D&D 5E [IC] Creamsteak's Princes of Elemental Evil

[CanadienneBacon]

Dent slipped Aridha 10 gold coins, telling her in private to charter travel for the six commoners from Beliard ( [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION]). Dent couldn't wait to be shot of the whiny sniveling ex-prisoners, and this seemed the most expedient riddance of them. He inwardly scowled at the high price of his peace, but if he never saw them again so much the better. This distasteful task dealt with, Dent hired a room for himself and Romon to share at the The Helm at Highsun. He frowned to himself with worry about Romon's queer behavior, and resolved to find a cleric. Once their gear was stowed in the shared room, Dent locked the door to the room and--Romon in tow--made his way to the innkeeper. "It's been a long several weeks, and my fellow knight and I need the respite of prayer," Dent lied, "and I wonder whether you'd direct us to the one of the more wholesome temples in town." Dent stood by, silent, and waited for the ostler's response. In truth, he didn't a rat's arse whether the ostler recommended a temple of Kelemvor or Tyr, so long as whatever holy man shyster occupying the temple healed his Knight Captain of whatever it was that ailed him. Dent shot a worried glance at Romon.

 

[Forged Fury]

Damien headed off to the Tavern, leaving the recovered peasants for someone else to deal with; he had no interest in them whatsoever. He cast a glamour on himself before entering the tavern, cloaking himself in an illusion as a woodsman. Grabbing a chair, he ordered a drink and brooded about the difficulties and challenges the party had faced. So far, they had managed to recover two or three members of the Mirabeese delegation. His thoughts shifted to the tower with the vulture riding foes. Perhaps that would be their next stop.

Counting out coins, he made a note to visit an armory in the morning to acquire better armor.

 

[Kobold Stew]

As soon as the baggage train reaches the village, people scatter. Carradoc had observed that there were groups, and he was somewhat uncertain about the three from Womford, but he had noted their faces, and was not going to judge those held by those cultists.

The two waifs -- the young woman from Mirabar and the young Neverwinter man -- seem completely lost. Carradoc offers to feed and house them both for a night.

His companions seem to scatter to different parts of the village. Carradoc shrugs. He offers a smile to the two young ones, and leads them to the tavern.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

The ostler offered up the name of a local temple, and Dent tugged on Romon's tunic sleeve to get his Knight Captain's attention. Hightower had been lost in thought yet again. Dent frowned. He misliked this new loopy Knight Captain. Where had his captain's domineering pretension gone? Dent grit his teeth with impatience at having to tend Romon, and jerked his chin toward the doorway of the inn. "C'mon, Sir. Let's us to the temple. Prayer would do us both good." Dent had absolutely no intention of praying, but the lie did not trouble him. He was well-accustomed both to lying and not praying. The latter was a waste of time, he thought.

The pair exited the Helm at Highsun, and Dent spotted Carradoc entered the Swinging Sword, the tavern just across the street. Dent's frown deepened. He knew what had to be done, but he didn't like it. Still, he liked being in the debt of another even less. He grit his teeth a bit harder, and felt a small shard of tooth enamel break apart in his mouth under the strain of his compressed jaw. He spat it out. Resolved to do what must be done, Dent marched across the street and caught Carradoc on the forearm. Dent's jaw sat at an unnatural angle, and his eyes tensed. He pressed a roughspun coinpurse into Carradoc's hand. The weight of multiple heavy coins clinked between Carradoc's fingers. Dent stepped back, releasing his fellow half-elf. "For your studies. Take it. I'll hear no more on the subject, either."

OOC: 75 gp to Carradoc as discussed in the OOC, [MENTION=23484]Kobold Stew[/MENTION]. Have fun!

 

[Kobold Stew]

Dent's jaw sat at an unnatural angle, and his eyes tensed. He pressed a roughspun coinpurse into Carradoc's hand. The weight of multiple heavy coins clinked between Carradoc's fingers. Dent stepped back, releasing his fellow half-elf. "For your studies. Take it. I'll hear no more on the subject, either."

Carradoc looks up, and furrows his chin, holding back a smile. His hand swipes across the table, clearing the small bag and secreting it away.

He looks up and considers saying "Cheers," or "Good of you." But in the end, nothing seemed right. He waved his chin up in gratitude.

"We'll head out tomorrow or the next day, I imagine," he offers matter-of-factly.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Dent returned Carradoc's chin nod. "We've rooms at the inn across the street." He cast a disgust-filled look about the tavern, then left, Romon in tow.

OOC: Mischief managed. [MENTION=552]Creamsteak[/MENTION], Dent and Romon and headed to a temple in Red Larch. Romon needs someone to have a look under his grill.

 

[Creamsteak]

Dent slipped Aridha 10 gold coins, telling her in private to charter travel for the six commoners from Beliard ( [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION]). Dent couldn't wait to be shot of the whiny sniveling ex-prisoners, and this seemed the most expedient riddance of them. He inwardly scowled at the high price of his peace, but if he never saw them again so much the better. This distasteful task dealt with, Dent hired a room for himself and Romon to share at the The Helm at Highsun. He frowned to himself with worry about Romon's queer behavior, and resolved to find a cleric. Once their gear was stowed in the shared room, Dent locked the door to the room and--Romon in tow--made his way to the innkeeper. "It's been a long several weeks, and my fellow knight and I need the respite of prayer," Dent lied, "and I wonder whether you'd direct us to the one of the more wholesome temples in town." Dent stood by, silent, and waited for the ostler's response. In truth, he didn't a rat's arse whether the ostler recommended a temple of Kelemvor or Tyr, so long as whatever holy man shyster occupying the temple healed his Knight Captain of whatever it was that ailed him. Dent shot a worried glance at Romon.

OOC: This is at location 1 on the map.

On the west side of the Long Road, just south of the inn's stable yard, stands what looks like a grand stone mansion. Two wide wooden doors painted with the symbols of many gods stand open day and night. Inside is a plain chapel with a stone altar.

The Allfaiths Shrine is a wayside shrine used by many faiths and owned by none. Priests shuttle out from Waterdeep in pairs for month-long stays. Each pairing includes priests of two different faiths arranged by Waterdhavian temples. The most frequent combinations are Sune and Selune, Tymora and Lathander, and Tempus and Oghma. The visiting priests dwell in two simple stone rooms at the back of the temple. They bring their own vestments and holy items and take them away again when their duties end.

Right now, Imdarr Relvaunder, a follower of Tempus, and Lymmura Auldarhk, a devotee of Sune, are serving at the shrine. Imdarr is a stern man who is keenly interested in news and rumors and visitors. Lymmura is a sympathetic ear and guide to all.

The ostler offered up the name of a local temple, and Dent tugged on Romon's tunic sleeve to get his Knight Captain's attention. Hightower had been lost in thought yet again. Dent frowned. He misliked this new loopy Knight Captain. Where had his captain's domineering pretension gone? Dent grit his teeth with impatience at having to tend Romon, and jerked his chin toward the doorway of the inn. "C'mon, Sir. Let's us to the temple. Prayer would do us both good." Dent had absolutely no intention of praying, but the lie did not trouble him. He was well-accustomed both to lying and not praying. The latter was a waste of time, he thought.[/color]

Romon seems a bit distracted... quite spaced out really. He does mutter something akin to, "I never thought you the most religious man. What gods do you favor? You also seem... quite generous of late. Perhaps something has enlightened your thoughts?"

 

[Creamsteak]

As soon as the baggage train reaches the village, people scatter. Carradoc had observed that there were groups, and he was somewhat uncertain about the three from Womford, but he had noted their faces, and was not going to judge those held by those cultists.

The two waifs -- the young woman from Mirabar and the young Neverwinter man -- seem completely lost. Carradoc offers to feed and house them both for a night.

His companions seem to scatter to different parts of the village. Carradoc shrugs. He offers a smile to the two young ones, and leads them to the tavern.

The boy goes by Oroku and the girl goes by Selise. They are grateful for your aid. They offer up a seemingly consistent story about their abduction on the roads at different points, being captured by a raiding party lead by a tall thin man riding a great silver faced burrowing monster. From there, they were brought into the monks monastery and forced to work in the mines. It seems that the work was labor for labors sake... to force people to endure and endure till they were sufficiently beaten and broken. One such prisoner eventually "converted" to the cultists satisfaction and was introduced as a monk soon after. Most others simply toiled to death after a few weeks.

 

[Kobold Stew]

"Well, you are safe now," says Carradoc. He offers them some hospitality to keep them well, but his attention really is focussed instead on his spell book. He's busy crossing things out, adding new things in. It's a jumble to look at, and would not be interpretable by most, but he has always found these notes helpful, and his pen and the new ink that he's bought seem energized with an eldritch power that he can barely imagine.

If Oroku and Selise want companionship at meals, he offers it to them, and lets them sit at the table with him while he works, but he is not going out of his way to entertain them. Perhaps they will stay.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Dent muttered at Romon, "I'm not generous, I just can't stand the sniveling of the weak. Throw a little money at the problem, make it go away. It's always worked in the past. And you know well enough that I favor no gods. And none favor me." Something in the set of Romon's tone worried Dent. He stopped in the dirt byway and turned to face Romon. Squinting at the Knight Commander, Dent queried, "And neither do you favor any gods. Or you used to not. Has that changed with your stay at the monastery, Sir?" The question was both honest and filled with ire.

While Dent waited for Romon's response, the pair continued on their way to the Allfaiths Shrine. Dent barged in, interrupting whatever it was that Imdarr and Lymmura were tending to. He paused in the doorway and looked between Imdarr and Lymmura, then opted for Imdarr. Women were love-addled irritants. Other than to sate his occasional needs, he had no use for them. Dent addressed Imdarr. "Father. I'd like a word in private with you. At your earliest convenience." Dent made it clear that it would be better if Imdarr's earliest convenience was now.