(IC) Quickleaf's Rime of the Frostmaiden

[happylace]

GM POST @happylace @Necropolitan

House of the Triad (occupied by Cult of Auril)

The priestess of Auril raises both of her brows with keen interest when Alma mentions being a diviner, "Ostergaard... Hmm. Your name seems familiar. The northern star of Mystra's Circle, some call it the brow star, has always been the goddess' favored light in the night sky. An unwavering, unchanging light pointing the way to the North." As she speaks, Jelenneth circles you both, nodding demurely to Zeth, her fingers tracing dangerously close to Alma's hair as if she wants to touch it. "The Frostmaiden has blessed you with snowy hair. Such lovely locks..."

Seeming to catch herself indulging in too much passion, the priestess resumes a cooler demeanor, glancing towards the handful of followers whispering around the dry ice. "Do you know the story of the Ice Snake, Alma Ostergaard? It is the southernmost constellation, stretching across the night sky like the Spine of World bound Icewind Dale from the south. A white wyrm who Auril rode across the skies, Auroth the Ice Snake, was struck down by gods jealous of Auril claiming the wyrm's beauty. Its body became the mountains," she gestures toward the south, "but its soul eternal rose to the heavens and became stars."

With a coy glance to the both of you, Jelenneth returns to standing in front of you, a lilt to her singsong voice, "But surely you came for more than a discussion of astronomy?"

GM: Jelennth Insight check: 1D20+4 = [11]+4 = 15 Jelennth is trying to discern if you have ulterior motives in seeking out the temple. Either choose your next words carefully, or beat her Insight roll >15 in your next post.

Alma's eyes follow Jelenneth's movements. Her head turns slowly, watching her circle them. More curious than outright intimidated. The comment about her hair conjures an amused upward quirk of her lips. The whole interaction is intriguing, but not as much as the story of the Ice Snake.

''I've heard some of the tale before. It was said to have sacrificed itself for the master it loved,'' Alma recalls. ''And that some pray to certain stars within its constellation for guidance and prophecy. Tell me, do you know of any connection with Jassa's Dagger?''

She tilts her head, ''I take my research very seriously. And you are clearly the best source of information.''

Spoiler: deception if necessary

Deception check: 1D20+5 = [17]+5 = 22

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST @Neurotic @tglassy @Aethmud

The Northlook (card game)

From his position in a corner, the "halfling" Lumrolur has a direct line of sight to the gambling table, catching bits of conversation. However, at the mention of white dragons, one of the actual drunks turns around, trying to get Rudolf's attention, though the mercenary shrugs the man off. Muttering about the "white wyrm of the north, moving alike th' snow drifts, I tell ya," the drunkard swings his head back to nursing a cheap ale.

Rudolf draws a White Dragon (4), giving him an allied flight of evil dragons. With a wry grin, he scratches his beard, surveying the other players, "The winter winds may bite... for the rest of you. That pot has my name on it."

Arnholt silently plays a Green Dragon (6), realizing glumly that he holds a weak hand compared to Ottar who fields a Red Dragon (6). "Hah!" cries Ottar, "My Bahamut kept in reserve will soon wreck devastation upon the evil dragon goddess."

Momentarily stymied by Mak's destruction of his Tiamat, Thidrik turns over his replacement for that card – a Red Dragon (10)! His draw for that round is also an evil dragon – a Red Dragon (3). "Alas, Rudolf, you spoke to soon. My allied flight soars on wings of fire!"

Osvic has his fingers crossed for a chance to get back at Jack, but instead draws a Tiamat! Chuckling, he looks at the cards in play, "Five Tiamats! There is only one more left in the deck. I wonder which one of us my cousin Ottar will attack with his Bahamut, Jack?"

Then, in a stunning reversal, one after the other, both Sodt and then Johun play Bahamut cards! Peals of laughter boom from the mercenaries. There is only one more Bahamut in the deck as well, making the end of this third round sure to be extra bloody.

Johun winces as Jack steals his Tiamat. "I will remember that Everfrost fairy!" He taps his new Bahamut card with pride.

Each man antes up the silver equal to the strength of his card, bringing the pot to a soaring 164 silver pieces.

But now the special powers of each dragon must be accounted for...

Evil dragon cards steal half their strength (rounded up) from the pot. Thus, Rudolf steals 2, Arnholt steals 3, Ottar also steals 3, and Thidrik steals 2 (replacement cards not affecting the the pot).

Next, players with good dragons each choose one player with evil dragons in their flight to attack – in this final round only Mak has a gold dragon 7 (OOC: @tglassy choose a player who must give 4 silvers to the pot).

The pot currently rests at 154 silver pieces. Then, comes the carnage...

GM: I'll post the attacks from all the Bahamuts in a second post. This one was a lot of rolls! round 3 cards for Thidrik, Ottar, Osvic, Arnholt, Rudolf, Sodt, and John: 1D12 = [11] = 11 1D12 = [11] = 11 1D12 = [1] = 1 1D12 = [7] = 7 1D12 = [3] = 3 1D12 = [12] = 12 1D12 = [12] = 12 strength for Thidrik and Ottar red dragons: 1D12 = [3] = 3 1D12 = [6] = 6 strength for Arnholt green: 1D8 = [6] = 6 strength for Rudolf white: 1D4 = [4] = 4 strength for Thidrik red dragon replacing tiamat: 1D12 = [10] = 10

 

[tglassy]

I guess I’ll attack Thidrik.

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST @happylace @Necropolitan

House of the Triad (occupied by Cult of Auril)

Jelenneth, priestess of Auril, seems to buy your sincerity as a scholar hook, line, and sinker. "Yes, Auroth made a sacrifice, no less than Auril demands of us." Pausing, she folds her arms over her chest, watching followers in the back working on carving a chunk of ice that has been positioned in front of the statue of Torm. "Jassa's Dagger? It is the brightest constellation visible during Simril, the Midwinter festival, when we turn to the clear winter skies to gaze upon the stars of our births, or those of our ancestors," but then her eyes darken like a tempest, "It also aims for the head of Auroth, and so it is a double-edged sign. Look to it for guidance, but also stay wary for its betrayal. But it is a very old constellation from empires past... I do not know its legend."

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST @Neurotic @tglassy @Aethmud

The Northlook (card game)

Thidrik Steingrimmson grimaces at Mak's gold dragon attack, chuckling ruefully, "I have little left in my hoard – looks like I've paid for the winner's drinks for many a long night! Ah... three Bahamuts in play, and two Tiamats. Looks like we'll go around the table..."

Ottar briefly struggles with some math, comparing the overall strength of his flight to the other players. "I am just ahead of Mak, so I'll stay my hand. My Bahamut does not attack..."

Shaking his head, Sodt tosses his Bahamut card at Osvic, "My chances are slim, but it must be done. My Bahamut takes your Tiamat, dear Osvic!"

With a wicked chuckle, Johun wags his finger at Jack, "Well, fairy, I told you you'd rue the day you stole my queen, and now my Bahamut takes the heads of your Tiamat!"

Osvic plays his replacement Red Dragon (4), while Johun plays his replacement Gold Dragon (10).

But Sodt plays the Wild Mage, letting him draw a card at random instead of replacing his Bahamut with a gold – he plays a Red Dragon (6).

With silver cast into the pot for all the replacement cards, and withdrawn for the new evil dragon cards, Johun advances his gold dragon on Thidrik, "Oh great leader, I cannot help but join in the wing attacking you..."

"I'll remember that when our pay comes due," quips Thidrik.

The pot rests at 185 silver pieces. Though the mercenaries are jovial, greedy eyes flit to the pile of silver before shifting to Jack's final play...

Spoiler: Evaluating flights to conclude the game

Dragon Flights: At the end of the gambit (game), evaluate each player's flights with the following criteria in the following order:

1. God Flight: A player that rolled a dragon god at the start of EACH of their three turns may take 1/2 of the pot's Silver Pieces (rounded down) and add it to their "hoard." Those dragon god cards are not necessarily required to still be in the player's flight.
2. Triplet Flight: A player with 3 dragons of the same Strength in their flight gains a reward from ALL opponents. The player chooses one the player with Silver Pieces equal to 1 of those dragon‘s strength from all opponents. If an opponent does not have enough gold, they pay what they have until they are out of gold, and owe a debt to the player for the remaining gold amount.
3. Allied Flight: 3 dragons of the same Alignment in a flight rewards a player the strongest dragon's Strength worth of Silver Pieces from the pot. If the full amount of silver is not available, the player takes as much as they can.
4. Leader Flight: Add the strength of all dragons in each player’s dragon flight together. The player with the strongest dragon flight (or weakest if Tiamat is in play) is the leader and wins the remaining pot.

GM: @Aethmud the last play is yours – you get a replacement red dragon for your destroyed Tiamat, rolling 1d12 for the red dragon's strength, unless you have something else up your sleeve. strength for Osvic replacement red dragon: 1D12 = [4] = 4 strength for Johun replacement gold dragon: 1D12 = [10] = 10 Sodt new card for playing the Wild Mage: 1D12 = [11] = 11 strength for Sodt red dragon: 1D12 = [6] = 6

 

[happylace]

GM POST @happylace @Necropolitan

House of the Triad (occupied by Cult of Auril)

Jelenneth, priestess of Auril, seems to buy your sincerity as a scholar hook, line, and sinker. "Yes, Auroth made a sacrifice, no less than Auril demands of us." Pausing, she folds her arms over her chest, watching followers in the back working on carving a chunk of ice that has been positioned in front of the statue of Torm. "Jassa's Dagger? It is the brightest constellation visible during Simril, the Midwinter festival, when we turn to the clear winter skies to gaze upon the stars of our births, or those of our ancestors," but then her eyes darken like a tempest, "It also aims for the head of Auroth, and so it is a double-edged sign. Look to it for guidance, but also stay wary for its betrayal. But it is a very old constellation from empires past... I do not know its legend."

''I know that it is sometimes associated with ambition and revenge. Those born under it are said to be possessed of great potential and passion, but also don't take slights lightly. Does this translate to any known doctrine of the Frostmaiden?'' Alma asks. She holds her tongue on explaining any more of the constellation's history. She wants to keep them focused.

She follows Jelenneth's gaze. She watches the other acolytes work, carving shapes from blocks of ice. Her eyes wander up the length of Torm's statue. There. An opening.

''That doesn't look like any depiction of Auril I'm familiar with. Is this space being repurposed?''

 

[tglassy]

Bah. So close.

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST @happylace @Necropolitan

House of the Triad (occupied by Cult of Auril)

At this question, the fiery-eyed priestess arches her brow. That got her attention, and she carefully reevaluates Alma and Zeth who has remained silent. She waits, addressing Alma's question about the statuary, "One morally blind leads a literally blind deity and a maimed deity. The Triad?" With a sneer and a snort, Jelenneth glances back toward Alma, "Hardly a symbol of strength. We are sculpting a worthy representation of the Frostmaiden to replace these tired demigods..."

After a pause, Jelenneth doubles back to your question. "My goddess is a cold goddess," she says with a thin patronizing smile, "passion and vengeance are close kin, and have little place in our faith. But surely one who takes a slight lightly only invites the slight to be repeated? Sometimes an example must be made...or would you disagree?"

Here, she turns and looks straight at Zeth with a questioning brow, denying him the cloak of Alma Ostergaard's deception.

 

[Aethmud]

Spoiler: Card draw

Jack draws a Red dragon 7 to replace his destroyed Tiamat card.

"Ah, one mustn't grumble at the whims of fate!" Jack exclaims as he draws a Red Dragon (7) to replace his vanquished Tiamat.

With a swift movement, he plucks four shiny silver pieces back from the pot, grinning at his companions. "After all, not every defeat is a loss. Sometimes it's just an opportunity to reassess one's strategies and... lighten the load!" he adds, jingling the coins in his hand with a mischievous chuckle.

Jack turns his attention to Ottar, clapping his hands together and tipping an imaginary hat. "And Ottar, my friend, that's quite the hand you've got there! Your Bahamut is truly a sight to behold. A fine testament to your strategic prowess, no doubt."

Next, he nods approvingly at Thidrik, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "Ah, Thidrik! A leader in every sense of the word, and not just on the battlefield. You certainly know how to pick your dragons! My congratulations on your skillful play."

He sweeps an arm out towards the pot, still full of silver, and the table of fellow gamblers. "A toast to the winners! To the triumph of both luck and strategy, and to the thrill of the game that brings us all together!" Jack raises his mug, his smile wide and his eyes sparkling.

 

[Necropolitan]

GM POST @happylace @Necropolitan

House of the Triad (occupied by Cult of Auril)

At this question, the fiery-eyed priestess arches her brow. That got her attention, and she carefully reevaluates Alma and Zeth who has remained silent. She waits, addressing Alma's question about the statuary, "One morally blind leads a literally blind deity and a maimed deity. The Triad?" With a sneer and a snort, Jelenneth glances back toward Alma, "Hardly a symbol of strength. We are sculpting a worthy representation of the Frostmaiden to replace these tired demigods..."

After a pause, Jelenneth doubles back to your question. "My goddess is a cold goddess," she says with a thin patronizing smile, "passion and vengeance are close kin, and have little place in our faith. But surely one who takes a slight lightly only invites the slight to be repeated? Sometimes an example must be made...or would you disagree?"

Here, she turns and looks straight at Zeth with a questioning brow, denying him the cloak of Alma Ostergaard's deception.

Zeth doesn't know if it's exhaustion or the emotions he's been bottling up for so long finally being released, but he begins speaking.

It's all he can do to phrase it politely and omit a few particularly damning details, it's like the words need to come out.

"Trust me when I say I know the power of your goddess's domain personally. I arrived in this village today. Before that I was on a ship that became frozen in the ice. Of those who set out from there to reach civilization, I'm the sole survivor. All my crewmates perished in the cold."

He isn't even looking at the priestess anymore, he's gazing into the past. He speaks dispassionately but his teeth chatter unconsciously.

"The only difference between day and night was the light, but the cold was constant. The others kept dying, they'd fall and not get up or not wake up the next day or go mad and run away from the group. I kept going. I was the only one with the fortitude and will to survive, I did what I had to do and didn't let it break me. Even with that I would have died if I hadn't found this town, I don't know if that was luck or fate."

He gives a humorless chuckle.

"Or your goddess's will maybe. After all, she values stoicism, pragmatism, and cruelty and I needed all three to make it through the cold."

Zeth catches himself and tries to use what he's said to get information before he gives more away.

"I might be wrong though. About being the sole survivor. I've heard rumors of another sailor from the ship, Sephek Kaltro. From what I've heard he either survived a plunge into the icy water before it froze over the ship completely. Or he didn't survive and walks the world regardless."

He steadies his breathing.

"He was not a religious man in life, but I've seen many who find faith after near-death. Or after it. I need to know this. If he's living or undead I need to find him, whatever comes next I need to find him to make a clean break from the past. So if you can tell me anything, about him or what he may have become, do so. I'll keep searching regardless, because I know no matter what he is he's not stronger than me."

Zeth stares into the priestess's eyes unblinkingly.

(OOC: Persuasion 1d20+5 with Advantage = 16+5 and 9+5, so 16+5 = 21)

 

[happylace]

Zeth doesn't know if it's exhaustion or the emotions he's been bottling up for so long finally being released, but he begins speaking.

It's all he can do to phrase it politely and omit a few particularly damning details, it's like the words need to come out.

"Trust me when I say I know the power of your goddess's domain personally. I arrived in this village today. Before that I was on a ship that became frozen in the ice. Of those who set out from there to reach civilization, I'm the sole survivor. All my crewmates perished in the cold."

He isn't even looking at the priestess anymore, he's gazing into the past. He speaks dispassionately but his teeth chatter unconsciously.

"The only difference between day and night was the light, but the cold was constant. The others kept dying, they'd fall and not get up or not wake up the next day or go mad and run away from the group. I kept going. I was the only one with the fortitude and will to survive, I did what I had to do and didn't let it break me. Even with that I would have died if I hadn't found this town, I don't know if that was luck or fate."

He gives a humorless chuckle.

"Or your goddess's will maybe. After all, she values stoicism, pragmatism, and cruelty and I needed all three to make it through the cold."

Zeth catches himself and tries to use what he's said to get information before he gives more away.

"I might be wrong though. About being the sole survivor. I've heard rumors of another sailor from the ship, Sephek Kaltro. From what I've heard he either survived a plunge into the icy water before it froze over the ship completely. Or he didn't survive and walks the world regardless."

He steadies his breathing.

"He was not a religious man in life, but I've seen many who find faith after near-death. Or after it. I need to know this. If he's living or undead I need to find him, whatever comes next I need to find him to make a clean break from the past. So if you can tell me anything, about him or what he may have become, do so. I'll keep searching regardless, because I know no matter what he is he's not stronger than me."

Zeth stares into the priestess's eyes unblinkingly.

(OOC: Persuasion 1d20+5 with Advantage = 16+5 and 9+5, so 16+5 = 21)

Alma turns her head towards Zeth. It's perhaps the most she's heard him speak since meeting. It's also the most he's shared of himself. Her brows raise. A strange sentiment prickles in the back of her mind. She's always eager to learn about people, to hear their stories. In that respect, she's intrigued to know more.

But there's something else. What he talks about. Unending cold and struggle. She recalls days spent trudging through blinding snow, huddled together over the dying embers of a fire. She thinks of the pages torn from her logbook, knowledge sacrificed for survival.

Stoicism. Pragmatism. Cruelty.

Those words strike something even deeper.

Alma stays quiet as Zeth speaks. Lets him take the reigns of the conversation for now. This talk about Sephek... she remembers the name. One of Torrga's bodyguards. He had pirate tattoos. She wonders if this is someone he truly knows or an impressive, on-the-spot improvisation. Either way, she awaits Jelenneth's response with baited breath.

 

[Neurotic]

Lumorlur keeps listening to the Sheriff and Speakerwoman - even as he retracts his hand crossbow and waits for the finish of the card game.

 

[domminniti]

Russet Ghostfur.


If we're going by sled, I better get friendly with your ... handsome? ... hounds.
He reaches in his pack and retrieves a ration, and nervously puts it down in front of the dogs, his blood beating loud in his ears. He smiles at the dogs and tried hard not to show fear. He breathes in holding in his gut, to make him look less of a feast.

Animal handling: 1D20+3 = [3]+3 = 6

Spoiler: If using a ration gets me advantage click here

Animal handling (possible advantage?): 1D20+3 = [20]+3 = 23

If the dogs allow it he will try and pet them.


(To Ava)
The name is Russet, by the way. What do you think of the Torrga and her crew? Ever worked with them before? They seem like a rough folk, particularly that tatooed pirate.

Sceptical of traders of any sort, he will examine the sled driver for anything she might be hiding, using his "tactical assesment" feature.
insight on ava: 1D20+1 = [9]+1 = 10
1D8 = [7] = 7 - total 17

OOC - How old is her son?

He turns to the boy and gives a grin

Nice crossbow lad. I bet these trails give you plenty of want to use it. How's your aim?

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST @Steve Gorak @Kobold Stew @VLAD the Destroyer @domminniti

The Kennel

The wolfhound whom Russet offers the ration to looks dubiously up at Russet. Her chin is resting on the ground, weary from the day, but her hackles raise as the harengon leans down. She sniffs tentatively at the rations, feigning disinterest, big eyes going back up to Russet's face with a bit of confusion. After a moment longer, she relents, sniffing more at the hardtack and taking a dainty nibble. She allows Russet to pet her grey, black, and white fur, surprisingly soft to the touch for a terrifying pack hunter.

At the mention of Torrga, the sled dog whines, her "voice" muffled by eating, "Tuur...Mnnrrrr...ff... <Torrga bad to dogs.>"

Eve Breengren sucks in her cheek in the way someone does when they're holding back from saying all the things on their mind about someone they find distasteful. "That dwarf has her own sleds, so she's got little use for me. I won't sell dogs to her, that's for sure, not after she tried to hawk that fake medicine to my boy." She shrugs her shoulders with indifference that's a little too practiced, as if she'd rather divert attention from herself with a vague gesture about 'most folks.' Like you, Eve may have a past she'd rather leave in the past. "Most folk in Icewind Dale are rough sorts. Fortune seekers, trappers, runaways. I don't get in their way, so they don't get in mine."

The 12-year-old boy ruffles Comet's ears, the two seeming to have a close bond. However, between Russet and the mechanical "Ludo", his attention is a bit distracted – these are some of the strangest things he's seen! "It's a self-spanner," he gestures to the long lever on the bottom. "It was my da's. I'm still practicing," he shrugs, though it's clear he lacks confidence and even the way he handles the light crossbow suggests a lack of proficiency. "I told you, ma, I wasn't going to buy the dwarf's syrup..." He begins in a whining tone, but is silenced by a stern look from Eve.

GM: Corse keeping watch on the kennels, she doesn't notice any unusual comings or goings.

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST @happylace @Necropolitan

House of the Triad (occupied by Cult of Auril)

The temple with its heatless torches, whispers of mist from the dry ice, and the ice sculpture-in-progress make a suitable witness to Zeth's testimony. Jelenneth's demeanor shifts to regard him with what almost seems like deference. There aren't many who can meet the cold steel gaze of one of Auril's fanatics and not flinch. "You have seen winter's fury, stranger. It was a test of Auril, there can be no doubt. You survived what weaker souls could not."

Upon hearing your description of Sephek Kaltro, Jelenneth has a flicker of recognition, but pauses with her head slightly cocked as if remembering something. "I don't know the name. He is not a follower of Auril that I recognize. However..." she gestures towards the double doors you entered through, "Three days ago, I recall seeing a man with sailor's clothes and forearm markings standing outside the temple. I remember his eyes the most. Stark crystal blue, like gazing at an iceberg on the deep ocean, only for it to gaze back. I swore I felt the goddess' hand upon him, but when I sought the man out, he was gone." Even the fact that the man she saw had his arms exposed in this weather is notable.

Almost excited to meet another who has survived a purported "test" of the Frostmaiden, Jelenneth controls her voice so as not to sound too passionate. "And you, stranger? Could your own brush with death bring you closer to where you're meant to be? To finding a new faith in the Frostmaiden's arms?"

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST @Neurotic

An overheard conversation...

Spoiler: Lumrolur's eavesdropping

The town Speaker shakes her head, her voice more audible to the "halfling" Lumrolur now that the sodding minstrel has moved on to the other side of the taproom. "But Markham, it's that kind of thinking that put the other towns in the situations they're in now. You want to use Easthaven and Targos as examples of what we should do? Easthaven was founded by thieves, and Targos is in the grip of a Zhentish speaker."

With an aggravated tapping of his finger on the table to emphasize his point, the Sheriff shakes his head, "I am not saying we 'should'. But pretty soon, Speaker, if something is not done, that choice may be made by the people."

"What then?" asks Duvessa Shane with emotion in her voice, "Are we to let these superstitions dictate public policy? Sacrifices, Markham. They've left people to die in the cold in Targos and Easthaven to appease the Frostmaiden. You can't seriously consider it!"

Sheriff Markham Southwell has a tormented expression on his face, this argument seeming to have added a few more grey hairs to his goatee. "There is a way, but you keep denying it. We should move on the Aurilites occupying the temple. Ban frost druids from entering the city walls. Restrict those voices who whisper poisonous thoughts into the peoples' ears."

"But are you hearing yourself, Markham?" the young Speaker whispers indignantly, making an effort to keep her voice down. "You know as well as I do that Jelenneth would leverage that against us with the next winter storm. And banning druids? How would you ban an owl or a snow hare that they might change into? Restrictions on speech? This isn't Waterdeep no matter how much we might wish it were – no Ten-Towner would accept such restrictions..." She's grasping at straws.

"I am sorry, Duvessa, Speaker," the Sheriff corrects himself, sighing heavily. "You are a credit to your office. You fought off Vaelish Gant's attempt to control Bryn Shander. You coordinated our defenses and showed great courage in the face of the frost giants at our walls. I would follow you into any blizzard. But if you won't move against them or enact these measures, I fear the people's fear will force your hand."

 

[Neurotic]

Vorr secretly places a paper on one of the persons he listens in on.

Before that he hastily wrote what he felt a good note even if the source of his inspiration remains suspect. He never felt the need for such elaboration, he's unsure of the source of the flowing script. But he feels it is a good note.

Spoiler: Note

To Sheriff Markham and Speaker Duvessa,

In the shadows of silence, where whispers go unheard, I extend this missive to present an opportunity veiled in secrecy. Heed my words and consider this a clandestine request that can be disavowed at will. After all, your whispers were heard and I wasn't seen.

I, bearer of the scars that time cannot heal, offer my services for the covert missions that demand utmost discretion and deniability. Like a phantom slipping through the night, I possess the skills of a rogue honed in the crucible of the Underdark, tempered by the fires of remorse.

My agile movements and keen senses shall be your advantage in the pursuit of justice obscured by the veils of deceit. From infiltrating hidden lairs to extracting delicate information, I am but a shadow traversing the edges of the unseen.

Rest assured, my allegiance lies with the light, and my purpose is to unmask the darkness that festers in the world's underbelly. Yet, the nature of my deeds necessitates the plausible denial of your involvement. As a solitary agent, I shall operate under the radar, leaving no trace of my affiliation.

Should you choose to accept this entreaty, reach out through the Inn where the fairy played cards, put a rune <rune> on the leg of the table to the right of the entry door, a coded signal amidst the noise. I'll contact you for the mission details prepared to embark on the most perilous of assignments.

Together, we shall navigate the shadows, our partnership concealed from prying eyes. I pledge my unwavering dedication to the cause, my skills forged by regret and driven by redemption.

Remember, this is but a whisper in the wind, easily disavowed if the need arises. But for those who dare to explore the realms of the clandestine, I await your response, ready to undertake the impossible missions that others fear to tread.

May the hidden forces guide our path,

OOC: sleight of hand opportunity slip - I don't care which one of these two gets it and when
I'll give the message later, @Quickleaf please roll for me, I shouldn't know how well I did it post in about 12 hours from now, good night

 

[domminniti]

GM POST @Steve Gorak @Kobold Stew @VLAD the Destroyer @domminniti

The Kennel

The wolfhound whom Russet offers the ration to looks dubiously up at Russet. Her chin is resting on the ground, weary from the day, but her hackles raise as the harengon leans down. She sniffs tentatively at the rations, feigning disinterest, big eyes going back up to Russet's face with a bit of confusion. After a moment longer, she relents, sniffing more at the hardtack and taking a dainty nibble. She allows Russet to pet her grey, black, and white fur, surprisingly soft to the touch for a terrifying pack hunter.

At the mention of Torrga, the sled dog whines, her "voice" muffled by eating, "Tuur...Mnnrrrr...ff... <Torrga bad to dogs.>"

Eve Breengren sucks in her cheek in the way someone does when they're holding back from saying all the things on their mind about someone they find distasteful. "That dwarf has her own sleds, so she's got little use for me. I won't sell dogs to her, that's for sure, not after she tried to hawk that fake medicine to my boy." She shrugs her shoulders with indifference that's a little too practiced, as if she'd rather divert attention from herself with a vague gesture about 'most folks.' Like you, Eve may have a past she'd rather leave in the past. "Most folk in Icewind Dale are rough sorts. Fortune seekers, trappers, runaways. I don't get in their way, so they don't get in mine."

The 12-year-old boy ruffles Comet's ears, the two seeming to have a close bond. However, between Russet and the mechanical "Ludo", his attention is a bit distracted – these are some of the strangest things he's seen! "It's a self-spanner," he gestures to the long lever on the bottom. "It was my da's. I'm still practicing," he shrugs, though it's clear he lacks confidence and even the way he handles the light crossbow suggests a lack of proficiency. "I told you, ma, I wasn't going to buy the dwarf's syrup..." He begins in a whining tone, but is silenced by a stern look from Eve.

GM: Corse keeping watch on the kennels, she doesn't notice any unusual comings or goings.

Tell you what, kid. You make sure those dogs are well fed and don't get any funny ideas about having Russet Stew, and I'll give you some pointers about how to use that thing.

To Ava:
We Harengon have a saying. It goes something like this... ahem... "If you're the sort to sell fake medicine to a child, then you're probably the sort to go round murdering people, and we don't like that sort of thing". How did you know it was fake?

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST @Steve Gorak @Kobold Stew @VLAD the Destroyer @domminniti

The Kennel

Russet's comment evokes a cock-eyed look from the boy fighting against a grin. He is clearly related to Eve, who adopts a similar arched brow at the incredibly specific harengon saying. But who is she to question the way of harefolk? "I know hollyhock seeds when I see them. Good for aching joints and the skin, but not for serious sickness, not like what took my husband. And I've heard a woman in Easthaven took some of this syrup from Torrga for a toe infection and it did nothing. She'd have been better served pouring liquor on it!"

Glancing towards the window, Eve stifles a yawn. Faint traces of purple and teal light play across the glass from an aurora forming in the northern sky. "Alright, it's time for bed, boy. We'll have an early morning ride to Targos, so best to get some shut eye..."

 

[domminniti]

Russet bids the pair farewell and returns with the others to the tavern.