Brother Aster's page

The meal is impressive. The subtly sweet and winy cream sauce offsets the naturally saltiness of the meats. The stew is filling, but pings with flavor.
Councilor Aster arrives just as it is being served up.
"I understand you have brought down a wyvern... I hope this is it here, yes?" as he gestures to the carved tenderloin.

He does a little to alleviate Garborn and Vladimir's condition.

"Tell me... How was the hunt?"

Lesser restoration Garborn: 1d4 ⇒ 1
Lesser restoration Vladimir: 1d4 ⇒ 3

Marlbeck nods and gives a "well, of course" gesture.

Oleg nods as well.

In the outskirts and silent up until now, Councilor Aster steps up and speaks... "With Lord Farshadow out on his own personal journey for who knows how long, and Lady Omenstar afflicted as she is from her recent visions, I consider Master Herwonkir's arrival fortuitous."
He smiles and holds out a hand to Garborn. "Welcome to Hope's Haven."

"Oh no no no... He forced Enzi to duel with him. He gave Enzi a sword, and then beat him like a fool with an empty scabbard and an arm behind his back. He then deferred his prize to another thug who slobbered over Enzi's wife until they'd had their fun for the night."

"The farms are far from here. I rarely get out that way more than a few times a year, and the trip seems to get longer each time... maybe twenty-five miles southwest. I'm sorry I'm not good with maps or I'd show you... I rely on landmarks and faith."

"Rings a bell...One of the Stag Lord's men, no? Seems I remember the name from some account of the bandits visiting Quillor Farms." He nods vetting the memory in his own mind. "Yes... was months ago, but Dovan was a name among the Stag Lord's men.. led the group I believe. A swordsman... longhaired, conceited, dark-humored... fancy dress and gear. I was not present myself, but he'd made an impression on Enzi Quillor."

This is mostly old news... you've known he used to be second-in-command under the Stag Lord.

Brother Aster soon returns, and delivers the wand. "Here you are. I hope you don't find yourselves needing too much use of it out there. So, when do you expect to resume your explorations?"

He gives you a pained look upon hearing Etson's remark. "Perhaps I should be more trusting in your judgement. You know the situation as well as I, and have spent more time with the pair." He nods a few times to himself... "I'll lend my support in convincing Etson."

He looks to Balter, and smirks slightly "But first... the wand. I'll fetch it right now."

Brother Aster sighs, and rubs his head as Vladimir asks him what he has to say. He then points to Marisol during her continuation of the proposal.
"These people have suffered from bandits, as you know. And... If it takes two men to watch them, they would be as much bother as potential asset. Your plan to stay involved does sway me from an outright no. Bah... I don't want to tell you no. If Etson agrees to it, I will not argue against."

Diplo!

yes.. that was the bow you'd found (with antler-like protrusions)

"Ah... there it is. No small comfort to have it back."

Brother Aster stands when he sees you, and scoots a pair of townies from an adjacent table to another so he can push two together.
"I hadn't expected to see your return come so soon. Please... sit." His eyes scan the group - likely hoping to see his bow on someone's back.

Brother Aster reflexively inches back in his chair... "No no no my wounds have been dealt with...", he points to the wand on the table. "I may have even wasted a charge or two.. heh. Sleep is all I need now, but thank you." He breathes deep then pushes himself to standing.
He puts his hand to his chest to display sincerity.. "Thank you all. A peaceful mind brings peaceful rest.", as Mim sees you out.

"Bows, swords, club, and fist. Leather and hide." He shrugs "In my flight, my horse became caught in a foothold trap concealed in the tall fescue somewhere north... maybe northeast of the road. I witnessed no spellcasting, but the redhead smirker who warned his fellow thugs about Hrafen - by gear and by garb, looked the type who'd sling spells."

He gives Marisol a solid nod of approval. He responds to Vladimir... "Brother is most appropriate.", followed by a sigh. "You know I was here a few days during Natty Tulnov's stay here. So caught up in my own matters, I left again never noticing anything was amiss." He relaxes a bit - though still worn out, the burden of settling this has been eased.

"Well... my visitors with most prestigious backers, on to business. If you've a map, I'll show you where the incident took place."

He points to the border of C,7 and D,6 on the road to Nettle's Crossing.

"Return my bow, and I'll reward you with this.. lightly used wand."

He rubs one side of his jaw - sore from clenching. "Yes... they know of you, Hrafen... One of their number made attempts to stay their hands, and spoke your name in his warning of reprisal." He straightens a bit, and makes eye contact with each of you. "Unless Master Vormenghast here counts himself as more than one man, they outnumber you by one. And not all are clumsy cretins."

"Yes they did batter me well." He rolls a wand between his fingers and returns it to the table. "My physical health.. much better now, however... they've taken my bow, and I am unshakably cross." He glances over your group for a moment. "Have you much skill wielding the weapons you wear?"

~~Doc Aster's home
A mousey woman in matronly dress (dusty blue plain dress, apron, and head scarf) opens the door - just enough to fit her head through, and look you over.
"Master Vormenghast and some others....", she speaks over her shoulder.
She looks startled a moment as the door fully opens. An older fellow is standing there beside her.

"I'm awake. Come in." Inside is a kitchen and dinette area. The table is covered in unstrung bows, and arrow components in stacks and piles - as well as the tools to craft them.

"Theron Aster... this is Mim." He gestures to the mousey woman as he returns to his chair. He looks worn out (and sour-faced), but uninjured. Mim fidgets nervously with one of the three remaining chairs while her eyes flit to each of you - as if unsure how to offer chairs selectively.