(IC) Quickleaf's Rime of the Frostmaiden

[Quickleaf]

GM: @Neurotic Investigation: Nothing new stands out about the dagger for you. Survival: Many of the rivers and lakeshores have frozen over during the long winter, making areas that once were impassable or hard to ford now crossable by foot or dogsled – but that wouldn't really impact the Torg's caravan with the route it took. Maaaybe the merchant caravan could have shaved off some time from Termalaine to Targos by crossing the frozen lake edge of Maer Dualdon. There is a shortcut across the tundra from Termalaine to Bryn Shander... which can be worthwhile. There are other shortcuts, such as crossing tundra from Bryn Shander to Good Mead or navigating the hills Southeast of Termaline to use the downslopes. Usually, however, travel between Ten-Towns is faster using the roads. There may be ways to hitch up dogsleds to keep the dogs fresh too (allowing for longer/faster travel) – but that's more a question for Roadways or Animal Handling skill. >>GM Foreshadowing: this Survival check has really useful info for later on Perception: A gray fox under one of the chairs looks like it was paying close attention to everyone whose been talking, its little head and ears tilting when the voice changes. After a moment longer, it slinks along the edge of the taproom toward the table of the blonde young man engrossed with his book and surrounded by the joking Mintarn mercenaries. Insight: The way the gray fox was looking...it seemed like the animal understood most of what was being said. Folklore: The few Reghed tribespeople who settle in Ten-Towns tell stories about Auroth the Ice Snake as if it were a being that dwells beneath the Spine of the World Mountains, and not a constellation. Some of the stories say that the Ice Snake once dwelled in the Sea of Moving Ice. When it died, pieces of the Ice Snake were left behind as glaciers and ice floes. There are stories about tools - axes and hammers - fashioned from chunks of the Ice Snake's body during the Feast of the Moon, imbued with magic that makes them last until Greengrass (festival of spring). No one has seen one of these ice weapons though – they're myths, stories that are metaphors teaching to conserve winter's bounty to survive till spring. Stealth: There are no hiding places or heavy obscurement within the taproom (unless you are fox-size!). So no hiding places. If you want to hide, you'd need to create a distraction or a fog cloud or something, go down one of the side passages of the Northlook (where the kitchens and offices are) or up the stairs to the inn section, or step outside into the snow.

 

[happylace]

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

 

[happylace]

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

 

[Quickleaf]

GM: @happylace Alerted by the Undercommon, Alma can lean down to see the same thing as Vorr - a gray fox slinking back toward the table with the blonde young man occupied with his journal & the boisterous Mintarn mercenaries.

 

[happylace]

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.
She hunches down into the crowd of people gathered at the table. Her fingers move, subtle as she can manage, but anyone who spots them can probably pick up that they're somatic motions. She relies on the raucous conversation from the other table to cover her incantations as she casts Detect Thoughts on the blond man. As she does, the scent of sulfur rises from her clothing.

(Only looking for surface thoughts right now, no saves required and he shouldn't yet know I'm doing it.)

Spoiler: roll to cast

Roll to Cast (Detect Thoughts): 1D20+2 = [10]+2 = 12

Spoiler: stealth check

Stealth check: 1D20+2 = [11]+2 = 13

 

[Quickleaf]

GM: @happylace You manage to avoid attracting the blonde young man's attention, however your spellcasting is immediately noticeable to Hlin Trollbane and everyone else at your table. Scanning surface thoughts you can do discretely, but attempting to probe deeper will reveal to everyone in the taproom (including the blonde man) that you're involved in casting a spell. "...perhaps it's a plot by one of my dear colleagues to frame me. The ice dagger a murder weapon? A bit too much of a coincidence given my sobriquet. Best that I steer clear of the bounty hunter's fools to avoid any confusion. If I should come across this cold-hearted killer, I'll have to learn the secret of their magic. Well done, Braud. Time for you to return to the realms from whence you came." "Now... back to this journal, it mentions... Ah here it is: the Black Cabin. Haunted, they say, by a gnomish spirit attempting to create... a miniature sun? Hmm. Likely wishful thinking of a trapper who'd seen one too many winters. Still, this could be built on the foundation of Netherese relics. A better lead than my colleagues had going off like the four winds. It says... he encountered the Black Cabin north of Lonelywood... but others report it being encountered at the crossroads twixt Bryn Shander and Easthaven... others still in the Western Pass. A hut...that moves perhaps? Curious."

 

[happylace]

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 mention it to the one at the table with the strange cat. He might be interested.

For now, though, she turns to Hlin. Quiets the spell--though it's still active for a minute--and whispers, ''That man over there was listening to us. He suspects the culprit could be one of his colleagues attempting to frame him. Apparently there is some corellation between the murder weapon and his moniker, though he doesn't seem to know the nature of the magic. Additionally, he has recalled his spy now.''

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST

With a furrowed brow, Hlin Trollbane takes a deep drag on her pipe, weighing the albino half-elf's words. "Don't recognize him. Could be one of those mages who rolled into Bryn Shander a fortnight past. Arcane Brethren, or some such screed. I've heard of them raising trouble throughout Ten-Towns, especially that one Dzaan," she motions her head in the minstrel's direction to indicate the cries of 'Dzaan' that issued from a few patrons during his last musical set. "But haven't crossed paths with any myself."

 

[domminniti]

Russet Ghostfur

Russet tried hard to avoid looking over his shoulder at the table with the mercs and the blond man.
deception? to avoid looking over at table: 1D20 = [14] = 14


I heard those mercs joke about a "one-eyed-witch". Anyone heard of her? Apparently a friend of blondie over there. Said she set out with a dogsled and packbearers a tenday ago.

 

[Aethmud]

The main entrance of the lively tavern swings open, allowing a gust of frigid night air and a flurry of snow to gust in. Strange, the sky seemed clear just a while ago. Patrons near the entrance shiver as they glance toward the door with frost-rimmed mugs in hand and spot a diminutive figure, radiating an air of flamboyant grandeur, unmistakable in the dim tavern light. Jack Everforst, a child-sized fairy, admired for his love of risk and charm that could melt glaciers, flutters through the gust of snowflakes and alights on the ground as he shuts the heavy door. The winter chill seems to cling to him.

Jack’s wings sparkle like fresh morning dew on autumn leaves, as if each cell were imbued with a touch of the Aurora Borealis. His dapper clothes, stitched together from fine, glossy spider silk, are fastened with tiny snowflake-shaped crystalline buttons that dance with colors as he moves.

With a white cape the texture of a fresh leaf and color of a snowdrift, Jack cocks his head at a rakish angle that matches the glint in his hazel eyes, eyes that spoke volumes of countless stories and escapades. He steps up to the bar, his stride confident despite his diminutive size, a walking paradox that speaks to his enchanting personality. He clears his throat, raising a hand as he prepares to make his grand announcement.

"Well, well, well! Looks like a good night to warm our hearts and empty our pockets, wouldn't you say, folks?”

Jack's voice rings out, his rich, lyrical tones echoing against the wooden rafters.

"Now, who's up for a game of cards? Or better yet, a wager against ol' Jack Everforst? Remember, my friends, fortune favors the bold!"

As Jack speaks, a mischievous smile played upon his lips, promising a night of high stakes and high spirits. He takes out a deck of playing cards and spies Hlin Trollbane sitting at the table with several others, including his old friend Russet. He glides over to their table.

“Ah, Hlin! You mentioned you might have a job for me, something that could settle the, er, debt situation from the other night.”

His eyes glint with curiosity and anticipation as Hlin recounts some of the details thus far, all the while shuffling his deck of cards.

Spoiler: Perception Check

From Quickleaf: The three of you [little folk PCs] can make DC 15 Perception checks to try to figure out who is watching you. But ≤10 or less indicates they see you looking and conceal themself without you figuring who it was.
Rolled a 15 for Jack's perception check on this.