I enjoyed the game while it lasted. I really had a lot of fun getting into this character.
Hopefully we can re unite in future games together. Enjoyed playing with all of you!
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"This ain’t no common wood, I’ll tell you that much." He glances over his shoulder at the others. "Forest here’s old… got that heavy kind of hush to it. Ground’s too soft in places, like it don’t get full sun. Moss growin’ on the wrong side of some trees, and I’m seein’ three kinds o’ mushrooms that shouldn’t be sproutin’ this close together unless the soil’s been disturbed, or somethin’s leakin’ out here it shouldn’t." He stands, eyes narrowing as he scans deeper into the woods.
"Strangers headed this way, and they weren’t strollin’—they picked up the pace once they hit cover. I’m gonna see if I can follow their trail. Maybe they didn’t count on someone with a bit of a nose for the wild." With that, Calen adjusts his gear, gives Lunaris a sharp whistle, and slips into the trees, eyes to the ground and hand near his weapon.
Calen lets out a low breath through his nose, scratches at his stubble, and shrugs. "Not much to speak of, truth be told. Kor’s a friendly sort, full of hot tea and not much else. Claims he don’t know a Glanwyn, says those two fellas were just passin’ through, chattin’ about spring plantin’ and the like. Nothin’ stuck to the ribs, if you catch my meanin’." He casts a glance toward the direction Basil flew off and where Pick last wandered. "Reckon we’re hopin’ Pick or Basil got more outta those cloaked strangers than we did outta Kor. Man might be honest, might just be real practiced at soundin’ like he is." He crosses his arms and leans back on one heel, still watchin’ the house. "Either way, I ain't sold on the idea this patch of land is as plain as it looks."
All good, I'm still interested in playing too. If we slow down a little bit that is okay too, I think pbp game all operate on different speeds. I am enjoying my character and bringing him to life.
Calen watches Samara get shuffled off the porch like a stray pup and throws a glance at the others, brows raised beneath the brim of his hat. He mutters low, just loud enough for his companions to hear, "Well now… that was odd. Mighty odd. What was all that about a golem?" Then he looks back to Korwen with an easy half-smile, like they’re just old neighbors catching up over a fence line. "Kor, I gotta say, I’m a touch surprised you didn’t bring up you were buildin’ yourself a golem. Thought maybe it was gonna lend a hand with the plowin’ or somethin’. Fella that size’d turn soil faster than a team of oxen." His tone is casual, but there’s a glint in his eye—he’s listening real close to how Korwen answers.
He nods to Korwen, tipping his hat slightly in greeting. "Mornin’," he says, his drawl even and polite. "Calen Derethor. Appreciate you takin’ the time to speak with us." Calen's mind ticks over the details—Korwen’s wealth, the secretive visitors, and the strange, meaningless conversation from before. If there’s something hidden in this farm, Calen intends to find it.
That's where Calen is at, I don't have intimidate though I wish I did, bit of an oversight on my part. But I can't really justify apprehending the strangers or the farmer, just really isn't enough evidence for a neutral good inquisitor of Selune to pull a Batman. I'm hesitant to say we split the party, have some stay behind to watch the farmer and a couple of us tail the two strangers.
Calen, retreats back to where Joreld and Pick are stationed to quietly relay what he knows, which as it turns out, is very little. "Didn’t catch much," he admits, voice low. "Words sounded clear, but none of it made a lick of sense—like they were talkin’ but not sayin’ a damn thing." His brow furrows, clearly frustrated. He glances toward the farmhouse, then back to the departing figures. "No coin changed hands, no trade I could see. Just words. That’s all it was. Whatever they were discussin’, weren’t somethin’ they needed to write down or pass along in plain sight." His gaze lingers on the two as they walk away, thoughts turning over. "Reckon we shadow ‘em? Or stay put an’ see what the farmer does next?"
Brow furrowing, but still invisible, Calen looks around, Intuiting that Samara is near him. Thinking to himself, They must be speaking in some sort of code Knowing he is on the clock for time, 5 minutes counts down quickly when invisible, he dashes away to put some distance before risking it to cast a spell, its loud, maybe they'll think its just more farm noise. Idiot Calen, should've cast this b'fore movin' up,
Seeing Joreld move forward, "Reckon now’s the time. let's move," Then, with practiced ease, he moves into the shadows, his steps light and deliberate. As he nears the house, he'll cast Invisibility on himself.
While invisibile, He stops just short of a window, and listens for movement within, then slowly inches forward, keen ears straining to catch any words spoken inside.
"Two ain't much, but ain't nothin' either," he murmurs, rolling his shoulders. "Could be our green-gem folks, could be somethin’ else. Either way, we best be ready." He adjusts the strap on his crossbow and glances toward the others. "I can keep eyes on ‘em too, but if this goes south, best we have the drop on ‘em first." He says, looking to Ialia, expression steady.
Calen leans in, lowering his voice just enough for the others to catch his meaning. "Now, just so y’all know, I’ve got a trick up my sleeve for emergencies. For a few minutes at a time, I can see in the dark. Ain’t as long as I'd like, but it comes in handy when the night’s thick and trouble’s a-brewin'. And, of course, Lunaris don’t need any such help—her owl eyes see clear all night long."
Hey so here is a google drive with some farm maps and variations based on day/night/rain/blood rain etc! This is a link to a google drive folder with all the maps in it. I did not make these, I just pay for 'em through patreon.
If you need a farm map, I have tons I could offer! I have so many digital maps I've collected/bought/had made for one off encounters. I'm sure I could find a farm map.
Calen nods, his eyes softening as he watches Pick rest outside with the horses. He steps out to join him with the horse, Leaning in with a quiet confidence, he murmurs, "Y'know, workin' at night's always been to my advantage. Selûne lights our path when the sun's long gone, and in that darkness, secrets tend to whisper their truths. Ain't no need to fear the night when the Moonmaiden’s on our side."
"Ain't no easy path here," Calen murmurs under his breath, "Glanwyn’s trail’s as cold as the mountain wind, but if he’s Morn's man and got caught in one of these plots, it ain't no coincidence." He rubs his calloused hands together, glancing out the window to ensure no eavesdroppers linger. "We’ve still got hours in the day. We can head back to Goldfields, check that Brownrivver farm, or wait 'til dusk to probe further.
Calen sits back in the shadows, his eyes narrowing as he listens to Pick relay what he overheard. "Now, this here’s a tangled web," he mutters, "They’re jawin’ ‘bout overturnin' Lord Morn—swappin' old bloodlines for some kind of democracy. Annika, Jamill, Skairris, and the lot—they’re plannin' things, but it ain't clear if it ties to our missing Glanwyn or just a power grab on its own. Reckon we got ourselves a fork in the road: do we chase these whispers and risk gettin' tangled in a coup, or stick to findin' Glanwyn and let these conspiracies sort themselves out?"
Calen listens quietly as Pick finishes his plea. He nods, his eyes steady and determined. "Aye, reckon that’s a sound idea," he murmurs in his low, measured drawl. Without another word, he rises from his seat, and with a final glance at Samara, he follows Pick up toward Joreld's room, ready to hear what secrets the night might hold.
Calen sits back, nursing his beer with a slow, thoughtful sip as he watches the scene unfold. Annika's curt refusal to help stings a bit, but he’s used to secrets and half-truths in these parts. He watches as Ialia deftly charms Jammil—her colorful manner and coy whispers drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Calen nods to Joreld as he gets up to leave, "Reckon, I'll be here awhile longer, just to watch the crowds,"
Calen leans forward slightly, his gaze steady and his tone low and friendly. "Now, Annika, I ain’t lookin’ to pry or stir up trouble," he drawls, "but it’d be a shame to let a good mind go untapped. You say you know people and keep to your own, and that’s fine enough. But sometimes even a quiet soul might catch wind of somethin’ worth knowin’—especially if it concerns a lost friend like our Glanwyn." He gives her a soft, reassuring smile, leaning in just a touch. "Sure, I respect that you don’t mix with lords, but perhaps there’s a nugget or two you might share, even if it’s just a whisper? We’re not lookin’ to intrude, just to piece together a puzzle. What do you say, Annika? Ain’t no harm in sharin’ a little more, is there?"
Calen inclines his head in a friendly nod as he takes in Annika's presence. "Well now, mighty fine to meet you, Annika," he drawls, his eyes warm but steady. "The lads mentioned you might know a thing or two about these parts—especially 'bout a certain elf ranger, Glanwyn. We’ve been searchin' high and low for him, and word is, you’re the sort that knows the lay of the land like the back of your hand." He pauses, letting his gaze linger on her with a mix of genuine interest and caution. "I ain't lookin' to pry into your business, but any clue you can spare might help us find our missing friend.
Calen takes a slow sip of his drink as he watches Pick slip away to scout outside. "Reckon there's more here than simple chance," he murmurs, eyes narrowing. "Tespen’s words and all this odd behavior point to someone hidin' secrets near Goldfields. If Glanwyn's caught up in trouble, we might find clues along the trail between Dagger Springs and Goldfields." He glances at the lively table where the youngsters are gathered and adds with a wry smile, "Let's see if the beers I bought do their trick, and if those kids bring Annika over."
Calen catches the barmaid’s attention with a small wave and an easy smile. Leaning in slightly, he keeps his tone light and casual. "Reckon I’d like to buy that lively table a round," he says, nodding toward the group of youths. "No need to make a fuss about it—just a friendly gesture for some folks enjoyin’ their night." He slides over a few silver pieces to cover the cost, making sure it’s enough for a decent round of drinks. Then, he leans back in his chair, taking a slow sip of his own drink as he watches the interaction unfold. He’s in no rush—just looking to get a read on Annika and her company, seeing how they respond to unexpected generosity.
Hey I just moved on Saturday and am still waiting for internet to get set up. They are coming Wednesday. Sorry folks! If ya need to boy me you can!
Calen nods slowly, his expression shifting to one of understanding as Baralaia speaks. "Well now, I appreciate your candor, ma’am. Sounds like Annika’s her own kind of mystery," he says with a soft chuckle. "And Tymora smilin’ on the Kormarsh boy? Reckon that’s her way of keepin’ the world interestin’, huh?" He tilts his head slightly, his voice dropping just enough to convey a sense of shared discretion. "You’ve been mighty kind, sharin’ what you have. Not every innkeeper’d bother, and I’ll not forget it. Seems like Annika’s got her own path, and we’ll see if ours happen to cross. No need to stir the pot more than necessary." Calen leans back slightly, offering a warm, appreciative smile. "If there’s anythin’ else you think we oughta know, or if trouble tends to find this Annika or her friends, you’ve got a pair of ears here. Otherwise, I reckon we’ll let things unfold as they will."
Calen tips his hat slightly, offering a charming smile that suggests a mix of respect and harmless curiosity. "Well now, that’s fair, ma’am,"he begins, his tone easy and conversational. "Name’s Calen. Me an’ my friends are just passin’ through, lookin’ to set a few things right where we can. Heard her name mentioned by some folks who said she’s someone who knows things—local matters, maybe more. Sounded like she might be able to lend a hand or point us in the right direction."
Calen pauses, letting his eyes drift across the room, "As for our quarry... reckon we're closer than we think. That robed figure back in Goldfields—it means somethin'. Could be coincidence, but I don't put much stock in those. Someone tall enough to duck through a doorway in a village of laborers? That don’t scream local to me." He sets his mug down, his tone growing more thoughtful. "Question is, are they leadin’ us to Glanwyn, or away from him? Either way, I don't like playin’ catch-up. Feels like we're dancin’ to someone else’s tune." Calen adjusts his hat and raises a hand to flag down the rosy-cheeked serving girl as she passes by. "‘Scuse me, miss," he says, leaning slightly forward in his chair. "Mighty fine place y’all got here, and the food’s even better. Me an’ my companions are obliged." He slides two silver pieces across the table toward her, the coins catching the dim light. "Figure I’d pay forward some of that kindness with a round of drinks for you and your staff, if that’s alright. Also, if you’d be so kind, I was hopin’ you might tell me a little about someone. Goes by the name Annika. Heard she’s the one to talk to if a body’s got questions ‘bout the goin’s-on around these parts."
Calen's attention remains on the room, and he leans forward slightly to speak to the group in a low voice, his words barely carrying beyond the table. “Place like this, folks talk. Sooner or later, they’ll forget about us bein’ new and start jawin’ ‘bout what’s worth hearin’.” He pauses, glancing around, “Might not hurt to grease the wheels if y’see someone who looks like they’ve got a story to tell. Most folks ain’t as good at keepin’ secrets as they think.”
Calen tips his hat slightly toward Ialia and Pick, his face calm but his eyes intent. “Fair enough, Miss Frostmoon. We’ll keep the magic for a rainy day.” He glances at the rusty-colored mutt that Pick has become and nods approvingly. “Good thinkin’, Pick. You’ll blend in easy like that. And don’t you worry—if we hear those three barks, we’ll come runnin’.”
Calen narrows his eyes thoughtfully as he considers the situation. His hand lingers near the pouch of spell components, and he gestures between Pick and Ialia with a tilt of his head. “Now, I can make one of y’all invisible for a spell, maybe both if you reckon it’s necessary. Thing is, I only got so much of that kind of magic in me for the day.” His voice carries a note of caution. “If we get into trouble later, might leave me a bit short on options.” He looks at Pick first, nodding toward the house. “For you, it’d make sure nobody sees where you’re comin’ from, and you could get right up to that door without raisin’ a fuss. A dog’s natural, sure, but an invisible one? Well, that’s downright untouchable.” His gaze shifts to Ialia, hovering above with Basil tucked into her hair. “For you, Miss Frostmoon, it’d keep pryin’ eyes from noticin’ our watchful little angel up there. Might give us an edge if anyone’s thinkin’ to keep an eye on their own.”
Calen turns back to join the rest of the group, as he approaches, he raises a hand to gather their attention. “Well now, reckon we’ve got ourselves a lead,” he begins, saying quietly “Those two mentioned someone named Annika. Seems like she’s got a knack for knowin’ what’s goin’ on ‘round the Dale. She’s supposed to be at the One-Horn tonight, but they were tight lipped about what or where that might be," Calen glances at each of his companions, his tone taking on a lighter edge. “Reckon it’d be smart for me to step back for a bit—let y’all take the reins on this one while I keep my ears open. Don’t want to spook anyone by pushin’ too hard, too fast."
“Well now,” Calen says with a slight smile, “sounds like Annika might have an ear to the ground, which makes her someone worth talkin’ to. Appreciate the suggestion, truly.” His gaze shifts between the two teens, resting a little longer on the first one, who seems less enthusiastic. “Y’know,” he adds in a quieter tone, leaning just a touch closer, “sometimes folks know somethin’ they don’t reckon is important until someone comes askin’. So if Annika—or anyone else—happens to recall somethin’, even if it feels small, it could be the piece we’re missin’.” Calen will draw out 4 silver pieces, offering two a piece to the teens for their information, "Now I reckon I might be able to rustle up some gold, if you can run off and fetch this Annika fer me, my bones are weary from traveling," Lunaris will take off with a hoot, spiraling up into the sky and off to land on a nearby house to provide overwatch and maybe nap a little.
“Well now, reckon y’all seem mighty polite, but somethin’ tells me there’s more flittin’ ‘round your heads than you’re lettin’ on.” His hand rises to gently scratch under Lunaris’ beak as the owl, perched by his side, shifts her feathers and lets out a soft hoot, as though echoing Calen’s unspoken question. Calen continues, his tone gentle but firm. “Ain’t lookin’ to cause trouble, y’hear? Just tryin’ to do what’s right. If there’s somethin’ y’know that might help, well... I’d be much obliged if you’d share.” He pauses for a moment, letting the words settle, his expression unreadable save for the faintest flicker of reassurance in his voice. “Lunaris an’ me, we got a knack for understandin’ when folk are keepin’ somethin’. And I promise, whatever it is, you won’t face it alone.”
“She ain’t just any owl,” Calen begins, his voice taking on a storytelling cadence. “Lunaris here’s more like family. Came to me when I was in a real bad spot, helped me find my way when I didn’t have much of a path to walk. Reckon Selûne sent her to me. Moon goddess,” he adds. “As for why we’re here,” he continues, gesturing vaguely toward the village, “me and my friends are lookin’ for someone. Figured your peaceful little hamlet might be a good place to ask a question or two. You wouldn’t happen to have heard about a fella named Glanwyn, would ya? Hunter, dark hair, kinda quiet type?” He raises an eyebrow, keeping his tone light and conversational, as if asking about someone’s favorite fishing spot rather than a potential missing person.
Calen watches Samara's polite interaction with the dowdy woman for a moment longer before his gaze shifts to the pair of children gawking unabashedly from a short distance away. A grin spreads across his face, softening his usual wary demeanor. He clicks his tongue, urging his horse to amble toward the children, slow and nonthreatening. As he approaches, he dismounts and he lets out a sharp, clear whistle. Above, Lunaris responds immediately, her silvery form descending in graceful spirals until she lands with a soft flutter of wings. “Don’t reckon y’all’ve seen the likes of her before, have ya? This here’s Lunaris. She don’t bite—long as ya ain’t thinkin’ to take her dinner.” He gently strokes Lunaris’s sleek feathers, then nods to the children. “C’mon now, if ya like, you can say howdy. She’s mighty soft—just mind her beak.”
"Well now, reckon I can patch folks up, too. Selûne's seen fit to grant me healin' touch. Got some tricks fer shorin' up wounds when things get rough, but I try to save 'em fer when it matters most. Besides that, I have a few more skills more orientated toward hunting down monsters, be they man or the un natural." He gives a faint grin toward Pick, then to the rest. "Sounds like we've got a fair spread of know-how when it comes to mendin' what’s broke, but a bit o' plan never hurt none." He takes a glance toward the village below, tipping his hat against the weak sun. With a chuckle at Samara’s attempt, Calen nods approvingly. "Peaceful omelette, huh? Well, let’s hope this one don’t crack under the pressure o’ strangers comin’ through. Let’s head on in."
Calen tips his hat back slightly, his eyes scanning the view as Goldfields spreads out below. The faint glint of the lakes and the clustered farms give the place a peaceful air, but his expression remains cautious. "Goldfields, huh?" he mutters, his drawl low as he rubs a thumb along his chin. "Looks downright quiet from up here, but reckon we’ve all seen ‘quiet’ turn sideways before." He pauses, glancing down at the clustered farms below. "If Glanwyn passed through here, someone’s bound to have seen somethin’. We ask smart, we don’t overplay our hand, and maybe we get the lead we’ve been hopin’ for."
Calen wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his hat resting nearby on the damp earth. The graves for the bugbears are simple but sufficient, the soil packed firm over their resting places. He dusts off his hands, glancing toward Joreld and Samara with a nod of quiet gratitude. "Reckon this ain’t the kind of work most folk’d offer a hand for, but y’all did. Means somethin’ to me," he says, his drawl steady and genuine. "Ain’t much else I can do for ‘em now, but leastwise they’re in the ground, not left to rot or for the crows to pick at." He steps forward, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. Calen adjusts the moon-shaped holy symbol around his neck, his voice dropping to a reverent tone as he lifts his face toward the faint glow of the moon breaking through the lingering clouds. "Lady o’ Silver Light, hear my words. These souls’ve gone on, and though their ways were twisted by anger or need, they’re your children now, same as any other. Guide ‘em through the night, Selûne. Show ‘em the path to whatever peace awaits ‘em beyond this world."
Shaking his head and lowering his crossbow, he'll whistle to signal to Lunaris to return, "We could hunt them down easily enough, aye, but I think we've shown them up, the Moonmaiden'd suggest we show 'em compassion, gives 'em a chance to rethink their lives," Shaking his head, he'll put some gloves on and gather up the fallen bugbears, "come on, help me bury these ones Joreld, lest they attract predators,"
Calen runs forward 30 feet, then whistles to Lunaris and points at the blue bug bear that he will then also target. Calen will fire off a crossbow bolt at the blue bugbear on the bluff in front of him.
Calen, remaining where he is, dodging arrows, will sight in on the near Green bugbear. "You really should know its awfully rude to interrupt a man sleepin',"
Calen, thankful for hiss mithril shirt, sleeps fully armored, and for the most part clothed, "Thank ye' Pick, quick thinkin' friend, now y'all be careful now looks like w're surrounded!" Calen begins scooping up his belongings, grabbing his repeating crossbow, and a couple of bolt cartridges.
Calen wakes up, "My shift already Pick?" he rolls over, looking around in the darkness, then casts Light on a rock or something nearby to provide some illumination. Seeing Pick pincushioned with arrows, "Oh s%$#, wake y'all, we under attack!"
Calen will try and work with Lunaris to find a place to bed down, hopefully they can find a cliff overhang or an alcove or cave big enough to fit everyone to get out of the rain for the night.
"Well, guess it ain’t my place to judge. Seems to me you ain’t got much more to offer us ‘cept your own misfortunes. Hope you find your way steady, Narm. Luck to ya." He shifts in his saddle, glancing toward Joreld with a nod. "Aye, Joreld. Best we move on before we lose what daylight we have left, trackin' hard in the dark, not impossible but harder fer sure," Before turning his mount, he spares Narm one last look, his tone softening just slightly. "Keep your head low and your feet steady, Narm. Ain’t no shame in knowin’ what you ain’t." With that, Calen nudges his horse forward, eyes scanning the horizon for the next leg of their search.
Calen stiffens slightly as Ialia’s voice threads through his mind, her pointed words striking a chord. He keeps his face impassive, his hat tilted forward to mask his reaction, and subtly shifts his gaze toward her as if gauging her intent. Leaning slightly in his saddle, he mutters under his breath, his voice low and touched with a dry drawl. "Ain’t no need to fret, Miss Ialia. I’ve got my eye on him." His hand brushes the brim of his hat, a gesture that could just as easily be taken for adjusting it as a signal he’s heard her. Turning his focus back to the man, Calen’s gaze sharpens. He lets Joreld and Samara continue their line of questioning, but the Selûnite is watching closely now—not just for answers, but for tells. His eyes flit to the stranger’s hands, his posture, the way he shifts his weight or hesitates. If this man had nothing to offer, Calen resolved to cut the conversation short. Suspicion had always served him well, and he wasn’t about to abandon it now. Calen continues to observe the mans behavior.
“Now, we ain’t callin’ you a hunter or a suspect,” he starts, voice low and easy. “But we’re lookin’ for someone who might’ve passed this way—a fella name of Glanwyn. Can’t say we’ve got the luxury of overlookin’ any potential lead, you see. So, tell us plain: what’s brought you to these parts, and what’ve you seen worth notin’ these past couple weeks?” He leans back slightly in his saddle, resting a hand near the hilt of his crossbow, saddled for now to the side of the horse for easy access, but keeping it casual. His gaze remains locked on the man, searching for any flicker of unease or dishonesty in his response. “’Course,” Calen adds, tone growing just a shade lighter, if it turns out you’re just passin’ through, we’ll tip our hats and be on our way. But if you’ve got somethin’ useful to share, well... we’d be much obliged.”
Calen crouches by the ring of stones, running his fingers through the cold ashes and giving them a faint sniff before dusting his hand clean on his breeches. His sharp eyes sweep the surrounding area, lingering on the footprints leading away. He tilts his head, the drizzle catching on the brim of his hat, and rubs his jaw thoughtfully. "Whoever was here knew what they were doin'," he drawls. "Fire’s clean out, ashes cold, and not a scrap left behind. Tracks are plain, so they weren’t tryin’ to vanish on us neither. That tells me they were either confident—or in a hurry."
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