The Snows of Summer ❄️ ❄️ ❄️Reign of Winter 2E ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ (Inactive)

Game Master Reckless

The sleepy village of Heldren has rarely seen so much excitement or concern. Hunters from the nearby Border Wood speak of unnaturally cold weather at the height of summer that descended on the forest just days ago. Heavy snow followed, and those who returned spoke of an uneasy presence in the woods, as well as new, dangerous predators. No one knows what this event means, but the town’s soothsayer, Old Mother Theodora, claims dark times lie ahead.

As if in proof of that dire prophecy, a badly wounded mercenary arrived in town yesterday, claiming to be a bodyguard of Lady Argentea Malassene. He told the village council that the noblewoman’s escort came under attack by bandits and strange, wintry creatures near the edge of the Border Wood.

He alone escaped, and Lady Argentea was dragged away into the forest. Now the townsfolk cast fearful eyes toward the snowy forest, worried what else might emerge to threaten their peaceful village.

Map of Heldren

Some additional things you may know or have heard as rumors. You are allowed on Society or Diplomacy check, and reveal everything with a DC under your check.

Entering the village from any direction, the village square is visible at the crossroads. The most notable feature of Heldren’s town square is the large statue of a beautiful woman right in the center of the town. Usually just called “the Lady,” the statue has been here for as long as anyone can remember, and no one knows who it actually represents. Some believe the Lady was the founder of Heldren or some ancient, forgotten Taldan noblewoman or even a mysterious fey forest goddess. Others have more sinister theories—an evil witch turned to stone for her wickedness or a magical statue through which the satrap of Qadira can spy on Taldor. On any given day, a few entrepreneurs selling goods or produce can be found on the square, and a market is held on the last Fireday of every month. Elder Natharen Safander also hosts the annual Harvest Feast in the town square, during which the people of Heldren erect a giant bonfire in the square and bedeck the Lady in garlands of flowers.

Today, however, you witness a different offering for the lady, for, as you approach the square on your way to find out what all these rumors are about, you witness the fluttering of a single snowflake, too large to be natural, almost the size of a blacksmith's fist, ripping through the air like an enchanted weapon seeking a target on a wind from the southwest, cutting back and forth until it lands at the lady's feet just after colliding with her cheek, leaving a chunk of its ice under her eye, which melts in the summer sun, forming a teardrop. The snowflake also melts rapidly after it lands, leaving scant trace except a patch of mud in the square's dirt.

Perhaps it's coincidence that all of you witness this upon your arrival at the square. Perhaps, it is fate being born.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (20) + 0 = 20
Well well well.
-----

Noemy windmills her fluff-filled arms, teetering on the edge of the Lady's brow. Just a moment prior, she'd spotted the falling snowflake, and in an effort to catch the thing, she'd hoisted herself swiftly up the statue and reached out from a perch at its highest point. She rights herself atop the statue's head and drops into a seated position.

Those in the square see that Noemy has the appearance of a traditional cloth doll in a style rare in Taldor. She stands at a height of just one and a half feet tall. Her body is made of a simple and rough-spun grey cloth, bound by long black ribbons. Rather than detailed facial features, her ribbons also are woven into her head in a cross shape that vaguely gives the impression of a face. Small tufts of loose stuffing serve as her feet, while the bottom half of her body is permanently stained in dark blood. Two oversized needles are stuck through her ribbons, one tethered to her arm by a length of silken thread while the other larger needle has a wicked edge.

She looks down into the square, pondering all the rumors swirling around like snowflakes themselves.

Society: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25

Lilyana just stands agape looking at what just transpired in front of her eyes as she is standing near the village square. "Lady Argentea kidnapped. White talking Stag. Giant white weasel, it's snowing..." she mutters to herself as she rests her head in her hand, sighing to herself. Am I just bad luck, she quietly thinks to herself as she idly watches the mud on the ground.

She scans any visible crowd, looking for anyone she might recognize even after 30 years abroad. Finding no one she recognizes, she instead decides to idly flip her last silver while looking visibly anxious.

Upon seeing the poppet on top of the statue, she drops the coin mid-toss and just stares blankly at Noemy, very confused at how much the town has changed in the 30 years since she was last here. "This is something you don't see every day" she mutters to herself, while questioning if this is, indeed, a normal occurrence in this new version of the town she walked in on only a few days ago.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (14) + 0 = 14

Maq'la strides into town, her clothes covered in sweat after a day helping bale hay. She wears simple leathers and light furs, and has shock of icy-blue hair amidst her thick green locks.

It is no shame to get a few coins for some honest labor...but where's the glory in tossing bales of hay? Surely there is some opportunity in this town to test my mettle...

Maq'la twirls her Aq'lakh impatiently, and then looks up to see both the bizarre snow falling, and the little doll-girl that Maq'la met at the Silver Stoat.

She laughs–a loud, warm, barking laugh–at seeing the doll-girl at play. "HA! I was just wondering who I could talk into joining me at the Stoat. And now I've got twice the reason for it, with the weather going freakishly cold. Why did I come down from the World's Edge Mountains, if it was just going to snow down here?"

Maq'la notices a few others about the square as well. When a human starts muttering about the strangeness, Maq'la claps her on the shoulder. "What're you muttering about? I don't know anything about a stag or a weasel, but the Silver Stoat is a fine spot to raise a tankard." Maq'la lifts her own, slung at her waist.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7 A natural 1 on my first roll of the campaign? This does not bode well...

Vhekk abruptly halts as the massive snowflake spirals out of the sky on its fateful journey. His empty eyes gaze up at the strange statue of the Lady and the tiny figure standing atop it, and his tail twitches back and forth as he considers the situation.

The young man has the dark skin and hair of a Keleshite, though his horns and razor-sharp claws mark him as simultaneously less and more than human. His clothes are the simple garb of a woodsman, and he wears a bulky, sturdily woven cloak. A brace of rabbits, tied together by rough rope, is slung over his left shoulder, and he carries a ghironda in his right talon.

Once the shock of the unusual occurrence has worn off, however, his gaze is drawn to the stranger in town, nodding as she speaks. As she finishes, he responds, his lilting voice bearing a strong Qadiran accent. "Indeed - most unseasonable weather, is it not? I don't believe I have seen you before, stranger, but if you're new in town, the Silver Stoat has rooms for travelers. As a matter of fact, I was going there myself - I have some game I was hoping to sell the innkeeper." He holds up his rabbits to demonstrate.

When the towering farmhand approaches, he greets her with a friendly smile. "The Silver Stoat? It would seem we're heading the same way. I bring with me game for the stew-pot and music for the common room - perhaps enough to help us forget the bitter cold and the biting wind, yes?"

"New in town?" To that response, Lilyana laughs a little at the notion that people would consider her a newcomer. "Well, I guess you could say that! I'm Lilyana, by the way; I used to live here some 30 odd years ago, so most of this is familiar to me..." She coughs before resonding to her own speech with "Er... except for the cold. That's new!"

Turning to the farmhand Orc near her, she responds to the mention of World's Edge with a simple, direct "I definitely feel that sentiment!"

On the prospect of entering the Silver Stoat, she grins a little seeing that it is still around. "I don't exactly prefer to drink much, but I'd be glad to join you guys there if you'll have me..." all the while questioning to herself: How do poppets drink ale? I'll have to ask the doll-girl later how that's even possible.

"Ooh, Stoat time!" Noemy hears Maq'la from across the square and rappels down the statue with a length of silken thread. She scurries across the cobblestones, along the way noticing the silver coin Lilyana dropped and scooping it up "Oh hello little guy!" She greets the coin before looking up to Lilyana. "Thanks for your donation! I'll buy you a round, since it looks like you're broke." The doll doesn't have a face, per se, but it's clear enough that she's joking around from the tone of her voice. She tugs Lilyana's shoelace before setting off to regroup with Maq'la.

She tosses her tethered needle up to loop around Maq'la's shoulder and then hoists herself up to take a seat. "To the Stoat! Oh and, did you hear about the goings on at Wishbone Creek? If something's really trying to lure farmers into the forest, we might just have a job on our hands, don't you think?"

The day the snow startes falling, sentries report a figure observing Heldren from the forest to the west. The figure sitting down near the treeline, as if waiting for something. A few hours pass, and the visitor stands up to carefully walks to the village proper.

A female half orc dressed in various skins and furs, hair tangled almost to the point of having dreadlocks. A mask on her face covers everything under her grey eyes. The skin above the mask is light brown. It might be just dirt, however. She wears simple shoes, similar to sandals, but much less refined.

The half orc walks to the square to observe the enormous snowflake flying through the square and ending up on the statue. Observing the scene, the person walks closer to the statue to listen in on the conversation. She looks around, notices a few individuals already present, and seems hesitant. A few seconds pass, and she notices the orc present. She tilts her head to the side, like a curious dog, and approaches Maq'la.

"Uh... good day." the woman speaks, sheepishly, attempting to insert herself in the discussion. "Curious times we live in, huh?"

She remains silent for just a second, then takes a quick breath as she puts an index finger to her left cheek. "Oh! Sorry - I don't think we met? My name is Yorah. I maintain a nearby glade, but noticed some odd weather for this time of the year. Anyone here would know what's that about, by chance?"

A bee flies from underneath one of the hides she wears. The half orc whispers something, and the bee disappears in the clothes again. "I apologise if I am being too forward. I am not assuming anything. Just not a people person, usually."

Forgot about this.

Well crap, I forgot to put my skills into the character sheet and I don't have access to the site I built on from work. I can't recall if Ai is trained in diplomacy or not so I'm going to roll this as untrained for now and will update my skills this evening when I am home.

Gather Info: 1d2 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

Hehe, rumors? What are these things called "rumors"? I never truck in such things it seems. A post is incoming once I get it ready.

A slender young woman with black hair and violet eyes walked through the streets of Heldren. She wore a white cotton dress and a cloak with some blue trimming that tightened at the waist and bust showing that she was an adult by the curves of her body. Her hair was tied in a tail behind her with a blue ribbon and she made her way through the festival crowd like a native despite her exotic looks. She did not look like a native though, her features showing marked signs of an exotic land few had seen and looked very much like her mother who had moved to Heldren twenty years ago from Tian-Xa. It was Ai and she had been wandering the town square checking out what the vendors had for sale and generally enjoying herself unaware of what was to come. Unlike many others she paid no attention to the rumors, letting them go in one ear and out the other, as she enjoyed herself. Rumors were nothing but trouble and usually exaggerated or made up just to hurt someone.

Ai started to feel a bit chilled as she was outside and happened to be passing by the statue where several others she recognized were standing and talking. She didn't know many of them well, though she recognized most, though there was one completely new face in the crowd. She saw the snowflake fall to the feet of the statue and shivered even as she heard them talk of going to the Stoat for drinks.

Ai smiled at Vhekk, the one she knew the most of from running into him in the forest on several occasions as she practiced using her abilities. She approached and said, "Hello Mr. Vhekk, it is nice to see you somewhere that doesn't preclude you trying to sneak a peek at me for once," she said in a teasing tone.

Once Yorah has approached she said, "I have not seen you for a long time Yorah, are you doing well?" The last time she had seen Yorah Ai was very young, and her grandfather still lived. He had gone to the recluse for herbal remedies for the aches and pain of age until he passed some years ago.

Yorah seems set aback as she looks at the violet-eyed woman, searching her memory.

"Ah..." she scans the woman head to toe with a quick glance, looking for something. "You..." she offers an awkward smile with hints of confusion. "Yes, long time indeed."

"Very long." the half orc scans the woman again. "How's... your... dear uncle?"

One awkward pause later, Yorah shrugs and adds "No point in this. Allow me to come clean - Sorry, but I have no idea."

As Noemy descends from the statue, Vhekk greets the diminutive poppet with a friendly smile. "And how are you on this brisk day, my little friend?" He shifts the rabbits carried over his shoulder and grips his ghironda in both claws. "Are there any songs or tales you wish to hear tonight in the Stoat, little one? The Ballad of Namzaruum, perhaps? What about Sir Codwin of Augustana and the Sky Pirates of Sarusan? That one is always popular with the young. The Nine Labors of Mandraivus? I bring with me many stories from distant lands, and I will gladly share them with you - after all, is it not written that knowledge is the greatest treasure of all, for nothing else of such value can be given freely without fear of loss?"

Vhekk turns to face the two new arrivals as they speak up - while his solid black eyes remain as inscrutable as ever, his face betrays recognition and a degree of surprise at the appearance of the two townspeople.

"Hello Mr. Vhekk, it is nice to see you somewhere that doesn't preclude you trying to sneak a peek at me for once."

Vhekk raises one eyebrow and crosses his arms. "Is that what you call it when I try to keep you from getting yourself killed? As I've told you a dozen times, the deep woods are not a place to enter without care. Traps cannot tell you from a rabbit or a deer, and bandits rarely bother to make the same distinction." After a moment, however, one end of his mouth twitches upwards in a smile. "Still, it is good to see you unharmed, Miss Calvianus, despite your best efforts to the contrary."

"I have not seen you for a long time Yorah, are you doing well?"

At the name 'Yorah,' Vhekk grins and snaps his fingers with a sound like sharpening knives. "Yorah - that was the name! You are that hermit who lives in the woods near town, yes? We met once - you showed me how to make a splint when Davik the trapper broke his leg."

The young man turns to any unfamiliar faces in the group (likely just Lilyana, but possibly Maq'la as well), nodding in greeting. "Of course - where are my manners? I am Vhekk al-Atarshamayyin Vahdat Adalan Sedeq, formerly of Qadira, though I now make my home wherever my pack grows too heavy to bear. I would shake your hand, but the last time I tried, the other fellow almost lost a few fingers. It seems our paths all take us to the Silver Stoat, so we may as well walk together, though I am afraid I do not drink alcohol. 'An Eagle Knight knows not the succor of drink, but remains vigilant at all times, so as to act with clarity in the defense of others whenever duty demands it.' That's from The Knight's Duty, by Horvus Arbenchal - he's a philosopher from Andoran, to the west."

Glad that she won't be alone in not drinking ale (or dipping her head into a tankard, like Noemy), Lilyana chuckles a retort to the Tiefling. "Hah! I won't be the only one there drinking non-alcoholic beverages, then!"

She's a bit disappointed no one has heard of her name in town, but with a jovial smile still on her face, she looks toward Vhekk and says "I am Lilyana Boyarov, but you can just call me Lily. Originally from Heldren... though that was 30 years ago at this point. Pleasure to meet you, Vhekk."

She briefly, and stupidly, considers outright shaking the Tiefling's clawed hands out of respect even at a detriment to herself.

"Sadly, my reason for not drinking isn't as noble as yours. Using my weapon requires my wits about me at all times, and steady hands. Downing ale is a bit counter to that, so I tend to avoid it. I would, however, like to hear a few tales, if that's okay!"

She leans down and grabs her arquebus, which she had let lie in the snow to give her arms a break. She checks, firstly, that it is not loaded with ammunition.

"Hah! I have something you can shake, Vhekk," she quips light-heartedly before turning the gun barrel to face herself, and the butt of the gun towards Vhekk. "This is the best I can offer you in terms of handshakes, I quite need my hands in shape to reload and fire!"

"Anyone here would know what's that about, by chance?"

"Not the foggiest. Seems like magic or something, doesn't it? I wonder why anyone would go out of their way to do something like it, though." Noemy pulls Yorah along to join the rest of the slowly forming group heading to the Stoat.

She waves to Vhekk "I'm great! And I'll be even better with some ale. Have any stories about magical snowstorms? If even half those rumors are true Maq'la and I, and maybe some other people, will have some work out there. Should be even more fun if we're worrying about ice trolls or frost giants or anything else you usually throw into the story. Imagine them sneaking up behind us while we're out hunting some mystery stag!"

When Noemy starts to climb her, Maq'la happily reaches down to put the doll-girl onto her shoulder, patting her on the head as she does.

"To the Stoat! Oh and, did you hear about the goings on at Wishbone Creek? If something's really trying to lure farmers into the forest, we might just have a job on our hands, don't you think?"

Shaking her head, Maq'la answers, "No, I haven't heard a thing. I got fed up from not finding any suitable warrior's work and ended up agreeing to help Farmer Johas with his hay baling today, but if you've a lead on a job worthy of our mettle then I'd love to hear it, now or over a pint."

When Maq'la's eyes land on Yorah, she smiles. "Sister! I don't see enough orcs–or dromaar[1], for that matter–around this town. Will you join us at the Stoat too? They don't serve orcish ales, sadly, but Menander's Three Devils Ale is...worthy in its own right."

When Vhekk introduces himself, Maq'la nods–frowning slightly when he mentions avoiding alcohol. "Ahhh, but a true warrior can fight mightily and drink mightily, as the moment demands. Our passions can sometimes mislead us, yes, but Khai’dun Khailiun[2] shows us that through our passions we can also reach untold heights.

"Still, Kai'dun also teaches that freedom is dear, and I'll fight for your right to abstain, if it comes to it."

Turning to those new to her, she says, "At any rate, I am Maq'la, daughter of Ulkh, and a proud warrior of Clan Gartok."

Notes:
[1] In case you missed it, part of the Remaster is that half-orcs are now referred to commonly as Dromarr (and folks of any Ancestry can have Orcish Heritage).
[2] Up to you whether you would recognize the name, but Maq'la is referring to the god of glorious battle, tests of strength, and raucous drink: Khai’dun Khailiun (who humans might know better as Cayden Cailean). In my entirely made up canon, Orcs and Dromarr know that Kai'dun was a Dromarr or Orc and Human ancestry...a clear fact that most humans seem not to know (or to doubt, after being informed). No clue what the DC would be to know any of that, so just make your own call for yourself...

At the name 'Yorah,' Vhekk grins and snaps his fingers with a sound like sharpening knives. "Yorah - that was the name! You are that hermit who lives in the woods near town, yes? We met once - you showed me how to make a splint when Davik the trapper broke his leg."

Yorah squints her eyes at the man for but a brief moment. "Ah. The Southerner! Yes, that story makes sense. Unless there are others like me in the woods. But I recall you, yes - your parents had the wisdom to give you a name for multiple breaths. Do they talk to spirits, perhaps?“

"Not the foggiest. Seems like magic or something, doesn't it? I wonder why anyone would go out of their way to do something like it, though." Noemy pulls Yorah along to join the rest of the slowly forming group heading to the Stoat.

"That's what I'm here to find out, little one. Snow at this time of the year, in this area - very odd. Unless one of the mountains rains fire in the area, and this white cover is actually ash...“ Yorah realises the group is moving, and she is being pulled by what is essentially a rag doll. "Where are we going?"

When Maq'la's eyes land on Yorah, she smiles. "Sister! I don't see enough orcs–or dromaar, for that matter–around this town. Will you join us at the Stoat too? They don't serve orcish ales, sadly, but Menander's Three Devils Ale is...worthy in its own right."

When Vhekk introduces himself, Maq'la nods–frowning slightly when he mentions avoiding alcohol. "Ahhh, but a true warrior can fight mightily and drink mightily, as the moment demands. Our passions can sometimes mislead us, yes, but Khai’dun Khailiun shows us that through our passions we can also reach untold heights.

"Still, Kai'dun also teaches that freedom is dear, and I'll fight for your right to abstain, if it comes to it."

Turning to those new to her, she says, "At any rate, I am Maq'la, daughter of Ulkh, and a proud warrior of Clan Gartok."

The half-blood gives Maq'la a nod to return the greeting. "What's the Stoat?" she tries to insert a sentence between the rapid fire of the bolsterous full orc. She gives up and just lets Noemy drag her along as she listens to the summary of Khai'dun's teachings. "They sound caring and fearless. A fine creature to follow, from the brief few words you offered. I am more of a Great Eld person, but there are few we don't get along with, at least when it comes to a general mindset."

What roll would it take to discern Khai'dun as a derivation of Cayden? I would say probably a Linguistics roll but that isn't in 2E sadly.

Lilyana turns to Yorah besides her, and responds to the confusion "The Silver Stoat is a local tavern, for the record, if my memory serves me right."

Turning to the full-blooded orc, Lilyana responds jovially with a reasoning for sobriety: "Passion can be many things, and doesn't necessarily have to be drink. I have tasted alcohol before, but never found any to my taste, in addition to my previous stated reasons! Who knows, maybe Vhekk here is the same!"

Pondering briefly on the topic of alcohol, she poses a question to the orc to test a theory: "Have you ever heard of Cayden Cailean? Sounds quite similar, both in sound and in ideals, to your Khai'dun, in all honesty. I'm a worshipper of Alseta, myself, but I know a bit of Cayden seeing how popular his worship is."

"I have tasted alcohol before, but never found any to my taste, in addition to my previous stated reasons! Who knows, maybe Vhekk here is the same!"

Vhekk smiles. "Actually, my reason for abstaining from drink is twofold - it's part religious, but also part practical, as you stated a moment ago - you see, I never had much chance..." He trails off as Lilyana extends her firearm for examination. "...A strange weapon indeed, Miss Boyarov. Where did you say you came into possession of it?" The young man peers closer at the unusual instrument. "I recall hearing tales of something quite like this in the hands of the Sunsu Godae of the Chang Liao Jungle. According to the stories, their warriors have a tool that sends a three-foot steel arrow through any enemy you care to name and the five people behind him. It was called a hwach'a, I think, but this is clearly different - much smaller, for one."

"Have any stories about magical snowstorms? [...] Imagine them sneaking up behind us while we're out hunting some mystery stag!"

The little poppet's words distract Vhekk from the strange weapon, and he looks up at Noemy. "Magical snowstorms? More stories than you can count, little one! In the Crown of the World, such hazards are common, and travelers throughout the ages have seen things within their alabaster depths - some report faces in the swirling snow, others speak of strange structures or devices at the storm's icy heart. Most tales are probably the result of snow blindness and delirium, but there may be some truth to others." After a moment, his brow furrows. "Just now, you mentioned a mystery stag, yes? What do you mean by that? I've been out hunting for the past week or so, and I'm afraid I don't know much about the latest gossip in town. I had heard Dryden Kepp was drunk and spouting some sort of nonsense, but I never pay attention to his tall tales."

"Ahhh, but a true warrior can fight mightily and drink mightily, as the moment demands. Our passions can sometimes mislead us, yes, but Khai’dun Khailiun shows us that through our passions we can also reach untold heights."

Vhekk shrugs at Maq'la's words. "I suppose it's simply a difference of opinion, then. My god, Atarshamayyin the Windspeaker, teaches that vices of the body, such as drink, and vices of the spirit, such as undue passion, close our ears to the whispers of what was and what will be. Still, if the Voice on the Wind does not speak to you, it's no business of mine how you worship, and I wish you well."

"I recall you, yes - your parents had the wisdom to give you a name for multiple breaths. Do they talk to spirits, perhaps?"

The young man raises his eyebrows. "I have not the faintest idea - I never knew them, you see. I was found in a basket, floating on the river that runs from the Burnt Lands. As for my name, it serves as a record of who I am and what I have faced in my life; Vhekk is my personal name, al-Atarshamayyin identifies my god, Vahdat is the name of the household I served in, Adalan is the merchant house to whom they owed allegiance, and Sedeq is the city from which I hail." He scowls. "It is a godless city, where pesh merchants and slave-sellers ply their vile trades in every market. The basket I was found in fetched a higher price than I did - of which I was constantly reminded as a child."

"Snow at this time of the year, in this area - very odd. Unless one of the mountains rains fire in the area, and this white cover is actually ash..."

Vhekk shakes his head. "If that was the case, it wouldn't be shaped like a snowflake, would it? And what of the chill in the air? Does ash cause that? For that matter, if it were natural in any way, would it not fall in pieces like regular snow, rather than all at once? There are strange forces at work in the depths of the forest. As it appears to me, our duty as people of Heldren demands that we investigate and put an end to this if we can."

As the group forms up and heads for the Stoat, Noemy sits on Maq'la's shoulder and kicks her fluffy feet. She fills in Maq'la and Vhekk on the rumor she heard. "Just a few days ago, there was a boy at a farm near Wishbone Creek who wandered onto the creek and fell through the ice. The weirdest thing I heard is that he said he spotted a white stage in the forest, and it talked! Second weirdest thing is that the creek was all iced over and cold in the middle of summer. Isn't that just crazy? Seems like that spot there's even colder than the town proper!"

"My arquebus? smaller? this thing sometimes knocked me prone before I got used to it! I purchased one while I took a small stay in Alkenstar. They are a lot like crossbows, skill transfers fairly well, but propelled by explosions instead of a string...

My grandmother told me stories of her homeland, a land much like a cold, desolate version of the Duchy of Alkenstar. She said that there, there were no practictioners of magic, but technology and firearms were much like what Alkenstar has, if not even more advanced. Strange technological inventions that would make Brigh proud!"

She explains this proudly, and after the "handshake" is finished, returns the firearm to her side, before going onto detail what her grandmother's stories were:

"I've been looking for that place all my life. I was going to take a break from all the searching to visit my Father in Heldren, before visiting Numeria and, funnily enough, the Crown of the World! I've spent longest in northern Arcadia, and Hongal in Tian Xia, though. Also made brief stops in the Shackles, Ustalav, and Vudra, with a very brief stay in Irrisen..."

Recalling her very brief stint in Irrisen, and responding to mention of the Crown of the World, and pipes up about the magical snowstorm. "The Crown's snow and winter are not magical, though. Sure, the dangers faced are the same, but magical winter feels to me distinctly Irriseni. I was there the briefest of all my trips... far too much magic for my grandmother's home. I've been practically anywhere that is either cold, or has firearms."

Pondering briefly on the topic of alcohol, she poses a question to the orc to test a theory: "Have you ever heard of Cayden Cailean? Sounds quite similar, both in sound and in ideals, to your Khai'dun, in all honesty. I'm a worshipper of Alseta, myself, but I know a bit of Cayden seeing how popular his worship is."

Maq'la laughs, slapping her flank. "Heard of him? He's the same god! Humans pronounce it 'Cayden'...which makes some sense, I suppose. Taldan-speakers often have difficulty pronouncing orcish names, after all.

"The really odd part is that the humans I've met since I've come to Heldren all claim not to realize that Khai'dun was as dromarr as Yorah here: both human and orc. Honestly, how plausible is it that the god of glorious battle, of tests of strength, and of raucous drink wouldn't have some orc heritage? It seems a bit silly...but I'd been warned that humans can be quite provincial at times. No offense intended."

Vhekk shrugs at Maq'la's words. "I suppose it's simply a difference of opinion, then. My god, Atarshamayyin the Windspeaker, teaches that vices of the body, such as drink, and vices of the spirit, such as undue passion, close our ears to the whispers of what was and what will be. Still, if the Voice on the Wind does not speak to you, it's no business of mine how you worship, and I wish you well."

Maq'la's expression is the same as if someone said they've sworn off all food but cabbage. With a shrug, she says, "Well, we have a saying in orcish: Different strokes for different folks."

As the group forms up and heads for the Stoat, Noemy sits on Maq'la's shoulder and kicks her fluffy feet. She fills in Maq'la and Vhekk on the rumor she heard. "Just a few days ago, there was a boy at a farm near Wishbone Creek who wandered onto the creek and fell through the ice. The weirdest thing I heard is that he said he spotted a white stag in the forest, and it talked! Second weirdest thing is that the creek was all iced over and cold in the middle of summer. Isn't that just crazy? Seems like that spot there's even colder than the town proper!"

"Snow–and a frozen river–in summer? A talking stag? You're right, Noemy. You've piqued my curiosity. Let's go check it out, perhaps after a pint to loosen us up. Baling hay doesn't agree with me."

"Very long." the half orc scans the woman again. "How's... your... dear uncle?"

One awkward pause later, Yorah shrugs and adds "No point in this. Allow me to come clean - Sorry, but I have no idea."

Ai gave a slight, bittersweet, smile as she said, "That is alright Yorah. You have not seen me since Grandfather passed away, it was he who I visited you with."

Vhekk raises one eyebrow and crosses his arms. "Is that what you call it when I try to keep you from getting yourself killed? As I've told you a dozen times, the deep woods are not a place to enter without care. Traps cannot tell you from a rabbit or a deer, and bandits rarely bother to make the same distinction." After a moment, however, one end of his mouth twitches upwards in a smile. "Still, it is good to see you unharmed, Miss Calvianus, despite your best efforts to the contrary."

Ai rolled her eyes at Vhekk's response but couldn't help a slight smile from crossing her lips. Ai tended to be very serious and there were few people she would tease, but Vhekk was one of them ever since he came across her bathing in a spring one day while practicing control of water. She knew it was a mistake, but she still teased him about it. "Of course Mr. Vhekk, I'll be more careful."

"Just a few days ago, there was a boy at a farm near Wishbone Creek who wandered onto the creek and fell through the ice. The weirdest thing I heard is that he said he spotted a white stage in the forest, and it talked! Second weirdest thing is that the creek was all iced over and cold in the middle of summer. Isn't that just crazy? Seems like that spot there's even colder than the town proper!"

As the group began to make their way to the Stoat for drinks Ai decided to tag along. She found the discussions interesting, though the mention of the rumors brought a slight frown to her face. Ai had little use for those and said, "I would not take those stories as anything but stories. Rumors are rarely reliable."

As they went Ai heard what Lilyana was saying about her grandmother's stories and something about that tweaked something in Ai's memories. She didn't really get what it was though and shrugged it off as they entered the Stoat.

Ai heard Lilyana mention Tian-xa and her eyes opened a bit wider, she knew her mother came here from there as a little girl and that the journey took a really long time, as well as some about the culture and language. She looked at Lilyana and said a little sadly, "I wish you had been here a few years agon, my Grandfather would have loved to talk to you of your time in Tian-xa. He and my Mother came here from there before I was born and he missed his homeland a great deal."

Yorah perks up her head when the debate turns to creeks that are frozen over and talking stags in the nearby woods.

"Uh - I agree with Maq'la on this. We should definitely investigate the odd weather, and absolutely try to find this stag. As for the snowdrop on the statue here... who is it, anyway?"

Yorah looks back into the square, trying to take in the features of the depicted woman.

She puts a palm on her forehead and massages her head with her fingers. "Ugh. I thought the morning was weird, but now I only have more questions."

Responding to Ai, Lilyana says "Yeah, I don't think I was in the same region as your grandparents were, but I'd be happy to share tales if you like. I have some from every region I visited, as well as some my grandmother told me."

Hearing the "who was it" from Yorah, Lilyana briefly recounts some information on the statue of The Lady. "Do you mean the statue of the Lady? Some people say she was the founder of Heldren, some say a forgotten noblewoman, some a great fey creature... others have darker theories... petrified witch, or a statue which Qadirans use to spy on Taldor... I believe the forgotten noblewoman theory, personally... someone would have remembered any of the other events"

"My arquebus? Smaller? This thing sometimes knocked me prone before I got used to it! I purchased one while I took a small stay in Alkenstar. They are a lot like crossbows, skill transfers fairly well, but propelled by explosions instead of a string..."

Vhekk thinks for a moment, his tail twitching as he considers the stories he has heard over the years. "I have heard of Alkenstar, though I have not visited it as you have. Many from Qadira, and indeed the Padishah Empire as a whole, seek refuge there. The tales describe it as a place where magic has died, where the artificer and the scholar are greater than the mage. As for your - arquebus, you called it? - the Sunsu Godae reportedly carry the hwach'a on oxcarts, such is its size. Even crafting such a thing so it might be carried in your hands is quite a feat."

"Of course Mr. Vhekk, I'll be more careful."

The young man's face softens, and he sighs. "My words were hasty, and for that I apologize. While I am no sorcerer as you are, I know you are more than capable of caring for yourself, but you were one of the first in this town to treat me with any decency when I first arrived here. You are my friend, Ai, and I would not wish you to come to harm."

"Do you mean the statue of the Lady? Some people say she was the founder of Heldren, some say a forgotten noblewoman, some a great fey creature... others have darker theories... petrified witch, or a statue which Qadirans use to spy on Taldor..."

The tiefling hunter nods. "I have heard some of these ideas. The last is the reason I have tried not to get involved in such matters. I did not think it wise for a 'hellspawn Southerner,' as they called me in Golsifar, to be seen meddling with such a statue. I quite like this town, and I have no wish to leave it three steps ahead of a mob." He raises an eyebrow and glances around the group. "Before any of you get the wrong idea, I would like to point out that the satrap's secret police could not possibly be so stupid as to have one such as me do their dirty work in broad daylight."

The Silver Stoat stands across from the town hall on the periphery of the square, so your journey is one of few steps before your arrival.

This time of day, the taproom is relatively empty, with only the town drunkard, Mortimer "Morty" Ardenlane, getting an early start to his night by slurping down Three Devil Ale pint after watered-down pint. Regulars of the Stoat know that Kale only waters down drinks for Morty, as a way of keeping him from drinking himself to death.

Kale's face lights up as she sees a crowd of people entering the tavern in the early afternoon hours. She smiles, calling out "Welcome, come sit by the fire. I hear the wind from the Border Wood are blowing especially chilly this day. Have some spirits and warm your toes."

Despite the wind's chill, the tavern itself is very warm and none of you feel any special need to sit closer to the fire than necessary. Barely a few flames flicker from it regardless, as the summer heat and the stone walls of the tavern provide more than enough warmth and shelter from the wind.

Yorah seems perplexed as she is dragged into the establishment. She remains near the entrance as she looks around the place, and gives the group a condemning look. "Are we sure we have time for this? People are potentially drowning under ice, and the first course of action is to sample the local brew?“

Vhekk enters the tavern with the ease of a regular, his onyx eyes taking in the mostly empty taproom and its few inhabitants. Seeing Ardenlane drinking himself into unconsciousness once again, his features take on a look of concern, but he says nothing.

"Are we sure we have time for this? People are potentially drowning under ice, and the first course of action is to sample the local brew?"

The young hunter turns and raises his eyebrows at the dromarr hermit's words. "People may well be drowning, Yorah, but if that is so, we do not know who they are or where they are. This tavern is second only to the town hall in size, and unlike the town hall, it is frequently visited by those who make their living from the Border Wood. As such, it is the natural place where we could seek more information about this crisis."

He grins as he turns to Kale, retrieving the rabbits slung over his shoulder and setting them on the bar. "Besides which, I have a debt that must not be left unpaid. Miss Kale, in your incomparable charity, you gave me a bowl of stew the previous week when I forgot my coin-purse in my lodgings. I now return to you game of twice the weight of what you gave me, in thanks for your beneficence."

After a moment, concern returns to his face, and he drums his obsidian claws on the countertop. "Ah... if you do not mind my asking, have there been any disappearances lately?" He glances down and grimaces, seeing the chips his talons gouge from the wood, and he raises his hands in conciliation as he looks back up at the innkeeper. "...Sorry about that. About the disappearances - I ask because I did not see Olaru the woodsman where he usually makes his camp. Strange things are happening in the depths of the woods, and I was going to investigate with some of the others. I thought that if any had gone missing in the area, we might be able to search for them in the process."

Diplomacy (Trained): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

Once Vhekk has finished his business with the innkeeper, he moves over to his accustomed seat in the corner opposite the fireplace. "The trappers and the like who spend the most time in the forest aren't likely to be here until later in the day - we likely have a while to wait. I might fetch my weapons from my lodging at some point, in case we do decide to venture into the forest." As the others drink, he begins to play his ghironda, his clawed fingers dancing over the keys as he cranks out a complex tune that was once the favorite of his friend Amestri, humming to himself in time with the buzzing drone of his instrument.

Noemy nods several times as Vhekk counters Yorah's pessimism "I mean, right now, aren't there dozens, no, hundreds of people out there somewhere getting eaten by dragons? But I don't think I can help those folks, so I'm not going to worry about it. Instead..." Noemy leaps easily off Maq'la's shoulder to land upon the bar's main counter. She raises Lilyana's silver coin before slapping it down on the counter with a loud clack. "Drinks for everyone!"

While Kale gets the drinks ready, Noemy turns to the others "There's definitely some pretty dark rumors going around recently. Maybe some are true, and some stories, but we won't know until we investigate. And I say WE, because you all sure sound like you're interested in helping Maq'la and me. Not that we need the help, right?" She nods to Maq'la, then looks over at Kale "Did you hear the one about the magic stag at Wishbone Creek? Who was that farmer who's son got spooked?"

Turning to Vhekk while being dragged along, Lilyana has a sudden realization about an earlier topic as she remarks, with a wide smile on her face, "OH! Siege weapons! That makes FAR more sense!"

Afterwards, she turns to Yorah while being seated in the Silver Stoat, asking her "Have you ever seen a river freeze over with someone in it? Sure, it got cold suddenly, but... I haven't ever seen a river freeze over so suddenly, even in bouts of sudden cold. Things happen gradually, even if quickly."

Sheepishly, she turns to the Poppet near her, holding out her hand as if to say give me my silver back, while responding "Haha. If I do ask for anything here... I might have to take you up on your offer. I never got your name. Also, may I ask how you're able to consume ale? Sorry if that's a bizarre question. It's not often you get to meet one like yourself, even in all my travels I can probably count on my hand how many talking poppets I've met..." Lilyana pauses for a minute before responding to the talks of rumours, "Also, I haven't heard the farmer's name, but I know Dansby has apparently been complaining about someone stealing from his fields, though."

Again turning to the tiefling, Lilyana somewhat agrees with Yorah while explaining "I am ready to head out whenever you lot are, though. I do only have the one weapon with some ammunition, unless you count the dagger, which I don't wield well. I only have enough muscles in my arm to keep my arquebus from knocking me prone," to which she chuckles to herself.

"Did we not just talk about this outside? A child that fell through a layer of ice in the summer?" Yorah tilts her head like a curious dog and wrinkles her brow as people dismiss the odd events without a second thought. She seems to be processing her thoughts for a second. "Obviously, I don't mean people drowning at this precise point in time. What if there are younglings in the woods - camping, hanging out, frolicking, what have you - dressed in summer clothing and slowly freezing to death?"

She looks towards the fire in the room. "While we are here, warming up our feet and bellies?"

Yorah seems anxious or frustrated with the development. Perhaps both. She sighs and briskly walks to the innkeeper. "Hello. I need a map showing the nearby farms or hovels. Specifically, Wishbone Creek. Could you point me in the direction of someone I could talk to about that?"

"What if there are younglings in the woods - camping, hanging out, frolicking, what have you - dressed in summer clothing and slowly freezing to death?"

Vhekk shrugs. "What of it? Even the rabbits have enough sense not to linger away from their dens when winter falls. Most children will be able to leave a place that is too cold, and those who are too young will have caretakers who can make the same decision." He smirks. "If the people of Heldren have greater intellect than rabbits - and I am sure they do - then there is little danger from simple cold weather. What I am worried about is the cause of this weather, which we will not find by rushing off in a panic."

The clawed hunter shakes his head and gets back to tuning his instrument. "There are hunters, trappers, and rangers to be found throughout the Border Wood. If there is indeed something we must do, we will learn of it here, when they return to seek aid, or if the threat is great enough, when those close to the lost seek to form a search party. One place we are almost sure not to learn of it is running from house to house so none know where to seek us out. There is a saying: to act without direction is the greater folly than to have direction but not act. If we leave now, we will achieve nothing, and if we are needed, we will not be found. If we wait to act until we are needed, our deeds will be quick and effective, with forceful purpose."

After a minute or two, he looks up at Maq'la's staff. "Quite a fine weapon, daughter of Ulkh. Is it hickory?" The young cambion grins. "I myself wield a similar tool, though it is much shorter and carved of ash. Still, what it lacks in power, it more than makes up for in speed. A bowyer from Demgazi sold it to me - he had initially planned to use it to make a bow, but it proved too inflexible for one of the longbows like the High Sentinels use. Still, it fires arrows well enough if it's strung."

Noemy pushes her own tankard across the counter after she gets it from Kale, until it's in front of the seat closest to the fire. She clearly has no difficulty at all moving it around. She peers up at Lilyana "Oh, I'm called Noemy. And there's no surer way of making friends than sharing a drink! So grab something, water if nothing else, and takes a seat." She doesn't even mention the coin that used to be Lilyana's, but which has now been put to the much better use of making tavern-friends through shared drinks.

Noemy clambers up the tankard and dunks her whole head into the drink, keeping it there for long enough for the cloth to soak before she pulls free. With a rather soggy voice she calls out "There you go! That's how it goes. Way simpler than trying to aim it down a throat while missing the windpipe, don't you think?"

When the conversation turns to the potentially urgent need to save drowning and freezing villagers, she comments "You're right Yorah that sometimes people can get caught out by surprise. But I think we need to hear more before we can know where people need help! And you can't go helping with a dry head, right?"

Seeing Noemy dip her entire head in ale, Lilyana chuckles to herself. "Okay, that's something new," she says while continuing to laugh.

Turning to those who tried to convince Yorah, she says sheepishly, "sorry about being so... awful with people."

Turning to the group of 5 (4?) around her, Lilyana outright asks "So what's our next move? We probably should go to the Border woods at some point, but even when I was living here I never really ventured into the Border Wood for much, so I'm completely lost in terms of navigating."

(If given a drink of water due to her Noemy's silver piece, she accepts)

He grins as he turns to Kale, retrieving the rabbits slung over his shoulder and setting them on the bar. "Besides which, I have a debt that must not be left unpaid. Miss Kale, in your incomparable charity, you gave me a bowl of stew the previous week when I forgot my coin-purse in my lodgings. I now return to you game of twice the weight of what you gave me, in thanks for your beneficence."

Kale smiles at the rabbits. "Yes, my husband will make a fine stew from these for tonight's sup."

Yorah seems anxious or frustrated with the development. Perhaps both. She sighs and briskly walks to the innkeeper. "Hello. I need a map showing the nearby farms or hovels. Specifically, Wishbone Creek. Could you point me in the direction of someone I could talk to about that?"

Kale replies "If there's even such a thing around, it would likely be in the town hall, I think they have a records room for that sort of thing. I doubt they're sell it, but they may let you copy it. Sorry, I know that's not very useful. The general store has some area maps for sale, but they're not going to be that detailed."

After a moment, concern returns to his face, and he drums his obsidian claws on the countertop. "Ah... if you do not mind my asking, have there been any disappearances lately?" He glances down and grimaces, seeing the chips his talons gouge from the wood, and he raises his hands in conciliation as he looks back up at the innkeeper. "...Sorry about that. About the disappearances - I ask because I did not see Olaru the woodsman where he usually makes his camp. Strange things are happening in the depths of the woods, and I was going to investigate with some of the others. I thought that if any had gone missing in the area, we might be able to search for them in the process."

"Disappearances? Not any in particular I've heard of, except the occasional livestock theft. Oh! And that kidnapping of the poor Lady Argentea. I heard they murdered the guards and took her. Only survivor, big Ulfen fellow, reported to town hall all bloody and out of wind just yesterday. Quite the commotion, but I'm not sure where he's been tucked away since."

Since you missed it earlier: Noemy listens in, ale soaking through her body. "And and, what about the rumor we heard about Wishbone Creek? Any news about anything over there?"

Noemy ponders the only piece of solid evidence the group has to work with, taking another dunk in her tankard as she does. She comes up and says "I don't know if that kidnapping has anything to do with the rest of everything we're hearing, but there's at least a survivor who might be able to tell us something or other more than a rumor! Should we finish our drinks and go check the town hall?"

Ai went into the Stoat with the rest of them and considered the competing points of view. She understood why Yorah wanted to move so quickly, and she agreed that drowning people was an urgent issue, but she also knew they needed more to go on if they were to find where this was happening at. Missing people and the general cold were serious issues as well but again more information was needed to be able to act on any of it.

After her consideration Ai said, "While I agree there is urgency in making sure no one else is drowning we can do little without knowing exactly where this is happening. We also need to know who is missing in the woods so we can try to determine where to go searching for them. We are more likely to find most of that information here in the form of rumors than anywhere else. Once we know who then we can ask the right people for more information" She focused on Yorah once more and asked, "What would you have us do instead Yorah? How would you want to go about all of this?"

Since you missed it earlier: Noemy listens in, ale soaking through her body. "And and, what about the rumor we heard about Wishbone Creek? Any news about anything over there?"

"Oh, that story little Gand told their father about the white stag? Last I heard, Findoll, the father, went looking for it, but was turned back by a snow squall in the Border Woods- said it was as cold as deep Abadius and he couldn't see his hands in front of his face, the snow was so fierce. Most folks around here know both Findoll and Gand to have quite, erm clever, imaginations, but with everything else going on, I'm starting to believe him." Kale offers.

As she walks in, Maq’la gives Kale a big smile. ”Khai’dun’s blessings on you and your tavern! I don’t suppose that barrel of orcish bloodstout has arrived, has it? No? Then let me have another pint of your delicious Three Devils. I’ve been out early helping Farmer Johas this morning and I’ve worked up a terrible thirst.”

When Vhekk complements his weapon, Maq’la smiles, and hands it to the hunter so he can inspect it. ”It’s an Aq’lakh; the finest weapon there is, in the hands of a skilled warrior. And yes, good eye. Hickory, carved for me by my aunt Jakha. Check out the balance.

“I don’t think I’ve seen something like what you’ve got there, but I look forward to seeing it in action, if we have the opportunity.”

While she enjoys her pint, she listens to Yorah argue for haste. ”I like the fire in your heart, Yorah. You don’t want innocents to suffer, and you want to get out and test your mettle while setting things right, eh? And we will, I can feel it! But what’s the harm in going into something like this while thirsty? And see! We’ve already learned a bit more about Gand and Findol. And Lady Argentea’s bodyguard. Now which should we check out first? Maybe swing by city hall to see if they’ve got a map to copy, or any news about the bodyguard?”

Happy to follow either lead. Very slight lean toward going by city call first, just since it’s nearer.

"Huuuu..." Noemy crosses her arms at the new information "Findoll and Gand. Even if they might've made up some stories before, all the weird things going on make this story much easier to believe. Just like you said Kale. Anyway, we should pay them a visit too!" She turns to the entire rest of the party.

"So, where to first? I think since the town hall is close, we should try there. Even if I'm worried about Gand, and any other kids who are finding the forest more dangerous than they're used to, we need to learn more and fast."

Grabbing her arquebus from its resting position besides her, Lilyana speaks up, "I for once am partial to the town hall, it's nearer", she takes a sip of water in the hand not holding the musket before continuing, "and we should presumably try to look for the bodyguard." While speaking, she shifts in her seat slightly.

The halfblood returns to the table after discussing with Kale. Once the people spoke their minds, she takes a breath. "What would I have to do? Literally anything else than sitting in an inn, waiting for someone else to bring us information.I don't want to be rude about this, but I don't have a way with words."

She pauses, thinks for a second. "But we can do our own wet work in this. I mean, I assume as much."

"We can find this Ulfen, and see what they have to say on the matter. Also, we can check with the local great hall for the location of Wishbone Creek. Either of those work for me, and both are probably more productive than sitting and waiting for... someone or something. You want something done, you do it."

"It’s an Aq'lakh; the finest weapon there is, in the hands of a skilled warrior. And yes, good eye. Hickory, carved for me by my aunt Jakha. Check out the balance. I don’t think I’ve seen something like what you’ve got there, but I look forward to seeing it in action, if we have the opportunity."

The taloned hunter stands, slings his ghironda over his shoulder, and takes the staff when Maq'la hands it to him, turning it over and over in his claws. "An Aq'lakh, you say? It's certainly heavier than what I'm used to, though the balance is good. Quite a bit more heft than my own staff - if I used this, I don't know that I could do much except knock chips out of my horns. Still, it's a fine weapon - your aunt Jakha was a skilled woodwright, and you yourself must be a great warrior to wield such objects." He hands the orc warrior back her staff and picks up his own weapon, a shorter length of ash capped with iron ferrules at both ends. "This one is much smaller and lighter, but it's a potent weapon nonetheless. Staves crafted in this manner are key to one of the fighting styles of my people, the Tzorehiyi - that's the human half, not the fiend half. I was not supposed to know how to use weapons in Sedeq, so I practiced in secret with a broom handle I found, then when I got to Taldor, I saved up for a year until I could buy a fine staff with the same weighting. It's different than yours, but - what was the phrase you used? 'Different strokes for different folks?'"

"We can do our own wet work in this. I mean, I assume as much. We can find this Ulfen, and see what they have to say on the matter. Also, we can check with the local great hall for the location of Wishbone Creek. Either of those work for me, and both are probably more productive than sitting and waiting for... someone or something. You want something done, you do it."

Vhekk furrows his brow and frowns at Yorah's words. "'Wet-work?' I am unfamiliar with the phrase, but if you are referring to the creek, I do not believe that we will actually be wading in it. Still, I agree - now that we have information, we can act with purpose. I apologize if my words were hasty, but had we not stopped at this tavern, we would not have known these things. I myself think that we had best visit the town hall while we are here - just as it would be folly to act without foreknowledge, so too would it be unwise to squander the opportunity before us." He glances at Yorah. "I ask that you not mistake my caution, with cause or without, for callousness. I care deeply for this town and its people, and I do not wish that any should come to harm. While I do not know this 'Lady Argentea,' I still think we should come to her aid - whether you call it honor, duty, or basic decency, we cannot stand by."

The young man grips his staff and nods towards the door. "Should we set out, then? It would seem there is work that must be done." As the group walks to their next destination, he clears his throat before speaking. "Excuse me, Lily? If you do not mind me asking, do you happen to have the blood of the spirits? I ask because you mentioned that you had left Heldren thirty years ago, but you do not appear much older than Ai and me, and thirty years ago would have been well before we drew breath." He shrugs. "If you don't wish to answer, you don't have to - it doesn't truly matter. We are all people, all worthy of respect. Some people can bend water to their will, some are made of cloth and stand a foot tall, and some have claws and three hearts - it makes no difference."

Agh, took me a while to find the word for this, but here it is

"'Blood of the spirits?' I'm... unsure what you mean by that, I'm not someone with extraplanar origins, if that's what you're asking. I'm an Aiuvarin-- I believe that was the word I came across for people like me.."

Lilyana sighs while remembering her human mother and her (somewhat distant, at this point) childhood: "My mother was a human, and my father was an elf. No interference from outer planes or spirits as far as I know. As to how I look that young to be comparable to Ai and yourself?"

She finishes her water, before standing up and rushing to the door with her arquebus and her pack, and laughing to herself, "I have absolutely no idea!" After she says this, she continues to laugh a little while presumably, barring more RP exiting the Silver Stoat.

Responding to the linguistic confusion, Lilyana pipes up once more: "'Wet-work'? I think that means any work where you get wet, be it from sweat or snow or creeks. Unsure! But, that's my best guess."

"Vhekk, I think Yorah's trying to say we're going to want to be wet while investigating. And you know what?" Noemy dunks her head one last time in her drink, soaking until she's rather sodden "I've got that covered! Hehe."

"I think we're all agreeing then. Let's go find out what this Ulfen guard knows, and see what other news there is at the town hall. Let's go!" Noemy nods her thanks to Kale, then leaps up onto Maq'la's arm, clambering her way back to a shoulder perch.

She turns her head between Lilyana, Vhekk and Ai before suggesting "It sure seems like there's something very unusual and magical going on in the wilds around town, so it's good that you all have a little magic in you as well, don't you think? In your blood or in your hands, it's all going to help if we come across some deadly beasties out there."

Rather grand for a village of this size, Heldren’s town hall boasts a clock tower overlooking the town square. Its clockworks were imported from Qadira some time ago, and are kept in working order by Orillus Davigen, who can usually be found up in the tower tinkering with the machinery.

The clock tower’s bells ring every hour from 6 am to 6 pm (the villagers prefer to keep things quiet at night), and can be used to sound the alarm if there’s a fire or to muster the militia in case of attack. The town council meets in the hall every week on Starday, though there’s usually little to discuss beyond minor disagreements between neighbors. The hall is big enough to host almost the entire populace for monthly village assemblies and large social gatherings, such as the annual Longnight dance.

On the wall outside the front door hangs a notice board, where flyers are posted with local news, job openings, and goods for sale.

**************

The doors to the town hall are open to the public during the "bell hours" and Gertrud Longstrum, the village clerk sits just inside the entryway in a rocking chair, crocheting a quilt. She seems a bit startled by the sudden influx of a group of people coming in all at once, but greets you with a friendly, of somewhat gap-toothed smile. "Oh, hello." the wizened, 90-year old woman greets you. [b]"What brings you in today?"

Rather grand for a village of this size, Heldren’s town hall boasts a clock tower overlooking the town square. Its clockworks were imported from Qadira some time ago, and are kept in working order by Orillus Davigen, who can usually be found up in the tower tinkering with the machinery.

The clock tower’s bells ring every hour from 6 am to 6 pm (the villagers prefer to keep things quiet at night), and can be used to sound the alarm if there’s a fire or to muster the militia in case of attack. The town council meets in the hall every week on Starday, though there’s usually little to discuss beyond minor disagreements between neighbors. The hall is big enough to host almost the entire populace for monthly village assemblies and large social gatherings, such as the annual Longnight dance.

On the wall outside the front door hangs a notice board, where flyers are posted with local news, job openings, and goods for sale.

**************

The doors to the town hall are open to the public during the "bell hours" and Gertruud Longstrum, the village clerk sits just inside the entryway in a rocking chair, crocheting a quilt. She seems a bit startled by the sudden influx of a group of people coming in all at once, but greets you with a friendly, of somewhat gap-toothed smile. "Oh, hello." the wizened, 90-year old woman greets you. "What brings you in today?"

"'Blood of the spirits?' I'm... unsure what you mean by that, I'm not someone with extraplanar origins, if that's what you're asking. I'm an Aiuvarin-- I believe that was the word I came across for people like me... My mother was a human, and my father was an elf. No interference from outer planes or spirits as far as I know."

Vhekk tilts his head to one side, considering for a moment before nodding. "I have heard of the Aiuvarin, but they are rare in Qadira. More common are those with the blood of the genii, spirits of the elements. Sulijann like my friend Amestri look human, like you do, but the tales say that they can live a thousand years. Still, I hope you will forgive my mistake."

As the group enters the town hall, Vhekk looks up at the massive bell tower, scowling. "We should still have some time, my friends, but I would like to be away from here before the hour is struck - after all, we have many things that we must do, and I confess that I could never stand the horrible noise of those bells." At Gertruud's words, he looks at the elderly clerk. "We were searching for a few pieces of information - I rarely visit here, so I do not know the procedures for learning what we need, but I was hoping you could help us. We were trying to speak with the Ulfen noble's guard brought in the other day, as we were concerned that the forest's bandits would be so bold as to attack a noble's caravan. Additionally, Yorah here was seeking a map to Wishbone Creek, if you have any."

Diplomacy (Trained): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

Quick note: As currently written, Vhekk is div-spawn, which, while there aren't any rules for in PF2E, was associated with irrational hatreds towards and/or phobias of common things (such as the scent of flowers or the color red) in the 1E lore. I happened to choose the sound of ringing bells, hence his strange behavior.

Noemy raises one fluffy hand to wave "Hi Gertruud!" She makes sure to speak up loudly and clearly "Hope you're holding up okay through all this really weird weather. We're here to investigate all the rumors we've been hearing. Was there an Ulfen bodyguard here yesterday who had the lady he was guarding kidnapped? And have you heard anything about Findoll and Gand out near Wishbone Creek? We heard they had quite a fright recently, and thought we might be able to help investigate."