Lost Lands

Game Master Edeldhur

Smiling at her grandmothers concern, Naomi remembers her dad telling about how concerened they were when he told them he was to become an adventurer. Resting her hand on her grandmothers arm, she nods towards the door, 'Grandma, Thistle is more dangerous than most of the things in the wild, she will protect me. Besides I travel with a very competent group of adventurers." She smiles, "And if need be I can outrun most stuff."

Rolling her eyes at Gubble as he says for Naomi to tell the story. She pauses, shrugging as he leaves, turning to her grandfather, "It's a wizard's tower. Gubbles mentor is a wizard, as is Gubble. The wizard is said to be dead, so Gubble formed a team to make sure there isn't anything left that may be a danger to others."

Jalros gives a nod to Hamish as he takes his leave. Turning back to his food, Jalros eats slowly as he keeps a nonchalant eye upon the brigands.

"Wizard," Gubble says, echoing Naomi. There is a weight to the word, a degree of both reverence and suspicion.

Smiling at her grandmothers concern, Naomi remembers her dad telling about how concerened they were when he told them he was to become an adventurer. Resting her hand on her grandmothers arm, she nods towards the door, 'Grandma, Thistle is more dangerous than most of the things in the wild, she will protect me. Besides I travel with a very competent group of adventurers." She smiles, "And if need be I can outrun most stuff."

"Oh my dear child... Had you heard the stories I have around Fairhill, and you would not say that... There's talk of Winter Wolves in the northern hills, and poor Fendrin had his wife and son snatched right from his hands by some monster. Times are dangerous my love..."

Rolling her eyes at Gubble as he says for Naomi to tell the story. She pauses, shrugging as he leaves, turning to her grandfather, "It's a wizard's tower. Gubbles mentor is a wizard, as is Gubble. The wizard is said to be dead, so Gubble formed a team to make sure there isn't anything left that may be a danger to others."

Ann's face blanches at these words, and she sits down with a lump on his throat.

"Eralion’s ruined keep? Is that the place you are planning on going to?!" - Naomi's grandfather interjected - "Everyone knows that a vampire lives within those ruined walls. What else can explain the shadowy figure people see at night? You have to stay away from that accursed place!"

Giving her grandmother a gentle smile, Naomi slips her arm through her grandmothers, "I've heard all the stories, Grandma, remember daddy's a bard. Honestly, If he and mom thought I wasn't ready do you think they'd let me have left? But don't worry, we'll be careful."

Giving a quick smile to Guthlag as he echos her answer, Naomi shrugs, when grandpa asks if it's 'Eralion' Rolling her eyes a bit, when he continues about 'Vampires' she breathes a sigh, "Honestly Grandpa I don't remember the wizards name, we're just making sure there is no magic residue that might be a threat to the locals. As for 'vampires' you realized every shadow isn't undead, right."

As she spoke, she thought back to the undead they'd battled back at the farmhouse. Deciding to leave that information out of the conversation, she continuous. "It's good we have a priest traveling with us, and if it makes you feel better I will tell the others about the potential of 'Vampires." She pats her grandmother's arm, "And winter wolves."

She looks back towards her grandmother, remembering something she had said. "Did Fendril say what the 'monster' looked like?"

what does Naomi know of Fendril?
knowledge(local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Rolling 'diplomacy' for 'making a request' not to worry
diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

Naomi, your grandmother seems to calm down somewhat with your reassurance, steadying herself with a deep breath - "I will trust you Moonflower, if you promise to be careful. And smart" - she nods.

She looks back towards her grandmother, remembering something she had said. "Did Fendril say what the 'monster' looked like?"

"I don't really know..." - Anna looks at her husband - "Do you?"

Gerbert shrugs - "I remember him saying something about a flying mountain cat? I don't know... He is drunk most of the time anyway"

As soon as Hamish is clear of the inn, he stops the silly drunken weave in his step and hurries off to find Captain Baran at the guard tower to ask him about the bandit symbol. As he moves through the darkened streets of Fairhill, he keeps a wary eye for any followers.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

Guthlag Hardfoot wrote:

"I will follow with Gubble," Guthlag says as things begin to wrap up. "But first, you must show me your garden."

The scene is not yet wrapped ;)

Patting her grandmothers arm again, she promises her family, "I will be very careful and as smart as possible."

Turning slightly as her grandfather explains what Fendril saw in his drunken stupor, she glances to Guthlag wondering if he'd heard of such a beast. Not wanting to worry her grandparents again, she decides to ask the cleric about it later. Remembering that Guthlag had wanted to see the 'garden' she turns her grandmother towards the door. "Now Grandma if were done worrying, you told Guthlag you'd show him your garden before he heads back to town."

Obermind, what sort of knowledge check on the 'flying mountain cat'?

Hamish, you notice no one following you. The village has quieted down with the nightfall, and when you arrive at the guard tower you find it well lit, with torches in sconces on the walls, and lanterns spread around the perimeter.

"Well met!" - a voice greets you from up top, as someone peeks through the crenellations - "State your business!"

----------

"Now Grandma if were done worrying, you told Guthlag you'd show him your garden before he heads back to town."

"Yes" - Anna offered a polite smile - "Come..." - and led the way outside.

Obermind, what sort of knowledge check on the 'flying mountain cat'?

That would be Arcana Naomi ;)

3d20 ⇒ (13, 19, 16) = 48

"Ahoy, in the tower!" Hamish calls back, lifting his hat from his head and plopping it back down. "Hamish Macrae. I came in with the lot of animals earlier today. I've a question for Captain Baran. Won't take but a minute or two of his time, but probably best not shouted out for any and all to overhear."

After a few moments, a latch opens on the main door to the tower - you are allowed in, and again greeted by the apparently ever present smell of coffee. Captain Baran is inside with his elven lieutenant and a few other guards - ”Well met again” - he nods - ”You were looking for me?”

Hamish bows his head to Baran and the others. "Thank you for seeing me, sir." The former riverguard says. "Apologies for the interruption, but I meant to ask you about something we encountered on our journey here." He pulls out the bit of cloth with the crude raven heraldry. "We drove off several bandits attacking a caravan along the main road just the other side of the forest. We sent a few to the gods." He pokes his chin toward the cloth.

"What was surprising is they all wore that symbol as if they were actually fighting under some higher cause. The farmers we rescued said men had been harassing several of the farms and folk." He pulls a bit a his lower lip, still feeling bad about not doing more for those poor folk. "In light of the attack more locally here, I couldn't help but wonder if you've seen men wearing this symbol? Or if you happen to know anything about a new bandit lord trying to lay claim to the open lands 'tween here and Bard's Gate?"

Gubble is looking forward to a pint of something and a nice Bed, so he nods to Guthlag since he desires to stay behind and goes to the inn, keeping an eye out for dangers as he does so.

Guthlag is lost deep in thought, his eyes moving from plant to plant, scanning every detail. "I see that you've mixed in garlic, to keep away the bugs," he observes. "Tansy can do the same, there was a patch of it growing just down the road. Would you like me to pick you some?"

Hamish, give me a Diplomacy roll please ;)

Gubble has a slightly harder time finding his way as night creeps in, being unfamiliar with Fairhill and its environs - he meanders around looking for the inn where the others had headed off to. What was the name of that place again..?

Guthlag is lost deep in thought, his eyes moving from plant to plant, scanning every detail. "I see that you've mixed in garlic, to keep away the bugs," he observes. "Tansy can do the same, there was a patch of it growing just down the road. Would you like me to pick you some?"

"I did not know that... But I will keep it in mind. And I would love if you would pick up some yes, if you have time of course" - Anna smiles.

The fragrance from the garden gently drifts through the air as soon as you step around the house, in an array of heady, floral scents that shifts ever so lightly as the night breeze does.

The smell of honeysuckle is evident, its heavy, overpowering fragrance competing with the old fashion mock oranges' citrus notes. Roses abound, and it feels like each of them has a different scent - some smell like pure old fashion roses, some have citrus notes, some are not scented at all and to confuse the nose even more, the sweet briar rose has apple scented leaves that adds its own dimension of fragrance to the garden.

Combine all this with the dame’s rocket, peonies, sweet shrub, lilies plus a few other scented plants that are flowering at this time of year, and you feel invaded by the strong floral perfume all around. The colors are not as evident as they would be during the daylight, but the smells hint at what the garden may look like under the sun.

"What do you think?" - she asks Guthlag in shy tones - "We have also a vegetable garden, and fruit trees over on that side" - she points further behind the house.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

"You should be proud, I have seen few places so well kept." Guthlag curls his lips at the old woman. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. "I must meditate here, at dawn," he says sagely. The earth feels cool against his bare feet, loamy and fertile. "I do not mind the barn. Cann will be quiet if we are in a stall together." The half orc walks slowly through the garden, occasionally reaching out to brush his fingers against a soft petal or a springy stem.

As he walks, Guthlag wonders what would happen if this place were left unkept for a few years. Would the bushes grow wild and decadent, if left unpruned? In even more time, the forest might cover all in dense canopy. Yet even then, some passing traveler might still spy an unusual patch of flowers, breath in the sweet smells that would still linger on, and pick this spot to rest. Guthlag closes his eyes and breathes in again. The moon has looked down upon the earth beneath my feet since the world began to turn. Each night, she will hallow this spot with her gaze once again. "It would be a shame, to see such a garden trampled by unwelcome bullies," he says quietly. "But the plants would live on. Life always finds a way."

How late is it? Are there people around to ask?

Following along behind Guthlag and grandmother, Noami listened as the two green-thumbs talked. She enjoyed the smells of the garden and the different flowers, but plants were her mom's thing while music was her fathers thing. She tended to be more like her mom. Chuckling under her breath, they do say you marry someone like your parent; and her father did. Both Grandma and mom loved their gardens.

As Guthlag offered to sleep in the barn Noami considered offering him her bed and she'd sleep on the floor in front of the fire. But not wanting to undermine her grandma and not really sure how Cann would do in the house, Naomi nodded. "Good, Grandpa keeps the barn immaculate, do you need any extra blankets?"

"Yes, I would use them," Guthlag replies, not one to turn down small comforts.

Hamish bows his head to Baran and the others. "Thank you for seeing me, sir." The former riverguard says. "Apologies for the interruption, but I meant to ask you about something we encountered on our journey here." He pulls out the bit of cloth with the crude raven heraldry. "We drove off several bandits attacking a caravan along the main road just the other side of the forest. We sent a few to the gods." He pokes his chin toward the cloth.

Some of the gathered guards chuckle at this, and more than a few nod in approval. Until lieutenant Lauriel gives them a stern look that is...

"What was surprising is they all wore that symbol as if they were actually fighting under some higher cause. The farmers we rescued said men had been harassing several of the farms and folk." He pulls a bit a his lower lip, still feeling bad about not doing more for those poor folk. "In light of the attack more locally here, I couldn't help but wonder if you've seen men wearing this symbol? Or if you happen to know anything about a new bandit lord trying to lay claim to the open lands 'tween here and Bard's Gate?"

"You are not far from the mark, but there is no higher cause involved..." - Baran shook his head, calmly moving towards the coffee mug and pouring a cup - "They are no more than a group of criminals and bandits operating out of Crimmor, a small village about three days from here" - he explained, offering the drink to Hamish - "It used to be a straight up place, with most folk making a living from largemouth bass fished from the lake, and unofficially ruled by the merchants guild" - he scratched his head - "But things have taken a turn for the worse over the last decade - we've heard there is less and less fish in the lake, the merchants have fallen into disarray, and folk into misery. Which leaves room for these bastards, a self entitled thieves guild called The Dark Ravens to do as they please" - he added wearily.

"Truth is we've been hearing more and more about them" - Lauriel snarled - "They don't come into Fairhill openly, or they would regret it. But it seems they are expanding. Somewhere..."

How late is it? Are there people around to ask?

It was just an interlude :)

Eventually Gubble finds his way, and meets Jalros and Elgrin at The Cask and Flagon, calmly finishing their meal.

In one corner of the room, three rough looking men seem to have finished eating, and are now downing some sort of clear alcoholic beverage, while talking in hushed tones.

Across the room, an halfling sits alone, reading a book while sipping on something.

Elgrin is nursing his second round of ale in just a slightly awkward silence with Jalros, he usually stops at two, any more than that and his senses get dulled.

He's quite happy to have Mr. Gubble join them, knowing the chatty halfling will easily fill any awkward silences.
Hello Mr. Gubble. Take a seat. Did you decide a warm bed would be preferable to the barn?

Smiling at Guthlag, she turns back towards her Grandmother, "Grandma are the extra blankets still in the closet?" Pausing for a moment, she continues, "And what can I do to help with supper?"

"Oh yes" Gubble says pleasantly, as he awkwardly gets into the human sized chair. "I have a particularly vulnerability to the pervasiveness of pokey straw. No matter if I am fully clothed and on top of layers of blankets, the golden irritate gets in rather unmentionable places."

He breathes in deep the smells, sounds, and ambiance before asking "What have you found to be especially delightful in the way of food and beverage?" he asks the two men... two? "Where is Hamish?"

Hamish gratefully accepts the coffee and listens to the captain and then Lauriel. As they speak, he can't help but consider the men back at the inn. The bandits might be closer than anyone knows. For now he dismisses that thought. He'd no proof against the men other than an innkeepers look and his own gut. The reality is those men could just be hard working lads in from the fields. And they wouldn't be the first small town folk to give outsiders the old stink eye for no reason other then being outsiders.

"The Dark Ravens. Out of Crimmor." Hamish nods. He tried to recall any maps he'd seen of the Fairhill or a general layout of the region but was mostly drawing a blank.

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

"Is this Crimmor anywhere near the old wizards tower by any chance? Do you have a map I could peruse?" He asks, wondering if there might be a connection between the town's troubles and the necromancer he and the others now hunted. "It's quite a coincidence that this new band of troublemakers shows up right around the same time this necromancer reveals himself, and with designs on the region I have no doubt. Mayhap if we solve one problem, the other will melt away like snow in spring."

Jalros slowly picks at his food in silence while keeping an eye on the three men; completely unaware of any form of awkwardness. The next thing he notices is Gubble walking in and making his way toward them.

"Oh yes" Gubble says pleasantly, as he awkwardly gets into the human sized chair. "I have a particularly vulnerability to the pervasiveness of pokey straw. No matter if I am fully clothed and on top of layers of blankets, the golden irritate gets in rather unmentionable places."

He breathes in deep the smells, sounds, and ambiance before asking "What have you found to be especially delightful in the way of food and beverage?" he asks the two men... two? "Where is Hamish?"

"Hamish paid a visit to the Captain," he answers, keeping his focus on the three men and occasionally cutting his attention toward the lone halfling.

"Professional bonding, or did he have a particular reason?" he asks with curiosity. An emotion that is billowing up in a torrent, since even with his thick round glasses he has noticed Jalros' focus.

Leaning toward his big companion the halfling also adds "I could go on a chatting expedition, if knowledge on those two parties would ease a worried potential."

are the three rough looking men sporting obvious weaponry?

Smiling at Guthlag, she turns back towards her Grandmother, "Grandma are the extra blankets still in the closet?" Pausing for a moment, she continues, "And what can I do to help with supper?"

"They are dear. Thank you" - Anna smiled - "For supper... You can just join me in the kitchen, so we can chat"

"Is this Crimmor anywhere near the old wizards tower by any chance? Do you have a map I could peruse?" He asks, wondering if there might be a connection between the town's troubles and the necromancer he and the others now hunted. "It's quite a coincidence that this new band of troublemakers shows up right around the same time this necromancer reveals himself, and with designs on the region I have no doubt. Mayhap if we solve one problem, the other will melt away like snow in spring."

"They are not near one another, no - the ruined keep sits about a day's travel from here east and then north, amidst the forest" - Lauriel replied - "Crimmor lies further to the east, about three days and a half" - she explained, looking back at Baran - "And the Dark Ravens are not 'new' - they have been around for a while. They are just getting braver it seems"

Baran steps forward - "I really think you lot should pace yourselves - we have seen others eager to do good around these parts" - he rubbed his temples - "They rush off into the wilds and that is the last we see of them. Don't want to teach you any lessons, I am sure you know what you are doing but... We are far from Bard's Gate. The Stoneheart Forest has many dark corners and nooks"

are the three rough looking men sporting obvious weaponry?

They have clubs and daggers.

Nodding at her grandmother, Noami follows along until Grandma and Guthlag were done talking about the plants.

Whenever the conversation about plants is done
Once they were inside she heads back to the closet and pulls out a couple of the quilts and what looked like a horse blanket. Carrying them into the living room she sets them on a chair. Lifting up the edges of the two quilts, "These should nicely for you." She then points to the old wool blanket on the bottom, "And Cann can use the old horse blanket." Smiling at her friend she nods towards the kitchen, "I better go help grandma."

As she moves towards the kitchen she stops at her rucksack and pulls out her lute. Winking at her grandfather she heads into the kitchen. Climbing up on the counter, she tunes her lute and begins to quietly play.

perform (string): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

"Professional bonding, or did he have a particular reason?" he asks with curiosity. An emotion that is billowing up in a torrent, since even with his thick round glasses he has noticed Jalros' focus.

Leaning toward his big companion the halfling also adds "I could go on a chatting expedition, if knowledge on those two parties would ease a worried potential."

Jalros turns his focus square on Gubble and says, "To inquire about banditry and to see if those three at the table are involved in any way."

Gubble considers, then nods. He slips out of the oversized chair with an ale produced from somewhere. Ambling pleasantly up to the three rough-looking men with daggers and clubs, Gobble greets them with a "Hello" a pleasing smile if nothing else follows "A lovely evening, don't you know, and one we barely made it here to enjoy. Would you like to hear our story? You, fine gentlemen, look like you would enjoy a good story about daring heroics in the face of wicked banditry. Or maybe you, yourselves, had dealt with the detestable lot?"

bluff?: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22

oh boy.. This could could go south real quick Elgrin says softly as he watches Gubble stroll over to the other table
but then again bar fights are your area of expertise he says with a worried smile at Jalros

Hamish had no doubts about the dangers within the forest and nods his understanding at Baran's warning.

"Oh, I doubt we'll be harrying off willy-nilly after every critter that goes bump in the night or bravo with an broadsword." He says with a soft chuckle. "But it's certainly good to know what we might be up against when we go after this death weaver that killed those folk, jumped us, and stole Gubble's dingus."

"We've only two real goals at this point, far as I know. Secure the tower and whatever wizardly items may still be stored there and bring that necromancer to justice."

He bows his head to Baran and Lauriel. "The Dark Ravens, I'm happy to leave to you folk of the law." He pauses thoughtfully. "Still...should they, or any other bandit rabble, cross our path again, do we have leave to deal with them as needed to protect ourselves and the good folk of the region? " He really didn't want to run afoul of Baran's jurisdiction. Or cross a line that could cause problems if he and his companions all decided to occupy the old wizard's tower. For if they did, having Baran's good will would certainly make life easier.

Oh boy... This could go south real quick Elgrin says softly as he watches Gubble stroll over to the other table

But then again bar fights are your area of expertise he says with a worried smile at Jalros

Calmly cutting his eyes toward Elgrin, "No. It won't. Nothing more than talk is all that will occur," he states with complete confidence before returning his attention back to the table.

As she moves towards the kitchen she stops at her rucksack and pulls out her lute. Winking at her grandfather she heads into the kitchen. Climbing up on the counter, she tunes her lute and begins to quietly play.

Anna hums along as Naomi plays, stopping only to complement her granddaughter on her amazing skill with the lute - "You take after your father" - she offered with a sad smile - "I haven't seen him in quite some time"

"Hello" a pleasing smile if nothing else follows "A lovely evening, don't you know, and one we barely made it here to enjoy. Would you like to hear our story? You, fine gentlemen, look like you would enjoy a good story about daring heroics in the face of wicked banditry. Or maybe you, yourselves, had dealt with the detestable lot?"

"Not interested - move along" - one of the men grunts after staring at Gubble for a few seconds. He is a miserable looking one with deep-set eyes, greasy hair and missing several teeth - "Or are you paying for the drinks?" - he added without a hint of a smile.

"We've only two real goals at this point, far as I know. Secure the tower and whatever wizardly items may still be stored there and bring that necromancer to justice."

"Ye do know it is haunted, right?" - one of the guards pipes in - "No one comes back from that place" - he continued, before being cut short by Lauriel - "Mind your own business Tarios" - she snarled.

"The Dark Ravens, I'm happy to leave to you folk of the law." He pauses thoughtfully. "Still...should they, or any other bandit rabble, cross our path again, do we have leave to deal with them as needed to protect ourselves and the good folk of the region? "

"If you have to defend yourselves, do not hesitate" - Baran replies flatly.

Gubble does smile, all it takes for a conversation to start is a simple opening. "Negotiation IS a fine skill to cultivate, so... yes." he gestures to the server "A drink for two tale. A tale from me and then a tale from you." he pulls a chair over and sits with his mug.

perform storytelling: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23 !!!

"First mine..." he weaves the tale of their battle with the bandits, surprisingly well, given his over use of adjectives and sound effects. "And that gentleman is the story of The Band of the Six, new name pending, vs the Rotten Ravenous Ravens, name still being investigated."

diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21

Since he enjoyed that way too much, he ordered another round of drinks for his audience, "So gentlemen, a tale from you. About bandits or maybe just about yourselves since you seem about a miserable as one can be." an image of a cat after a bath and getting punched a few times comes to his mind, which he keeps to himself.

"That is a fine tale!" - the men all nodded in agreement, raising their mugs to Gubble.

Question for Gubble - are you keeping up with their drinking? :)

Since he enjoyed that way too much, he ordered another round of drinks for his audience, "So gentlemen, a tale from you. About bandits or maybe just about yourselves since you seem about a miserable as one can be."

"That is not very nice" - one of them grumbled - "At least we are not as short as a bench!" - they all chuckled - "And we're no good with tales - we are here fer work ye see? We came up from Crimmor ta sell fish, if ye can even call it that..." - the others nodded - "And we know nothin' of no bandits. What does it matter to ye anyway?"

Nope, Gubble is smart. His size coupled with his lack of dinner is enough to know keeping up with their drinking to be a bad idea.

sense motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5 Hmm, while he is smart, he does trust way too easily it seems

"Miserable in temperment, not appearance, is what I've meant." he explains quickly, which is true, but also in truth it could have been applied to both.

"Why do I care? Cause as I've said, I am in the Band of the Six... or wait, I might have failed to include my own membership, authors have a tendency to do that don't they." he adjusts his glasses, cleans them, considers "Bands are not your typical legends, made up of shining knights without flaws, we're closer to the people, cause that is what we are. So the people is who we'll protect, you see. Do you understand?"

"Of course!" - the man grunts - "But what is your instrument then? In the band?"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

Hamish tries to get a line on what makes Lauriel so easily irritable and secretive, but is unable to penetrate the hard, flat look of the woman. Not someone I'd want to play cards against. He this breaking his eyes away from the elf's cool scrutiny. Tipping his hat to the more vocal guard, Hamish reveals his smile once again.

"Well, now it would be wouldn't it." He says with good cheer and confidence. "It was a wizard's tower after all. Probably many a foul experiment or clever trap still lurking there waiting to burn, dissolve, electrocute, or otherwise rend an intruder...uhhhh...no longer a living member of the mortal realms." He drains the remainder of the offered coffee. And sets the mug down on the table. "That's why his good apprentice wishes to deal with the place. Make it safe so folk need not fear it anymore. I'm sure with his knowledge, we will succeed where others have failed."

He bows again to Captain Baran and Lauriel. "My thanks for your time and information. I should be off to a welcome bed and night's rest. A good evening to you."

Departing the captain's tower, he watches for any sign of the three men from the inn or others who might be lurking about watching his movements.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

Returning to the inn.

"What? No No No... and adventuring Band. Have not heard of the Tiny Silver Daggers, or the Kings of the Wylde, or Martha's Pungent Posts." the bespectacled halfling grows animated, even more than with their own story. "All some of the greatest Adventuring bands in existence. Though Martha's fame could be debated, in-depth, about whether it was her bear's famous smell or their marital prowess that made her them great."

Smilng at the compliment, Naomi notices her grandmothers sadness, as she comments about not having seen her son in some time. Naomi knew her dad was busy; teaching, doing gigs, writing with other artists. But none of it was that important, it's not like they didn't have a nest egg from their adventuring days. Heck if dad needed money, he'd just have to sell one of the do-dads from his 'go bag.'

Letting her smile fade, she just nodded. They had stopped visiting after the fight dad and grandpa had the last time they were here. Dad offered to move them to Bard's Gate, told them he'd build a small cottage on the other side of the grove. Grandpa's feathers got ruffled, started talking about responsibility, land, home and knowing one's place in the world. The conversation digressed from there, eventually turning into a yelling match, things were said, doors were slammed, and the next morning dad was loading the carriage getting ready to return to... what was it grandpa called 'Bard's Gate'? Naomi paused in thought, smiling as she remembered, Barf's Gate. Looking up at Grandma, she made sure she didn't start to giggle. Since then, Naomi had seen more of 'Bard's Gate' and she wasn't sure Grandpa had been wrong.

Shrugging, she tried not to make an excuse for her dad, but she couldn't resist. "Yeah, he's busy with his music and all. Did I tell you that he let Valda and I play with him? She's started writing most of the new stuff, even sings lead and dad had to harmonize." She looked down at her lute and started to play again.

perform (string): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

Whenever the conversation about plants is done
Once they were inside she heads back to the closet and pulls out a couple of the quilts and what looked like a horse blanket. Carrying them into the living room she sets them on a chair. Lifting up the edges of the two quilts, "These should nicely for you." She then points to the old wool blanket on the bottom, "And Cann can use the old horse blanket." Smiling at her friend she nods towards the kitchen, "I better go help grandma."

Guthlag accepts the extra blankets with a slight bow. He sniffs at the horse blanket, as he imagines Cann will, and decides that the wolf won't mind it. "I will take my leave." The half orc walks outside quietly. The sound of music from inside stops him before he gets to the barn.

He stands outside the house for some time, silently listening to Naomi play. Some might feel excluded, being sent outside to sleep in the barn while others listen to music and prepare to sleep in their beds. Guthlag feels more comfortable. The night air is cool on his face. Cann returns quietly and brushes against his leg. Naomi plays on.

Guthlag tucks himself into his stall atop a bed of dry straw, pulling Cann close. She has pine sap in her fur. As he sleeps, Guthlag dreams that he himself is a wolf, racing through a mountain wood in search of game.

Hamish tries to get a line on what makes Lauriel so easily irritable and secretive, but is unable to penetrate the hard, flat look of the woman. Not someone I'd want to play cards against.

She just seems to be a hard lass is all, or pretends to ;)

He bows again to Captain Baran and Lauriel. "My thanks for your time and information. I should be off to a welcome bed and night's rest. A good evening to you."

"You are welcome" - Baran nodded - "Stay safe" - he added, the words echoing in Hamish's ears as he returned to the inn.

"What? No No No... and adventuring Band. Have not heard of the Tiny Silver Daggers, or the Kings of the Wylde, or Martha's Pungent Posts." the bespectacled halfling grows animated, even more than with their own story. "All some of the greatest Adventuring bands in existence. Though Martha's fame could be debated, in-depth, about whether it was her bear's famous smell or their marital prowess that made her them great."

"No idea what yer on about..." - the men seem a little confused about Gubble's discourse. Or maybe they are getting drunk?

"Martha's whatnow?"

Shrugging, she tried not to make an excuse for her dad, but she couldn't resist. "Yeah, he's busy with his music and all. Did I tell you that he let Valda and I play with him? She's started writing most of the new stuff, even sings lead and dad had to harmonize." She looked down at her lute and started to play again.

"I hope he is not taking you into those places, filled with them 'adventurer types'..." - Anna commented, and soon dinner was ready.

"Your orc friend will not be joining us Naomi?" - the stubborn Gerbert showed up limping at the kitchen door.

Having learned a bit about the local troubles, Hamish makes his way back to the inn. After a good meal and looking forward to a warm bed for the night, the swordsman is in good spirits, tipping his hand to any passing locals as he whistles a well known pub tune on his way back to the others.

Gubble sighes, it is a long long sigh and well practiced in truth. "Pay it no mind, I am the vocals, in your example I guess." he half jumps off the chair, and retrieves his barely drunk ale "Well good night gentlemen, I wish you well, stay away from bandits, live a good life, and all that." then the halfling goes back to his table to eat an abundance of warm food.