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Festus is indeed with you. "These items are sacrificed to Torag. If you intend to use them for good and have an equivalent item to trade you may do so, but stealing or acting in bad faith will be judged in the room outside. I should think you would want to avoid that. Come along when you are ready, I am still looking for my brother, and perhaps the brown shard."
The sparring tournament is new to the Magaambya. Thee visiting professor, Mafiki Ayuwari, feels that the initiates and attendants are not well trained enough in physical battle skills, though the quality of their education is beyond reproach. While magical skill is important, being able to hold your own in physical combat also is necessary in the real world. To remedy this, he has proposed a series of Starday Tournaments, this being the first. You also hear that Teacher Ayuwari has also recently returned from Tian Xia, where he participated in the famous Ruby Phoenix tournament. The professor did not win, but did well enough to earn acclaim in scholarly and magic circles and is something of a minor celebrity in your midst.
Thistetop! - Round 4 - concluded 21 Isidiana
Garen enters the melee with the remaining goblins and their hideous mounts, but is attack misses even against the prone foe. Seeing Garen pass the rope bridge safely, Grod also motors across onto the island side. The bridge creaks and groans ominously, but it holds his weight and the warpriest is soon on the other side safely.
Those exact weapons are not present, but there are other weapons with potency runes that could be taken and placed on your light weapons.
There are lots of interesting things in the pile of treasure here, but the rock (the brown stone) is not among them.
Graham and Scarlet Knight rush ahead, seeking the disappeared caster. Graham is at a loss as to Tartuccio's location, but Scarlet seems to get a sense that he could be ahead, but the gnome/kobold remains hidden from sight, somewhere ahead.
Secret Checks:
Goblin Pyros - Round 4 - continued
Already lined up and flanking with Telurion's reach weapon, Oshii make a series of attacks on Blue. Missing once, but landing a second blow, Oshii stings the goblin who is looking hurt. Blue casts another spell, and a pool of slippery grease appears at the feet of Syeira and Oshii. The monk is able to retain her balance, barely.The pyro then scampers back the way it came, ending up adjacent to Ro. Red Pyro continues trying to batter Talene, swinging its flaming torch twice. The acolyte of the cathedral is battered hard, taking serious damage from a pair of strikes.
Tartuk's Last Stand - Round 8
25 Tartuk (35hp dmg)
Having taken significant hits in the last round, including bleeding out after the magical claw strikes, Tartuk looks around nervously. He takes a few cautious steps away from Velas and Graham, and then just at the edge of vision in the dark tunnel, disappears completely. "You may have won this round, fools, but you have not seen the last of me!" The voice that speaks this last is not the sounds of the purple skinned kobold caster, but a voice familiar to several of the original group that gathered at Lady Jamandi's, the gnome charlatan Tartuccio, who you crossed swords with once before.
Tartuk's Last Stand - Round 7 - concluded
25 Tartuk (33hp dmg, 2 persistent dmg)
Quintessa realizes her fear has abated somewhat and backtracks, trying to look smooth in the process. Alvis steps forward, giving Velas one more shot of healing that does in fact restore all his lost vitality. End of Round 7
At Foundry The automaton’s internal subroutines track the smooth trajectory of the illumination source as it changes hands. Sanvil accepts the light, casually slipping the glowing technological scanner into a deep pocket with the practiced ease of a legitimate tradesman putting away a measuring tape. "My apologies for the surreptitious entry," Sanvil offers smoothly, his voice dropping to a low, confidential murmur. "Given the delicate nature of the current situation, I wished to avoid causing undue alarm to Khonnir, or drawing the notice of Father Joram. We all have our own agendas in Torch, after all." The merchant steps closer, his demeanor radiating familiar camaraderie as he reaches out a hand to offer a friendly pat to the automaton’s armored shoulder. “It’s good to see you’re still functional, old friend—” Sanvil’s arm doesn't deliver a friendly slap. Instead, his hand lunges forward with sudden, precise velocity. Glinting in the torchlight is a heavy, metallic disc roughly the size of a dinner plate, its under-surface suddenly sparking with a localized electromagnetic adherence field as he attempts to slam and lock it directly onto the Tangent's chassis.
It appears that the desk is Garmen Ulreth's office away from Silverdisk Hall. A ledger book, some bills and letters and a few other office odds and ends lie on the desk but nothing that seems overly interesting or incriminating. Gozznut cannot hear anything except the buzzing in his head when he leans against the door. The knob gives way in his hand, and does not appear to be locked as he and Stodig ready to burst through. The barbarian is about to force the door open, when suddenly the door below, near the bar, opens. Standing there is Garmen Ulreth, saying something over his shoulder, presumably to someone else in the warehouse, before turning and seeing the lot of you in his office. There is a moment when everything stands still...
As the party winds down, with everyone joyful but tired, you recall that the next day is Starday, and not just any Starday. It is the day for the first Monthly Sparring Tournament led by the visiting Tempest Sun-Mage instructor, Mafiki Ayuwari. The meeting is to be held in the Leshy Gardens at noon. The signs around the campus say: "Initiates and Attendants only. All skill levels welcome. Single elimination brackets. Winner receives a prize. Attendance strongly encouraged!" It appears this contest is what the leshys building for.
The meticulous coordination between the students and the twins goes off without a single hitch. M'baba plays his part with masterful deception, leading Tzeniwe toward the river under the guise of an insurmountable mechanical flaw in his net-thrower design. The spider-person approaches with her typical careful, problem-solving focus—entirely unprepared for what awaits her around the corner of the building. The moment she steps into view, the trap is sprung. "SURPRISE!" The hidden gathering erupts into immediate celebration, and the look of sheer astonishment on Tzeniwe's face proves the ruse was a magnificent success. Right on cue, the celebration bursts into an absolute sensory delight. Perched high on the diving board of the floating dock, Knickpoint Crest sets a flawless tone, his panpipes dancing through a series of incredibly intricate, beautiful bird calls that hang perfectly in the river air. To cap off the ten-minute musical showcase, Knick executes a breathtaking, technically flawless dive, slicing into the river with barely a splash to the cheers of the onlookers. The atmosphere only grows more vibrant from there. The contracted musicians blend seamlessly into the festivities; the delicate harmonies of the reed pipes and the rhythmic, woodpecker tapping of the gourd drums provide a perfect ambient backdrop. Guests drift between the tables of delicious celebratory food and admire the incredible decorations. Za Minyahil’s pleasant, comforting presence keeps the energy wholesome and joyous as everyone mingles. As the afternoon winds down, a deeply touched Tzeniwe looks around at the eclectic, beautiful gathering of her fellow students, her eyes shining with genuine gratitude. "This is, without a doubt, my best birthday ever," she says, her voice thick with emotion. The party stands as a triumphant testament to what a few dedicated classmates can accomplish when they combine their talents, a perfectly orchestrated memory that none of them will soon forget.
Tartuk's Last Stand - Round 7 - continued
25 Tartuk (33hp dmg, 2 persistent dmg)
Scarlet shakes off most of the damaging effects of the phantom pain spell, only take mild injury. His return elemental blast misses the kobold caster by a wide margin. Graham steps up and scores one hit, but his follow up just misses.
At Foundry The sudden, sharp spike of pneumatic pressure within the Tangent’s core translates into a swift, sweeping motion. Its primary ocular lens flares, casting a sudden, brilliant cone of blue-white illumination across the darkened workshop. For a microsecond, the automaton’s internal logic gates hum with a rare, vestigial anticipation expecting the visual data to resolve into the silhouette of a long-lost brother, another mechanical survivor of ancient times. Instead, the light washes over a frustratingly familiar face. It is Sanvil Trett. The local merchant stands amidst the shadows, entirely unbothered by the sudden spotlight. In his hand, he holds a compact, intricately wired contraption. As DT’s sensory arrays lock onto it, the device's crimson signature is immediately categorized within its esoteric databanks. It is a technological "sniffer": a specialized scanner designed specifically to detect, trace, and isolate high-frequency signals emitted by advanced technological components. Sanvil doesn't flinch, nor does he offer an apology for his illicit presence. Instead, he simply shrugs, lowering the blinking device slightly, and offers a casual nod as if this intrusion were nothing more than standard mercantile business. “Ah, Diligent Tangent,” Sanvil greets smoothly, his tone entirely conversational. “Good to see your gears are still turning. Lovely evening for a stroll through the Foundry, isn't it? How's Khonnir? I heard he was in a bad way."
Bypassing the ruse of the deceptively boarded-up doorway, the party slips across the threshold and into the dim interior of Garmen Ulreth’s warehouse. Immediately, any hope that the oppressive noise might dissipate vanishes. Within these enclosed walls, the invisible frequency is exponentially worse. The air itself feels heavy, charged with a sickening static that vibrates through the floorboards and deep into their bones. For Karina, the nauseating thrum intensifies to a torturous degree, making it feel as though her skull is trapped inside a vibrating iron bell, completely fracturing her focus. Even Stødig, despite his robust dwarven fortitude and his makeshift earplugs, can feel the malicious energy rattling his teeth and clouding his vision. Gozznut’s tribal instincts scream at the sheer, agonizing unnaturalness of the sensation. As the group stands their ground against the sensory assault, their eyes begin to adjust to the semi-darkness, aided by the dim, pale shafts of light cutting through the gloom from high skylights on one side of the building. While it has the outer shell of a standard storage facility, the structural modifications to this specific room quickly become apparent. This isn't just a place for stacking crates; it has been converted into a makeshift office. Tucked into one corner is what looks remarkably like a fully stocked wet bar, while a heavy wooden desk and an accompanying chair sit nearby. At present, the office area appears entirely devoid of other people, though the true enemy in the chamber remains the agonizing, unseen transmission. The path forward is clear but daunting: a flight of wooden stairs leads upward to an elevated door, while several other closed doors punctuate the lower walls, sealing off the rest of the layout.
Glad you are enjoying DT's solo adventure...
Clenchjaws is well kept outside, and similar inside. Though a working-man's establishment, Rinson Jon, the owner of the place, brooks no foolishness like brawling or hooliganism. Folks come to drink, eat passable fare, and socialize, but the talk of politics or any kind of physical altercation will get you thrown out on your ear. Clenchjaw looks like he could do most of the tossing himself. His shoulders look a mile wide, and his neck is thick and corded with muscle. His hands are large and powerful though deft behind the bar. He nods greeting as you enter, flipping some earthen mugs on the bartop, which has a shiny brass rail around it top and bottom. "Looking for something cold or something to fill yer bellies?" he asks taking in the look of all of you. Perception DC15: While the place is clean, and Clenchjaw himself looks powerful, you can see his eyes are glassy and just a bit unfocused, and just a hint of irritation in his voice. Maybe he was sleeping at the bar before you came in?
Talene: You are right at 14, I had not readjusted for making the Reflex save from the fiery breath.
Goblin Pyros - Round 4 21 Talene (11/19hp remain)
Face to face with a chaotic goblin, Talene spins up her magical warding spell, and then tries to put the adjacent foe to sleep. The spell seems to make the goblin drowsy and less alert but it does not have the desired effect of knocking it unconscious.
success
Goblin Pyros - Round 3 - concluded 21 Talene (11/19hp remain)
While Telurion succumbs to the gout of flame spewed by Blue, he does stand tall and protect Talene from the melee blow, returning a devastating hit on Red that leaves the goblin mortally wounded, but still standing. Stepping up, Telurion tries to trip the Blue Goblin but is too singed from the fire to see quite straight and the attack misses. He does take a moment to heal himself, channeling a bit of divine energy to recharge his batteries. Ro's attempt to be subtle fails, so she just stabs the goblin nearest her straight up, killing it. She then raises her small shield, just in case things get worse before they get better. Syeira avoids the worst of the flaming spell, and returns the favor with an icy spell targeting Blue. The goblin is able to avoid most of the frosty blast, but does take mild damage anyway. End of Round 3
success for half
Tartuk's Last Stand - Round 7 - continued
25 Tartuk (28hp dmg, 2 persistent dmg)
Attacks from both Teela, via spell, and Velas, via spellstrike, successfully connect with Tartuk, who grunts in pain and frustration, looking around at his desperate situation.
[dice=Will Save]1d20 + 8
The room to the west is small, maybe 20x30'. A set of everburning torches flicker and flame in sconces set high in the wall, casting the bright lights seen from the Room of Judgement. Inside the room is treasury full of goods. Armor, weapons, gold coins, gems, jewels, and a whole assortment of crafted good and art objects. Dwarven runes fill the entire west wall and when translated they say, "Leave a treasure for the poor, take a treasure to aid the faith." It's clear this is the treasury of Torag's temple, left as offering or for future use, but it is also clear that taking items come with conditions and the subsequent judgement in the room outside.
The eyes of the statue pass over all the heroes one by one, that same sense of warmth washing over them. And each one passes, able to slip inside without incident. The voice allows admittance to each, and the room with the glowing torchlight beckons to the west. To the south a longer darker set of stairs descends into what appears to be a the sublevel of this temple/crypt.
As Vako enters, the same rays, start flashing around the room, looking for the intruder.
Seems reaosnable for a leshy. All this checks out for me. good to go
At this time of day, after lunch but before dinner, Clenchjaw's seems very low-key. Only a small handful of people coming and going, most appear to be working class types from off the docks or sailors from off the many ships at port. The building is well-maintained and seems homey enough from the outside. Kintargo Lore or similar DC16: You have heard that Clenchjaws is a low-key working man's pub. The proprietor Rinston "Clenchjaw" Jon is known to be a no-nonsense barman, who brooks no political talk (unlike the unfortunate Thrashing Badger) hence the nickname.
The bell above the door jingles sharply as Bellara pokes her head back into the dim, canvas-scented workshop. Vardun "Vandu" Hakar doesn't even wait for her to speak. His jaw tightens, and he slams his heavy sail-needle down onto the workbench with a muffled thud. "You again?" the salty old man rasps, his face contorting into a deeply irritated scowl. "I already said my piece to your friend, girl. I’ve got sails to mend and nets to patch. Who do you think you are, coming back in here to pester an honest tradesman? I have nothing more for you." Stepping up to smooth over the tension, Buttercup jingling her coin purse and openly offers a handful of silver to loosen his tongue. Vandu turns a sour, calculating eye toward the glinting metal, but the temptation vanishes as quickly as it came. He scoffs bitterly, motioning with a thick, calloused thumb through the open doorway toward the blackened, structural skeleton of the Thrashing Badger next door. "You think a few coins can buy a man a new life?" Vandu growls, his voice dropping to a harsh, fiercely quiet whisper. "Look out there. That used to be a bustling tavern, and now it’s a pile of ash. House Thrune doesn't care about your coin, and they don't care about my business. It’s not worth risking my life and my livelihood just to satisfy your curiosity. Pack up your silver and move along before someone sees you loitering." Realizing that fear has locked the sailmaker's secrets tight behind a wall of self-preservation, the party is left with little choice but to step back out onto the cobblestones. Secret Checks:
As Shaka stands his ground with quiet fortitude, the twin beams of pale yellow light sweep across the chamber, locking onto the orc's imposing frame. For a tense moment, the room holds its breath. But instead of a searing burst of divine wrath or a defensive ward triggering, Shaka feels a sudden, deep radiance wash over him. It is a profound, comforting warmth reminiscent of the ambient heat from a well-tended forge or a welcoming hearth fire. A heavy, resonant voice, echoing with the deep vibration of grinding stone and striking iron, fills the chamber. It does not sound angry, but rather measured and ancient: "You have been judged and may pass..." As the final echo of the Father of Creation's decree fades, a rhythmic click of ancient gears sounds from across the lower level. To the west, the heavy door set into the far wall swings open entirely on its own volition. From the newly revealed threshold, the dancing, golden glow of torchlight spills out into the dark chamber, casting flickering shadows and warmly inviting the party forward into the next room. Printhello does not know what to expect from this judgement but is pleasantly surprised when it goes well for Shaka. Secret Rolls:
Tartuk's Last Stand - Round 7
25 Tartuk (3hp dmg)
Tartuk avoids the damage from Velas and then casts another spell which sends searing pain into brain of Scarlet Knight. The noble champion tries to fight off the pain.
Tartuk's Last Stand - Round 6 - concluded
25 Tartuk (3hp dmg; frightened 1)
As Velas runs past, Alvis is able to drop some healing on him, not restoring him to full but hopefully keeping him out of immediate danger. Velas tries a hit and run approach to attacking Tartuk, but the hurried stab is side-stepped by the kobold caster, and no damage results, though Velas is now in the chamber. End of Round 6
Goblin Pyros - Round 3 - continued 21 Talene (8/19hp remain)
Talene follows up with another blast of divine energy aimed at pesky Red Pyro. This time it hits, but only for minor damage. Oshii moves forward to attack the seriously wounded war chanter, hoping to stop the sing-song inspiration to the rest of the marauders. She attacks with a flurry - a chop and a roundhouse kick. The kcik upside the head of the goblin is enough to finish the work Ro started, and the bard falls out dead. Oshii then moves back into flanking position with Syeira for follow up fighting. Fully engaged with a host of foes, Blue Pyro steps away from the melee trap and then spews a gout of flame in a 15' cone that catches Syeira, Telurion, and Talene burning each of those heroes painfully. Now Talene gets Red Goblin's full attention. The fire-loving maniac rushes towards her, leaping atop the now-ruined head table and swinging a flaming brand down at the cleric. Talene is hit in the shoulder, taking a bruise and a slight searing. Green Goblin rushes at Ro, who is now exposed. also attacking with a burning torch. The flaming stick whacks the rogue upside the head for mild bludgeoning and fire damage.
miss
histetop! - Round 4 - continued 21 Isidiana
Ari mercilessly slays the sleeping Red Goblin who gurgles and death rattles a bit, but dies just the same. Izzy's knife through and Tot's powerful slash at the Yellow Goblin both miss. Whether it's a trick of the wind, or just random luck, this time Blue Goblin hears the fighting at the front gate, and spurs its dog-mount towards the melee, arriving just as Garen cross the rope bridge. The goblin fires a shortbow at the newcomer from a mounted position. The shot misses, and the recoil causes the goblin to lose his balance and fall prone near the Blue Dog. Yellow Goblin attacks Tot, stabbing viciously with its crude, wicked blade. No matter how savage an attack, Tot rather easily turns it aside with her own blade.
fail
Leaving the aromatic shavings of the cooperage behind, the team approaches Vandu’s Net & Sail Loft. If Caspian Vance was a fountain of whispered secrets, the proprietor here, Vardun "Vandu" Hakar is a stone wall. The man, in his late 50s, seems to be carved of salt and patience. His skin is leathered and lined from decades of exposure and his thick iron-grey hair is tied back tightly with a piece of tarred twine. His fingers are thick and perpetually stained with sail-wax and bite of thousands of needles sticks from trimming canvas sails. Where Caspian’s eyes flashed with grief and anger, this merchant's gaze remains entirely guarded, deliberately fixed on a needle passing through heavy fabric. To any diplomatic overtures or probing questions about the Night of Ashes, the response is a masterclass in non-committal murmurs. The proprietor doesn't deny the horror of that evening, but they certainly aren't going to confirm any details about mysterious spear-wielding women or deliberate arson. Every tense line of the merchant's posture broadcasts a singular, desperate desire: do not cause trouble. With their livelihood standing mere feet from the ashes of the Thrashing Badger, they are acutely aware of how quickly dry canvas catches fire. Surviving under the new regime means keeping one's head down, and this merchant has absolutely no intention of rocking the boat against House Thrune's absolute control. The interview yields no new clues, only a chilling, silent testament to the fear currently paralyzing the honest citizens of Kintargo. Secret Checks:
Tartuk's Last Stand - Round 6 - continued
25 Tartuk (3hp dmg; frightened 1)
With a great fright put into her by Tartuk's powerful spell, Quintessa flees away from the scene as fast as she can. Eventually she ends up face to face with a matronly kobold carrying a little baby and stops and checks herself, mildly embarrassed but still shudderingly afraid. Scarlet is able to cut down the last kobold bodyguard, leaving just Tartuk himself alone in the chamber.
With decorations and celebratory goodies in tow, the students make their way back to the school, and starting setting up for the party. With the materials from the leshys, and the accoutrements from the village, the party seems ready to burst to life. Once the musicians arrive and set up, its time for the guest of honor to show and be surprised.
At the Warehouse The closer the party draws to Garmen Ulreth's warehouse, the more punishing the unseen force becomes. Karina winces, pressing a hand to her temple as the sharp, technological buzzing intensifies into a nauseating thrum. The sheer intensity of the frequency leaves her feeling physically sick, her focus completely splintered by the invisible assault. Beside her, Stødig tries to step forward to take charge, but the persistent drone in his ears compromises his dwarven fortitude. He shakes his head, attempting to clear the fog, but find himself entirely unable to focus well enough to provide his usual steady assistance. It falls to Gozznut to lead the breach. Gritting his teeth and powering straight through the blinding headache, the Kellid barbarian advances to the threshold. The entrance before them appears daunting; the heavy wooden door is entirely boarded up with thick, weathered planks, looking for all the world like an impassable barrier meant to keep the curious out. Bracing himself to tear the wood away by brute force, Gozznut reaches out only to discover a startling anomaly. The boarded-up facade is nothing but a clever ruse. With a light touch, the unattached planks shift seamlessly with the frame, and the door swings open easily on well-oiled hinges. Beyond the threshold lies the dark, silent interior of the warehouse. The only illumination is a series of dim, pale shafts of light cutting through the gloom from high skylights on one side of the building, casting long, stark shadows across the floor. Light also spills inside from the now open door, meaning that anyone inside may know the door is opened, if they are paying attention.
At Foundry The ambient illumination within the Foundry’s primary workshop is severely compromised, the drawn shutters throttling what daylight into mere slivers of gray against the oppressive gloom. To a organic eye, the room would be a morass of ambiguous shadows. To the Diligent Tangent, it is a complex grid of low-light data processing. Its auditory receptors had already flagged the anomalous friction of leather and shifting tools. Now, its single glowing eye narrows, flickering from a worried green to a focused, analytic azure as it strains to interpret the visual data. There. Silhouetted against the dark geometry of a workbench, a singular, bipedal form materializes from the obscurity—resolving into a distinct, man-sized silhouette. The entity is motionless, yet radiating a palpable, hostile intent. Before the Tangent can formulate a verbal demand for peaceful capitulation, a micro-aperture of crimson light punctuates the darkness. A solitary, ruby-red luminescence ignites upon the intruder’s form, casting a sinister, blood-colored sheen across the immediate vicinity.
No worries, thanks for the heads up.
Think we are just waiting on character upgrades from Vako, unless I missed something
The door opens into a multi-level room. You stand on the upper floor and two sets of stairs on either side of the chamber descend to the lower level. At the bottom, a 10' tall statue of Torag, hammer in hand, well-crafted armor in full display stands. There is a door on the lower level just north of Torag's form, and another longer set of stairs descends into darkness. As soon as you enter, the eyes of the Torag statue seem to flicker to life, emitting twin beams of pale yellow light that scan the room. You can avoid these beams by stepping out into the hall of armor, or stand firm. DWarven runes are written on the wall behind Torag. Dwarven: The runes say simply, "Stand and be Judged"
Shaka and Neppka are both good to go!
Val is in the room with you and the priest. there is just one exit to the rest of the house from the bedroom but there are windows on two walls that could be entered (or exited) on the ground floor. The door to the bedroom opens inward -- that is, from the main room into the bedchamber.
The Salted Mast Cooperage has been providing quality wooden barrels for your seafaring needs for more than 25 years. The heavy scent of brine, seasoned oak, and wood shaving washes over Myron as he steps into the workshop. Behind a massive, iron-hooped barrel stands the proprietor: a burly, weathered human named Caspian Vance, whose apron is stained with dark wood-stains and whose knuckles are calloused from decades of hammering rivets. Myron’s easy charm and disarming approach immediately cut through the craftsman's natural suspicion. Seeing a sympathetic ear, Caspian rests his heavy mallet on a nearby stool and wipes his brow, leaning in close. He doesn't hold back, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper. "I'll tell you exactly what I saw on the Night of Ashes, friend,"Caspian says, casting a nervous glance out the wide street-facing doors toward the empty lot next door. "It was no accident, and it wasn't the wind. The dottari came down the docks in force, but they weren't leading the charge. At their head was a tall, imposing woman wielding a wicked, polished spear-thingy. She didn't look like any city guard I've ever seen." He shudders, a flash of genuine grief passing over his rugged face. "They surrounded the Badger like wolves. When the fire started, it went up fast, too fast. Most of the folks inside managed to scramble out the back doors and vanish into the harbor alleys, but... not everyone. A few poor souls were trapped inside. After the ashes cooled, the guards dragged the bodies off to Thorne Street or the crypts... who knows where. None of the families have been able to claim them." Caspian shakes his head bitterly, looking out at the scorched, blackened timbers remaining of his old haunt. "I always loved that place. After a grueling ten-hour shift shifting timber, nothing beat a cold mug of ale, a tasty morsel or two from their hearth, and the good company of honest folk. I don't know what possessed Thrune's thugs to burn it down. It was just a working man's tavern." He turns back to his work, his shoulders heavy. "If you're looking into it, be careful. That spear-woman looked like she'd skewered men for less than asking questions. It does make you wonder, if Thrune can burn that place, why not mine or any. Doesn't seem quite right does it?" Secret Checks:
Thistetop! - Round 4 21 Isidiana
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