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woah that sounds like fun have a great time :D

I'm fine with ruling Outlander either way. I know survival is a big theme of this adventure so I'd understand if people don't wanna miss out on that but I personally don't have strong feelings one way or another about that aspect of the game.

Alma's ears twitch. She recalls Hlin mentioning something about sacrifices. She quickly flips through her memory, searching for that information buried under talk of the murders. ''Sacrifices to Auril. Termalaine, Targos and Easthaven all practice sacrifice, yes? But not Bryn Shander.'' She...

Alma's expression doesn't change as she looks back and forth between the officials. Listening to what they have to say. There's no hint of sheepishness for interrupting their conversation, nor nervousness at Speaker Shane's question. ''We are investigating his death and its relation to the...

Alma nods at Logrim, ''Thank you. I don't know your name.'' She doesn't wait for it as she turns and heads towards the table where the two blue-robbed individuals are engaged in quiet debate. As she crosses the room, she waves a hand over herself. Clearing up the sulfury smell with a quick...

Alma silently watches Jack flutter off towards the table with the mercenaries. Her attention catches on the journal the blond man is holding, and her eyes follow it when he gets up and retires from the hall towards, presumably, his room. When he's out of sight, she snaps back to the table. Then...

lol I wanted to give other people a chance to jump in and steer the direction of things but if nobody's done it by the time i'm out of my game in a few hours I can do it.

I would suggest hitting the leads here in town while we can. If the Speaker and Sheriff are right here, seems like a good place to start.

Alma nods in thanks and looks around the table at the others. ''Very well. It seems we have some options. We can pursue the leads here in town or attempt to catch up to the caravan elsewhere.'' She looks around the tavern briefly. ''But we'll need to wait for the gnome who didn't introduce...

Yeah sorry was busy yesterday. Also wanted to give other people a chance to post since everyone's schedules have been wild.

With her curiosity about the mercenaries sated for now, Alma turns back to the matter at hand. As far as she can tell, they don't seem connected. And have no intention of interfering. She watches Logrim pocket the knife and considers everything they've learned so far. ''I think we've exhausted...

Alma steals glances at the blonde man as she listens in, pretending to alternate between him and the map. She lingers a little longer than she needs to, listening enraptured to talk of a moving cabin and gnomish inventions. It definitely excites her curiosity and she makes a mental note to...

whew just BARELY passed that roll to cast check 😅

Alma follows the fox's movement to the mercenaries' table. Her gaze lingers on the blond man, then travels down to the book in his hands. That sparks her interest. She can't be sure, but it reminds her of a journal. That hunger for knowledge growls in the back of her mind like an empty stomach...

Alma's attention piques when Vorr drops into the low, familiar tones of Undercommon. She watches him get up and begin to stagger away. As he wanders out into the crowded tavern, her eyes silently scan the room, trying to catch who Vorr is referring to. Perception check: 1D20+3 = [20]+3 = 23

(OOC; @Neurotic is that whisper to hlin loud enough for more people at the table to hear)

Alma furrows her brows at Russet. "No, the stars don't drink. They are nonsentient celestial bodies. However," She looks back down at the map, gesturing as she speaks. "The constellations move from east to west. If they were following the movement, they should have started in Easthaven, not...

(Around what time in winter would we be in and what constellations would be visible)

''Thank you, Russet,'' Alma returns. She doesn't make eye contact. Her attention is instead drawn to the knocked over mug. Without bothering to ask if he needs help, she waves her fingers. A thin, reddish film spreads over the mess as she casts Prestidigitation once more. When Russet wipes up...

Alma's eyes scan the map for several moments. She sits unnaturally straight, hands in her lap. Without a sound, she reaches up and drags a pale index finger along the road lines. Her fingertip glows a soft reddish pink and trails a Prestidigitated illusory line in its wake. When she's finished...