GM POST
Gathering at the Northlook, you exchange what you’ve learned – Torrga’s caravan has gone on to Targos and one of her guards named Sephek was seen near the temple that Auril’s cultists took over. And there are mages afoot! After a while, you retire upstairs. Even with the shutters drawn, turquoise and purple light filters through the cracks from the midnight aurora. Bundled up, you fall sleep…
| GM: | You each pay 5 silver pieces to stay at The Northlook including a morning meal. If you don’t have the coin, Scramsax offers to let you pay him back later “with modest interest.”
@domminniti Russet is given free room & board for being a folk hero.
@VLAD the Destroyer Logrim can stay with Uncle Jorlen for free (guild artisan), and meet the party in the morning if you wish.
@Kobold Stew Corse is freely given the spare room at the Northlook and breakfast, thanks to her rustic hospitality background feature.
Long Rest (house rule): 8 hours of food, drink, and very light activity. Regain Hit Points equal to your level. Restore 1 level of exhaustion. Restore/prep spells & features as normal for your class. |
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Targos
Hammer 24 (december 15), 1489 DR
Come morning you meet downstairs for a meal of dark bread and butter, porridge, maple braised carrots, fried sardines, and yaupon (an earthy caffeinated tea). Eve Breengren and her son arrive after a bit to warm up with tea. Only the hearth and sputtering lanterns keep the gloom at bay.
Three sleds await you outside, each with eight harnessed dogs. Comet whines and wags his tail upon recognizing you. In addition to each sled’s driver – Eve, her son, her hired hand – a sled can take 3 human-sized passengers. Once you’ve settled in, Eve gives a whistle and shout, drawing up her scarf.
Snow hisses under the sled’s runners as you head out the gate, just being opened after the cold night. Picking up speed, you can see the walled hilltop town of Bryn Shander become swallowed by the overcast dark morning until only flickering fire-lights remain. Panting dogs run ahead as the three sleds glide in single-file along the westward trail. After 45 minutes, dreary walled Targos comes into view, and at the crossroads before town you spot a frozen corpse lashed to a post; your drivers avert their gaze.
A pair of guards, bundled to the point you can scarcely see their faces, wave you inside Targos. The smell of fish hangs heavy in the air. Notices are posted along a section of the wooden wall – announcement of a mandatory lottery, wanted posters, advertisements. Those not frosted over flap in the wind.
Eve Breengren pulls down her scarf,
“I’ll take my boy to get some chowder at the Trip and Shuffle. We can wait for you till noon’s light before heading out.” She gestures to a cluster of nearby buildings around a smoky tavern.
“Chances are Torrga has gone on either west to Bremen or east to Lonelywood to hawk her goods. You might ask around the market square, the pawn shop, or any of the inns and taverns…”
As she speaks, you hear the bark of a dog over the whistling wind. A light grey furred sled dog runs toward you, dragging a broken leather harness behind him. The name on his collar reads “Boy.” Whimpering, he licks at Arik’s and Logrim’s faces.
Eve frowns,
“Huh. That’s one of Garret and Keegan’s dogs. They run the kennel here in Targos. Shouldn’t be out in the streets like this…”
