward.
”He’s the only artist here in town, and that vandalism didn’t start showing up on our walls until he arrived. And now the priestess is gone! Some folks keep talking about how the Briarstone Witch is coming back for Thrushmoor, but I know that he’s behind the troubles.”
Murmurs of agreement sweep over the crowd, but one or two people start backing away—not staying with the crowd, but also curious about how this situation is going to end.
Urzok remains at the back of the crowd, keeping an eye out for anyone who starts to heckle or prepare for violence. Don't give a damn about the painter, but can't let the Gnome or the Human come to harm, foolish as they may be.
Jevar steps up just behind the gnome and adds
Have any of you setup a night watch rotation to catch the culprit in the act? This poor bloke looks like he couldn't convince you either way but somebody needs to see it happen!
Diplomacy, aid: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18
Jevar tries to jump in, but is mostly interrupted by the one man who shouted in response to Boodiddly’s words.
”You don’t know what the f*ck you’re talking about!”
A small handful of people inside the angry mob pick up stones and start chucking them haphazardly at the people talking!
Crit fail
Crit success
Fail
Boodiddly takes a golfball-size stone straight to the forehead while Jevar manages to see the oncoming assault in time and hides behind the painter’s porch. The painter, however, doesn’t dodge quite as easily and is scraped by one of the stones.
The amnesiacs look toward the painter and sees that he’s on the verge of snapping, but barely manages to keep his anger in check. For now.
Trigger: The painter is about to make a Will save from being damaged by the mob.
Effect: You speak some encouraging words to the painter amid your attempts to sway the crowd in an attempt to keep the painter grounded. You attempt to Aid (DC 20) the painter’s Will save using Diplomacy. If you didn’t spend your turn watching the painter for signs of potential anger, you are distracted by your attempts to influence or study the crowd and take a -2 circumstance penalty to your check to Aid.
The painter stomps his foot in anger and reaches inside of his house and pulls out a canvas with a well-made painting of a pale woman with crazed-looking white hair holding an hourglass filled with crimson sand—an impressive (but rather gloomy) depiction of Pharasma.
”Can you not even see?! It’s not even my art style! It’s completely different!”
Some of the crowd murmurs in agreement as they look at the man's painting until one of them shouts ”Sure, but you could’ve done a different style!”
“What?! That’s not…but I…Grah!”
"If s*&% goes down at night, why aren't y'all staking it out to find and kill this supposed 'witch' or her 'henchman' the obviously-frazzled painter here? You ain't gonna solve anything in the day if the events keep happening at night." Shakur actually spits on the ground in disgust. "You all ought to do something a bit more than riot against some dude in town just 'cuz he happens to have colorful paints!"
Intimidate: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14
A person in the crowd turns to Shakur and says simply ”And risk getting killed by what comes out in the middle of the night?”
Round 2
====================
Boodiddly (-14)
Jevar
Urzok
The Mob
The Painter (-7)
Shakur
====================
”Please!” Boodiddly pleads through the pain. ”You don’t know it was him - you’re only lashing out because you’re scared and feel powerless. But this won’t help anyone - when the disappearances don’t stop, who will you turn on next? Which one of you will become the scapegoat? Please, I know you want to do something, anything, but this. Isn’t. Helping!”
Jevar grunts in disgust and reaction to the expletive. He doesn't let up and retorts, I know that you need evidence to understand how an observed effect is made. If you feel it's dangerous, stay up in groups that rotate members in and out.
Urzok pushes through the crowd and grabs one of the stone throwers by the collar of their shirt. He brings his face millimeters from the man's, but speaks in a volume for the whole crowd to hear."Throw something again and we'll see how many teeth I can launch out of your mouth with each punch."
________
A number of people quickly begin backing away from Urzok as he grabs a person by the collar, however, a few of the crowd does not take kindly to the half-orc’s threats and still chuck stones. Some of the other people in the crowd try to stop them out of fear of Urzok, but only marginally succeeds.
Crit success
Success
Failure
Failure
Failure
A stone flies straight toward the painter as it strikes his temple, causing him to begin bleeding significantly. The man slowly brings his hand up to the wound and stares at the blood on his hand. Something in his eyes blur before finally snapping back to reality as the metaphorical straw breaks his metaphorical back.
”THAT’S IT!!!”
The man grabs a nearby bucket full of paint as he grabs one end and unloads its contents forward in a 15’ cone!
But the few people in the front of the crowd manage to completely dodge out of the way of the cone of paint. The stone-throwers look angrily at the painter. ”Get ‘im!” At this, the remainder of the crowd, now completely provoked, pulls out various farming and fishing implements as makeshift weapons! However, some of the less violence-prone members of the mob book it out of there, convinced at the amnesiacs’ words and not wanting to be a part of this fight.
Round 2/3
====================
Boodiddly (-14)
Jevar (-2)
Urzok (-4)
The Mob (-11)
The Painter (-11)
Shakur (-4)
====================
Boodiddly’s face turns grim as more stones begin to fly. ”Get them out of here!” he bellows, surprisingly loud for such a small man. ”Send these scoundrels packing, but be gentle with them.” Turning, he tries to take the painter’s hand again. ”Don’t attack back - it just makes them feel more vindicated in their stupidness. And it’ll remove this protection.”
Jevar turns to the painter. That's a nasty bruise they left with that rock. Here, take this, it'll feel better.
The wizard's alchemy bandoleer is composed of leather that still looks new and oiled. He slips a concoction from it and hands it over. He then pulls out an alchemist's fire and eye's the crowd, calling to Urzok It would be good if we could keep the body count down here in civilization, with authorities and such around. We'd rather not be kicked out of town.
The inevitable turn... Urzok cracks his knuckles. "They started the violence, this is self-defense! Not aiming to kill," he shouts back before chuckling a little bit. I'll still have some fun though!
Singling out one of the more bloodthirsty members, he let's his rage bubble over and starts swinging.
________
Urzok gives someone in the crowd the death glare—very effectively—but the crowd’s whole doesn’t slow down from the half-orc’s horrific glare. Urzok then follows up with a rage-induced left hook that completely knocks out that same frightened citizen, but the more medically-minded members of the crowd quickly tend to the wounds of the fallen, setting back some of Urzok’s damage.
Shakur utters magical words as he points toward the crowd!
All of the crowd’s members suddenly lurch forward as they feel their torches and pitchforks grow much heavier!
The Pharasmin then intones and waves his arms as he reaches out both hands to the nearest members of the crowd and a pale darkness swirls through them!
”Go! Move!”
The mob starts to reshape as its members stretch out the crowd into a thick line.
The crowd then swipes their tools at anything within reach!
As the amnesiacs (plus one) are distracted from being battered around by most of the crowd, some of the ones that were trying to instigate the violence pull out large tubs of a thick black fluid and move to dump the tubs’ contents on their opponents. Meanwhile, a rather crazed-looking man runs near them as he swings a very frightened chicken whose wings flap madly, spewing around molted feathers.
Success
Failure
Failure
Success
Failure
Jevar, Shakur, and the painter all become covered in thick black sludge and slapped in the face by the wings of a now-tar-covered chicken, restricting their movements.
The painter groans in pain as he downs the elixir that was handed to him. ”Fat lot of good that protection of yours did!”
The painter uses his now empty bucket to scoop up the tar and feathers covering him . He then drops the tar-filled bucket and reaches over to grab a second one as he swings the can full of paint in a sweeping motion!
But his swing goes wide and he misses the large crowd entirely!
Slice. Stab. Gush.
Round 3/4
====================
Boodiddly (-37)
Jevar (-28)
Urzok (-22)
The Mob (-30 from “1” attack [before resistances]) {enfeebled 2}
The Painter (-15)
Shakur (-12)
====================
Round 3/4
====================
Boodiddly (-37)
Jevar (-28)
Urzok (-22)
The Mob (-29 from “1” attack [before resistances]) {enfeebled 2}
The Painter (-15)
Shakur (-12)
====================
Jevar grunts in pain as pitchforks and broken construction wood planks swipe him in the face and chest. For several moments he feels the need to keep his eyes closed to protect them.
When a pause finally arrives, he lobs his alchemist's fire further into the mob at an attempt to further disperse it.
While the mob's attention is caught by where the fire lands, the wizard takes the opportunity to scrape tar off of his body, or at least as much as it's hindering him.
These chuckleheads sure know how to give you a bad day. He growls low but audibly, clearly disturbed from him usual disciplined focus by all of this nonsense. He backs out of the mob and distances himself a ways.
Actually, they would still take the main 1d8 damage—swarms are only immune to mental effects that target a specific number of creature(s). Swarms/troops are not even close to the ridiculousness that they were in 1e.
"Spread out!" Boodiddly yells, still feeling emboldened by his rousing speech. Wiping the blood from his nose after an unfortunate encounter with a pitchfork, he trots to the north side of the house.
Jevar chucks a flask, but somehow manages to miss any singular person in the crowd, but that doesn’t mean the fire doesn’t spread! Ten members of the crowd manage to be right next to the flask when it shattered on the ground and burst outward!
Round 3/4
====================
Boodiddly (-17) {Lingering: Round 1 of 3}
Jevar (-28)
Urzok (-22)
The Mob (-34 from “1” attack [before resistances]) {enfeebled 2}
The Painter (-15)
Shakur (-12)
====================
Urzok locks his fists together at the fingers and swings as hard as he can before taking Boodiddly's advice and backing off. If this gets any more dangerous, might have to bring something a little more serious out!
________
"Actual tar and feathers!? Isn't that usually a metaphor!?"
Shakur, unsure how much health the painter has, will quickly throw a two action heal the painter's way.
He'll then move a bit out of the mob's way.
Urzok winds up a left hook and knocks several teeth out of the person in front of him, sending many of the crowd spiraling downward like human dominoes!
The mob reshapes into a less elongated position and Strides over, absorbing Jevar and the Painter into the mass of the mob, swinging their makeshift weapons wildly!
Fail
Crit Fail
The painter takes a very nasty hit, while Jevar is ganged up and takes a hit to the back of the head, knocking him out!
The painter spits out a bloodied tooth and glares at the crowd around him and swings his paint bucket in a wide arc!
The painter’s wild paint can knocks into the torsos of several of the mob and sends them tumbling to the ground. Bloodied and bruised, one of the group shouts out.
”SCATTER!!!”
The crowd disperses in an instant! The painter drops his paint can and moves over as he uses his strength to drag Jevar’s body over a few feet.
”Pharasmin! He’s bleeding out!”
Shakur Strides over and attempts to Administer First Aid to Jevar!
”Bring him inside; I’ll make some room. Grab his legs; half-orc, grab his arms.”
*
The painter’s house is a small, two-room building cluttered with canvases, supplies, and partially completed paintings of various subjects: a small number of depictions of Pharasma, some of the horizon of Lake Encarthan from Thrushmoor, and some of wealthy-looking individuals in the streets of Thrushmoor. Some of them, however, depict dark landscapes or creatures and leans toward the macabre.
The painter haphazardly grabs at an easel in the center of the room with a triptych upon it and he moves the easel and triptych off to the side as he clears off a space in the center of the room.
”Lay him right here.”
Urzok and Shakur, both with the unconscious Jevar in hand, sets him down in the middle of the floor. The painter collapses in exhaustion upon a nearby three-legged stool and hunches over in with several pants.
"Well that was fun," Urzok says, wiping the blood off of his arms and face with a rag. Thought I heard some voices in my brain though, I really need to get checked out. But by who? Winter could fix it, but she hates me. Maybe the Elf can do something? I'll ask him later.
"The Human'll be fine. Not the first time any of us have been knocked out. Won't be the last," he says nonchalantly, nodding at Shakur in respect for his handiwork.
He walks up to one of the dark landscapes. "You seeing this in your dreams?"
"A fellow pharasmin? Or..." Shakur studies the landscapes as he begins to heal the wizard in the party.
"I'm going to get straight to the point. I'm not here to hurt you, you've seen that. I want to know, honestly, what you know about this witch. Even if it seems strange and out of the ordinary like, i dunno, 'I've had dreams of a hag in a cave.' We've already been through weirder than you can gives us. Probably."
He walks up to one of the dark landscapes. "You seeing this in your dreams?"
”Yeah, actually. How did you…?”
"I'm going to get straight to the point. I'm not here to hurt you, you've seen that. I want to know, honestly, what you know about this witch. Even if it seems strange and out of the ordinary like, i dunno, 'I've had dreams of a hag in a cave.' We've already been through weirder than you can gives us. Probably."
The painter throws his hands up into the air in frustration. ”People keep talking about this witch! I don’t know what they’re talking about! I just moved here to paint a mural for New Chapel and a few other odd jobs—and the scenery here is gorgeous, well, when the weather isn’t working against me—but people keep saying that ‘I’m using the witch to scare people’ and stuff like that. Who the hell is this damn witch?! And why would a witch paint weird soot murals all over the town?!”
The painter sighs after his moment of catharsis. ”Nonetheless, I do have to thank you for helping me back there—that crowd was vicious! There has to be something I can…How about one of my paintings? People around here seem to like them—you know, when they’re not trying to burn me at the stake. Except…that none of these are finished…Damn it, Lelwyn, use your brain for once!” The half-elf looks around his studio for several seconds. ”Um…AHA!”
Lelwyn moves to the side of his studio and grabs a blue-and-white cloth sack covered with the occasional spot of dried paint from a table. He moves to Boodiddly and presents the sack happily ”Here, it’s…Uh…hold on.” Lelwyn turns around and turns the sack inside-out, and tumbling out of the sack’s interior are several dozen paintbrushes, bottles of paint, and even an entire blank canvas and easel. The half-elf looks at the pile with slight surprise. ”Jeez, did I really use it that much…?” With a shrug, the painter turns the cloth bag back to its original orientation and happily holds it out to the gnome.
”It was a down payment for the job at the church, but I insist that you have it; it’s really the least I could do.”
Urzok taps his temple knowingly and steps away from the painting.
"Now what?" he asks the others. "We've still got that other nut to crack. Talking didn't work," he says, his tone implying something darker might have to occur.
During travel time, when there aren't very many strangers around, Urzok is going to confess to you that something is wrong in his head. He'll explain that Winter helped him, and you're the only other person he can think of who might be able to help him.
Oreb hops about on Jevar's chest as they carry him into the home.
When he final awakes again, he sees Shakur nearby putting away his healer's kit.
Thank you, Shakur. I guess I took one too many rakes to the face out there. Will my beautiful face ever heal? He quips sarcastically as he comes-to, as if no time had been lost.
He sits up just in time to hear the painters lamenting explanation.
It's too bad you've been caught up in this. Are you a bit of a night owl or are you typically sound asleep when these soot paintings appear? I have a feeling we can do a similar demonstration of mutually exclusive locations soon to clear your name. And I have a bad feeling we're going to be pulling some night shifts to catch this "witch."
Boodiddly carefully folds up the bag and tries to help Lelwyn put its former contents in a more usable pile. ”Um, thanks,” he says weakly. ”Are angry mobs at your doorstep a common thing for you?”
"Now what?" he asks the others. "We've still got that other nut to crack. Talking didn't work," he says, his tone implying something darker might have to occur.
Lelwyn chuckles nervously. ”Excuse me?”
It's too bad you've been caught up in this. Are you a bit of a night owl or are you typically sound asleep when these soot paintings appear? I have a feeling we can do a similar demonstration of mutually exclusive locations soon to clear your name. And I have a bad feeling we're going to be pulling some night shifts to catch this "witch."
”Oh, most definitely, but I don’t dare go outside at night. Weird things lurk out when dusk falls—most folks need to keep a bolt on their door these days.”
”Are angry mobs at your doorstep a common thing for you?”
”I’ve gotten accusations before—went on a whole rant at the Stain the other day about the art direction of those soot murals—but this is the first time it got this extre—“
Lelwyn gasps. ”Y-you’re…” Without another word, a massive grin spreads across the half-elf’s face. He rushes back toward a corner of his studio and grabs the easel with the triptych on it and properly sets it up. ”Pencil. Pencil. Where’s a pencil? Aha!” The artist holds up a long piece of graphite triumphantly as he moves over to the triptych and furious sketches upon it, occasionally glancing over the canvas at the amnesiacs.
Boodiddly quickly puts out a hand before any of his companions can stir. ”Don’t move,” he orders, lips barely moving. ”He’s an artist, we should be honored, and we might even learn something if we sit still and don’t spoil it.” The gnome immediately tries not to think about an itch growing on the tip of his nose, and his breathing becomes very measured.
We're.. what? The wizard stands there staring back at Lelwyn.
"You're excused."
"I don't care what he's doing, I'm sitting down if we aren't leaving," Urzok says, pulling a stool over and taking a seat. "How long is this going to take?" We've got s*@! to do today and fighting a mob for some random painter wasn't on the list, much less posing for him. Wonder if the blacksmith is still taking orders for the day...
Boodiddly quickly puts out a hand before any of his companions can stir. ”Don’t move,” he orders, lips barely moving. ”He’s an artist, we should be honored, and we might even learn something if we sit still and don’t spoil it.” The gnome immediately tries not to think about an itch growing on the tip of his nose, and his breathing becomes very measured.
We're.. what? The wizard stands there staring back at Lelwyn.
Lelwyn stops abruptly as if only just realizing what he’s doing. ”Oh my goodness! I’m sorry, but you are my muse! My art. My…Oh, just see.”
The painter turns the triptych around to reveal a painting—though still in its sketch phase—of four people in full figure, though their faces are incomplete. In the background, three different cities flow seamlessly into one another under a yellowish sky. The three mostly-faceless figures are of a gloomy human with a raven, a gnome with wild hair, a muscular half-orc, and a half-elf bearing the symbol of Pharasma. These four figures are, without a doubt, of the amnesiacs themselves.
Lelwyn folds his arms and stares at his triptych with satisfaction. ”I’ve taken to painting my dreams at times—a little fantastical abstract art—and over the past few nights I’ve been dreaming of these four. I’ve never been able to recall the faces quite right and it’s been bothering me to no end. And now, my muses have descended to my rescue as my guardian angels and are now in my studio! I prayed to Shelyn to be able to get the faces right, but this is not what I was expecting. The gods work in mysterious ways, I suppose. Please, you must help me finish this painting—with you four before me I’ll even be able to get all of the colors right. I’ll see what I can scrounge together, but I’ll happily pay you to model for me for this painting!”
Oh... your dreams. Suddenly Jevar is interested by this coincidence. He begins standing still for the painting.
So, what do the four do in your dreams? What do they encounter, or where are they even in the world?
He emphasizes the last question to see if Lelwyn would even recognize Briarstone.
"So I'm...what...I..." Shakur is taken aback for a bit before he finds the words. "You've seen us in particular? What about a man with yellow chalk on his forehead and..." Shakur goes on to describe Zandalus's appearance. He'll hold off on describing the tatterman for at least a few more days.
"Now you're speaking my language," Urzok confesses at the mention of payment You dreaming about us is disturbing. Why are we linked at the mind with every person we meet? "How long is this going to take? Do I have some time to run over to the blacksmith's to order a sword?"
"Now you're speaking my language," Urzok confesses at the mention of payment You dreaming about us is disturbing. Why are we linked at the mind with every person we meet? "How long is this going to take? Do I have some time to run over to the blacksmith's to order a sword?"
”Well…Uh…It’s hard to say. But I don’t need all four of you here at once—you can go off to do your own things and I can paint each of you one at a time, if that’s more convenient.”
"So I'm...what...I..." Shakur is taken aback for a bit before he finds the words. "You've seen us in particular? What about a man with yellow chalk on his forehead and..." Shakur goes on to describe Zandalus's appearance. He'll hold off on describing the tatterman for at least a few more days.
”Uh…No…I don’t seem to recall anyone like that…”
Oh... your dreams. Suddenly Jevar is interested by this coincidence. He begins standing still for the painting.
So, what do the four do in your dreams? What do they encounter, or where are they even in the world?
He emphasizes the last question to see if Lelwyn would even recognize Briarstone.
Lelwyn shuffles in place awkwardly. ”If I’m being honest, I don’t rightly remember. Dreams are fickle like that. I do recall that they gave me the sensation that Thrushmoor’s destiny somehow depends on them—er, on you. There’s also what I’ve drawn here—minus the faces, of course. Other than that, I really don’t have a great recollection of what I was dreaming.”
Lelwyn looks down in sorrow. ”I’m sorry that I couldn’t be much more help than that…”
Jevar's best incredulous disbelief face comes out as soon as "destiny" is mentioned.
Depending on us? Destiny? I find that hard to believe. Given how fickle dreams are, maybe your mind is opportunistically filling in our faces to complete the faded picture from the dream..
Urzok nods his head with a grunt and walks out. Assuming he doesn't get jumped in the streets, he heads over to the blacksmith to arrange for a cold iron longsword. Once that's settled, he'll return to the painter's house.
Shakur sighs before leaving. "Now if only we could get rid of that doomsayer. I'm at my wits end. I think we may have to head to the other place. More expensive...less friendly company....not a fan. But that doomsayer isn't going anywhere and I'm about to give him a witch to worry about....." Shakur gets angrier as he speaks before he takes a deep breath. "One thing at a time, I guess."
"Unless you would happen to know anything about him?" Boodiddly tries to remain still as he speaks to not disturb Lelwyn's work, but his fingers twitch every so often. "Big guy, gloomy, dirty beard, carries around a box of soap all the time? Seems like the kind of fellow who'd stir folks up until they started to blame innocent folks like yourself."
”The crazy guy? Can’t say I know much else about him.” Lelwyn scratches his beard in thought. ”But if you guys need someplace to stay, there’s an empty building next door owned by the church that you could stay in—there’s only three beds, but I could probably scrounge up some blankets for a makeshift sleeping bag or something. I, uh, don’t really have the authority to say that you can stay there, but with the priestess gone and all, you could probably just leave something in New Chapel’s donation box and we can say it’s all kosher.”
Hmm, we were having trouble getting rooms at the Silver Wagon. Uncomfortable sleep, or Dena's stink-eye, and spending money, AND getting rid of that lunatic...
Jevar considers the tradeoffs, not loving any of the choices. We are doing okay on coin at the moment, but that doomsayer is a real crink in our necks. Throw in extra blankets and it might just work.
He looks around at the others for input.
”Deal! Wait...Dena? Silver Wagon’s Dena? Giving you the stink-eye? I did a commission for her not too long ago and she was a sweetheart; treated me like her own kid and I wasn’t even staying there. What the hell did you do to get on her bad side? Kill her dog?”
"...Um, let's just say it was a wild night a while back and we broke her wine rack," Boddidly says sheepishly. "But that doomsayer has taken to standing out by her place and it's hurting her business. She asked us if we could help move him along, but he came back this morning. I'd really like to help her out, even if we decide to stay here rather than at the inn." He looks hopefully at his companions with his large adorable eyes.
"The Gnome says 'we' like it was the four of us, but the Human and I," Urzok says in clarification, pointing at Jevar, "Had nothing to do with it."
He raises an eyebrow at Boodiddly. "Jevar and I have already agreed to help, I think we're just waiting for the two of you to figure out how far you're willing to go to redeem yourselves in the eyes of an innkeeper."
________
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Lelwyn whistles in astonishment. ”Yeah, well, that would do it. Well, I don’t want to keep you all here any longer than I have to. You lot know where to find me if you take me up on that modeling offer.”
Model for Lelwyn
Begin the process of Crafting a new item.
Attempt to transfer one of the runes from Red Destiny onto another weapon.
Other stuff that equates to a day of downtime
Urzok spends the rest of his day arranging for a low-grade cold iron longsword.
________