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An open call went out to help rebuild the Helping Hand, a temple dedicated to Torm and a site of respite for travelers passing through Sword Trail between Melvaunt and Thentia.
You have all answered the call, though your motives are your own. Some of you are in it for the promise of work, some of you may be here for darker interests...
Once a simple two-story roadhouse on the Sword Trail between Melvaunt and Thentia, the Helping Hand now stands as a sizeable temple to Torm, the god of duty and loyalty. It is nearing dusk, but as you approach, you see several people in plain woolen robes tending a large garden adjacent to the structure. Noticing you, a young brown-haired man in his early twenties approaches. “Greetings. My name is Acolyte Ryman. Are you in need of lodging for the evening?”
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Shaldinari stands in the shadow of a nearby tree whittling a piece of fir and watching the acolytes work the garden for several minutes. Her mind enjoying the peace of the place while her eyes cased the temple and looked for whatever threat might be lurking. To the simply dressed wood elf, Torm's temple seemed quiet, well kept, and reasonably free of lava rivers and screaming cultists. A refreshing change from that that wasted pit of a city, Mulmaster. A viper's den she'd be perfectly happy to never see again, not for all the power or gold in the world.
But the her royal feyness wasn't typically known for her easy going nature and gifts of luxurious and relaxed vacations. No she was standing outside this remote temple for a purpose, if only she knew what it really was.
Wood chips surround her feet by the time she flicks the small carving knife closed and sets the newly newly worked figure of a bear down on one of the lower branches. A hint of purple color circles around in her dark green eyes as she steps out of the shadows and up to the garden fence where the acolytes can see her.
"Greeting to you friend." She says letting the sun warm her tanned face and shine off her blonde, sun-bleached to nearly platinum hair. "A bed and perhaps a warm bath would be very welcome indeed." She adds flashing the youth a friendly smile while feigning to dust the travel grime from her trousers and forest green traveling cloak.
"A JOYOUS DAY TO YOU BOTH!! HA-HA!"
A tall, bulky, bronze dragonborn approaches, his arms and his grin wide; his eyes slightly manic. Electrical energy crackles across fingertips, over his chain armour, dancing along his teeth.
As he nears, you observe scars in intricate branching patterns over much of his exposed skin - the muscles of his face and arms twitch, nearly imperceptibly, at intervals. He will walk up to shake everyone's hand, roughly; smiling even more broadly if rebuffed.
"The blessings of Stronmaus upon us all, eh? And Torm as well, most assuredly. If you've a basin, brother, I will wash my hands and face before paying my respects to the Righteous Hand."
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Jiro pulled his hood up a bit higher as he saw the simple roadhouse up ahead. The soft-skinned folk - especially big folk - rarely trusted a kobold like him at first sight. As long as he could get close enough to start talking without being shot, then he'd be alright.
Torm, eh? Hmm... now which one was Torm again? He pulled out over a dozen chains and necklaces upon which hung even more holy symbols. He flipped through them trying to recall who Torm was. Is that one of them dwarf ones? Not enough mountains around, so probably not. Human is more likely. Torm. Tooorrrrmmmm. God... (Goddess?) of...of... storms maybe? Torm of Storms? Yeah, that's gotta be it! He fumbled through them until he found a bronze one that had 3 bolts of lightning all radiating from a single point.
Tucking the rest back into his vest, he proudly hung the lighting bolt holy symbol out as he approached the building.
"Greetings follower of Torm! I bring tidings from my people across far and exotic lands. If you have accommodations for a weary traveler such as myself, I would be at your service. For even as far away as my homeland we have heard of the grand- " he glanced up at the simple building "-ly kind hospitality of the glorious Storm - no, uh - Torm."
Jiro then dipped into a low bow.
Antonio's chain mail armor making that distinct shing, shing sound as he walk down the road to his next payday. Seeing the inn at a distance Antonio quickens his pace. His long sword slapping against his hip and his shield on his back, but within easy reach to deploy, something he has practiced a lot with his time in the infantry.
A job is a job, Antonio is a skilled fighter, but he hated being stuck with mundane duties like guarding a gate late at night, so he is always going to where he thinks the action is.
Seeing an acolyte come up to him asking questions.
"Yes, hello I am Antonio, I could use some food and a cold drink to wash this road dust from my throat. Then perhaps a room for the night. Tell me this is the Temple of the Helping Hand that sent out a call with the promise of work, correct? What type of work does the temple need, I am no farmer?" Looking over to the gardens being tended.
Shaldinari watches as several other travelers arrive at the temple and greet the Acolyte.
Her nose wrinkles and a single eyebrow rises upon seeing the kobold. Quickly she reviews her recent travels in her mind. Goblins, water creatures of some kind, lots and lots of humans, maybe a dwarf or two, but no...no kobolds. I definitely have not killed any kobolds recently. Good, then no reason to worry about the little thing gnawing at her because she'd killed his grandmother or distant cousin or some such nonsense. Letting the acolyte deal with the kobold she turns to the newly arrived priest.
Seeing the crackling energy dancing along the big dragonborn, she is sure to ground herself on the wooden fence before shaking the creatures hand to avoid an annoying static shock.
"A good day to you sir....er....sirs." She says to the boisterous priest and the rather bedraggled human who suddenly appears out of the shadows holding a broken rapier and speaking of himself in the third person.
Before she can say anything else, another traveler arrives. A warrior judging by his dress and manner. While stepping away from the smaller man and his shiny, broken rapier, she listens carefully for the acolytes response to the question about a call for work. What type of work does a temple need? That is indeed the question.
Stepping clumsily between the acolyte and the kobold, Jarprax's less-than-subtle voice booms: "Hello little cousin! It's wonderful to see the smallest dragon-kin come to join us above-ground. But - aha! what's this?" Crouching low and attempting, and failing, to speak conspiratorially (his voice has not lowered in the slightest): "This is the wrong one - see, over the lintel, Torm's symbol is the hand - the Righteous Hand, see?"
Straightening to his full height (likely twice or more that of Jiro's): "We will have to see about getting you a proper symbol, yeah? Something to represent mighty Stronmaus, perhaps! HA! Lord of storms and sunshine and joy!" Sparks scatter again across Jarprax's equipment as he utters the name.
Turning to the small group that have gathered in front of the Helping Hand: "My name is Jarprax - greetings and joy to you all! What have we got here, enh? Looks like a warrior has arrived!" Whereupon he punches Antonio in the shoulder; not unkindly, but not softly either.
"And you two! ...seem lithe - one wouldn't want to be on the wrong end of that rapier and ... Oh dear! You should see someone about getting that fixed!"
Tama Kulenova arrives at the temple and seeing the others, she stops. She approaches Jarprax and tells him: "Hello, I'm Tana Kulenova.
My Master instructed me to approach the first person I see at the first temple I come across and join with him or her on a mision. So, I found you. What is your name?
As Jarprax approaches, Jiro gulps. This could go well or this could go very bad. Dragon big-folk are unpredictable, like their even larger relations. Jiro did his best to avoid taking an involuntary step back, but as the dragonborn's voice boomed out, he calmed.
Whispering back, Jiro said, "Ah, yes, thank you, big cousin. Where I come from, some of the deities, use... ah... different symbols. But I'll tuck this away, so as not to confuse or offend." He slid the symbol back under his vest with the others.
Talking louder to address the others, as well, "Speaking of traveling from far away, my small legs have carried me across so many lands of strange cultures and exotic beasts. From those travels I have acquired some rare and exotic of treasures, if perhaps anyone would fancy a look? Some nearly cost me my life to acquire," and he sinks his head down, "And some did cost the life of some fine companions. But I'm sure fine folk as yourselves could appreciate them... for a mere modest fee, of course." Jiro looks up and smiles a big, toothy grin, quickly looking each person in the eye expectantly trying to identify the best mark.
When he got to Blacklock, however, he smile faded. With the assassin's ominous words, Jiro stepped back and looked around the room nervously, half expecting fiends or ghosts to leap out from the walls. "Uh... good point. It can wait. So... yes, how can we help?"
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The acolyte smiles at the antics of the eclectic group, but it abruptly fades with a small cough as he meets the eyes of Blacklock, Please, come on inside. If it is work that you are looking for, we would welcome help rebuilding, but...
The young man scans over you all, noting the weapons and general way that you carry yourselves before continuing, ... Perhaps you should speak with Mother Protector Homwell. I believe she may have a task more suitable to your skill set.
Acolyte Ryman leads you to a meeting room and excuses himself with a reverent bow, Mother Protector will be here momentarily.
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A few moments later, a female halfling with curly red hair arrives carrying a tray containing a bowl of fresh fruit, a wheel of cheese, a pitcher of water, and several wooden drinking cups. She places the tray atop the room’s table and bids you to sit and enjoy.
After ten minutes, the door opens, and a woman of nearly fifty years enters. She is dressed in clean white robes fringed with light-blue embroidery. A pale-blue shawl bearing the upraised hand of Torm hangs neatly over her shoulders. The right sleeve of the woman’s garment is rolled and pinned at her elbow, making her missing appendage easily apparent.
In spite of her handicap, she is beautiful. Light streaks of grey grace her lustrous blond hair, and her bright blue eyes convey both intelligence and authority. Smiling, she says, Welcome to the Helping Hand. I am Priestess Malana Homwell, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.
Zar trudged along down the road, hoping that his destination wasn't too much farther. He had been lucky enough to run into a fighter heading to the same destination as both were trying to earn some coin, although for much different reasons he imagined.
Their conversation left much to be desired and was superficial at best. Zar doubted the warrior had ever read a book in his life while Antonio seemed to gauge a person's worth based only on their ability to wield a sword. But he felt safer travelling with someone who could handle himself should trouble arise. "Better than being out here by myself," he reminded himself frequently.
"Finally," he said relieved when the in came into view. Zar was about to say something to Antonio, when the fighter quickened his pace. "You go ahead. I'll get there eventually," he said out loud but didn't think Antonio heard him over the clanging of his armor. After such a long walk, he had no intention of moving any faster.
Once he made it to the inn, he suspiciously looked over the group that had assembled there. "Lodging. Yes definitely. And some food and drink too. It's been a long trip," he said in response to the acolyte's question.
Not sure what to make of the group's conversation since he wasn't too familiar with the area, Zar kept quiet and waited inside when asked to do so. When the food and drink is brought in, he pours himself a cup of water and takes an apple and some cheese. He takes a long swig of water, swishing it around his mouth a bit to rinse the dirt from the road before swallowing it.
When the priestess enters, he rises to introduce himself. "Greetings. I am Zar. Word has it that you are looking for some help and I for one am looking for some work. Collecting scrolls can be an expensive endeavor," he says with a slight chuckle while patting his coin pouch.
Following the acolyte and the others inside, Shaldinari takes a seat at the table and graciously accepts the offer of water and food. Slipping a dagger into her hand she deftly slices a few pieces of cheese and then divides and able into eighth-sized chunks which she then bits into with satisfaction at the crispy crunch of the fresh juicy fruit.
"Compliments to your orchardists Priestess." She says taking another quick bit of apple. "My name is Shaldinari and while I'm not here specifically for coin or gardening. I am here because the portents, stars, and cards of fortune have aligned in such a way that would indicate you've a need that I may be of some use in solving."
She glances around at the assorted folk gathered at the table. "Indeed, it seems several folk of different...persuasions....have been moved by the fates to answer whatever trouble you and the Helping Hand seem to have uncovered in this quiet place." She takes another bite of apple and offers a fey smile to the priestess as she leans back in her chair to hear what more the woman has to say.
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Mother Protector Homwell nods and gives her thanks to the compliments and offers to help, Well, I do hope that your offers are true. This job may be dangerous, but it is important to me.
The woman involuntarily moves to scratch her missing arm and stops a moment, then continues after taking a deep breath, Religion may not be all of your concern, and for those of you I will elaborate. Torm's greatest rival is Bane, god of fear, hatred, and tyranny. As such, three palm-sized platinum discs, known as the Tenets of Bane were once carried three of His followers. These three men were called the Servants of Strife, and though they were defeated decades ago by a trio of Thentian wizards, the discs remain a threat in the world.
Homwell scans the room to gauge your reactions before speaking again, These wizards learned that the discs were divine in nature, but their extended proximity to the artifacts seemed to amplify their negative emotions that each disc represented: Fear, Hatred, and Tyranny... They could not destroy the Tenets, no matter what they tried, so they hid them around the Moonsea and the only documentation they had was turned over to the Church of Selune in Thentia.
I want you to recover them.
Jarprax makes appropriate (or what he assumes are appropriate) deferences in the presence of the Mother Protector (he's not unintelligent, just uncouth).
"Of course, Mother Protector! I'm sure all here are willing to help the church of Torm in this endeavour - I sure it will be of benefit of all! But..." frowning slightly, hesitating: "This documentation in Thentia? Isn't that better suited for more ... studious types?" His glance at Zar is not subtle.
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Mother Protector Homwell smiles at Jarpax's question, Some of you look more studious than others, but finding the locations are one problem, retrieval might be another matter entirely. No doubt there are already servants of the Black Hand pursuing these artifacts.
Upon hearing Blacklock's comment, the one-armed woman nods, I expected as much. I am willing to pay up to 250 pieces of gold per disc. I am sure that there may be other things to be recovered along the way as well, and if not, I may be able to scrape up a little more. Is that acceptable to you?
Tana listen's to Priestess Malana's offer, smiles and says, Speaking for myself, I accept your offer. She pauses and after a moment of thought asks the priestess, and in the course of persuing these artifacts if we need supplies, such as healing potions, rations and so on,would you be able to provide for us?
Tana then pauses for the priestess to reply.
While she pauses, Tana takes a moment to size up her new found compaions. She thinks to herself Hmm, a Wizard, A Fighter, A Cleric, a Warlock, a bard,and an assasin...a diverse but potentially effective group!
Tana is pleased to be in such good company!
Jiro pauses and thinks, mentally running through the belongings in his pack wondering if he has anything that would pass for an evil platinum disc, but comes up empty.
"Certainly! I will accept your offer as well. I am a specialist in acquiring exotic items, so this will not be a problem at all."
Then he leans over to Jarprax and whispers, "Psst... you seem to know about these gods of the softskins. Getting the info from the Church of Selune - so that's going to be lots of talky talky and being nice, and not lots of stabby stabby, right? I swear these softskins have so many gods, everyone and their cousin must be a divine something."
"HA! SOFTskins - that's..."
Pausing as annoyed heads swivel in his direction, Jarprax lowers his voice - it remains a low-pitched rumble that carries across the room, but at least he's no longer shouting: "That's a good one! I do know... well, a little bit about their many gods - my own learning is a bit... obscure. And not generally found in dusty libraries. Besides — people expect you to be quiet in libraries."
Tana notices the whispered exchange between Jiro and Jarprax, and that they seem amused. Tana addresses them,
Hello, Gentlemen. I'm Tana. I'm pleased to be in your company. A little adventure will be fun and rewarding for us all. I do hope most of it will be above ground, the sun is good for keeping skin silky soft!
Tana awaits their reply.
Finishing her apples and cheese, Shaldinari listens to the Mother Protector, but spends much of the time watching a bird hop around on an open windowsill. Her attention finally snapping back as Homwell opens the box.
Shaldinari slips the potion in next to the others in her pouch. You can never have too many of she says quickly eyeing the quality and validity of the gift.
"So...Fear, Hatred and Tyranny." She says with a wry smirk. "Agreed that they certainly are not the kinds of baubles that should be left lying around."
"My thanks for the meal." She says offering a small bow after getting to her feet. "However, if there is nothing else you can share, I'll retire for that bath and bed mentioned earlier in order to be rested for tomorrows journey."
After having a bite to eat and drink.
"Do you have an idea where we might start to look for the disks? It sounds like we need to go to the temple of Selune in Thentia"
Scratching his chin "I am not sure that they will be forth coming with the information."
Tana accepts the healing potion, smiles and bows to Mother Homwell and says Thank you, Mother Protector, you are most kind!
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Mother Protector Homwell nods and pulls a tome from a bookshelf behind her, I requisitioned this text from our sisters at the Temple of Selune. Based on this, the Tenet of Fear is located to the North of us, in the wilds of Thar. Many travel these roads, never venturing off the path. Thar is a desolate, broken moor, cold and unforgiving. It is home to orcs, ogres, and many more vicious beasts. The orcs and ogres sometimes attacking Melvaunt, Thentia, and even Phlan usually hail from Thar...
She looks at each of you to drive home the point, From what I have read, Archmage Phourkyn One-Eye hid the Tenet in a boulder and marked it with a riddle, inscribed into its face. The text does not reveal the riddle, nor does it give any hints to its solution.
The priestess retrieves a map (see link under my name) and unfurls it, placing a cup at its ends, holding it in place, This is where I have been able to determine the stone lay, within a Xvart Village. I am not sure what a Xvart is, but that is what One-Eye referred to it as...
Should you fail to solve the riddle, we have picks and sledges here that perhaps you can use to split the boulder atwain. Do you have any further questions?
"You say that the wizards that had the disks, do to the proximity to the artifacts seemed to amplify their negative emotions that each disc represented: Fear, Hatred, and Tyranny. Do you have any knowledge that we will experience the same thing when we retrieve them?"
Shifting his feet, not liking the idea of loosing control.
Tana listens to the conversations between Mother Protector and the group. She thinks to herself, The only documentation known about the discs is in the Church of Selune in Thentia. and we may be exposed to the effects of the discs...
Tana openly asks Mother Protector and the group, So should we start our search at the Church of Selune? And does anyone have a bag of holding or a lead box in which to store the 3 platinum discs when we find them. If we have a suitable container, perhaps we can minimize the effects of the discs.
Tana looks around at Mother Proctor and then at each member of the group and awaits a response.
"Thar it is, then! Haha - this should be entertaining! And, I daresay we'll find out who among us has the most nerve by the time we find the disc." Grinning even more broadly, Jarprax surveys the group.
Making a final bow in the direction of the priestess: "Thank you for your kindness, your gifts, and this mission. If you will indulge us for the night, Mother Protector, we will set off in the early morning."
Tana smiles back at Jarprax as Ryman shows us to our rooms. Tana pauses, turns back quickly to face Mother Protector bows, and says, Thank you Mother Protector for all you have done and provided for us! We won't let you down!
Tana then turns to Jarprax and says Sleep well and see you in the morning. I'm sure we will all have an exciting adventure!
Tana then proceeds to the room she is shown, meditating for half an hour before going to bed.
Turing to Zar. "You have any thoughts on the disks? Perhaps how to safely transport them?"
"This one - uh, Tana -" hooking a claw into the cloth at her shoulder "suggests a box with lead. Would that suffice?"
Zar listens intently, his interest piqued at the mention of the wizards. He pauses for a moment to look at the dragonborn and then scans the rest of the group. "I'm sure all of us have skills that will be needed in this mission. While I may be able to help with the arcane or the riddles, you would probably be more helpful on issues about religion, and Antonio can use his sword to protect us," he says in response to the clerics comment.
When the priestess hands out the potions, he puts his in his belt pouch and thanks her. "Depending on what creatures we come up against, these could be very useful. I'm curious though. Assuming we are able to retrieve the disks, what do you plan on doing with them?"
He listens to the others discuss how to transport the disks safely and tries to add to the conversation any knowledge he has.
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The night passes giving you the first night of restful sleep that you have had in almost a tenday that you have been traveling from Melvaunt to get here. The morning greets you with the various priests and acolytes eating gruel with fresh butter and berries. They all smile and bid you Good Morning, and offer you breakfast before you head out.
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The wilds of Thar are cold, windy, and bleak. You have spent the better part of the day picking your way through endless dips and rises blanketed in heather and dotted with rocky outcroppings of lichen covered granite.
Tana has breakfast, and Wishes everyone a Good Morning!
Survival check as required.
Shaldinari rises from her nights meditation refreshed and ready to begin the day as the sky slowly turns from deep purple to red then the brilliant yellows of sunrise. But seeing clouds on the horizon and feeling the chill in the air, she decides to dress in her heavier traveling clothes. A good comfortable walking boots, cotton trousers and thick shirt under her leather jerkin. All of that topped off with a long, dark gray oiled-leather rain coat and wide brimmed hat.
She greets the acolytes politely but avoids the gruel in favor of berries and a mug of strong black tea sweetened with honey.
Once on the road, she stays relatively quiet contemplating the surrounding countryside. So different from her time spent in Chult with it's heat, jungles, numerous insects and reptiles. But at least it still lived unlike the devastated areas of Mulmaster.
This land still harbored its own beauty. From the stunted wind twisted trees to the blowing grasses, the land actually has potential. Unfortunately, her fey inspired interest in the land causes her to stop frequently to examine a plant, or particularly interesting tree, or gather the occasional fallen branch perfectly suitable to carving later. She soon falls behind the others with little worry or interest in catching up.
Really why worry and rush about over some silly old trinkets. They've been hidden for years, they'll stay hidden a bit longer. Plus, that fellow with the broken sword is probably right. This could all just be another set up for a quick land grab by humans. Hmmm....Oh! That's a pretty little flower...
"HA! You are a suspicious one, Blacklock! Perhaps we should just roll the boulder back here to the Helping Hand, eh?! HaHA!"
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Jarprax joins the acolytes for breakfast - he is loud and boisterous, as usual, and is shameless in his requests for meat to accompany the meagre fare.
On the road, he is in his element, rejoicing in the weather (no matter if it is rainy or sunny - both are blessings of Stronmaus), and attempting joviality with his companions - occasionally lagging behind to pester Shaldinari about plants; sometimes jogging ahead to see if Blacklock has spotted anything. He's taken a particular shine to Jiro, whom he sees as a long-lost cousin.