The Place - DARKMOON VALE
Darkmoon Vale stands at the northwestern corner of the democracy of Andoran, which only recently succeeded in breaking away from the infernal empire of Cheliax. Whilst it lies within Andoran's borders, the laws, honor and chivalry that so well characterises Andoran seem to have escaped Darkmoon Vale.
Danger lurks in every corner, every nook and cranny, of Darkmoon Vale. Some threats are obvious—they come in the form of werewolves, kobolds, and dragons. Some threats—and these are by far the more dangerous—are normal humans, from community leaders to streetwise toughs.
Hazards are not limited to the area’s living inhabitants, either. In fact, compared to the active dangers presented by much of Darkmoon Vale’s geology, its living threats might almost seem tame. Vast swaths of the low plain within the wide vale hide superheated mud and broiling hot springs beneath only an inch or two of earth, waiting to boil alive any creature unfortunate enough to make a single misstep. And, of course, standing above the entire area looms the immense volcano, Droskar’s Crag, the awakener of the region’s active geology and architect of the largest cataclysm to hit Andoran in the past millennium.
The Town - FALCON'S HOLLOW
Falcon's hollow...a blunt, sawdust-choked stop on a winding trade route, a festering haven of injustice and cruelty, Falcon’s Hollow
rests perilously close to the infamous Darkmoon Wood. The long shadow of Droskar’s Crag casts a shroud of gloom on the desperate souls who call this place home.
Many come here to make their fortune cutting darkwood lumber in the lush wood, while others journey to this remote fringe to start over, piecing together their shattered lives on the edge of an untouched wilderness far from the things of man. Persecuted zealots and outcasts flock to Falcon’s Hollow to practice their strange and often deviant rites unfettered by the mores of civilization. Finally, Falcon’s Hollow lures many explorers with the promise of great adventure nearby.
The town, its people, and everything in it belong to the corrupt Lumber Consortium, controlled by the de facto leader of the town, the loathsome Thuldrin Kreed. His petty decrees and the consortium’s overpriced goods keep the people of the town prisoner as surely as if Kreed and his goons used manacles and chains.
The Inn - The Sitting Duck
Adventurer Central, well thats what the few adventurers who pass through town call the place. At the Sitting Duck you can find excitement, fun and maybe even a drink or two in exchange for a few tales...well, at least thats what you've heard. It is also the best place to meet others of the adventuring persuasion, and so...you are here.
This loud raucous inn is in full swing as the locals spend what little copper they have spare trying to forget about the days hard labour. Most people are sitting at the round, solid looking wooden tables chatting and laughing loudly, others stand around the back wall playing an extremely dangerous looking knide throwing game, more still stagger past you, singing old drinking and war songs so slurred they sound more like a madmans ramblings than real music.
As you walk past you attract a few stares and frowning glances from across the room, whispers of "damn newcomers", "strange folk" and "dont trust em" flit past your ears as the atmosphere envelops you. The Barman is a tall, lanky and extremely hairy middle aged man. A thick greying beard covers most of his face but his eyes shine like diamonds beneath it. Two girls dash between tables filling up tankards whilst quickly avoiding the odd stumbling drunk, whilst a young boy barely in his teens hawks wooden statuettes to the less enebriated patrons...
The only other gnome resident of Falcon's Hollow is one Brickasnurd Hildrinsocks, the owner of the local general store, the Goose 'n' Gander.
You have heard rumour of another witch living in the Darkmoon Woods called Ulizmila
There is a temple to Iomedae in town. It is small and ill frequented, with sermons often erupting into fights that spill out into the street. The Lady Cirthana heads the temple.
You have heard rumour that a half-orc from Korvosa runs the rouge lady, a brothel of some repute
After working in the cutyards a few days you have also discovered that the sherrif Deldrin Baleson, is somewhat of a hero among some of the lumberjacks because of his willingness to stand up to Kreed and his goons
You have heard rumours that a fellow half-orc by the name of Kabran Bloodeye is always looking for 'workers' and that he owns the rouge lady, a brothel of some repute
You are known to the lumberjacks of the town as they often see you out hunting in the woods
You also know that the most experienced woodsman at the lumber consortium is a man named Milon Roddam
Also the whispers around the Inn obviously are'nt directed at you as your native to the area
DM's Alias
Armandia sits down and waits for the Barman or a barmaid. Out of habit, she keeps her eyes peeled for any sign of trouble, yet her primary thought, having made a long and tiring journey, is whether Falcon's Hollow has decent wine.
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Britton arrived about 45 minutes ago. It wasn't a very successful few days in the forest as he brought back nothing for his troubles. He promised his father he'd help fix some fencing at the farm tomorrow but he's now regretting it due to the unsuccessful hunt. He's hoping a few ales will seed some good ideas for excuses he can make to avoid the work.
Standing at the bar, he'll talk casually with those who know him about work and life. Like most locals he's suspicious of new faces as he has seen first hand the trouble strangers have brought with them into the village. Unlike many of his fellow townsmen, he doesn't openly show his bias and has learned that not all newcomers should be untrusted. At this point he's more concerned about the lack of game the past few days and the work he's trying to get out of tomorrow....
Felmor trudges into the Sitting Duck, feeling every bit as worn out as he looks. Muttering to himself, he approaches the bar and orders an ale. Looking around he takes note of the newcomers (especially the Chelaxian woman sitting at one of the tables) and all the locals, paying their glances no heed.
as his drink arrives, his hand shakes slightly as he takes a sip , spilling a little on the floor. Glancing about nervously, no one seems to notice or care.
Howl
Edit again, it is called the Cerulean Society
Mezari seems more interested in her waning supply of herbs and other personal necessities than the mutterings of strangers; they're no different to her than the last few villages she passed through, with but a few exceptions they're all as reclusive about newcomers as the last. She makes a mental note to browse the shops before heading out into the woods, any stock she can recover before leaving the village will help at least a little.
The thunk of a knife on the far wall pulls her out of her reverie and fully back into the present. A drink and a room for the night, exploration can wait until the morning. The gnome browses about for a place to sit; if she can find a table not currently occupied she takes it, otherwise she approaches one of the people who look like they "don't fit in" and asks if the other seats at their table are taken.
Felmor looks up from nursing his half finished drink, thinking he should have stuck with the dish water, at least he would have saved a few copper on it.
Wow, first the Chelaxian lady, and now a gnome! Last time he saw one was when he was in Korvosa, and the guy had passed by the docks, probably on his way to that wizards school, the Aka-deme or some such nonsense. Always looking off into the distance, those mages...Still she looks like she needs a place to sit...
On an impulse, Felmor waves her over to sit at one of the seats acroos from him, giving her a reassuring look.
She doesn't recognize the man who raised his hand in greeting, but it's obvious he's probably not one of the locals, if from nothing else than his lack of murmuring or being alone at his table. A human, but seemingly another traveler; now's not the time for old grudges after all, and she'll need any help she can get if she plans to continue on into the woods and the rumors of hauntings be true.
She takes the offered seat with a polite nod and speaks in a low tone. "My thanks, stranger."
"Name's Felmor by th' way. 'preciate you keepin' me company, lass. I figure us strangers have to stick together right?"
Felton gets up to assist her sitting down, pulling out her chair, seeing it is sized for a human. As he pulls it out, his left side of his face starts quivering a little uncontrollably. He looks away, embarassed.
"Name's Felmor by th' way. 'preciate you keepin' me company, lass. I figure us strangers have to stick together right?"
Armandia turns, surprised to hear this. In Galt, people are very suspicious of strangers - sometimes rightly so. This looked like a chance for a good conversation. She approaches the table. "Hi. Mind if I sit down?"
"Name's Felmor by th' way. 'preciate you keepin' me company, lass. I figure us strangers have to stick together right?"
Felton gets up to assist her sitting down, pulling out her chair, seeing it is sized for a human. As he pulls it out, his left side of his face starts quivering a little uncontrollably. He looks away, embarassed.
"I am Mezari... pleasure to make your acquaintance."
She removes her coat and folds it in the seat, then sits atop it; the small boost doesn't give her the height she'd prefer at a human-sized table but at least her head and shoulders are fully above the table and available for discussion. The man is surprisingly polite for an adventurer, and she waits patiently until he returns to his seat before resuming the conversation.
When the other woman approaches, Mezari glances up at her then back at Felmor. "It is the gentleman's table," she replies, looking to him to answer.
Felmor, a little startled, says "Uhh yeah sure, please let me get that for you"
He pulls out the chair, trying to ignore the stares of everyone around him. After the Chelaxian lady has a seat, he waves the waitress over and calls for a drink for everyone.
"Uhh, not sure what you want to drink ladies, but let me get that for you."
Grn'nak enters late, used to working the 'night shift' as it were. He slowly scans the room with a slight scowl on his face as he stands in the doorway. After taking note of the room, and its activities, he wanders over towards the bar.
"Barkeep! Ale and food." As he lays some coins on the counter.
After receiving his meal, he downs it in large, quick bites and continues to scan the room. When done, he settles his gaze on a brown haired fellow at the bar who appears to be nursing an ale.
"You there. You seem to be from around these parts. Would you be willing to answer a few questions about what's around these parts for a drink or two?"
Trying to figure out what I may know about Kabran and the Consortium and their status in town.
Knowledge(Local)=
I would also like to try and gather what information I can from some of the locals at the bar in regards to the above as well, if possible.
Diplomacy =
Knowledge - Local check result
Kabran - You know that Kabran is a criminally minded half-orc from Augustana. He lost his nose there as a result of various criminal activities and fled here. He runs the rouge lady, a burlesque and gambling hall whose back parlor doubles as an illicit brothel. He is also rumoured to be associated with the redrock guild, an organized criminal syndicate that poses as a business club and moneylenders’ union.
Consortium and their status - Most valer's despise the consortium and everything they stand for, however, they own everything in falcon's hollow and nothing happens in the town without their say so. Those who dare to do business without their approval are either muscled out of business or swiftly dissapear. The consortium employs almost as many "guards" as it does lumberjacks, and whilst these men do protect the lumberjacks and other consortium employees from the perils of the forest they are often employed for less savoury tasks.
Diplomacy check result
The locals at the bar mostly disregard your attempts to engage them, they stare at their drinks and answer you with one word answers.
The Barkeep looks at the coins Grn'nak has laid down and gives one a bite. He seems satisfied and silently hands over a large tankard, he shouts a name towards the back of the Inn and a scrawny man runs out with a leg of lamb on a wooden plate.
"Enjoy" says the barkeep solemly.
Meanwhile the waitress darts over at Felmor's wave and hurridly takes any drinks order you give her.
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Britton looks up startled out of his thoughts. He quickly scans the half-orc noting he's as big as Britton, not something many men can say.
"I'll give you this first bit of advice for free. Don't order the lamb here unless your stomach is dwarf-strong."
Britton winks at the barkeep.
[ooc]I'm assuming he has at least a familiarity with the barman.[ooc]
Downing the final bit of his tankard. "I might be able to help depending on what you're looking for."
Then looking at the barkeep. "If you have any scraps for Lord, I'll take 'em. You know how much he likes your lamb."
"Is the wine any good?" Then more softly: "Oh, why do I bother to ask? I'll take the wine if it tastes like vinegar."
Felmor looks at his half finished ale, and says "Ma'am, I think vinegar would taste better than this swill."
He grabs the decanter of wine and pours her a glass of wine.
Mezari glances at Felmor curiously at the comment, then glances at the wine decanter. "I suppose I will give it a try as well." She eyes his half-glass occasionally, wondering why if it tasted so bad he's already drunk half of it. Then again....
"Might I ask the lady's name?" she offers, glancing up at the dark-haired woman.
After a split-second hesitation, she replies "Armandia. So tell me, what brings you to Falcon's Hollow?"
Grn'nak gives a wry smile toward the man.
"Dwarf-strong? I don't know as I have taste for stone or metal, but being able to identify the meat in front of me is better than I used to have."
"What is going on in town? I'm used to people keeping their cards close to vest, but it seems like folks aren't willing to even discuss the weather, let alone anything else."
He flags the barkeep down with his mug.
"An ale for me and this man here."
He drops another silver on the bar.
When the mug's arrive, he picks his up and turns to the man raising his mug in half salute.
"Name's Grn'nak."
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Brit nods and takes a swig.
"Well, met. Brit."
After another taste of ale he continues. "People come and go around here, usually for less than savory purposes, so strangers are looked at with suspicion. If you've come looking for work and stick at it for awhile you won't feel as uncomfortable as folks will recognize you."
"If yoy came to town looking for logging work you might want to look up Milon Roddam for a job. Not saying he'd give you one but he's the best man to go see. If you're good with your fists, there's people who'll hire for personal or property protection. Almost as dangerous as workin' the forest."
Well, I came here for a change of scenery, figured it would be good to travel and see the world, umm, it also was good to get away from the city for a while. You look like you came from a long ways from here as well, m'lady."
"and you as well, lass. Where you from?"
The gnome leans back in her seat a bit and looks up at the ceiling a second before answering. "All over, but north most recently. No real home to speak of."
She glances over at Armandia and nods before answering her question. "Tales and stories, mostly. Curiosities in the surrounding lands. Yourselves?"
"I came here looking for a temple to Iomedae. I heard that there was one here. Do either of you know anything about it? Or about this Lady Cirthana who's supposed to be in charge there?"
Felmor shakes his head and says, "well, I'm not familiar with the town much, and, uhhh, to be quite honest, I don't believe in goin' to churches ever'y Sun Day, seems a waste of time to me" (the last part was muttered low).
He looks at Armanda directly, but doesn't say anything for a few seconds.Then he says:
"Maybe those 2 chaps over there" "can help us. I've seen 'em before, they are as local as you can get around here."
He waits for Armania to reply.
The barman grunts at Britton as he walks into the back, the faintest glimmer of smile visable from beneath his grizzly visage. He returns with a leg bone with a few scraps of meat left on it and tosses it to Lord.
"Feel like you eat better than me sometimes dog" he says with a smirk at Britton.
I kind of got the impression that Felmor, Mezari, and I were having one conversation, while Britton and Grn'nak were having another separate one somewhere else in the bar.
Suddenly!! A loud wooden crash echoes around the Inn halting your conversations mid-stream. All eyes turn to face the entrance as the source of the disturbance becomes apparant.
Standing in the doorway is an extremely tall half-elven man. His short brown hair stands on end, waving in the wind, whilst his piercing gold flecked eyes scan the room. Strapped to his chest is a dirty bronze beastplate on which is attached a small emblem depicting a falcon. He holds in his hand a thick woodmans axe with a broken handle which he has seemingly just smashed against the nearby table to get people's attention...
"Listen up!" he shouts as the noise of the tavern simmers down to muttering.
"The plague's gettin' worse! Thought it was only affecting the old di'nt we, but this morning Crim Braegut died o' the taint! and let me tell you" he says pausing for dramatic emphasis "It was a damn horrible death!"
"Whats more!" he shouts as the mutterings and whisperings start to rise. "I found the source o' the taint this afternoon...Brookman's Well" This has an obvious effect on the tavern's patrons and you can all see the worry on people's faces. "Now Laurel tells me you only get the taint from drinkin' the stuff, so me deputies are blockin the well as we speak...but she also says it takes a few days t'show so any of us could ave it!"
"T'reason i'm ere is I need a few volunteer's to search f'ingrediants for a cure...but before you all jump up!" he says with a slight smirk "You'd have to go deep into the woods..."
"T'the hells withat!!" shouts a voice from across the bar "I'd rather take my chances with the taint!"
"Yes but some a us actually have a backbone Gellius!!" Shouts the half-elf with a scowl.
The shouting stranger goes to stand up, anger flooding across his face, but with another smash of his axe handle against the table the Half-elf disuades any further action as the man sits down grumpily.
"Well??" Shouts the half-elf. "Any volunteers?"
"Thanks for the heads up mate. I'll try and look up this Milon in the morning, and see if he may need a strong back or extra set of hands for anything."
He tosses another silver on the bar for another round of ale.
Grn'nak pushes himself up from the bar and takes a good long look at the sherrif.
"Evening sherrif. I'm new in town here, so I may not know all of why some of the locals don't want to help out. However, I'm here looking for work, and I'll help out with what I can. I do request that you give me a good word with any potential local employer I may find when this is over. Fair enough?"
He leans back against the bar and picks up his ale to take a slow drink while scanning the bar to see if anyone else may take the bait as well.
"Plague!!"
At the word uttered by the sheriff, Felmor pales visibly. He flashes back to rumors of plague he has heard from other places and has seen it afflict other sailors and travelers, although he himself has always been strong enough to resist it.
He gets up from the table, looks at the ladies sitting with him with an uncertain air about him, but he steels himself and approaches the Sherrif.
"'scuse me, sherrif. I, uhh know a little bit about the plague, and i wouldn't mind volunteerin' to go find a cure for it".
The Sherrif nods at Grn'nak. "Sounds fair enough friend, however..." he says smiling "if your looking for work with the consortium they dont take too kindly to recommendations from me" This comment results in a couple of chuckles from around the Inn.
In response to Felmor's comment, the Sherrif clasps him on the shoulder. "Good man!" he says smiling."A man with experience"
"Well? Anyone else?" he shouts. In response the young lad who was hawking wooden statuettes pushes to the front. "Will there be a reward Mr Baleson??" he asks pleadingly.
The Sherrif looks him up and down with a frown before replying "There'll be a few gold as compensation for the danger young Hollin, but if you think I'm gonna let a boy who can barely lift an axe go traipsing through the Darkmoon woods to fight wolves, monsters and the bloody damn fey then your sorely mistaken!". The boy goes to respond but then falls silent, finally settling into a sulk whilst muttering to himself.
"Any Volunteers that can actually lift an axe!?!" Shouts the Sherrif seemingly getting annoyed.
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Britton's face shows surprise mixed with confusion that two newcomers would volunteer for the task. He then says a silent thanks to Erastil for maybe getting him out of fence-fixing for his father.
"Deldrin, they're going to need someone who knows those woods. I can lead them in and out of there. Tell us what you need and we'll get'em home in one piece."
Brit glances down at Lord during the last statement. His hunting dog is more concerned about his meal than what's going on around him.
"Any Volunteers that can actually lift an axe!?!" Shouts the Sherrif seemingly getting annoyed.
The gnome listens quietly for a while before this comment comes up, at which she turns and hops out of her seat, stopping just long enough to pull her coat on before taking a few steps toward the sheriff. She glances at Felmor and the half-orc, then at the local who volunteered to be a guide, before turning back to the lawman.
"I can't lift much in the name of weapons," Mezari begins, "but I've other skills to compensate for that; more importantly, I know herbs and medicines, and enough of magic to know what to be wary for in the woods. It would be inappropriate of me not to at least offer some aid."
She pauses, then adds in a lower voice, "Though, some information on the plague before we depart might be helpful."
** spoiler omitted **
Howl:
Felmor, on hearing this from the gnome woman, nods his head once and shoots her a brief smile. He feels more comfortable now and knows plagur is a serious matter. His eyes wander to Armandia, wondering whether she is interested in this venture.
"Well," mutters Armadia, thoughtfully. "I may have doubts that I can really do any good in this world, but how much harm could it do to cure a disease? THAT'S worthwhile, anyway." She stands up. "I'll volunteer," she says, not even asking about payment.
(This will probably be the last time I can post, until late tomorrow night, at the earliest.)
No problem thanks for the heads up :)
The sherrif nods at each of you in turn smiling at the responses. "Excellent" he says "Five of you should be plenty. If you'd like to follow me I'll fill you in." He indicates the door and steps out into the windy night. He waits a moment outside staring up at the full moon. When you exit he gives a sigh and starts to walk, expecting you to follow him.
Assuming you all follow him he strikes up the following conversation as you walk along the mud road.
"Apoligies for the lack of information little one" he says indicating Mezari "but to be honest I knows little about the taint other than the way people's die when they gets it, Laurel will tell you more when you sees her."
After a couple of minutes he stops and indicates a ramshackle shop on the corner of the street.
"This is Laurel's shop, I would like us to meet here at tomorrow just after dawn, I can answer any questions you have now but like I said...Laurel knows more than I and... he pauses for a second seemingly perplexed "I'm sorry" he says with a laugh "I know of Britton here but ne'er even got you other's names!"
"Name's Felmor, Sherrif. Wish this was under better circunstances, but I me'self have seen plague in a man and a more rotton way ta go don't exist! Never did find out what kind it was, but I guess it don't matter really."
(Looks at Mezari) "Pardon me lass, but you said you was fimiliar with th' plague? Was you a healer?"
"I'm called Grn'nak, Sherrif. I will be here."
He stands slightly off to the side to get a better view of his new 'companions', and to learn their names.
As the group exits the inn, a small blur of dark red drops from the rafters and alights on the gnome's shoulder. The little furry bat seems content to sit there as the group makes their way across the forest village.
"Apoligies for the lack of information little one" he says indicating Mezari "but to be honest I knows little about the taint other than the way people's die when they gets it, Laurel will tell you more when you sees her."
She nods. "Any information will be helpful, thank you." She continues to follow his lead.
After a couple of minutes he stops and indicates a ramshackle shop on the corner of the street.
"This is Laurel's shop, I would like us to meet here at tomorrow just after dawn, I can answer any questions you have now but like I said...Laurel knows more than I and... he pauses for a second seemingly perplexed "I'm sorry" he says with a laugh "I know of Britton here but ne'er even got you other's names!"
"Mezari," she replies simply.
(Looks at Mezari) "Pardon me lass, but you said you was fimiliar with th' plague? Was you a healer?"
"I'm afraid I know little," she explains with a shake of her head, "at least of this particular plague. I've encountered disease before, though not of this caliber, and while I don't have any healing magic I am familiar with medicine and herbalism. I'm hoping that will be enough."
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Brit whistles at Lord signalling to him it's time to go. The dog seems none too pleased about leaving the rest of his meal. "You can take the bone with you boy."
As he leaves the tavern he looks back at the full tap room and says for all to hear. "Four people not raised here volunteered for this and not one of you born here had the courage to raise your hand. Is this what Falcon Hollow's become?" He waits a few seconds to see if anyone challenges him. Seeing none he follows the rest of the group out the door.
After listening to the Sherrif and Mezari's exchange with Felmor, "I'm Brit and this is Lord. As I said I'm familiar with the woods and its dangers. I know some about the natural medicine's to be found out there too. If Laurel knows what we need, we can find it."
The sherrif gives a short bow "Pleased to meet you all. So thats Armandia, Grn'nak, Mezari, Kelmor, Brit and or course, Lord" he says smiling at the dog "Get some rest all of you, your gonna need it" and with that he wanders off into the gloom leaving the five of you alone in the street.
"Aktually its Felmor" he mutters at the retreating form of the Sherrif.
He looks around at his new companions and says: "Well, I be for turnin' in now, does all of you have a place ta stay fer th'evening? I gots a room I stay in down at th'docks...if ya needs a bed..."
Looking at the ladies for a second, he adds " 'course, uhh, if not, then I think th'inn 'as some rooms fer rent still."
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"It would be a good idea to turn in early. The Sherrif was not kidding about getting here just after dawn. Laurel's an early riser."
Brit scratches his chin appraising the others. "Each of you should bring enough supplies for more than a few days away from town. Who knows how hard it will be to find what Laurel needs and the Darkwood's a hard place if caught without proper gear."
"Alright. I've still got some trail rations left from my trip into town, but I should get to the inn and see if I can get a spot close to the fire for the evening."
Grn'nak offers a short wave to the group, and heads back to the inn for the night.
Back at the inn, he'll pay for his spot on by the hearth, and ask the barkeep to wake him before dawn when the man starts to open up. He'll then nurse his drinks while steadily taking a table closer to the fire as they become available during the night.
Armandia frowns. "I WAS going to stop at the temple today... but I guess you're right. Being ready for this job takes priority."
She then inquires at the inn about an available room.
Felmor watches Armandia turn and walk away, saying nothing. Realizing he is now alone on the street, he mutters to himself "Man sure hope this is a good idea" then turns and heads back to the shack on the docks serving as his abode for a good nights sleep. No need to stock up , as he has supplies for several days already from before his arrival at Falcons Hallow.
Any supplies Mezari needs could be picked up from the herbalist herself come morn or foraged from the woods with any luck. The witch bids the others goodnight until tomorrow and goes to see about a room at the inn; if it weren't for the rumors of hauntings she would probably have just camped in the woods for the night, but being new to the area she decides not to take chances.
"Aktually its Felmor"
For those of you who enquire about rooms at the Inn they are in ample supply and cost 4sp for the night,(Grn'nak's place by the hearth is a little cheaper at 2sp) expensive for an Inn of such quality. If you enquire about the price the innkeeper growls, muttering something about blasted consortium rents and telling you to take it or leave it.
You all awake at your aforementioned times and after preparing what you need you head on over to laurel's shop. The sun's rays just start to filter over droskar's crag casting an ominous shadow over the town and its populace. The streets are fairly busy as lumberjacks hurry off to the cutyards, axe's slung low.
As you round the corner Laurel's shop is more clearly visable in the morning light.Creeping ivy and full window boxes cover the façade of the rugged-looking, two-story shop bearing the faded sign “Roots and Remedies.” A line of about twenty somber looking townsfolk snakes from the open door. Some are supporting pale wheezing elderly folk, others are clinging to themselves with worry, looking precipitously near tears.
You each arrive in turn, it is just past dawn and there is no sign of the sherrif...