D&D 5E [5e] One shot - Frolic and Fire [IC] [FULL]


The evening is soggy and rather miserable but, around midnight, the rain actually stops. Watches are set and you manage to get a few hours of decent sleep before morning arrives. it is cool, damp and cloudy with the threat of more rain, but at least for now, the rain has stopped and you decide to press on.
For several more days the rain comes in fits and spurts. Sometimes in a fine mist that is easy to bear, other times in sheeting droves that soak to the bone in mere moments. Near the end of the fourth day the group crests a small hill and, in the valley below, get your first view of Esmer and Lake Usta.
A thick layer of wood smoke lays over the collection of fourty or so buildings while, out on the lake, you can just make out several boats and an island in the distance. On the outskirts you can see several farmhouses as well as a number of wagons and tents just to the north of the town.
It is just on the edge of darkness when the group makes it to town. Only a few people roam the streets at this hour, chief among them what you guess is the local guards, dressed in simple leather armor that has had an “E” embossed onto it. A few questions leads you to a simple inn, apparently called “Fishin'”.
The inn itself is stone from the ground to about three feet up and then wood for the rest of the first floor as well as The second floor.
Inside, the floor, while wet, is clean and well kept, there is a well-tended fireplace with several hooks beside it, some of which are occupied by simple cloaks and hats. It is reasonably well lit with tallow candles on the tables and lanterns on the walls as well as some more lanterns somewhat regularly spaced hanging from the ceiling beams. The few patrons that occupy the place look up briefly when you come in, several calling out to shut the door but, otherwise, there is only light chatter in the common room.
Once inside the smell of warm bread and well roasted meat reaches you, as well as those of ale and other spirits. The innkeeper is an older male human with scruffy brown hair, a weathered face and a warm smile. He has a simple homespun smock and a light leather apron over. He smiles his warm smile and says “Ey Dere, I think I caught fish what was drier'n you lot. Pull up a seat by the fire and dry off. Yer fer wanting anyting udder thun ter get yerselves dry?”

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the magical equivalent to the number zero
Whisper walks into the inn and shakes out the moist in his fur, splattering drops of water onto several of his companions. Then he yawns and stretches his arms above his head, and blinks, once, twice.

"Fish," the tabaxi says with a curious accent in response to the innkeeper's query. "Whisper would like fresh fish, and some milk."

Without waiting for a response, Whisper walks up to the fire place, drops his sack and backpack on the floor, and then sits down on the ground besides it. From within the dry safety of his pack, he takes a ball of yarn and starts fidgeting with it for a few seconds before, with feline flexibility, the tabaxi curls himself into a bundle as if ready to sleep. He keeps his eyes open, however, looking at the other patrons while waiting for his fish and drink.

OOC: Just gauging the other patrons to see if any of them seem like "the local messengers, corrupt caravan masters, and seedy sailors who can deliver messages for you" that the Criminal Contact feature implies. Not doing anything with that information at the moment, just curious.


The tall goliath ducks under the doorway out of habit, and takes in the simple common room. He gives a half-bow to the innkeep out of respect. Then greets the man in his deep voice, "The God's Blessings to you and your welcomed establishment, good Innkeep. We wish to warm ourselves a moment, for which we will gladly compensate you, and ask you for but a bit of information."

The goilath waits and watches the tabaxi start to curl up, and gives a half-frown to the feline's antics, not even asking first, as if this was his own home and not the hearth of another. Shaking his head slightly he turns back to the waiting innkeeper. "I saw some tents and wagons north of town. Would that be the caravan we heard was hiring on?"


"Tents? Ah, bugger. Eh, Aldrey! Was fishin' good teday?"
"Neh," Says another human. He is medium height and thin. His head and face are tanned and leathery from years of being on the water. He wears a rough leather smock, ratty hose and leather shoes. Were nuthin bitin' teday."
"Raining like we's at the bottom of the ocean and fish ain't bitin'? That'll likely be Gravos and his lot. They's nice enough and puts on a good show but, somehow, things is never right when theys about. As fer a caravan, that'll be from the ward. Dengo's place. Big warehouse by the docks. Ye cant miss it. Stop by when it's light and he'll take care o' ye. Will you lot be wantin' rooms fer the night?"
[sblock=Insight>15] the innkeeper seems surprised and somewhat excited that this interesting group of individuals might want to stay in his inn...[/sblock]


OOC: Insight: [roll0]

"It is late," Lu Manno says looking at Whisper. "And some of us seem to have taken up shelter already. We will be needing warm dry rooms for the night. Thank you."



Milady gave the proffered water skin a skeptical look, but accepted it from the gnome and took a tentative sip. She coughed and covered her mouth with a ladylike hand. I wasn’t that she couldn’t handle hard liquor. She just preferred something more...sophisticated, and that stuff was foul rotgut.

“I am good, thanks,” Milady coughed. But it did warm her, and actually lulled her a bit toward sleep, despite the rain.

Several more days of fitful rain plague their travels, but finally they arrive at their destination. Milady is grateful for the simple inn. She removed her cloak and shook it out, glad to be somewhere dry.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Milady said mellifluously, with lady-like grace, before cursing like a drunken sailor as that damn cat shook out his fur all over her leathers.

“Something warm,” Milady told the innkeeper. “That bread smells good. And wine. Calimshan or Amnian, if you have it. If you don’t…” She shrugged. “I guess whatever your best is, then.” She didn’t have high hopes for a small town inn. She moved to the fire and stretched her hands toward the warmth, taking off her hat and shaking out her wet blonde hair, though she left on the mask. Several patrons stared at the gorgeous, buxom beauty bathed in firelight.

“And a room would be wonderful. I would love a bed after sleeping in the rain and mud for a week. I don’t suppose you have a bath?”

Insight: 1D20+2 = [2]+2 = 4

[sblock=Milady’s Mini Stats]
Inspiration: 0
AC: 15
HP: 20/20 HD: 2/2d10+2
Init: +3
PP: 10
PI: 12
Bolts: 38 Used: 0
Second Wind (1/R 1d10+2)



Ale and food purchased, the innkeeper offers you the entire upper floor for the miserly sum of five silver if you agree to tell others about his place.
The upper floor consists of a common room with a fireplace and four smaller rooms. the common room has a pair of fairly comfortable looking chairs and is decently well lit with simple lanterns. Each of the individual rooms has a simple but well kept straw pallet and a small wardrobe.
It takes only a few minutes to settle down and for rest to find you.
Morning comes with the smell of fresh bread and other delicious smelling food items. Looking out the upper story windows you have a good view of most of the rest of the small village, including the large warehouse that was mentioned the night before.

The day is yours, what would you like to do?

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