Cautiously making your way up the path towards the Keep, you see that much of the structure is still sound, but there are several points in the wall that are crumbled and would allow access inside. There are holes in the wall to the south and in the north.
In addition to the holes in the wall, there is a main entrance directly ahead of you on the path. Battered, reinforced doors hang ajar at this main entrancel. Above the doorframe, a tarnished seal depicting a sunburst made of nails stands out in relief on the keep’s stonework. Under the seal runs a worn but clear line of carved text in a strange language.
Does anyone speak/read Infernal?
How would you like to proceed?
Good morning, all!
@Nevynxxx - I'm not even sure what to ask for! I think someone's already tracking XP, but if someone can also track loot, that will be helpful.
I was going to do a Wiki for the campaign (using Obsidian Portal as we discussed), but I'm not sure I'd have time to do a good job keeping it updated and clean, so if someone wanted to do that, I wouldn't be mad about it. :) But that's definitely a luxury - not a necessity.
You don't know much about him - he seems to be a dim-witted, reclusive halfling who serves as an apprentice for the Reliant Book Company. His name as the culprit for such a shocking crime IS a surprise, though.
I'm assuming you're going with the plan to Hustle to the Citadel...
Around 2:00, once everyone has gathered back in town square, you all head off at a quick pace towards the Citadel. You follow the road and encounter only a few passing travelers. Upon arriving at the hill a short while later, Warbal points to a rocky, but well-marked path, leading up the gradually sloping sides of Hellknight Hill.
Rising from the hilltop above is a looming structure of crumbling stone and still-imposing battlements, though verdant nature is reclaiming the site. Plumes of red smoke—which ambassador Warbal believes to be distress signals from the Bumblebrasher goblins—rise from the roof of the keep’s central tower. This place can only be Citadel Altaerein, the infamous former home of the Order of the Nail Hellknights, now fallen into ruin. The gate-like doors in the center of the keep hang ajar—not surprising, since no one has maintained this facility in years.
Significant overgrowth has overtaken the perimeter around the citadel. What were once well-maintained bushes have turned to wild brambles around the entire building. As a result, the 10-foot-wide perimeter around the entire citadel is difficult terrain.
Warbal stands still for just a moment, the look of distress evident on her face. She shakes her head and begins scanning the area. A moment later she points to a small hillock a few hundred yards away. "There. That will be a fairly comfortable place to setup camp," she says, moving in that direction. Once she arrives, she unpacks her backpack to reveal an impressive array of camping equipment and supplies. She wasn't lying - she appears to be quite adept at camping.
The path you followed up the hill leads directly the front doors of the Citadel.
What would you like to do?
Rory, you're coming along whether you like it or not! :D
Ranzak, you took 11 points of damage in the fight - just FYI!
"Excellent. Your...enthusiasm...is appreciated," Greta says, giving a nod in Joran's direction. "We must go check on the Bramblebashers" - Warbal nods emphatically in agreement - "And track down Calmont to learn more about why he did what he did and bring him to justice. Our townsfolk are all unharmed thanks to you, so the town would like to offer you potions as a small token of appreciation and to help you in the trials ahead." She hands the potions over before continuing.
"We are prepared to offer 15 gold pieces for reporting back on the goblins and 15 gold for bringing Calmont - alive - back for questioning. Please visit any of our local shops for provisions for your journey, if needed, but please don't delay long - we're eager to have this situation resolved and a little clarity on why it occurred, if possible. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to help my fellow councilors see to the townsfolk and ensure the fire is put out. Thank you for your assistance, and may the gods watch your path." She bows before heading quickly in the direction of the bucket brigade.
The party has received two potions of minor healing!
As Greta steps away, Warbal steps forward. "Friends, thank you for volunteering for this task. If it is helpful, I'd be happy to accompany you. I won't be able to follow you into the Citadel - I'd only slow you down - but despite my appearance, I've camped quite a bit in day and could help setup and manage camp outside the Citadel."
It is a little after noon and you have a roughly one-mile hike ahead of you. Please let me know what shopping, if any, you'll do, and what Exploration task you would like to take on your journey to the Citadel, and which you would like to take as you approach (you can also discuss this amongst yourselves in the Discussion thread, of course) To be helpful, the area surrounding Breachill is peaceful and patrolled.
Hello, everyone! I have a quick PBP question. I treated the post-combat interaction as I would’ve in a real life game. I can presume that you will all agree to be the heroes, and this is a chance to say so in character, but is that annoying? Does it slow things up too much? Or is that ok?
I definitely want to give you guys the chance to RP your characters (which you haven’t had a ton of yet), but I also don’t want to drag things out more than is fun.
Any feedback you guys have (on this or anything else so far) is appreciated!
You all emerge from the council chambers to a scene of organized chaos. Soot-covered townsfolk - including some of those you rescued from inside - have formed a makeshift bucket brigade, and are hauling in buckets of water from the town square water pumps. Though the fire will certainly damage the building, it won't be a total loss.
You all receive 100 XP for saving the townsfolk!
A moment after stepping outside, you hear a sharp whistle. All turn to look to its source - Greta Gardania. She looks around, hugging some of the townspeople next to her, while others wearily clap her on the back in thanks for their lives. “What manner of madness just happened? This can be no accident! Did anyone see anything?”
One of the guards who was stationed outside before the fire began raises his hand, then his voice. “Aye,” says the wearied, uniformed man. “The clerks saw everything—it was Calmont, that cad of a bookseller’s apprentice. He lit the fires in the halls next to the chamber. He also set that fire monster loose on the crowd!”
The second guard shouts in assent. “Indeed!” says the grave but steely woman. “And witnesses outside the building saw him run toward Hellknight Hill!”
A surprised and worried wave ripples through the crowd at this information, including Warbal’s distinct voice: “The citadel! My Bumblebrashers!”
Greta raises her hand authoritatively, and the crowd begins to calm. "Friends, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” she assures them. “But we can’t do it alone. Who are the heroes in attendance today? Heroes,
The other heroes who had gathered to provide aid are either no longer in sight, or trying to avoid eye contact with the six of you - they all fled the moment the scene broke out. None of them raise their voice in assent.
Rory - my apologies. You should have all three as well!
Rizz's ray flies past the cackling creature. It turns to Rizz to laugh at her, but is immediately interrupted the flask of cold splashing against its body. It shudders and screams in pain. Its scream is cut short almost immediately, as Aerel's and Fuz's arrows sinks into its chest. The creature falls to the ground amidst the flames, its glow completely out.
Rory, you actually have all three actions left now, as your attack was unneeded.
The creature is dead, but the flames continue to rage around you, threatening to bring the entire building down.
Good morning! The gameplay thread is updated. I went ahead and assumed you'd each help the remaining townsfolk out of the chamber, so you all have two actions remaining - including Joran. Rizz, you have all three, as not all the remaining actions were needed to extract the remaining townsfolk (and you had a crazy weekend).
Let me know if I messed up on the damage or misunderstood anyone's plans!
Thanks to the combined efforts of the group and town councilors, all of the spectators who were trapped in the room are dislodged from their pews and escorted safely out without any additional harm.
The creature, reeling from the cold attacks it just sustained, flies towards Ranzak and smiles cruelly. It bares its firy teeth before flying in to snap at her.
Jaw Attack: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28 Critical Hit!
Raw damage: 1d6 ⇒ 5 x 2 = 10
Burn damage: 1d4 ⇒ 2 -Fire Resistance 1 = 1
Ranzak takes 11 points of damage.
After the attack it moves back over the fire it created on the desk. Hovering above the burning wood, it seems to be rejuvenated by the growing flames. It turns to Ranzak and smiles cruelly.
At that moment, the flames ignite further, spreading deeper into the chambers.
The creature cackles madly as Rory’s attacks swing wide.
Acting for Fuzbizle…
Fuzbizle leaps into action, helping the others corral the townsfolk remaining on the eastern side of the room out the door.
The town councilors, as a group manage, to free one of the townsfolk and lead her out the door. They continue to help the remaining townsfolk on the eastern side of the room, happy to have your help.
@Rory -The dias is only a few feet up - it'd just be difficult terrain to move from a square on the floor to a square on the dias.
Rizz and Ranzak strike the fire creature with their cold attacks. Rizz's ray hits first - a satisfying sound of releasing steam and what you think is a yelp of pain from the creature indicate that it was quite hurt by the attack. The bomb and its splash damage confirm that, as the creature screams in pain. It looks as if it's about to open its mouth to spew more fire, but nothing comes out. The creature looks as if it's on its last legs, but it remains floating in the air.
@Rory -The dias is only a few feet up - it'd just be difficult terrain to move from a square on the floor to a square on the dias.
Aerel moves across the aisle to assist with the other townsfolk.
@Aerel - yes, it will be one action to move and two to begin helping. On your next turn, you'll only need to burn one action to get people out.
Joran moves to the other side of the room, and begins to extract some of the townsfolk who were trapped under the fallen pews.
One action to move to that side of the room, two actions to begin clearing away debris.
The creature moves down the row of desks, looks at Ranzak, cackles wildly, and emits another stream of fire from its mouth.
Meanwhile, the existing fire continues to spread across the dais, the dry wood igniting almost instantly.
Gameplay thread has been updated. I acted for Fuzbizle for the first round.
I thiiiiiiink I understand what you meant by group initiative, so I've updated the gameplay thread with that understanding. Please, please, please let me know if I'm missed the mark.
Also, just in case you missed it, you've each earned another hero point to make up for my error.
Acting for Fuzbizle…
Fuzbizle leaps into action, helping the others corral the townsfolk remaining on the western side of the room out the door.
Once the final townsperson from the western side of the room is out of the door, you hear the door to the north slam open as flames burst through. The fire is apparently much bigger than you first realized - and continues to get larger, as the fire quickly ignites the wooden floor and dais near the western door.
The strange, fiery creature cackles gleefully as it moves towards the councilor desks sitting on the dais. Flames emit from its mouth as it ignites the desk on fire. Ranzak sees the creature through the newly formed flames - it appears to be smiling widely at him.
The councilors all move to the eastern side of the room and attempt to help the townsfolk there.
Aerel Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8
Fuzbizle Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Joran Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
Ranzak Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11
Rizz Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
Rory Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
GM 1: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
GM 2: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
The fire is spreading, but half of the townsfolk have already been rescued! What will you do next?
Good morning! My plan for hero points is to dole them out at key points in the narrative, for cool feats of roleplaying, or as way of apology when I royally screw something up. That said, if you ever feel like I'm being too stingy with them, feel free to message me or drop a hint here in the discussion thread.
I do think I should've handed out a Hero Point to everyone when we started (I completely spaced it), so in apology, everyone gets 1 Hero Point!
“Welcome, neighbors and friends...” the dark-haired woman begins, her rich voice washing over the room, “...to the Breachill Town Council’s monthly Call for Heroes. I am Council President Greta Gardania, at your service. On behalf of my colleagues beside me, I promise you all that we will hear and consider today’s petition with the utmost discretion and care. There is no existence without community, as our town charter says.
“Today, our agenda includes only one petition. Miss Warbal, our very own ambassador to the Bumblebrashers of Hellknight Hill, requests the help of heroes for a matter of utmost importance. Let’s hear her concerns in her own words, shall we? Miss Warbal?”
At this summons, Warbal emerges from the front row of benches. The well-dressed goblin woman makes her way to the foot of the dais’s steps. She clears her throat and begins her address to the council. “Esteemed councilors,” Warbal says, with a frazzled tone to her voice. “It has been more than a month since I’ve been able to contact the Bumblebrashers. I fear that something terrible has befallen them. What’s more, I have seen my people’s distress signal coming from the top of Citadel Altaerein—”
Before the goblin can continue her petition, the door on the western side of the room flies open, as a young man, his eyes wide with panic, runs in shouting and waving his ink-stained hands. Billowing black smoke and flames follow him into the room: “Fire! There’s a fire! Everyone flee!”
Immediately, the councilors begin moving down off the dais. Greta shouts for the crowd not to panic, but the spectators are terrified; they scream, jump up from their benches, and try to jostle toward and exit.
In the unfolding chaos of the fire, as dozens of frightened townsfolk begin to panic, a snickering little creature slips through the chamber’s western door. This small humanoid creature has thin, leathery wings, small horns, and a mischievous smile, and its body seems to be partially composed of flames. It cackles gleefully as it watches the fire spreading...
Fire!: Any creature that ends its turn next to the flames takes 1d6 fire damage, and any creature within the flames takes 4d6 fire damage. Both of these have a DC 17 basic Reflex save. A creature can take damage from flames only once per round.
Endangered Spectators: As soon as the fire begins, the panicked spectators jump up and knock over the benches in their hurry to escape, many of them falling over themselves in the process. The entirety of both sections of benches is difficult terrain during this encounter. Some of the spectators are able to pick themselves up and escape the chamber with help from the councilors, but others are so terrified or tangled among the benches and each other that they need further assistance or they won’t escape the fire unharmed. There are 20 such spectators—10 on each side of the room—whom you must help, or they will pass out from smoke inhalation or worse.
Rescuing Spectators: The PCs can each help two spectators at a time out of the room’s southern door. Once a PC is on the correct side of the room, rescuing spectators requires 3 actions, which includes locating the spectators, calming them, and escorting them to the exit. This doesn’t necessarily require moving adjacent to the spectators; a PC needs only to be on the same side of the room as the spectators. Multiple PCs can work together to help groups of spectators who are clustered together. Two PCs working together can help up to six spectators at a time, as long as the PCs and the spectators they’re helping are all on the same side of the room.
Good morning, folks. I was going to get super creative and add a bunch of townsfolk to the map, but I'm not feeling quite that ambitious. :D Please to engage your theater of the mind, and imagine that there are 40 other townsfolk in the room with you and five councilors at the desks to the north.
If we don't hear from Rory this morning, we'll proceed and put him across the room.
Unless there's anything else you'd like to do, we'll proceed into the Town Hall...
As noon strikes, the children begin to scatter and the group files into the council chamber. Once inside the chamber, you see that the room is set up as an auditorium, with a carpeted walkway separating several rows of benches into two sections. The carpet leads to a small set of steps and a raised dais. On the dais is a large desk separated into five parts, where the Breachill Town Council’s five members are seated, talking quietly with one another as they wait for the meeting to start. On the desk, situated in front of each chair, are tarnished bronze plaques bearing the names of the council members. From east to west, the names are Jorsk Hinterclaw, Melma Ann Sendari, Greta Gardania, Trini Sprizzlegig, and Quentino Posandi. Melma, Greta, and Quentino are humans, Jorsk is a dwarf, and Trini is a gnome.
With a sharp rap from her gavel onto the desk, a stern, dark-haired woman with a deeply furrowed forehead and kind eyes brings the assembled crowd to a hush.
Please move your token to where you’d be seated in the hall, and we shall proceed!
"That's exactly why I'm here today!" she says excitedly. "I plan to present this information to the council and ask them to hire adventurers to contact my tribe."
"It looks like an...adequate...group has gathered this morning," she says, surveying the gathered group. "Come with me into the meeting and listen to my petition. If you are up for my task, I beg you to offer your services to the council. You might be my tribe’s only hope!”
The halfling smiles with faux sadness. "Ah, my friend. Sadly you have lost," he says, lifting cup two to reveal only the table below. He picks up cup three, and the red ball sits below it.
"Please do come see me at Quarters & Bits - we'll take care of you!" he says warmly.
Stepping outside, you force yourself to retch up the warm stew. While unpleasant, you do feel a little better than you did before.
You are now only -1. You may try to retch again in a bit - I'll try to remember to let you know.
I'm assuming most of you have made your way to the front of the queue for the Call and are able to overhear the goblin at this point.
"Oh...that's unfortunate. I'm sorry to hear there were no dragons, and especially that you haven't been home yet," the well-dressed goblin says, her head hanging down. "Typically, every two weeks I meet with Helba, the tribe’s chieftain, on the road outside the keep. We discuss news, and I convey the town’s interests and hear any concerns that the tribe might wish me to bring before the council. It is a relationship of utmost importance, and Helba is normally punctual."
She looks in the direction of the camp before continuing. "But she has missed our previous two meetings, and I have seen plumes of smoke coming from the top of the citadel. The smoke is a chalky red in color—the tribe’s traditional color of distress.I fear that the Bumblebrashers are in danger, or that something dire has befallen them. It has sickened me with worry."
The halfling's smile fades for just a moment before he lifts the cup. It's back almost as quickly as it disappeared.
"Oho! Well done, sir. Well done. Here you go, as promised! Make sure you stop by Quarter and Bit to spend it - your coins will go further there than anywhere in town!"
You've earned 1 gp!
The goblin's head pops up at Ranzak's voice. "Oh Ranzak! It's good to see you!" she says, wrapping her arms around Ranzak's neck in a quick embrace. "How did your last travels go? Have you been home? Have you heard from anyone in the tribe? I'm worried sick."
Warbal notices Rizz standing nearby. "Well hello there, Rizz. Good to see you. Is your father well? Have you come to see who will answer the Call of Heroes?"
Rizz, you would probably know that this goblin is Warbal Bumblebrasher, the ambassador to the Bumblebrasher tribe.
You step up to the table and sit across from the man. Gripping his hand tightly in yours, you press your elbow against the table. Unfortunately, something wet and slightly sticky is on the table, causing you to lose your focus for the most pivotal point of the contest - its beginning. The man easily pins your hand to the table, and a loud cheer goes up from the small crowd gathered around your table.
You fare no better at the cups game - but the halfling male gives you a smile, and invites you to visit him at Quarters and Bits.
See the race info below.
Exhausted after the race, you step to the bar and attempt to best the woman with the robust appetite.
The first two bowls of soup go down, if not easily, remarkably well. You are well ahead of the woman as you begin the final bowl. However, the moment that you tip the bowl to your lips, another arm-wrestling contestant is bested by the large man, and a large cheer echoes off the walls, startling you. Hot soup spills down your chin and into your throat. You cough and sputter, losing valuable ground. The innkeeper hastily fills another bowl for you, which you manage to polish off only moments before the large woman.
”By the gods, you did it!” Trinil says with surprise. ”I never thought I’d see the day! Well a promise is a promise - you get free stew for a month! And should you be in town for the next Call of Heroes, we’ll buy a round in your honor!”
You’ve won the contest and all the stew you can eat (for a month), but it took its toll on you. You are sickened, and will take a -2 on all checks and DCs, and you can’t willingly ingest anything - including elixirs or potions. You can spend an action (so just a roll in this case) to reduce your sickened value by 1 or 2 on a critical success. (I love that this is in the rules).
"Oho! Excellent!," the halfling says, tipping his hat. He makes a show of placing a bright red ball beneath one of the brown cups. "Keep your eyes on the cups, my good man!”
Your eyes follow the blur of the cups sliding back and forth across the table. He makes a few false moves, but you’re able to catch every one. The cups continue to move swiftly, but as you watch your cup, you begin to doubt yourself. You think the ball is either under cup two or three, but you can’t be sure.
The cups stop, and the man asks you to pick your cup.
Please choose 1, 2 or 3.
“Another taker! Excellent!” the halfling says, tipping his hat. He makes a show of placing a bright red ball beneath one of the brown cups. "Keep your eyes on the cups, my colorful man!”
Your eyes follow the blur of the cups sliding back and forth across the table. He makes a few false moves, but you think you catch most of them. The cups continue to move swiftly, but as you watch your cup, it becomes difficult to be sure you know where it is. As the cups stop, and the man asks you to pick your cup. You are fairly sure it is not under #2.
Please choose 1, 2 or 3.
We'll go back in time to resolve the cup game results - I just want to keep things moving!
From the start, it’s clear that Joran wants to win. He takes a lead that only seems to widen. The halfling stops running before making it to the intersection - much to the feigned disappointment of the spectators - but the dark-skinned man pulls ahead of rounding the corner. Joran continues to pull ahead, while the other two maintain their pace. Rory gains on the man, but struggles to overtake him until they near the final turn. He finally manages to squeeze past the man and cross the finish line behind a panting, wheezing Joran.
”You both bested me?!” the man says, breathing hard. ”Well…I didn’t expect that. But I’m a man of my word. Pay them both, Trivage. But throw in two extra for the big fella. He ran a hell of a race.” Another, rounder dark-skinned man steps forward and passes over five silver to Rory and 7 to Joran.
Joran, you are fatigued. You have a -1 penalty to AC and saving throws until you get some rest.
As the race concludes, people begin queuing up outside of Town Hall. It is almost noon, and time for the Call to begin. As it gets closer to time, a crowd of roughly 40 townsfolk are gathered, all chatting amiably. Children are excitedly running through the crowd, gawking at the heroes gathered today. The large, tattooed man has a gaggle of women around him, swooning and trying to catch his eye. The dark-skinned man looks annoyed, but is attempting to hide his frustration.
But of particular notice is a well-dressed goblin woman who seems to be distraught. She is pacing outside the front doors fo the building, hands clasped behind her back, and mumbling to herself.
You recognize the goblin as Warbal Bumblebrasher, the ambassador to the Bumblebrasher tribe.
The halfling grins mischievously before lifting the cup, revealing nothing but the table below. "Sorry love, you lost the ball." He lifts the middle cup, revealing the bright red ball. "Not all is lost! Stop by Quarters and Bits when you're able. I'll take care of you. Just ask for Crink," he says with a wink.
Crink Twiddleton, owner of Quarters and Bits, is now Helpful towards you.
"Oho! Excellent!," the halfling says, tipping his hat. He makes a show of placing a bright red ball beneath one of the brown cups. "Keep your eyes on the cups, my dear!"
Your eyes follow the blur of the cups sliding back and forth across the table. A few seconds after beginning, you spot the cup with the ball underneath sliding towards the edge of the table - far enough off the edge for the ball to fall out, though you don't actually see that happen. The cups continue to move swiftly, but as you watch your cup, a small piece of carrot from the boar stew decides now is the time to dislodge from your teeth, and you cough in surprise as you accidentally swallow. You lose which cup the ball is in.
The cups stop, and the man asks you to pick your cup.
Please choose 1, 2 or 3.
Good morning, everyone! Thanks for the profile reviews. I'm having a hard enough time wrapping my head around the economy of 2e, much less the finer details of character builds.
Gameplay is updated, with some optional tasks available. As stated above and in the thread, if the prizes are out of line with what is reasonable, please provide some guidance.
I (mostly) promise not EVERY post will be a cry for help. Just like 30% or so.
@Rizz - The player's guide is there for that exact purpose. You're good!
As the morning wears on, more toasts are made and more people crowd in.
In one corner of the room, a large human male with tattoos covering his arms and neck - and presumably his body below his clothing - is challenging any and all to an arm wrestling contest. He’s offering double or nothing - he’s put 10 sliver pieces as a wager that he will win. He appears to have already ammassed a fair amount of coin from unsuccessful participants.
Any who wish to face off will need to wager five coin and provide a Strength check.
In another part of the room, a smartly dressed halfling man is swiftly moving small cups across a table, asking on-lookers to find the ball beneath one of the cups. Should someone succeed, he’ll offer up one shiny gold piece.
Any who wish to try the game will provide two Perception checks.
Outside of the tavern, several people are lined up, preparing for a foot race. A slender, dark-skinned man is boasting loudly. ”I’ve come a long way to be here today - I’ll not be bested by you lot. 5 silver says I’ll cross the finish line first.”
Any who wish to race will provide three Athletics checks. You may add +2 to all checks if you exert yourself to win.
Finally, a remarkably large woman at the bar challenges the room to a stew-eating contest. The corners of her mouth are already stained with the stew, but she looks ready to consume more. The tavern keeper, Trinil, offers up free stew for a month - and considerable bragging rights - to anyone who can best the woman.
Any who wish to try the game will provide three fortitude checks.
The new economy of 2e is throwing me off, so please let me know if these prizes seem too high, or too low to be worth it.
Good morning, everyone! May I ask a favor? Will you poke through each other's stat blocks to review? I'm feeling quite out of my depths when it comes to that piece of the game, so I'd prefer more qualified eyeballs reviewing those to make sure we're good-to-go.
And Javell, thanks for the head's up - we'll know that you're not ghosting us when we don't hear from you during the day! Depending on how the narrative's going and the frequency of the daytime posts (at least daytime in America), you may need to react to a couple of things in a single post. I likely WON'T be posting much in the evening, but we'll see how things go.
Finally, I've updated the gameplay thread. Feel free to make some skill checks if you want now - I'm not sure what they'll be for, but I know how fun it is to start rolling dice, even if they're virtual.
"Here you go, dear," Trinil says, sliding a tankard of the deep amber mead across the bar, before grabbing a mug and pouring in coffee. "You know, I think we've got a respectable group gathered here today. You here for the Call?" she says, handing over the warm mug.
At that moment, a group of men and women gathered around the tall, loud man burst out laughing. Hearing the request for the stew, Trinil moves swiftly to grab a bowl and ladle in the thick, steaming soup. She hands it over. "Nah - this boar's been dead for a while. My husband ran him through a week back," she adds with a wink. "No - we'll get much bigger victories from you in the future, I am sure."
Moments later, a tall, but quite portly man with a bushy mustache clears his throat and his voice booms across the room. He raises his tankard high and says, "To the heroes who have come before, to the heroes who have gathered today, and to the heroes who have yet to come, Breachill is your debt. May the tasks be straightforward, the resolution swift, and the small pointy things few. And once your renown spreads across Golarion, may you never forget from whence you got your start!" he concludes raising his tankard higher. Cheers of Hear! Hear! spread throughout the room.