GMDQ's Dragon's Demand

Game Master DeathQuaker

Far from Cassomir has Gribb's caravan come. Civilization has been more sparse, and threat of wild animals--a wolf howls in the distance even in this moment--has been greater than that of highwaymen. The last few days have been uneventful for the most part, yet, some of the guards, especially those around the wagon said to contain a reliquary of Abadar, seem tenser than ever. Still, others riding on the caravan tell them to ease up: the woodland, fields, and wetlands are giving way to farmland once again, and soon they will be in another town, with a mug of ale awaiting them.

During his rounds as the caravan medic, I'm curious, what in particular is setting them on edge. It seems to me that they should be relaxing a bit, not getting more tense. Moss-Fingers tries to listen in on the complaints of the guards.
perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8 Unfortunately he is distracted by a pretty butterfly.

Varrus remains on guard, looking for any dangers.
He regards his eyes as better than his bow. He hopes he doesn't have to shoot anything. With luck, any highwaymen that he spots will be the ones who count on getting the drop on their quarry, and that a simple shout of alarm will get them to flee.

But it's been a quiet few days.

He scans the horizon.
Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30

Hegio tries to focus on the book right in front of his nose, but the bumps on the road and the unnerving howls make it harder to concentrate. He whistles quietly, the only way he knows how, and Feathers, who was flying close by, lands on his shoulder. "Stay close for now."

He looks again at the book, well-aware he won't be able to read, but at least it acts as a deterrent for anyone trying to make small talk.

Haelin was in front, knowing the roads a bit better as well as some of the surrounding terrain, she was lead on this little trip, but she always seemed a bit stiff when they were simply travelling the roads.

In her mind the eyes of the others were boring inher back, judging her every move, so she often tried to do more than was expected of her, setting up camp, helping with the food.

Having been hired to guard the caravan during its travels, Rill stands alongside the final wagon in the chain to act as rearguard. With the threat of voracious and slavering beasts, she eyes the surroundings carefully with trident and shield at the ready.

There hasn't been any actual attacks on the caravan for quite a few days, but she remains vigilant nonetheless.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22

Prologue: 1 Gozran 4713 AR
Silas Gribb’s rules were simple for his caravan: stick to your assigned wagon, don’t wander off, and don’t approach the Abadaran cart. There was one cart, he explained, which carried a reliquary holding something sacred to Abadar, and he had careful instructions from the temple paying for its passage to not let anyone near it save its assigned guards, which none of you were. Its three guards were very watchful and clearly good at their jobs, and moreover the construction of the closed wagon made it very difficult to see what was inside even if you were tempted to look. The reliquary guards tended to interact little with the others in the caravan, whether you worked for the caravan or not, and only one of the lead guards, a weathered, middle-aged but fit man named Jarnas, interacted with them much as part of his general duties of checking on the status of each wagon. Jarnas was open and friendly and clearly competent, and one of the reasons the journey had gone relatively well so far, with only a brief skirmish with highwaymen and a few drunken goblins that were barely a challenge.

As you followed the road along the river known as the Verduran Fork, the smoke rising from the chimneys and then the small town itself came into view just as the sun was beginning its descent into the western sky. So why were the three reliquary guards growing nervous? Jarnas was the one who spoke reassuringly to them and the rest of the caravan that they’d be in an inn with a frosty pint soon.

Moss-Fingers noticed a beautiful butterfly, true, but also that Jarnas’s horse was sniffing haughtily at the Abadaran guards. The guards never harmed any animal, but the horse never seemed to like them. Jarnas’s horse adored Jarnas, who treated him very well.

Varrus, looking far ahead, noticed that for a relatively small town, that at least four, no, maybe six guards were stationed at the bridge you needed to cross to enter Belhaim. Most towns of this size might have no more than two. Jarnas rode past, nodding at him as he seemed to see Varrus notice what he noticed. Jarnas leaned close and whispered, “Fear not, the welcome committee is large, but they are good friends of mine and on our side.” The elder guard weaves his way toward the back and tells Rill much the same thing. Anyone adept at reading intent shows Jarnas is being honest—but avoiding letting the other guards see his interactions with the rest of you.

Haelin, up front, also sees the guards assembled. As he makes his rounds back up to the front, he says to her quietly, “I’ll take the lead from here. My friends up the road are expecting me, and I’ll be clear you’re with me.”

Hegio’s familiar conveys the sense to his master that many ahead are waiting, but heeds Hegio and stays close.

As they approached, Jarnas introduced Silas to the guards, pointing clearly to him driving the front wagon. Silas announced to the six man guard contingent they were bringing a reliquary to the temple of Abadar and must be let through at once. Stepping from behind the guards appeared a human woman in her thirties, garbed in a finely embroidered robe in the colors of Abadar. “No,” she said, “You are carrying no such thing.”

What followed happened fast. Jarnas signaled to the town guards who surrounded the reliquary wagon as one of the guards identified himself as the Sheriff of Belhaim. He declared Silas Gribb under arrest for suspicion of smuggling. Gribb, red faced, ordered the three reliquary guards to fight—but outnumbered, they all dropped their weapons and surrendered before any of you had any means to absorb and react to what had happened. Jarnas spoke up quickly, identifying himself as a Taldan royal security officer who had been tracking the smugglers; he swore up and down that the rest of you had no idea what was going on and were innocent.

The “sacred wagon” turned out to be carrying a variety of contraband, from stolen goods to dangerous and addictive substances. A "new acolyte" at Belhaim's temple was supposed to have received it but had been caught out by the high priestess, Eupaphenia, a few weeks prior. The plan had been to confirm the suspicious contraband and catch the smugglers upon delivery--but unfortunately that left the rest of the caravan an unwitting part of a sting operation.

The Sheriff insisted on questioning all of you, but with Jarnas vouching for you, you quickly established your ignorance and innocence. Jarnas and the Sherriff both apologized for the inconvenience and explained that they needed to disband the caravan and escort the criminals back to Cassomir immediately for imprisonment and trial. You were not welcome to join them as this was now the business of law enforcement, even if any of you wanted to turn back to where you started.

The Sheriff suggested you seek housing at the nearby inn and said another caravan would be through in a week which you could join. He, Jarnas, and two local constables almost immediately afterward left town to escort Gribb and his accomplices. Most of the caravan horses and wagons went with them (driven by volunteers from the local stable).

So there you were: far from where you came from and far from where you were going, and stuck for at least a week. None of you received the pay you had been promised for working for the caravan. The only other caravan members besides you not involved with Gribb were Gus, who dashed home with his goods, and an elderly merchant who was so rattled by the events, the priestess of Abadar took him back to the temple with her to treat him.

The six of you stood, stranded, in the city’s south plaza near the garrison. Nearby stood a marble statue of a sword-wielding woman standing with her foot on the severed head of a dragon. The name of the town (perhaps also the person?), “Belhaim” was carved onto the statue’s pedestal. It began to rain.

Luckily, directly across the street from the garrison was an inn marked by a sign depicting a gray-bearded man playing a flute: the Wise Piper. Going inside seemed prudent.

A chipper woman in her late twenties with honey colored hair greeted you and introduced herself as the innkeeper, Talia Orem. She asked you about the scuffle outside, and upon hearing your situation, clasped her hands and said, “You poor things! You must stay here while you get your bearings. Please, I’ve plenty of rooms available … and I won’t accept payment for the first three nights!” She frowns, wringing her hands. “I wish I could say I’d put you up even longer, but it’s not like we get a lot of business… I mean, maybe I could—” here she is interrupted by the stern-looking woman polishing glasses behind the bar who gives her a pointed “ahem,” and Talia continues apologetically, “as I said, three nights, then I’ll have to ask for some payment for the rooms. But we have bed and breakfast bundles! And if you need money I’m sure there’s folks who need help around town … ”

She ushers you to a table and gives you free bread, cheese, and the house-crafted ale and soon has you settled into simple but comfortable rooms—separate rooms for each of you (unless any of you prefer to share). The three nights included housing for Moss-Finger’s horse at the stable next door, Dodgion Livery.

The Adventure Begins: Stranded! 2 Gozran 4713
The next morning allowed you time to rest, bathe, and explore the town and get the lay of the land (see map on the campaign slides). You agreed with one another you would meet again at supper to discuss potential plans for what to do next.

So here you sit, around a table at the Wise Piper, with Talia and another serving girl bringing you more bread and cheese as well as a savory lamb stew, “all ingredients from Belhaim’s local farms.”

Talia, clearly simply curious, asks you if you would share more about yourselves and what brought you traveling north.

We begin in the evening in your second night in Belhaim. If you want to mention what you were up to during what you may have been doing this morning (or prior), please put that in a spoiler labeled “Prologue.” I’d rather keep the prologue elements fairly brief, but it’s fine to set up what you’ve been up to and ask any questions. Outside the spoiler, put your reply to Talia and/or whatever else you wish to say at dinner

2 Gozran 4713 - During the dinner:

Hegio was the first to speak. If it were impolite, he would not have had any idea. Looking around the group, he was probably the youngest and, even if he wasn't, Hegio was sure he had the most boring life.

"I'm a recent graduate from Eastern Front Academy." he keeps explaining, sure no one had heard of it "A school of arcane magic and alchemy in Stavian's Hold. Anyway. I went back home to Cassomir where I joined the caravan to explore more of Taldor, maybe offer my services, expand my abilities, that kind of thing. Are there any local wizards?"

"I am but a humble knight, just graduated from mine training as a squire," Rill begins, "Mine goal is to travel the land and bringeth Sarenrae's light to those who needst it. Guarding a caravan seemed like a great idea to offer mine services and acquire a means to travel the realm both."

"Wizards and knights! I have nothing so exciting to share. My parents are pawnbrokers in a small town near Cassomir. So from working in their shop, I have some training at assessing the value of goods, as well as keeping an eye out for thieves. Sharp eyes (most of the time, anyway) got me a job as a caravan guard. Just a chance to get out, see a bit more of the world, maybe listen for rumors of business opportunities. The Sheriff said another caravan is coming through in a week. I suppose I will bide my time, pay for a room at the inn, and sign on with that next caravan."

Varrus seems generally unconcerned with the situation. He dips his bread into the lamb stew and takes a bite.

"A wizard!" Talia replies to Hegio. "We ... we do have a wizard here, Mr. Hunclay. He keeps to himself, mostly ... built his big old mansion east of town several years ago. Odd duck--chopped down all the trees around his place so he could 'see the stars.'" She frowns. "I mean, I can see the stars well enough if I look upwards enough. I've heard the Baroness doesn't care for him ..."

At this, the woman behind the bar clears her throat. "Watch the gossip, Tal. We don't need to get these folk wrapped up in local nonsense."

"But I'm just trying to help, Claude!" Talia turns back to Hegio. "I was thinking, I don't know how you get an audience with Lady Devy, but maybe if you found a way to do her a favor she might find a place for a wizard in town. Not many other magic using folk in town, apart from the priests of course. Man who runs the Commons knows a few illusions to smart up the stage for plays. Our herbalist is a hedge witch. Taught the midwife a few tricks too, but just enough to help her deliveries go smoother. But no wizard who's actually willing to help out around here."

She busily refills glasses that have no need of being refilled as she listens to the others. There's only a handful of locals taking dinner at the inn--not for any failing on her, part, as the inn is comfortable and clean--and her excitement at newcomers being present is plain.

She nods solemnly at Rill, apparently taking her lofty presentation very seriously, and gives a glare when the serving girl wiping the tables nearby snorts at Rill's attempt at flowery language. Turning back to Rill, Talia clasps her hands. "Sarenrae! We've no shrine to her here--we pray at the Seven Roses--" She gestures back toward the bar, where a homemade bouquet of dried roses and chrysanthemums, tied in multicolored ribbons, sits at the center of the shelves along the wall, clearly a makeshift sort of shrine, "But I would think the house of Shelyn would welcome you if you sought allies of the cloth. Or if you seek wisdom from a knight, you could go meet Sir Pelle Benhovy ... but he's not ..."

Claudine the barwoman clears her throat again, and Talia leans closer and whispers, "He's not very nice."

To Varrus, she shakes her head. "No shame in being a merchant! We business owners are who keep the world going. I know Belhaim isn't much, but there are some empty storefronts ... I understand wanting to move on fast as you can but maybe take a look since you're here for a bit?"

Me? I'm not interesting. Just a simple healer trying to make his way out into the world. Why my sister ...
.
long winding rambling discussion of his family that no one cares about.
.
... at least that's what my Mom would have said about it.

Uhmm. How much will the rooms be after the 3 nights? You see, I have fairly limited funds available. Maybe I could exchange favors, if anyone is in need of healing?

Talia nods along with the long rambling family situation, never indicating any boredom. When asked her prices, "Oh well, don't worry about that for now, but it's 5 silvers a night, plus 2 for the stabling. That includes breakfast. 3 silvers for full meal service. Drink and a la carte food prices are posted by the bar. 6 coppers for a bath. 1 silver for any laundering services." These are fairly typical prices for Taldor, and quite reasonable given you have private rooms. "Most folks go to the temples for healing, but you might ask the farmers if their animals need tending? I heard Abrassas the Shepherd's been having trouble with wolves."

Want to note: I'm providing the information about various NPCs because the module provides ways for the PCs to build relationships with the townsfolk throughout the adventure. It's up to you to take note of whatever info if you wish; while some is simply some background detail or hints into what might get them on your side, some of it may eventually become relevant to the story as well. Either way, if it's too much info dump let me know, and I'll dial it back.

Rill nods to Talia, "I thank thee. Mayhaps I shall give mine prayers at thy shrine once I've had mine fill of thine generous meal."

"Thank you for all the information, Ms Orem." he nods as the others talk.

See the stars? Maybe this Mr Hunclay is eccentric, but maybe he does divination using the position of the stars.

Hegio tries to focus on the others' conversation, but has some trouble with all the names, specially as Moss-Fingers' story comes up.

My thanks. Maybe in the morning I will go see if Abrassas, or one of the other farmers, could use some help.

To Varrus, she shakes her head. "No shame in being a merchant! We business owners are who keep the world going. I know Belhaim isn't much, but there are some empty storefronts ... I understand wanting to move on fast as you can but maybe take a look since you're here for a bit?"

"I have enough gold to cover my stay until the next caravan leaves, but not much more than that. If I did have more, I could take a look at local shops to see if they have any wares that might sell for more in Cassomir."

He takes another bite of bread.
"I suppose it can't hurt to look. Might find something of interest and come to an arrangement. There are quite a number of shops, it seems. What can you tell me of Tymek's store? Or Delbin's Devices? "

"My skills are more nature and wilds focused. But I'd be happy to help where I can. Your gesture of good will is surely appreciated. I thank you from my heart to yours" Haelin does a small gesture from her heart towards their gracious host

To Varrus, Talia replies, "Caspar Tymek's a lovely man, as is the whole family that runs the general store. You probably met his eldest son Gus on the caravan. Thank goodness he didn't get caught up with those smugglers! Caspar works with the farmers as well as brings in goods we need from out of town. Helps me coordinate my supply orders." The serving girl hands her a sliced loaf of bread wrapped in a napkin, which Talia arranges into the half-empty basket. "Phedra Delbin's a locksmith... and a general tinker. Shy, that one. Can't say I know her as well, but the Record Hall trust her with their lockboxes, so ..."

To Haelin she nods. Upon greeting the party yesterday, Talia looked at Haelin a bit askance, as many might upon seeing a half-drow. Especially in a town like this when the majority are human--she probably has little idea of what a drow is, only reacting to being different. It may not excuse her hesitancy, but since, she has offered Haelin the same hospitality as she has the rest without question. Now, she smiles softly at the heart gesture, with a little "Oh!" of surprise at the gentle gratitude. "Oh, it's nothing, dear, I can't imagine how hard it must be to be so far from home. I'm not sure what you mean by wilds? We've a large hunting lodge... though mind if you go, the head ranger has a mouth on him!"

"Tal! Gossip!" Claudine warns. Talia blushes and for at least a brief moment, quiets herself.

Sahvi Copper-Scales doesn't look like the typical shoanti. While her copper skin matches that of her quah, that is where the similarities end. She's quite short with a lean, athletic build. Her hair is a vibrant, fiery orange, styled in a short, spiky cut. Her eyes are a striking bright green, contrasting her warm skin, and her ears are pointed, traits some say are the marks of dragon blood. Her lips are painted a bold, metallic blue, and she wears an ostentatious and decidedly un-tribal outfit, a cropped top and sheer harem pants themed in a peacock pattern - not that she knows what a peacock is, she just likes the flashy pattern and that it was expensive. She's adorned with gold bangles and jewelry. Obviously costume jewelry, even to the untrained eye. Her brow is anointed by a (mostly false) diadem, but the centerpiece is a real gold coin bearing the likness of the dragon god Kass, known as Apsu to the wider world. It is one of her most prized possessions.

Further differentiating her from her shoanti kin, Sahvi is gregarious and outgoing, making friends easily. She isn't one to skulk quietly like her kin, instead she always seems to be drawing attention to herself, even seeming jealous of others receiving attention.

She sits, nodding drowsily at the breakfast table. She was astonishingly lazy for a shoanti, having to be dragged out of bed most mornings on the trail. As she pokes at her cheese and bread, her pointed ears twitch when Talia mentions Lady Devy, and her pouty face brightens. "A lady? That's exactly what I need! Surely she can get me paid!" She takes an oversized bite of bread, chews thoughtfully, and continues before swallowing, her words muddled. "After all, I did bring a dangerous smuggler straight to her doorstep. There must be some kind of reward for that!" Leaning forward, she props her chin up on one hand, swallows, and gives Talia a charming smile. "Say, Talia, you must know how to meet the baroness, being an important local business... woman... person. Can't you just introduce us to her, tell her we're important travelers or something?"

An awkward silence fills the room as the conversation hits a natural lull. Perhaps one of you are just about to speak when an enormous thunderclap outside rattles the inn's leaded windows. A wooden tankard hanging on the wall clatters to the floor. "Oh my!" Talia claps her hands together. "It wasn't supposed to rain today!" The handful of guests in the room begin to murmur, wondering if it was an earthquake, and noting that the sky was perfectly clear a half hour ago. The door to the inn flies open, and a young lad, one of the stablehands from Dodgion Livery next door, shouts, "The Witch Tower has fallen!"

Obvious shock and alarm ripples through the townsfolk present, and all the guests as well as Talia and her serving girl follow the boy through the door to see what has happened; you can hear footsteps and shouts outside as a crowd pushes its way eastward up the town's main street.

Claudine the barwoman looks concerned but stays steadfastly behind her counter and says to any of you still seated, "You may as well see what the fuss is, not often something big happens around here. I'll watch the inn."

Varrus heads out into the street to look.

But he doesn't just look where everybody is looking. He is also alert for anybody reacting unusually to this apparent disaster - anybody trying to slip away unnoticed, for example.

Would that be Perception or Sense Motive? I am happy to Take 10 whenever possible for the sake of speeding things along.

Of course! The moment I figure a way out of this mess, the universe has to butt it's ugly head in! The universe is always conspiring against me! Still, this could be a way to meet the lady-lady... Sahvi jumps to her feet, stuffing a heel of bread into her mouth as she does so and makes for the front door. "Don't worry, little people! The Chosen of Apsu is here!" Her various bangles jingle and clink as she moves, elegant and sure-footed. "What's, uhm, the Witch-whatever?"

With the sudden commotion her bow was in her hands almost instantly, her eyes alert as she too rushes to the door, and handful of arrows in her fist by the time she looks out into the rain

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

Caught up in the excitement, Moss heads outside following the others.

Witch Tower. Must be that tall building. Wonder what would bring that down with no storm blowing? I hope no one is hurt.

Come on folks, help might be needed!

Perception is fine Varrus certainly can confirm the sound you all heard a moment ago is that of a landslide or opening sinkhole. But from where he stands outside the inn, all folk are moving toward the east side of town. Even farmers living distantly on the south hills appear to be moving toward the bridge to town to see what has happened. No one hides or moves in the opposite direction.

But you can see folks are moving through the town to the hills to the east, so perhaps if shenanigans have occurred, they are closer to the source of the collapse.

Moss-Fingers, Haelin, and Sahvi exit the inn and join the crowd moving eastward. It looks like most of the town has left to see what has happened so it's slow going up the road. Someone replies to Sahvi, "An old cursed tower, full of ghosts. Near Hunclay's manor."

The weather is definitely clear, not a cloud in the sky.

Giving a chance for any other initial inquiries before I move us further along

His contemplations are interrupted by the loud noise, almost making him fall out of his chair. He convinces himself no one saw it. Hegio stands up just behind his ex-companions from the caravan that had better reaction timing and walks outside, confused as to what the Witch Tower is.

He arrives alongside the others just in time to hear that it was near Hunclay's manor. Divination is a science and Hegio studied it deeply, fascinated by all its intricacies and even then, he thought to himself this felt like an omen.

He side-eyes Haelin picking up her weapons and nervously reaches for his components. he calls for Feathers.

"F-fly over the tower in a safe distance and warn me if you see anything or anyone that might have caused this." he manages to say trying to hide his anxiety over the real possibility of danger.

"My goodness!" Rill jumps at the sudden rumbling of thunder.

She joins the crowd in leaving the tavern, though a bit uncertain of where her attention should be.

"What... Exactly am I meant to be looking at?" she asks toward no one in particular.

... "What... Exactly am I meant to be looking at?" she asks toward no one in particular.

If a building collapsed, there could be severe injuries or trapped people inside! Moss answers her.

Where was that tower again? Should I go get Red or is it quicker to just hobble along on my bum leg? I better get Red just in case.

Instead of just stumbling past the livery. Moss runs in to grab Red and mounts him bareback for the quick dash to the Witch Tower.

Fortunately, explicit directions to the Witch's Tower, or its remains, aren't necessary, as following the growing crowd heading up the road toward the hills is easy enough. You go about half a mile--through the town, then across the east bridge over Rogue Creek onto the Old Quarry Road. Gentle hills rise on other side of you; to the north of you, you pass a large mansion with a tower in its center; given the absence of trees around the house, compared to the thicker woodland south of the roadway, perhaps this is the manor of the wizard Hunclay that Talia mentioned. To the south, apart from forest, you see a cemetery atop the nearest hill, and then the roof of another mansion further away.

Past the Hunclay's mansion, you see a collapsed stone tower; ancient lime rubble tumbles down the hill toward the road. It was once three or four stories, but all that is left of it is two stories above ground, with a pile of rubble and ruin blocking whereever its original entrance might have been.

Feathers sends the sense of what he sees to Hegio: a mess of stones and dead wood. Humans safe, but two not-human dead bodies among the stones. No immediate danger.

Moss-Fingers gets to Red easily enough; however, he cannot go too fast or risk trampling the townsfolk trying to reach the tower. So he arrives only a few minutes before the rest of the stranded caravanners arrive. The entire town might not be present, but a good number of them are, and several are muttering to one another about kobold corpses in the ruins and fretting about where they might have come from. "There were at least two dead." "I heard four!" "At least a dozen!"

There is at least one small green scaled dead body half sticking out of the rubble at the base of the tower.

Everybody arrives in time to witness a human man and woman, dressed in the constables' livery, trying to keep the crowd from approaching any further to the collapsed tower. You recognize the two from the smugglers' arrest yesterday, but they bore little rank or responsibility during that activity that you remember. Moreover, at least those of you with a reasonable level of logic can surmise that these two, having been left behind by the sheriff while he and senior constables escorted the smugglers out of town, are likely not exactly Belhaim's finest. The haplessness with which they try to order people away from the tower drives this home: one is overly officious, barking orders with little useful direction, the other rather lax, more begging the crowd to calm down as she chews on a stalk of peppergrass. She tries to grab one youth as he starts to clamber toward the ruins, pleading, "Stop, come on, stop. We can't investigate proper if you're all crawling all over the place." The boy dodges her grasp and sticks his tongue out at her.

A man speaks up--one of the very few half-orcs in the town, who stands a good head taller than most others present and wears a smith's apron-- "If you want to investigate 'proper,' why don't you ask Hunclay what happened? He lives right over there. Probably saw the whole thing."

At this the two constables look at each other, almost stunned, as they process this suggestion. They look back and forth at the tower, the crowd, and the mansion, clearly stymied as to how they keep the scene free of interlopers while also walking up the hill to the wizard's door.

After assuring himself there don't appear to be any wounded about, Moss takes pity on the 2 guardsmen. He raises his voice, The guards are correct, besides there could be some live kobolds hiding in there. First in is liable to get a spear in the gut from some kobold.

diplomacy to get the crowd to back off: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Then to the guards, Would you like me to go ask Hunclay to join us?

Feathers returns to Hegio, but he does not have time to share what he learned, the townsfolk already made clear that are dead kobolds in the debris of what once was the tower.

He jumps at the opportunity to talk to Hunclay, fate once again leading him to the person he just asked about. He steps next to Moss-Fingers and says in a low volume "Yeah, I volunteer to go talk to Hunclay, as well."

"Ah, excuse me," Rill calls out as she makes her way through the crowd toward the pair of guards, bowing her head toward them, "Mine name is Rill, knight of Sarenrae, and I vouch for these two," she gestures toward Moss and Hegio, "Allow us to speak with this Hunclay gentleman on thy behalf whilst thou perform thine duties here in town."

She produces a silver pendant from beneath her armor, the holy symbol of Sarenrae as proof.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

"I'll go with, seems this place is crowded anyway, you two do your duty" she confirms as she heads out with her fellow strandees

Some of the crowd quiets down and backs off a bit, although others scowl at Moss and mutter things about outsiders minding their own business. The male guard nods with thanks to Moss-Fingers, and he says to the other guard, "Go with them, Mulle, I'll handle things here. Lady Devy'll be here soon."

The half-orc who had suggested going to Hunclay's speaks up. "I'll help you, Hodd." The big man moves to stand beside Hodd and the child trying to rush forward suddenly decides that isn't such a good idea after all. He gently suggests most folks go home--the sun is setting and they shouldn't be out after dark if kobolds are lurking. The crowd partially disperses.

Mulle nods gratefully at the group of you, and leads you up the hill to the large manor. A three or four townsfolk, still curious, follow behind you by about 20 feet. It is built of granite, as opposed to the older limestone structures that are more typical of the town, and well maintained. Continual flames light enclosed glass sconces on either side of the door, providing a clear view of what you see next, even in the fading daylight.

Another dead green-scaled kobold lies across the doorstep. Unlike the one down by the tower, who was clearly a victim of the collapse, this one is covered in burn scars, the most egregious being along one of its hands. A warped lockpick is fused to his burnt claw.

There is a bell on a post next to the door.

"Poor creature seems to have done something he shouldn't" she points to the lockpick

"And got a fatal zap in the process. Perhaps knocking instead of breaking in would be more advised?" she half smiles at the rest

Heal: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18

"A wise thought, Haelin."

Varrus has his own set of lockpicks. He takes a quick look at the kobold's tools. Are they better than his?
Wondering if they are MW Thieves' Tools. Probably not but it can't hurt to check.

Appraise Take 10: 10 + 5 = 15

Moss gives the bell a solid ring. Lord Hunclay, we need your learned advice please.

I wonder if the trap is still dangerous?

To the guard, Mulle, does anyone else live here with Hunclay?

Hegio silently approaches the manor with everyone.

Pretty big house. Must be rich... Now I'm thinking like Sahvi.

He watches the kobold corpse as Haelin quickly deduces what happened to it. As Moss-Fingers rings the bell, Hegio turns to the guard.

"Asking the obvious, are there any known kobold groups around this town?"

And what could they possibly want inside this manor and also destroying a nearby tower?

Constable Mulle scowls at Varrus looking over the dead kobold. "Phew, you wanna touch that stinkin' thing?" It is true, the scent of scorched kobold is not pleasant. Fortunately it does not take a long investigation to note that the picks hanging out of a pouch on its belt appear to be somewhat makeshift and well used. Certainly of poor quality.

Hegio asks Mulle about kobolds, and she chews her lip. "I've heard of a tribe living by the old quarry up the road apiece, but they've never given us any trouble. Not even the farmers on the outskirts have any complaints." She scratches her head. "No idea why they were around here. Maybe just messing around? Curious?"

Moss-Fingers, backed by Haelin, rings the bell and calls for Hunclay. There is, however, no answer. You wait a bit, but there is no answer and no sign of movement within. Of course the building is so large it would be hard to tell. Very few lights are on within as well, even though twilight approaches rapidly.

"Odd," one of the townsfolk who followed you up the hill comments. "Hunclay was just by the shop earlier today. He should be around."

"Odd indeed." Another voice--a new one, a mature, female velvety voice--interjects. If you turn to see who speaks, three new arrivals approach the group: the first is the likely speaker, a woman in her late 50s with silver hair, dressed in a purple embroidered dress that is much finer than what most of the townsfolk could probably afford, though not ostentatious. On a leather pauldron on her shoulder sits a hooded and jessed hawk; she also wears a thick leather glove on one hand, obviously intended for surviving the hawk's sharp beak and talons.

The second person is a black-haired, mustached man in his mid twenties, in a red velvet coat. He has the same sharp green eyes as the woman, suggesting perhaps he is her son. The third person is a guard in purple livery.

Constable Mulle gives a short awkward bow upon seeing the new arrivals, and some of the townsfolk similarly offer a respectful gesture. A couple of them don't seem fussed to offer such honors, though they still part to give her space. "Lady Devy! We were just trying to see if Hunclay saw what happened. But he ain't home."

"Indeed," she says, "How concerning." She does not sound immediately concerned, but adds--this with genuine interest--"Were any townsfolk hurt in the collapse?" When Mulle tells her no, she relaxes a little. "Good. I think for now you can all go home. There is no point in bothering Mr. Hunclay if he won't answer the door." She gestures to the dead kobold. "And obviously visitors must beware if they are not expected." As the others begin to depart upon her word, she then turns to the six of you.

"My name is Origena Devy, I am the Baroness of these lands. This is my son, Arnholde. I have a favor to ask of you. I understand you came in on the caravan yesterday--word travels fast in a small town, and of course I was aware of the efforts to track the smuggling operation here. I know you're likely stuck here for a week, maybe two. And if you're competent enough to guard a caravan, I'm hoping you might be interested in assisting with the investigation here. Sherriff Benhovy has only left behind Deputy Bellett, whose primary talents surround signing paperwork, and Constables Mulle and Hodd, whom you've met--who ... do their best, but I don't think this kind of situation is in their wheelhouse."

She points toward the remains of the Witch's Tower. "Most have forgotten the history of that place, but it was all that remained of an ancient castle originally belonging to the town's founder, Tula Belhaim, and was used by my family's predecessors, the Canteclures, a couple centuries ago. My understanding from old records is there is a dungeon beneath the tower, but no one has been inside the ruins since..." she pauses, swallowing, as though she suddenly feels some pain. "Well, suffice to say the place has long believed to be cursed and no one has been in there in a very long time. With the tower collapsing and dead kobolds appearing in its wake, I want to know what they were doing there." She fixes a look at each of you. "I will pay you 500 gold pieces if you will investigate the ruins and see what you can learn about the kobolds. Maybe you can keep an eye out for our missing eccentric wizard while you are at it. Frankly I find it very suspicious he is not opening his door."

She waited patiently as each word washed over her, trying to take everything in. This was quite the story. She finally nods and steps forward a bit

"I believe I'll be able to be of some assistance while we explore. I have a bit of a talent when it comes to scouting. I offer my services"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24
Knowledge (Nobility): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

Hegio assumed the emphasis on the surnames indicated some good old fashioned nobility animosity between the Devys and the Cantlecures but he had never heard of either of them before. Probably some insular nobility unheard of in Cassomir. he thought as he tried to rationalize and dismiss his lack of knowledge.

He was curious enough about what happened to Hunclay due to their shared interest, but specially now since he picked up the subtext of the Baroness' opinion of him. He gives an awkward exagerated bow to her.

"I appreciate and accept your offer." his eyes dart over to Haelin and Hegio tries to also emphasize his skills, since this is what seems to be the etiquette at these kind of situations "I hope my magic will be useful." he almost bites his tongue as soon as he finishes saying this sentence, realizing he just declared his own lack of confidence.

With seemingly no actual threat around, Rill disarms, slotting her trident into leather rings attached to the back of her armor, then latching the shield to the trident's shaft.

"The tower's collapse happened right next door. Perhaps the deafening 'thunder' we heard earlier hath literally deafened Mister Hunclay?" Rill posits before turning to see the older woman approaching.

"Ah, y-yes, of course, milady!" Rill stammers in the presence of the noble woman, nervously curtsying to her before standing stiffly as if trying to appear at attention, "I, for one, would certainly be glad to aid thee in this endeavor... But how wouldst thou have us find this dungeon now buried beneath several tons of stone and wood?"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

Lady Devy smiles softly at Rill. "As best we've been able to tell, while the rubble covers the outside of the first floor, the staircase from the exposed second floor to the first is intact. If you can climb the rubble up to the second floor, you can see if you can make your way down into the dungeon from there. Of course if there's no way down, your investigation may be short, but I'd appreciate it if you tried." She gestures toward Haelin. "Perhaps your scout can be sure the way is clear. Or," she looks at Hegio, "This fellow mentions he uses magic. Given his companion is unhooded," she gestures toward Feathers, and then toward the hooded* hawk on her own shoulder, "Unlike my dear Janna, I would wager his lovely fellow is a familiar and might provide his master a bird's eye view." She gives another smile. "I am sure you will figure something out. I would not offer such a sum if I thought it impossible."

Lady Devy can answer any more of your questions. She lets you know she would prefer you begin right away, but as night is soon falling understands if you waited until morning--but the trail of the kobolds may go cold.

Or if you wish, you can now head back down the hill to see about entering the tower. It is true the second floor looks partially intact. The rubble piled around the building fully blocks the front door but also creates a natural ramp up to the second floor. The rubble looks a bit hazardous to climb. DC 8 climb check, or you might innovate a way to make it easier so everyone can just do it automatically.

The battle map shows the rubble "ramp" up to the tower though the stairs/way down below isn't obvious on the drawing, rest assured it is there.

In case anyone is not from the U.S., I am using American floor numbering; first floor = ground floor.

* Those of you with any basic knowledge of animals or animal husbandry know pet raptors are normally hooded to keep them from being distracted or upset by certain motions or prey.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

500??
Varrus tries not to look too astonished at the offer of such a large sum of gold.
Probably getting myself into something terribly dangerous here, but the reward...

He gives a short bow to the Baroness.
"Yes, I would be willing to undertake such an investigation, Your Ladyship."

He looks at the wall. "I am pretty certain I can climb that rubble and fix a rope as a handrail to help the rest of you climb up the rubble. Does anybody have a rope? We can pick one up in the town if not."

His Climb is +5 so he cannot fall (cannot fail by 5 or more).

"Climbing is something I have been prone to do. I can help in that regard if need be, other option is just tie a rope and add a few knots. Makes scaling it up and down much easier" she adds to the mention of the climb down

she also has a +5. And a knotted rope reduces the climb penalty even more. So even someone in full plate would have a hard time falling

Indulge me with at least one successful Climb check and we'll assume you can tie a rope and then everyone else can climb without checking. Not failing by 5 or more keeps you from falling, but you need the success to actually get to the top.

Of course we will help the town by checking out the ruins. Just give me a few minutes to get the rest of my gear from the saddlebags back in the livery. We can head out right away. It will be just as dark at night as in the day.

While the others are setting up the rope to the second floor, he trots Red back to the livery. Then he returns as fast as he is able with rest of his gear in a pack.

All right let's go. I have another rope, in case we end up needing one inside.

After Haelin rigs a rope, Moss climbs up to join the others.
climb take 10: 10 - 2 = 8

I have torches if we need, but this is less smelly for now. He casts light on the outside of his shield.

This is so exciting! A real life actual ruins exploration! And we're getting paid to do it too!

Hegio nods when the Baroness deduces Feathers is a familiar, after all, he has no idea how to care for a regular hawk and the precautions one must take.

Immediately, the rest of the stranded caravan start making plans, while Hegio notices he does not even have rope. He just waits while they do everything.

He approaches the ruins and climbs using the rope.

"Thanks." he bashfully mutters to Varrus, Haelin and Moss-Fingers, who did everything. "I can also light the way, so assuming Moss-Fingers goes in the front-line with his shield..." Hegio casts Light on his dagger and puts it between his belt pouches and his clothes. "I'll stay in the rear so we have a bigger illuminated area overall."

This was, in his mind, a sensible plan with no ulterior motives, but he realized he just put himself the furthest from danger.

If Hegio needs a climb check without take 10 to climb himself and then tie the rope, since there haven't been any successes in these conditions:

Climb: 1d20 ⇒ 10 Whew.

Hey, thanks a lot for the clarification about the floors. I'm not from the US and was unsure about which standard was being used!

I am sorry, I think we are doing things a bit out of order here. I was just waiting for somebody to speak up and say they had a rope before making my own check to go first. As Varrus has a much better Climb than either Moss-Fingers or Hegio, he would not have let them go first... was just waiting for someone to say they had a rope.

I know we need momentum but we don't need to rush forward crazy-fast.

Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Varrus clambers up and secures the rope, so that the others can hold onto it as they climb up the rubble.